#this feels serene and introspective

[melting-morning-blues]

tagged by @icychoerim! ty :D

rules : you can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. put your playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs, and then tag ten people. no skipping!

① waterfall by milet

② july (later on) by lily williams

③ suzume by radwimps ft. toaka

④ there by stray kids

⑤ emulation by stargaze shelter

⑥ W●RK by millennium parade

⑦ FAM (korean ver.) by stray kids

⑧ BIBI vengeance by BIBI

⑨ INVU by taeyeon

①⓪ I GOT A BOY by girls' generation

tagging some people, but u can ignore!!

@lacunasbalustrade / @end1essquestions / @thehistorynut19 / @kawaiilizzie / @dudebro231

[echoesoftheinfinite]

- introspect1998

[luna-azzurra]

Eye Color to Define Your OC

Blue Eyes 💙 Blue eyes often evoke a sense of calmness and tranquility, like the peaceful surface of a still lake. Characters with blue eyes might be seen as trustworthy, reflecting an inner serenity that makes others feel at ease around them. There’s something introspective about blue eyes, suggesting that these characters are thoughtful and reflective, often contemplating the deeper meanings in life. They might be dreamers, or people who carry a quiet strength, drawing others in with their gentle and soothing gaze.

Green Eyes 💚 Green eyes are often linked to mystery and a touch of mischief. There’s an intriguing quality to them, almost like they hold secrets or are constantly plotting something fun and unexpected. Characters with green eyes can be seen as creative and curious, always looking for new adventures or ways to express themselves. There’s a vitality in green eyes, a sense of life and vibrancy that suggests a character who is full of energy and imagination. They might be the ones who are always up to something, keeping others guessing with their enigmatic gaze.

Brown Eyes 🤎 Brown eyes are often perceived as warm and reliable, embodying a sense of earthiness and approachability. Characters with brown eyes can be the dependable ones, the friends who are always there when you need them, providing a stable and comforting presence. There’s a grounded quality to brown eyes, making these characters seem down-to-earth and relatable. They often exude warmth and kindness, making others feel welcome and understood. With their steady gaze, brown-eyed characters might be seen as the anchors in their communities, the ones who keep everything together with their unwavering support.

Hazel Eyes 🟤🟢 Hazel eyes are a captivating blend of brown, green, and sometimes gold, reflecting a sense of adaptability and versatility. Characters with hazel eyes might be seen as complex and multifaceted, with personalities that can shift and change depending on the situation. They are often intriguing and dynamic, drawing people in with their ever-changing aura. There’s depth in hazel eyes, suggesting a character who is always evolving, never quite fitting into one category. These characters might surprise you with their hidden talents or unexpected insights, making them endlessly fascinating.

Gray Eyes ⚪ Gray eyes often carry an air of wisdom and intelligence, like a stormy sky full of untold stories. Characters with gray eyes can be perceived as thoughtful and calm, often observing more than they speak. There’s a mysterious quality to gray eyes, suggesting depth and a quiet intensity. These characters might be the thinkers and philosophers, the ones who are always pondering the mysteries of life and seeing things from different perspectives. Their gaze can be penetrating, making others feel like they’re looking right into their soul, uncovering secrets that no one else can see.

Amber Eyes 🟠 Amber eyes radiate warmth and intensity, often associated with strength and passion. Characters with amber eyes might have a fiery spirit, with a magnetic presence that draws others toward them. There’s something fierce and determined about amber eyes, suggesting a character who is not afraid to go after what they want. They might be bold and courageous, standing out from the crowd with their distinctive gaze. These characters could be leaders or warriors, driven by their convictions and unafraid to face challenges head-on.

Violet Eyes 💜 Violet eyes are rare and ethereal, creating a sense of otherworldliness and mystique. Characters with violet eyes might be seen as enchanting or magical, with a spiritual quality that sets them apart. There’s a softness to violet eyes, almost like they belong to someone who exists between worlds. These characters might be the dreamers or the visionaries, with a connection to the mystical or the unknown. Their gaze can be captivating and otherworldly, leaving others wondering about the secrets they hold and the magic they might possess.

Black Eyes ⚫ Black eyes are intense and powerful, often conveying a sense of mystery and depth. Characters with black eyes can have a gaze that is both captivating and intimidating, making others feel like they are being drawn into a deep, dark abyss. There’s an allure to black eyes, a sense of danger or intrigue that keeps people guessing. These characters might be seen as mysterious or enigmatic, with an intensity that makes them unforgettable. They could be the ones who hold their cards close to their chest, revealing little but knowing much, their black eyes a window into a soul that is both deep and complex.

[just-a-ghost00]

Who's coming towards you and what do they bring to the table?

Group 1 - Spider lilly

Who are they? In Japanese culture, the spider lily is believed to bloom near graves. It is associated with the afterlife and the notions of death and rebirth. This flower holds a very scorpionic energy. It is also a symbol of eternal love. This specific white lily shown in the picture is also a symbol of purity and innocence. If we take that into account, the person coming towards you can be viewed as mysterious and deep, somewhat cold. But once you get to know them, you realize that they are rather outgoing and pure, kind and childlike. They marvel at the beauty of life and want nothing but to love and be loved.

Looking at the different cards you got, there’s a lot of emphasis on communication and voicing one’s opinions or truth without fear. This person could have a beautiful voice. They could be a singer or a spokesperson, an advocate or any other profession that involves speaking to a large audience. This person seems to be shy and rather harsh on themselves. They take pride in what they do and the values they stand for. When their actions are not in alignment with their ideals, they tend to criticize themselves a lot. They are represented by Bismuth and Turquoise, both blue crystals. The throat chakra holds an important significance to this person, as well as emotions, intuition and water. Blue could be their favorite color. This person could burn themselves out often by being present for others more than showing up for themselves. They could get throat sickness quite often, especially when they are repressing their truth or telling lies. They have a sharp tongue. They use their voice to shed light on what is contradictory or what needs to evolve. They help people shift their perspective. Teaching could also be their career path.

What do they bring to the table? - Queen of pentacles, 7 of wands, 4 of cups, The Moon, The Fool, Judgement, White Numen

This person brings in major shifts in your life. Renewal is the best way to describe it. They will literally put your world upside down in order to help you gain perspective on what is going on. They’ll show you that there’s nothing wrong in standing for what you believe in. They’ll also teach you how to be the bigger person and choose your battles wisely. They’ll help you introspect and listen to your intuition, take a new start in life and get retribution by accomplishing what you were meant to do in this life time. This person will help you find your true calling and your voice in this global cacophony that is the world we currently live in. With them, you will create a reality in your image. They will also help you value yourself more and set yourself free from any dependence or addiction. They’ll help you detach yourself from people’s judgmental views. Significant zodiac signs for this group are Taurus, Cancer and Scorpio. You can wear blue or connect to the energy of Bismuth and Turquoise to understand this person better on a spiritual level and manifest them into your life.

Group 2 - Lavender

Who are they? Lavender is known to have soothing properties. It is often used in aromatherapy to ease the mind and release tensions related to anxiety, stress. Lavender is a symbol of devotion, serenity and grace. With its purple petals, it could be associated with the spiritual realm. This person is very delicate and kind hearted. They consider people with a lot of care and kindness. They have a pure heart and make people feel safe. They remind me of Taurus and their Venusian sensual and loving energy. This person is down to earth and wise beyond their years. Their crown chakra is highly active. It wouldn’t surprise me if this person already connected with you through your dreams. They could very well be a therapist, a reiki practitioner, a healer that uses alternative medicines or unconventional practices like crystal healing or sound healing. This is further confirmed by two cards of the Threads of fate deck that are related to air and ether : share wisdom and The Sage. This person is a guide and mentor to others. They could be a teacher, some type of guru or an important public figure, a coach, a counselor. This person is very powerful and influent. They could have published a book or a study or shared their experience and what they learned over time online.

They are represented by the hammerhead shark. They have a lot of determination and drive. They are also incredibly mature. They could very well be older than you. I’d say at least ten years older. Purple and blue could be their favorite colors. If they were a major arcana, I think this person would be the Hermit. So Cancer could also be relevant. They are also represented by Kyanite and Amethyst. Kyanite is advised to people who feel restless, who overthink or get caught in their mental space too often. This shows that this person is a deep thinker. They take things seriously and meticulously. Amethyst is often used in spiritual practices to deepen our connection to the spirit realm and gain clarity. To hone our psychic skills. This person feels very connected to their higher self. They know who they are, what they were meant to do and where they’re heading. They are focused on their mission and won’t lose their time with insignificant matters.

What do they bring to the table? - 7 of cups, 3 of wands, 9 of cups, Temperance, 4 of swords, The Lovers, 5 of swords Other significant zodiac signs are Gemini, Sagittarius and Pisces. This person will teach you how to identify your needs and choose a path that is in alignment with your higher self and your highest good. They’ll help you find balance and emotional satisfaction in the projects that you pursue, the actions you take. They’ll teach you how to recognize the symptoms of anxiety and being overwhelmed by life so that you can retreat and protect yourself. They’ll teach you how to pick your battles wisely and ignore petty attitudes from your peers. They’ll help you handle the pressure of being your true self and choosing yourself over others. They’ll teach you how to love yourself and how to love, how to be in love and receive love. I can say here that this relationship has romantic potential. Surprisingly this part of the reading is the shortest but I feel like there’s no need to overanalyze this because this person will be pretty clear with their intent : they’re here to help and support you, "and that is all you need to know" they want to add.

Group 3 - Sunflower

Who are they? I associate the Sunflower with the bold and brave Leo. I heard in my mind "only the brave" which is the name of a perfume from Diesel. So this could be this person’s perfume. With it’s bright colors and relation to the sun, it is safe to say this person has a bright personality. They are outgoing and friendly, like to be seen and admired. They take great care of their body and appearance. Hence the fragrance reference. This person is cheerful and ambitious. They don’t like lying down and contemplating. They would rather act first and think later. They could have anger issues and sometimes be jealous. The signs of Leo and Aries could be significant. Blue and green could be their favorite colors. This person is represented by the whale shark and the octopus. They are very clever and resilient. They have a strong moral compass and always lead their life according to their values and principles. They remind me of Changbin from Stray Kids. This person likes to make their own mind instead of following others. They’re a natural leader and a loner. With The Creator card and the Withdraw card from the Threads of fate deck, this tells me that this person is creative and works independently. They could be a fashion designer, a writer, a producer, a webdesigner, an architect, a freelance artist in any domain. This person could be known on social media. On the withdraw card is a sleeping fox. This tells me that this person likes their solitude. They need time alone to recharge and create. They don’t like showing people their tricks. They like to surprise and impress. The creator card shows a hand holding a wand. This for some reason reminds me of Harry Potter. Maybe your person is a potter head. In this case, they’re the typical Gryffindor : athletic, loyal, thinks with their heart (or something else a bit lower when the heart isn’t functioning). They have a strong sex drive and are pretty sensual. Their body matters a lot to them. They go to the gym often.

What do they bring to the table? - 2 of cups, ace of swords, page of wands, ace of pentacles, six of cups, The Tower, 7 of wands

To put it simply, they bring love, sex and a whole lot of fun. But this will be challenging for you, as you are not used to this type of energy. Significant zodiac signs are Scorpio, Sagittarius and Pisces. They bring in new opportunities and a new start romantically speaking. They bring in new experiences and that includes sexuality. They will help you reconnect with the past and make amends with it. They will help you heal your inner child and release trauma regarding intimacy. They will challenge you and push your buttons to get the best out of you. That is their way of showing you love. This is the type of person that will wake you up one morning and get you out of bed to work out with them, and gently scream at you positive affirmations while you’re working on that "summer body" you always wanted. They’ll show you how to have fun with life and explore all the hidden parts of you that you were burying because you were afraid of rejection. They’ll cut through your walls and uncover your masks for you so that you can finally get the happy ending that you deserve. They’ll be your knight in shining armor except that instead of saving you they’ll get you to save yourself. If you ever try to push them away, they’ll only come back stronger and needier. You won’t get rid of them easily.

[bardic-inspo]

Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Part 1 of 2

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended. 

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude. 

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs. 

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to? 

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen? 

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too. 

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient. 

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading. 

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night. 

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast. 

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own. 

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles. 

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her. 

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue. 

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips. 

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again. 

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her. 

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes. 

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry. 

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard. 

Just a dream, then. For now, at least. 

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.” 

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time. 

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces. 

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

EDIT: This is now officially a part one of two 😉

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[ghostlyferrettarot]

📀⚡️The Part of Fortune and how we find happiness⚡️📀

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

📀If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!📀

⚡️Masterlist⚡️

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Aries: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potential of trust, faith and hope flowing in the most selfless generosity throughout your being. Generosity begins with oneself and always discovering new ways to give it will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Taurus: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the relationship with the divine without intermediaries and in the first person and, thus, you can transmit to each individual inspiration, harmony and a priceless feeling of being welcomed and accepted in the world. Your ability to understand with kindness through empathy will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Gemini: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potential of free will and the ability to love (yourself) in total freedom flowing through your entire being in order to learn to choose (yourself). The activation of your shamanic mind and the balance of forces within you will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️Part of Fortune in Cancer: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you open new routes to success and deploy your power, your mastery and your magnetism in unthinkable ways. Going for triumph and success that allows you to assert yourself as an individual and realize your desires for action in the world will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Leo: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potentials of courage, will, passion and valor flowing, in a serene and calm way, throughout your being. Finding and feeling the centering, the magnetism in the axis around which your own life revolves will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Virgo: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you connect with the depths of your soul. Pursuing the call of your desire to be one with the divine and cultivating introspection, wisdom, prudence and perseverance will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️Part of Fortune in Libra: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potentials of balance, rigor, loyalty, authenticity and honesty flowing through your entire being. Finding yourself in a balance that is not, in reality, static but in continuous transformation, looking life in the face and people directly in the eye… will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Scorpio: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you move towards the future in a totally dynamic attitude and are willing to explore unknown regions. Continually being reborn into new ways of being, destroying the superficial and leaving only the essential at every step, will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Sagittarius: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potentials of harmony, tolerance, connection and peace flowing through your entire being. Seeking and finding the middle path between light and shadow, activating kind understanding and intelligence of the heart will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Capricorn: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potentials of all your material power and capacity for seduction that are available in your physical vehicle, the temple of your body. Your efforts and determination to access leadership will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️ Part of Fortune in Aquarius: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you do not let your ideas go to waste and, when you get down to work, you feel the potentials of know-how, structuring and realization flowing through your entire being. The world needs you to invent things and put your contributions into practice, so attending to and honoring your need to exercise your activity in the field will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

⚡️Part of Fortune in Pisces: you experience your greatest joy and delight when you feel the potentials of unlimited vision and the most fertile creativity flowing through your entire being. Your willingness to feel the mobility of all emotions and all feelings will attract your greatest luck and fortune.

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: Your Future House and Mansion Aesthetic. Have fun! Pick an Image

Top Left to Right- Pile 1->Pile 2. Bottom Left to Right- Pile 3->Pile 4

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The below is a pick a card prediction of what your future manifestation of a house or a mansion would look like if you were to manifest it into your existence. Enjoy!

Pile 1: Cozy Cottage

The Empress

Your future home will be abundant in natural beauty, with a garden or a lot of indoor plants. The aesthetic is nurturing and comforting, with soft, earthy tones and cozy furnishings.

Ten of Pentacles

This card suggests a traditional, well-established home. It will likely have a classic design with antique furniture, family heirlooms, and a warm, inviting atmosphere. Think of a place that feels timeless and deeply rooted in family history.

If you Manifest a Mansion, It ought to look like the image below:

Ace of Cups

The Ace of Cups indicates a home filled with love and emotional fulfillment. The décor will reflect a sense of peace and tranquility, with elements like water features, soothing colors, and comfortable spaces for relaxation and connection.

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Pile 2: Modern Minimalist

The Fool

Your future apartment will have a fresh, modern, and minimalist design. Expect open spaces, clean lines, and a sense of freedom and lightness. The décor will be simple yet sophisticated, with an emphasis on functionality.

The World

This card suggests a globally inspired aesthetic, with influences from different cultures. Your home will be a blend of modern design and eclectic touches, creating a balanced and harmonious environment. Think of unique art pieces and travel memorabilia.

If you Manifest a Mansion the below image will show how it will look like:

Page of Swords

The Page of Swords indicates a home that is intellectually stimulating and technologically advanced. The aesthetic will be sleek and contemporary, with smart home features, a dedicated workspace, and a clean, organized environment.

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Pile 3: Artistic Bohemian

The Star

Your future home will be an artistic haven, filled with inspiration and creativity. The aesthetic will be eclectic and whimsical, with lots of personal touches, handmade items, and vibrant colors. It will feel like a dreamy, magical space.

Queen of Wands

This card suggests a dynamic and lively home environment. Your space will be full of bold colors, eclectic furniture, and artistic expressions. It will be a place that reflects your passion, creativity, and vibrant energy.

In case you are planning to manifest a mansion, this is what it will look like:

Seven of Cups

The Seven of Cups indicates a home with a whimsical, fantasy-like quality. The aesthetic will be imaginative and dreamy, with unique decor, mystical elements, and a sense of wonder. It’s a place where dreams and reality blend seamlessly.

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Pile 4: Rustic Retreat

The Hermit

Your future home will be a quiet, secluded retreat, perfect for introspection and peace. The aesthetic will be rustic and cozy, with natural materials like wood and stone, warm lighting, and a serene, uncluttered environment.

Four of Wands

This card suggests a home that is a place of celebration and joy. The aesthetic will be charming and welcoming, with a focus on comfort and community. Think of a rustic farmhouse with a large, inviting kitchen and communal spaces for gatherings.

Your Future Manifestation of a Mansion will look like the follows:

Nine of Pentacles

The Nine of Pentacles indicates a home that is both luxurious and self-sufficient. The aesthetic will be elegant and refined, with high-quality materials, beautiful decor, and a sense of abundance and independence. It’s a place of both comfort and sophistication.

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[doodle-pops]

Foreign Hearts

Gil Galad x modern human!reader

A/N: At last, the final piece for the event of this year is out! I wanted to go out with a bang but I didn’t expect to write so much (ノ_･､). Enjoy!

Warnings:modern human reader, fluff, humour, modern reader in Middle Earth, relationship talk

Words: 3.7k

Synopsis: Reflecting on the secrecy of the love you’ve shared with the High King, turned into another romantic and heartwarming moment between you two.

The sun had just begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the serene landscape of Rivendell. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves. The melody of a distant waterfall filled the air, mingling with the song of birds that flitted through the trees. Rivendell was a place of peace, of beauty that seemed untouched by time, and it had become your sanctuary since that fateful day when you had mysteriously appeared in the forests nearby.

It had been months since you found yourself in Middle-earth, a place you had only known from the pages of books and the whispers of legends. One moment, you had been living your life in the modern world, surrounded by the familiar hum of technology and the bustle of city life; the next, you were wandering through a forest that seemed to belong to another time, another world entirely.

The elves who had found you, clad in their silver and green, had been as shocked by your appearance as you were by theirs. You were an anomaly, a puzzle they couldn’t quite piece together. Lord Elrond, the wise and kind ruler of Rivendell, had taken you in, offering you shelter and care as you adjusted to this strange new reality.

Living in Rivendell was like stepping into a dream—everything was so ethereal, so perfect, that you often had to pinch yourself to make sure it was real. Yet, despite the beauty around you, it was hard not to feel out of place. The elves, with their flowing robes, graceful movements, and ancient wisdom, seemed like beings from a different world altogether. Your modern speech, your casual mannerisms, even your sense of humour—things that had been perfectly normal back home—stood out starkly against the elegance of elven customs.

There were times when you caught the elves watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, their ageless faces betraying their thoughts more than they likely realised. You had tried, at first, to conform to their ways, to adopt their formal speech and graceful etiquette. But it was exhausting to maintain, and eventually, you had accepted that you were simply different. You were a visitor in their world, and while you respected their ways, you couldn’t entirely change who you were.

It was during one of these quiet, introspective days that you first met Gil-galad.

The High King of the Noldor had arrived in Rivendell on a visit to consult with his Herald, Lord Elrond. You had heard of him in passing—the Elven king who ruled over Lindon, a figure of great authority and wisdom. But you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming that someone of his stature would have little reason to notice someone like you.

You were wrong.

The meeting had been as unexpected as everything else in Middle-earth. You had been wandering through one of the many gardens of Rivendell, lost in thought, when you nearly collided with someone. Looking up, you found yourself staring into the most striking pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall—taller than any of the other elves you had met—his presence commanding and regal, yet there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put you at ease.

“Forgive me,” he had said, his voice smooth and deep, though the amused glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t at all displeased by the encounter.

You had stammered out an apology, feeling flustered and out of place in front of someone so imposing. But the King had only smiled, intrigued by your manner of speech—so different from the formal, melodic tones of the elves. His curiosity was piqued, and instead of continuing on his way, he had engaged you in conversation.

At first, you had been nervous, unsure of how to speak to someone of such high status. But as the conversation flowed, you found yourself relaxing. Gil-galad was different from what you had expected. He was charming and kind, with a sharp wit that matched your own. He seemed genuinely interested in your world, in your experiences, and you found yourself laughing and talking more freely than you had since you arrived in Middle-earth.

Over the course of his stay in Rivendell, you and the High King crossed paths often. Each encounter left you feeling a strange mixture of excitement and confusion. He was a King, after all, and you were… well, you weren’t even sure what you were anymore. Yet, there was no denying the connection that had begun to form between you. It was as though he saw past the strangeness of your situation and was drawn to the very things that made you different.

It was during one of these visits that he had gifted you the music box. A small, intricately carved thing made of mahogany, it played a melody that was hauntingly beautiful. You had been surprised, touched by the gesture, and from that moment on, the music box had become one of your most treasured possessions.

Now, as you sat on the stone bench in one of Rivendell’s many gardens, you found yourself once again lost in thought, the music box cradled in your hands. You had come here to find some peace, to escape the swirling thoughts and emotions that had been troubling you ever since your feelings for Gil-galad began to deepen.

The gardens were quiet, the air cool and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. The sun was low in the sky, casting a soft, golden light over everything. It was a perfect evening, the kind that made you forget, if only for a moment, that you were far from home.

“Does it not trouble you?”

The familiar, smooth voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked up to see Gil-galad approaching, his expression curious and gentle. He was dressed in his usual attire—garments of silver and royal blue, the colors of his house—his presence as commanding as ever. He sat down beside you on the bench, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, but not so close as to make you uncomfortable.

You blinked, trying to shake off the fog of your thoughts as you focused on him. But your gaze was drawn to his lips, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything else. His lips, curved into that familiar teasing smile, held your attention, and your thoughts muddled together into a jumble of emotions.

He noticed your gaze and, with a smirk, leaned closer, his voice laced with amusement. “Is there something on my face, or rather, my lips, my love?” he teased, drawing out the moment, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, focusing intently on the music box in your hands. Your fingers traced the delicate carvings, desperate for something to distract you from the fluttering in your chest. “Your teasing is going to get you into trouble one day, My King,” you muttered, your voice a mix of shyness and annoyance—though the latter was directed more at yourself than at him.

Gil-galad’s expression softened as he leaned back slightly, giving you a bit more space. “How many times must I remind you? You may call me Ereinion,” he said gently, though there was a hint of playful reproach in his tone.

You kept your eyes on the music box, refusing to look up and meet his gaze. “Once more…I suppose,” you replied quietly.

Silence settled between you as he continued to watch you, his eyes tracing the movements of your hands and the way you muttered softly to yourself in a language he couldn’t fully understand. Your mother tongue, ancient and melodic, was a lexicon from a world and age far removed from his own. Yet, despite the differences, he found comfort in these moments, in simply observing you in your element, even when the words escaped him.

“You are unhappy, are you not?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with an undertone of certainty.

A smile tugged at your lips, as though his statement amused you, and for a brief moment, a crackle of energy filled the air, as if the very atmosphere responded to your unspoken thoughts. Setting the music box aside, you turned to face him, giving him the full weight of your attention. “Why would you come to such a conclusion, or rather, how?” you asked, disbelief coloring your tone. “I don’t recall ever giving the impression that I was.”

His expression softened, though there was a shadow of hurt in his eyes. “You do not address me by my name as lovers do,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that pained you to hear. “It is almost as if you were embarrassed or uninterested in being with me. Is it because of our secrecy?”

And as the question hung in the air between you, you realised that this was a moment of truth, a moment when the feelings you had been trying to ignore could no longer be denied.

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against your chest like a heavy stone. Gil-galad’s expression, so often the picture of composed regality, was softened by the sadness in his eyes, a sadness that you had never intended to cause. But the truth, like the stone in your chest, was complicated and unyielding.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, warm and comforting as always. “Ereinion,” you began, the use of his name deliberate, a balm for the hurt you had unknowingly inflicted. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed or uninterested in being with you. Far from it.”

He turned his hand over to grasp yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm. The simple gesture was comforting, grounding you in the moment as you searched for the right words. Words that would explain what you felt without causing him more pain.

“You have to understand,” you continued, your voice soft but steady, “I’m a human, Ereinion. A mortal. And that means…well, it means that I’m different from the people you’ve ruled and loved for centuries. I’ve seen how some of the elves speak about humans—like we’re nothing more than a fleeting thought in their minds. I know that not all of them feel that way, but enough do that it will make our relationship…complicated.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, simply listening as you voiced the thoughts you had kept buried for so long.

“You’re their High King, their leader, and their symbol of everything that is strong and eternal about the Eldar. And if they knew that you had chosen a human, someone who will live for only a blink of an eye compared to their long lives, to stand by your side…” You trailed off, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t think they would accept it. Not easily, anyway.”

He started to speak, but you held up your hand, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s not just that, Ereinion. It’s also…well, I’m happy with things the way they are. Keeping our relationship a secret, it means I don’t have to deal with the expectations and judgments that would come if I were known as your chosen one. It’s a relief, honestly.”

You shifted slightly on the bench, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath you as you gathered your thoughts. “When I first arrived in Middle-earth—when I was suddenly…here—I was lost. Confused. I didn’t understand your world or its customs. And despite the kindness I’ve been shown, especially by Lord Elrond, I still struggle with it. I’m not like the others. My behaviour, my speech, even the way I think, it’s all…different. I’ve spent over a year in Rivendell, learning and adapting as best I can, but there are times when I still feel like an outsider, like I don’t quite belong.”

The grip he held on your hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he understood. His eyes, so often filled with the weight of his responsibilities, now held only concern for you, his secret love.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” you added quickly, seeing the flicker of guilt cross his features. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m grateful that we can keep our relationship private. It means I don’t have to deal with the pressure of being a ruler, of trying to prove my worth to people who might never accept me. I’ve heard how some of the elves speak of humans—how we’re seen as lesser, as irrelevant. I’ve witnessed the way they look down on us, dismiss us.”

You paused, meeting his gaze with a steady look. “There’s no way they would accept me as their leader. And that’s okay. I don’t need them to. I’m happy with my freedom, with not having to live up to impossible expectations or navigate the treacherous waters of court politics and finding myself crying in a corner every day of the week, anxiously. I’m content being your secret lover, someone who can love you without the weight of a crown on my head.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making his expression softened further, the sadness giving way to a deep, abiding affection. “You are remarkable,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of awe that made your heart skip a beat. “To find contentment in such circumstances…it’s not something many could do.”

You chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tension that had built between you. “Well, I’ve always been one to adapt, but not this time. Maybe if it was another human instead of me, they might enjoy the idea of being a royal more than the problems it bring,” you teased lightly. “Besides, I’ve never been one for grand titles or public adoration. I prefer the quiet moments, like this one, where I can just be myself with you.”

He nodded, a small, grateful smile crossing his lips. “It’s those quiet moments that I cherish most as well,” he admitted. “In all my years, with all the burdens of leadership, it’s rare to find someone who sees me not as the High King, but as Ereinion—just an elf who loves and is loved in return.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “And that’s exactly how I see you,” you said softly. “I fell in love with you, not for your title or your power, but for who you are—the elf who listens to my ramblings, who teases me when I’m being too serious, who finds joy in the small things.”

The weight of your conversation still hung in the air, but with it came a sense of relief—a feeling that you had finally voiced the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for so long. Gil-galad’s expression had softened, his eyes still holding that deep affection, but now there was an understanding between you that hadn’t existed before.

You broke the silence first, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned back on the bench, your fingers still intertwined with his. “You know,” you began, your tone lightening, “I never imagined when I first ended up in Middle-earth that I’d be sitting here with the High King of the Elves, having a heart-to-heart in a secret garden.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a deep, warm rumble that you felt as much as heard. “And I never imagined that I’d fall in love with a human from a world I’ve never even heard of,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, a laugh escaping your lips as you thought back to the strange journey that had brought you here. “That’s an understatement. I mean, one day I’m sitting in my apartment, minding my own business, and the next thing I know, I’m in Rivendell, surrounded by elves and trying to figure out how not to embarrass myself with every other word I say.”

Gil-galad’s smile widened, and he leaned back beside you, the tension between you dissipating like morning mist. “I remember the first time I heard you speak,” he mused, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You were trying to explain the concept of a ‘microwave’ to Elrond, and he looked as though he was trying to decipher an ancient riddle.”

You groaned, your cheeks heating at the memory. “Oh, don’t remind me. I must have sounded like a complete lunatic. I’m still not sure he believes that microwaves aren’t some kind of magic.”

“Well,” Gil-galad said, his tone mock-serious, “you have to admit, it does sound rather magical. A box that cooks food in mere moments? Even I have trouble wrapping my head around it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep the grin off your face. “It’s just science,” you replied with a playful nudge. “But then again, in a world where magic is real, I suppose science might seem a little…mystical.”

He chuckled again, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said, his voice warm. “You bring a perspective that’s entirely different from anything I’ve known. You see the world in a way that none of us do, and it’s…refreshing.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So what you’re saying is, you fell for me because I’m weird?”

He laughed, the sound full and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in. “Well, if by ‘weird,’ you mean unique, then yes,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And besides, I think you’re the only person who can make me laugh like this.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, so I’m your court jester now? Should I start juggling or learn to ride a unicycle?”

Shaking his head, his laughter fading into a soft smile. “No, you’re much more than that. But if you do learn to juggle, I’m sure we could arrange a performance at the next feast.”

You playfully swatted his arm, your heart feeling lighter with each moment you spent in his company. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Only with you, my love.”

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve to keep things light slipping away under the intensity of his gaze. But before you could lose yourself in the moment, you caught yourself and leaned back, a smirk on your lips as you tried to regain the upper hand.

“You know,” you said, your tone teasing, “if this is your way of convincing me to move in with you, you’re going to have to try harder. I’ve grown rather fond of my little room in Rivendell, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my bach pad just yet.”

His brow raised and lips quirking into a smile. “Oh? And what would it take to tempt you away from your ‘bach pad,’ as you call it? A private suite in the palace? Endless bouquets of flowers delivered daily? A personal chef to prepare all your meals?”

You pretended to consider his offer, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, those are all tempting…but I’m not sure. I mean, who’s going to teach Elrond about the wonders of modern technology if I’m not around?”

He laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter. “You make a good point. I’m not sure he’s ready to tackle the mysteries of the ‘microwave’ on his own.”

“I don’t think he’s even ready for to learn about the internet or the blender. However, he did take learning the TV, fairly,” you laughed.

“When you do, inform me for I would be interested in witnessing his utter confusion,” he replied with equal merriment.

You grinned, pleased with your little victory, but before you could bask in it for too long, Gil-galad leaned in once more, his expression suddenly serious. “But in all seriousness,” he said, his voice gentle, “I want you to know that wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Whether it’s in Rivendell, here in my palace, or anywhere else…as long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for what to say. You had always known that he cared for you deeply, but hearing it spoken aloud, in such a simple, heartfelt way, made your chest tighten with emotion.

After a beat, you managed a smile, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. “I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And as much as I joke about it…I know that wherever you are, I’ll always feel at home.”

His hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Then that’s all I need,” he said quietly.

The moment stretched out between you, filled with a warmth and understanding that words couldn’t fully capture. It was in the way he looked at you, the way his hand fit perfectly around yours, the way the world seemed to fall away when you were together. Here, in that garden, under the stars of a world you never expected to call home, you found something you never knew you were searching for.

But even as you basked in the comfort of the moment, a flicker of mischief returned to your eyes. “But just so you know,” you added with a grin, “if you ever try to get me to wear one of those elaborate court attires, we might have a problem.”

Launching into another round of laughter, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, he shook his head. “Noted,” he said, his eyes shining with affection. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I have to say, I think you’d look stunning.”

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Majesty. I prefer my sweatpants and t-shirts, thank you very much.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “And that’s exactly how I like you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart grown warmer.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings

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[soulofapatrick]

Moonlight Confessions - Jeremiah Fisher x Reader

Summary: You can't sleep so slip into bed with Jeremiah like you used to do as kids

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: none, just fluff

Notes: I have a new character obsession but ill still write alll my old characters I promise

Y/N’s POV

The night hangs heavy around me as I lie in bed, surrounded by the hushed symphony of the beach house settling into the quietude of the late hour. Moonlight spills though the half-closed curtains, casting ethereal shadows on the wall. The rhythmic murmur of the waves serves as a lullaby, yet instead of being soothing, it only accentuates the restlessness within. 

I toss and turn, the sheets twisting around me like a futile attempt to escape the grip of insomnia. The wooden floorboards beneath creak softly in response to my every movement, the house itself seemingly alive with memories and secrets. The air is thick with the scent of salt, a subtle reminder of the proximity of the ocean just beyond the windows. 

A gentle sigh escapes me, and I sit up, the moonlit room offering a muted palette of grass and blues. The sea breeze slips through the open window, carrying with it the salty tang of the ocean and a faint hint of sunscreen lingering on my skin from a day spent under the sun. It’s a scent that feels like summer, a tangible reminder of days filled with laughter and quiet moments. The beach house, usually echoing with the laughter of friends that have become family and the clinking of glasses, is now draped in a serene quietness. The only sounds are the distant waves, the occasional creaks of the house, and the soft rustle of leaves outside the window. The night is alive with a different kind of energy, one that invites introspection and quiet contemplation. 

I glance at the clock; its numbers glow faintly, indicating the lateness of the hour. Frustration wells up within me as the thoughts in my head refuse to quiet down. The weight of uncertainty presses on my chest, and the moonlight, once a friend, now feels accusatory, illuminating the shadows of doubt. 

With a resigned sigh, I slip out of bed, the coolness of the wooden floor soothing against my bare feet. The moonlit room is empty, and the stillness is almost palpable I find myself standing by the window gazing out at the silver expanse of the ocean, debating whether to go for a late night swim. The rhythmic lull of the waves seems to beckon, promising a brief escape from the tangled thought that refuse to let go. 

However, a different impulse guides me tonight. There’s a yearning for connection, for a presence that might understand my sleeplessness. My bare feet carry me down the hallway, each step a whisper against the aged floorboards. The soft glow of the moonlight follows me, casting a silvery trail towards Jeremiah’s room. 

I hesitate for a moment, hand resting on the doorknob, wondering if I’m intruding. But the pull is undeniable, and with a gentle push, the door opens. The room is awash in the same moonlight, giving it an almost magical ambiance. My eyes find Jeremiah’s form, asleep and seemingly at peace. He lies sprawled across the bed, one arm flung lazily over his head, the other resting against the pillow. The soft rise and fall on his chest speaks of a deep, undisturbed slumber. Moonbeams play on the edges of his tanned features, casting gentle shadows that dance in tandem with the ebb and flow of the ocean outside. 

In the quiet room, I can hear his rhythmic breathing, a sound that harmonises with the distant waves. The worries etched onto his face during waking hours are softened in the moonlight, leaving behind the serenity of someone unburdened, if only for the night. A smile tugs at my lips as I watch him, realising that the moonlit room holds a different kind of tranquility with him in it. His vulnerability while asleep is endearing, and the knots of restlessness within me begin to loosen. 

With each step, the floor beneath me barely creaking, I move across the room towards him. The moonlight bathes the space in a silvery glow, and as I reach his bedside, I find myself inexplicably drawn to the warmth emanating from his sleeping form. Gently, I lift the duvet, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet room. I slide into the bed beside him, careful not to disturb his peaceful repose. The mattress gives a subtle sigh beneath my weight, and I hold my breath for a moment, hoping to preserve the serenity of the night. 

As I settle beside Jeremiah, the contrast between the coolness of the sheets and the warmth of his presence is palpable. The moonlight paints a soft halo around his features, casting shadows that plat on the contours of his face. His eyelashes rest against him cheeks, and the faint moonlight lines on his skin tell stories only visible when the world is hushed 

I watch him for a moment, laying on my side, facing him, a cascade of mixed emotions washing over me. The quiet intimacy of the moonlit room and the closeness we share creates a bubble, shielding us from the uncertainties of the waking world. 

Unable to resits the urge to touch, I reach out and trace a gentle line along his jaw, my fingertips barely grazing his skin. He stirs, a subtle shift in his breathing, and a small smile plays on his lips as if he sense my presence even in his dreams. 

“Mouse?” He mumbles, my nickname making my cheeks heat up, voice heavy with sleep as his eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim light. Confusion flickers in his gaze for a moment before recognition settles in, a sleepy smile graces his lips as he meets my eyes, “What’s wrong?” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” I admit, my fingers now tracing aimless patterns across his cheek, feeling the smile as well as seeing it deepen as he shifts to pull me closer to him. 

He wraps his arms around me in a warm embrace, the duvet a soft cocoon around us. The scent of his skin and subtle musk of the room creates a comforting atmosphere, and I rest my head against the curve of his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. Jeremiah, still half-asleep, responds by pulling me even closer until there’s no space between us. The contours of our bodies fit together as if they were pieces of a puzzle meant to be connected. The room is filled with a quiet intimacy, the kind that words struggle to capture. 

His fingers train through my hair, a gentle rhythmic motion that lulls me into a sense of peace, “You can always come to me,” He murmurs, his voice a soft whisper in the silence. 

A contented sigh escapes my lips as his touch soothes the restlessness within me. He cups my jaw with his hand, his thumb rubbing over my cheek soothingly. The moonlight painting a silver glow on his face, highlighting the warmth in his ocean blue eyes as he gazes at me. 

“Better?” He asks, his voice a gentle hum against my ear. 

I can just nod, feeling a weight lifted off my shoulders in the quiet sanctuary of his arms, replaced with something different. Something so familiar yet foreign, like a feeling I’ve pushed down over and over again until it can’t be contained anymore. My thumb brushing over Jeremiah’s bottom lip tentatively, as if testing a theory and it’s no longer a theory when his breath hitches. 

We linger in that suspended moment, our eyes locked in a silent exchange that speaks volumes. The room is charged with an unspoken understanding, the air thick with anticipation. Neither of us is sure who should make the first move, and the vulnerability that hangs between ys is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. 

My thumb traces a path over Jeremiah’s lips once more, and this time, there’s no mistaking the subtle shift in the atmosphere. It’s a quiet invitation, a whisper in the language of touch that bridges the gap between uncertainty and desire. His eyes, already darkened pools of warmth, flicker with a newfound intensity. His gaze drops to my lips, and in that shared gaze, an unspoken agreement forms. It’s a mutual acknowledgment of something unexplored yet palpable, a connection that has lingered beneath the surface. 

Cautiously, almost tentatively, Jeremiah move his face closer, his breath warming the small space between us. The seconds stretch into an eternity as we hover on the precipice of a moment that could redefine the contours of our relationship.

His lips brush against mine in the softest of touches, a delicate exploration that speaks of uncharted territory. It’s a dance of closeness, of discovering the texture and taste of something that, until now remained in the realm of unspoken possibilities. His lips are warm, molding against mine with a gentle insistence that feels like a secret shared. The touch is soft but laced with a quiet intensity, a magnetic pull that bridges the space between us. There's a tenderness in the way his lips move, as if tracing the contours of a story that has yet to be written. 

The sensation is both electrifying and comforting, a paradox of emotions that bloom in the simple act of this newfound intimacy. His lips are a revelation, unveiling a language that transcends words. Each brush and caress feels like a promise, a silent vow exchanged in the hallowed silence of the moonlit room. 

There’s a faint taste lingering on his lips, a subtle essence that is uniquely Jeremiah. It's a blend of warmth and something indefinable, a taste that imprints itself on my senses like the lingering notes of a melody. It's a flavour that I never knew I craved until this moment, a discovery that adds a new layer to the complexity of our connection.

As we kiss, the world outside the room fades away, leaving only the cadence of our breaths and the quiet symphony of the night. Jeremiah's hand, now placed on my hip, grips me like I’m going to disappear and I’m not much better myself. My hands are tangled in his blond curls and pressed against his chest as he continues to kiss me senseless. 

“Jere,” His name is spoken in less than a breath, as if speaking any louder would break the moment and I just feel his smile against my lips. 

“Yeah?” 

“This isn’t… I like you… I don’t-“ 

He pulls back enough to meet my gaze, an amused look on his face as he watches me fumble over my words, before he whispers out four words I could not be happier to hear: “I like you too.” 

“You do?” 

“Go to sleep Mouse.” 

“Make out with me.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

TAGS: New Tag List Form

[alyrasturnz]

dude your fics are so long (no offense tho)

pls write a SHORT matt fic where he argues with reader but like apologies the day after

so angst but with a good ending

 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎STAY STAY STAY

❐ summary » matt and y/n found themselves entangled in a vehement altercation, leading matt to depart in a tempestuous manner, leaving their emotions in a state of disarray. as the hours slowly unfolded, y/n was left in solitude, her mind consumed by introspection. she came to the profound realization that, despite the conflict, her deepest desire was to remain united with matt, understanding that their love was an enduring force, resilient enough to withstand any discord.

❐ pairings » toxic!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » arguing

❐ a/n && w/c » is this short enough 😭 it took me soo long to actually start a taglist and i dont even know why • 2.37k

"i can't believe you did that," you said, your voice shaking with anger as your hands clenched into fists, your eyes narrowing. "do you even care about us?"

your bedroom was dim, the only light coming from the single lit candle casting flickering shadows on the walls, creating a dance of light and darkness. the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside table added a gentle, warm hue, bathing the room in a serene and tranquil ambiance.

the interplay of these two light sources created an almost ethereal atmosphere, making the room feel like a sanctuary from the outside world.

the candle's flame wavered slightly with each breath of air, while the lamp's steady glow provided a comforting contrast. together, they painted a picture of calm and quiet, a perfect retreat from the day's chaos.

matt's eyes narrowed, his face a mask of frustration, the tension evident in every line. "of course, i care!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with a mix of anger and hurt. "but what you did was completely out of line," he continued, his words sharp and cutting, each syllable layered with the weight of his disappointment.

you felt your frustration bubbling over, unable to hold back the torrent of emotions. "out of line? you never listen to me!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with a blend of anger and desperation. "you just brush off everything i say like it doesn't matter," you continued, each word dripping with the accumulated weight of countless ignored conversations, the intensity of your feelings painting the air with a palpable tension.

matt took a step closer, his voice rising with intensity, each word charged with emotion. "that's not true, and you know it," he asserted, his tone a mixture of frustration and earnestness.

"i'm always trying to make things work, but you keep pushing me away," he continued, his words laden with the weight of his efforts and the pain of feeling perpetually shut out, the space between you now filled with an almost palpable tension.

you shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes, the sorrow evident in your trembling voice. "you never show any emotion," you said, the words escaping like a pained whisper. "it's like you don't even care if we're together or not," you continued, each syllable heavy with the weight of your unspoken fears and the aching void of perceived indifference, creating a chasm of misunderstanding between you.

matt's fists clenched at his sides, his anger barely contained, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. "you think i don't care?" he retorted, his voice a mix of frustration and hurt. "i stay up at night worrying about us, trying to figure out how to fix things. but you... you're always looking for a fight," he continued, his words charged with the anguish of sleepless nights and the relentless effort to mend what felt irreparably broken, painting a picture of a man on the brink of emotional exhaustion.

your anger flared, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. "maybe because i'm tired of feeling like i'm the only one who gives a damn!" you exclaimed, your voice quivering with the intensity of your emotions. "you never fight for us, matt. you just stand there and let things fall apart," you continued, each word a dagger of frustration, cutting through the silence, revealing the raw pain of feeling perpetually alone in the struggle to salvage your relationship.

matt's face turned red with frustration, his voice growing louder, echoing with the intensity of his emotions. "and what do you want me to do? beg? plead?" he exclaimed, his words sharp and desperate. "i'm doing everything i can, but it's never enough for you!" he continued, the anguish in his voice revealing the depths of his efforts and the torment of feeling perpetually inadequate, like a man caught in an endless struggle against an unyielding tide.

you felt your heart breaking, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a dense fog. "i just want you to show that you care, to show that this relationship means something to you," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of hope and despair, each word a fragile plea for validation and a testament to the emotional investment you had poured into the fragile fabric of your connection.

matt's eyes flashed with a tumultuous mix of anger and hurt, a storm brewing behind them. "you think i don't show it?" he retorted, his voice tinged with a raw edge. "every day i'm here, trying to make things better, but you never see it. you only see what you want to see," he continued, each word laden with the weight of unacknowledged efforts and the simmering frustration of being perpetually misunderstood, painting a portrait of a man desperate for his silent battles to be recognized.

you took a deep breath, your voice trembling like a leaf in a storm. "i see someone who doesn't know how to communicate, someone who hides behind their anger instead of facing the problems," you said, each word a mirror reflecting the silent struggles and unspoken truths, revealing the deep chasm of unaddressed issues that lay between you, like shadows cast by a setting sun.

matt's jaw tightened, his voice cold and distant, like a winter's chill. "and i see someone who can't appreciate the effort i put in. someone who thinks everything revolves around their feelings," he responded, his words cutting through the air like shards of ice, revealing the deep-seated frustration and the growing divide in their perspectives, each syllable a testament to the widening gulf of unacknowledged sacrifices and perceived self-centeredness.

your frustration boiled over, tears streaming down your face like rivers carving through a desolate landscape. "maybe if you actually talked to me instead of shutting down, we wouldn't be in this mess!" you cried, your voice a tempest of raw emotion, each word a desperate plea for connection and understanding, echoing the chasm of unresolved conflicts and the longing for open communication.

matt turned away, his voice strained and low, like the distant rumble of thunder. "i can't do this right now. i need some space," he murmured, each word heavy with the weight of emotional exhaustion and the silent plea for solitude, as if the very act of speaking was a burden too great to bear in that moment.

before you could respond, he stormed off, leaving you standing there, the argument unresolved and the air thick with tension, like a storm cloud that refuses to break. each step he took echoed the unresolved discord, leaving behind an atmosphere laden with unspoken words and the heavy silence of lingering conflict.

»--•--«

you paced around your room, your phone in your hands, like a restless spirit trapped within a confined space. every step you took mirrored the turmoil within, the device in your grasp a silent witness to your inner conflict and the unrelenting cycle of thoughts swirling in your mind.

the screen cast its glow on your face as you contemplated sending matt a text message. the soft luminescence highlighted the furrows of your brow, a testament to your inner turmoil. you wanted to resolve the fight you had yesterday, for you believed that leaving a conflict unresolved was like allowing a wound to fester, deepening the rift and eroding the foundation of understanding and trust.

you let out a sigh, swallowing your pride as you sent the message. it was as though you were casting a fragile olive branch across a chasm, each word a delicate thread weaving through the tapestry of your strained relationship, seeking to mend the frayed edges with humility and hope.

“hey, i’m sorry for how things ended last night. can we talk?”

the thing was, you didn't want to break up with him. the mere thought of severing that bond felt more daunting than dangling yourself off a cliff, where the precipice represented the abyss of life without him, a void you couldn't fathom enduring.

he wasn't like the other guys you dated; he was a rare gem of compassion and understanding. his presence was like a gentle breeze that soothed your soul, a stark contrast to the tempestuous winds that had blown through your past relationships.

before matt, you had only ever dated self-indulgent men who projected their problems onto you. they were akin to tempestuous gales, relentless in their pursuit of emotional dominance, leaving you battered and drained.

each relationship felt like navigating through an unending storm, where you were the anchor weighed down by their ceaseless torrents of negativity and self-absorption.

their issues became your burdens, overshadowing your own needs and desires, until matt appeared like a beacon of light, guiding you away from the darkness.

he took the time to meticulously commit to memory the intricate tapestry of your being—your deepest fears, loftiest hopes, and most cherished dreams. his attentiveness was akin to an artist studying every nuance of a masterpiece, ensuring that each brushstroke captured the essence of your soul with unparalleled precision and care.

you cherished every moment spent in his company, for he possessed an uncanny ability to articulate words that resonated deeply within you, effortlessly evoking smiles and laughter. the prospect of spending your entire life in his presence, basking in the warmth of his wisdom and the comfort of his companionship, seemed far from undesirable; it felt like a serene and fulfilling journey.

minutes stretch into what feels like an eternity as you anxiously await a response. just as the tendrils of despair begin to take hold, a sudden knock at the door shatters the silence. you open it to find matt standing there, still clad in his hockey gear, helmet in hand, his face flushed and glistening from the exertion of practice.

"okay, let’s talk,” he intones, his voice imbued with sincerity, his eyes delving deeply into yours with a searching intensity.

you step aside to let him enter, your heart pounding with a tumultuous rhythm. as he crosses the threshold, you feel a mixture of relief and apprehension. "i'm scared, matt. last night was our biggest argument, and you are the best boyfriend i have ever had. i'm scared for us... and i just want you to stay," you whisper, your voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of your fears and hopes intertwined. your eyes search his face for reassurance, while your hands nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt.

matt sets his helmet down with a deliberate gentleness, his footsteps echoing softly as he walks over to you. his expression softens, the tension in his features melting away. "i'm here," he murmurs, taking your hands in his, the warmth of his touch offering a fleeting comfort. "i'm sorry too. i don't want to leave things unresolved." his voice carries a weight of sincerity, each word carefully chosen to bridge the chasm that had formed between you.

you move to the living room, each step heavy with the remnants of last night's tension. as you sit down on the couch, the air still thick with unresolved emotions, the urgency in matt's arrival brings a glimmer of hope. he looks at you, his eyes filled with a fierce determination. "i rushed over because i realized how important this is to me. i don't want to lose you," he declares, his voice imbued with a raw honesty that cuts through the lingering unease.

you nod, tears welling up in your eyes, shimmering like fragile glass. "i don't want to lose you either. we need to find a way to communicate better, to truly understand each other," you say, your voice quivering with the intensity of your emotions. each word is a plea, a delicate thread reaching out to weave a stronger bond between you both.

matt takes a deep breath, his voice steady and resolute. "i know i can be stubborn sometimes, and i hate that i made you feel like i wasn't listening," he says, each word carefully measured. "i want to change that." his gaze remains unwavering, a silent promise reflected in his eyes, as if he is willing to dismantle his own walls brick by brick for the sake of your connection.

you squeeze his hand, your heart aching with the desire to bridge the chasm that lies between you. "and i need to work on not shutting down when things get tough," you admit, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "we both have things to improve, but i believe we can do it." your words hang in the air, a testament to your shared commitment to growth and understanding.

you sit in silence for a moment, the weight of your words settling like a gentle snowfall. matt reaches out, his fingers tenderly brushing a strand of hair from your face. "you mean the world to me," he murmurs, his voice a soft caress. "i don't want a single fight to make us forget that." his words are a balm, soothing the raw edges of your heart and reaffirming the depth of your connection.

you lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your cheek as a comforting embrace. "i feel the same way," you whisper, your voice filled with a quiet resolve. "let's promise to always come back to each other, no matter what." your words are a solemn vow, a beacon of hope in the midst of uncertainty, binding your hearts with an unbreakable thread of commitment.

matt nods, his eyes filled with a newfound resolve, a spark of determination igniting within them. "i promise," he declares, his voice steady and unwavering. "from now on, we'll face everything together." his words are an oath, a pledge to stand united against the trials that may come, fortifying the bond that holds you both.

in that moment, bathed in the golden embrace of the morning light, you both know that you are ready to face your challenges head-on, united in your unwavering commitment to each other. the river of your relationship may be turbulent at times, but like the river shaping the stone, your love will only grow stronger through adversity. each trial and tribulation will carve deeper grooves of understanding and resilience, fortifying the bond that holds you together.

taglist @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @bandanamatt @pinkishpearls @thedangerousalleyway @sturniolo-0bsessed @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky @jetameivous @everleiqh

[cherryrainn]

cuddle headcanons with our beloved cole cassidy, hanzo shimada, and junkrat!

OKAYYYYY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— cuddle chronicles

cuddle headcanons with cassidy, hanzo and junkrat.

COLE CASSIDY ♡

when cuddling with cassidy, you'd find yourself enveloped in his strong arms, feeling his warmth and the sense of security he exudes.

he might pull you closer, as if shielding you from the world, his calm presence making you feel safe.

cassidy can be quite playful with those he's close to. while cuddling, he might crack a joke or make a lighthearted remark, his signature cowboy charm shining through.

his calloused fingers would trace patterns on your back, their roughness contrasting with his gentle touch. it's as if he's silently reassuring you that he's there.

cassidy's occasional cocky attitude might manifest even during cuddle time. he might smirk and playfully boast about how he's 'the best cuddler in the west', all while squeezing you closer to him.

he might rest his chin on top of your head, his beard tickling your forehead.

just like he treats his weapons with care, cassidy treats you with gentleness and respect during cuddles.

cassidy might tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. his scarred eye holds a softness that's reserved only for you, and in that moment, you feel truly cherished.

tough cowboy on the outside, softie on the inside.

"you know you're stuck with me now, right?"

HANZO SHIMADA ♡

hanzo's serious and introspective nature might extend to cuddling as well.

he's not one to initiate cuddles readily, but when he does, it's a significant gesture.

his cuddles are filled with warmth and security, a quiet way of showing how much he cares for you.

due to his reserved personality, hanzo prefers cuddling in more private settings. whether it's a quiet evening at home or a serene spot outdoors, he feels most at ease when it's just the two of you.

hanzo's strong arms provide a sense of protection as he holds you close. you can feel his muscles tense and relax as he adjusts his hold, making sure you're as comfortable as possible.

his touch is gentle yet firm, reflecting his disciplined nature.

hanzo's company is soothing, even if he doesn't say much. often, his cuddles are accompanied by a comfortable silence. the two of you might watch the sunset or simply listen to the sounds of nature, the silence speaking volumes about your connection.

hanzo's preference might be to lay down together, side by side. he'll often pull you close, your head resting on his chest, and he'll wrap his arm around you. feeling the steady beat of his heart and his rhythmic breathing can be incredibly calming.

hanzo might unconsciously run his fingers through your hair as you cuddle, a soothing and comforting gesture.

"thank you for being the unexpected light in my life."

JUNKRAT ♡

junkrat's not the typical cuddler, but he has his moments. cuddling with him might involve a tangle of limbs and explosions-themed plushies strewn about. he might grumble about it being too sappy, but his mischievous glint betrays his enjoyment.

despite his wild exterior, junkrat gives surprisingly warm hugs. he might not admit it, but his tight grip and genuine smile show he values physical closeness.

he'd create a cozy corner in his hideout for cuddling. piled high with pillows and blankets, it's an explosion-free zone where you both can unwind.

for all his bluster, junkrat can be surprisingly cautious with his touches. he'd hover his hand over your shoulder before committing to the cuddle, almost as if he's not sure how you'll react.

he'd absentmindedly play with your hair, fascinated by its texture and colors. his fingers are deft, his touch gentle despite his typically explosive nature.

junkrat's cuddles are accompanied by his distinctive laughter, which often manages to light up the room even more than his explosive devices.

while cuddling, he might tell you silly stories.

if he's awake during the night, he'd keep watch over you while you sleep. his protective side shows as he softly brushes his fingers across your cheek.

every now and then, you catch him in quieter moments of introspection, and he pulls you in for a cuddle that's surprisingly tender.

"don't think i've gone all mushy on ya now."

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 | 5

read chapter 1 - here [MASTERLIST]

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,DUB/NON-CON, Auctioning people, Dom and Sub dynamics, Drinking, food, kissing, possessiveness, flirting, praise, Degradation Oral M, Orgasums, manipulation, showering, blowjobs, talks of the gulf war, Cum eating, UNprotected sex wrap it before you tap it kids, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: It's finally time to move into Joel's home with some help from Tommy of course

WC: 2.6k

A/n: this is pretty dark that's your final warning

For notifications follow - @sinful-mind-joyful-fics

"Feel better?" Joel asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah," you replied, sitting down beside him. The comfort of the robe and his presence was grounding.

"Good," he said, leaning back against the headboard. "Do you want to order room service? We could use some food after all that."

You chuckled softly, the normalcy of his question a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions you had just experienced. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

Joel reached for the room service menu on the bedside table, handing it to you. "Anything in particular you’re craving?"

You scanned the menu, trying to focus on the words rather than the thoughts swirling in your mind. "Maybe something light. A salad, and... maybe some fries?"

He nodded, dialing room service and placing the order. As he spoke, you couldn’t help but replay the recent events in your mind. The intensity of your connection with Joel, the overwhelming passion, and the way he made you feel both desired and vulnerable.

When the food arrived, Joel set up the small table by the window. You joined him, the evening view of the ocean providing a serene backdrop. The atmosphere was calm, almost surreal after what had just transpired.

Joel dug into his meal with enthusiasm, but you found yourself picking at your salad, your mind still preoccupied. Each bite felt heavy, your thoughts tangled in a web of uncertainty and introspection.

"What's on your mind?" Joel asked, breaking the silence. His voice was gentle, yet there was an underlying note of concern.

You glanced up at Joel, forcing a smile. “I’m just tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, skepticism evident in his gaze. “You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Yeah,” you replied quickly, avoiding his gaze and taking another slow bite of your salad. “I’m fine, really.”

He watched you in silence for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. But if there’s anything bothering you, you should tell me.”

“I will,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. Joel occasionally reached over to touch your hand, his gestures filled with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his earlier possessiveness. It was this duality in him that both drew you in and made you wary.

As you both finished eating, Joel stood and moved behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently massaging the tension away. “I know it’s a lot. But we’ll figure it out together.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch. The warmth of his hands and the steadiness of his presence were comforting, even as your mind continued to churn with doubts and questions.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drifting towards the bed, Joel guiding you gently. The weight of the day and the emotions it had brought left you feeling exhausted. Joel pulled you into his arms, his embrace both comforting and possessive.

“Get some rest,” he murmured against your hair. “We’ve got a lot more to enjoy this weekend.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and letting the sound of his heartbeat lull you into a restless sleep. Despite the comfort of his arms, the uncertainty lingered, a silent companion in the darkness.

"Tommy, help me with this mirror, will you?" you asked, smiling as you unloaded Joel’s truck with your things. The move-in process was both exciting and nerve-wracking, but having Tommy around provided a welcome distraction.

Tommy looked up, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Sure thing," he said, walking over to give you a hand. As he grabbed the mirror, he glanced over at Joel, who was directing the movers with a stern expression.

"Man, he’s in full-on boss mode today," Tommy remarked, his voice low.

You chuckled nervously, trying to brush off the unease you felt. "Yeah, he’s been pretty intense lately."

Tommy gave you a sideways glance, his expression thoughtful. "You know, Joel’s always been the cold type. Even to me, his own brother. He’s got this wall up that’s hard to break through."

You raised an eyebrow, curious. "Really? He’s never mentioned that."

Tommy set the mirror down and leaned against the truck, a far-off look in his eyes. "Yeah. There was this one time when Faith tried to get close to him. She had this vibrant personality, full of life and attitude. Joel couldn't stand it. Her energy clashed with his cold demeanor, and he just... couldn't take it."

Your interest piqued, you asked, "What happened?"

Tommy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, Faith and Joel weren’t really a couple. It was more like a one-night stand. Faith’s always been very sex-positive and into some pretty kinky stuff. She thought she could handle Joel’s intensity, maybe even break through his tough exterior."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the revelation. "Really?"

"Yeah," Tommy continued, his tone thoughtful. "Faith was always pushing his buttons, trying to get a reaction out of him. But instead of warming up to her, Joel just shut down even more. They didn’t even have a fight; it was just this cold realization. Whatever happened that night, it shocked even Faith. And trust me, it takes a lot to shock her."

Your curiosity piqued, you asked, "What do you mean?"

Tommy shook his head, a hint of discomfort in his expression. "Let’s just say Faith’s used to being the one in control, and Joel didn’t play by her rules. She never talked about it much, just said that Joel was too much for her and left it at that."

You frowned, the story stirring a mix of emotions within you. "That sounds intense."

Tommy nodded, his expression serious. "It was. Joel’s a complex guy. He cares deeply, but he has a hard time showing it. Sometimes his way of caring comes off as controlling or possessive."

You glanced over at Joel, who was now talking to one of the movers with an intense look on his face. The man you had come to know was multifaceted, and hearing Tommy's perspective added another layer to your understanding of him.

"Does he ever... change?" you asked, unsure of how to phrase your concern.

Tommy shrugged. "Sometimes, but it takes a lot. He’s got to really want it. Just be careful, alright? Joel’s got a good heart, but he can be overwhelming."

You nodded, the weight of Tommy’s words settling over you. "Thanks, Tommy. I’ll keep that in mind."

As you finished unloading the truck, Joel came over, his expression softening slightly as he looked at you. "Everything okay here?"

"Yeah," you replied, forcing a smile. "We’re just about done."

Joel nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to Tommy. "Thanks for the help, bro."

Tommy gave a nod, but his eyes were still on you, a silent message of caution and support. "Anytime."

As the last of your things were unloaded, you and Joel sat around the living room, cartons of Chinese takeout spread before you, the conversation flowed more easily. The comfort of the food and the familiarity of Tommy's presence made it easier to relax, even if just a little.

Joel reached for a carton of fried rice, scooping some onto his plate. "Remember when we used to get this stuff all the time, Tommy? Back in the old apartment?"

Tommy chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, those were the days. Cheap takeout and late nights. We were living the dream."

You smiled, watching the two brothers share a moment. It was clear they had a deep bond, one forged through shared experiences and hardships.

"Speaking of old times," Tommy said, leaning back in his chair. "Remember that one story from Desert Storm? The one with the snake?"

Joel laughed, shaking his head. "Oh man, how could I forget?"

You leaned in, curious. "Desert Storm? You mean the Gulf War?"

"Yep," Joel replied, his tone taking on a more serious note. "Tommy and I both served. It was... intense, to say the least."

Tommy nodded. "There was this one time, we were out on a patrol, and we came across this snake. It was huge, just sitting there in the sand."

Joel picked up the story, his eyes twinkling with the memory. "So, we're all standing there, staring at this snake, not sure what to do. And then Tommy, out of nowhere, decides he's gonna catch it."

Tommy grinned, shrugging. "What can I say? I was young and stupid."

Joel continued, his voice animated. "So, Tommy goes after this snake, and it starts slithering away. He grabs it by the tail, and it turns around and hisses at him. The look on his face was priceless."

You laughed, imagining the scene. "What happened next?"

"Well," Joel said, leaning in. "Tommy managed to catch the snake and, believe it or not, he actually scared it off. We were all just standing there, amazed that he didn't get bitten."

Tommy shook his head, a fond smile on his face. "It was a crazy time. But that's what we did, you know? We looked out for each other."

You felt a sense of warmth at their camaraderie, appreciating the shared history between them. "It sounds like you guys have been through a lot together."

Joel nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah, we have. And we've always had each other's backs."

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted to more lighthearted topics. Tommy shared more stories from their time in the military, and you found yourself laughing along with them, feeling more at ease.

After a while, Tommy stretched and yawned. "Well, I should get going. Thanks for the food and the company."

"Thanks for coming by," you said, offering him a smile.

"Anytime," Tommy replied, giving Joel a brotherly pat on the back. "Take care, you two."

Joel walked Tommy to the door, and you couldn’t help but notice the brief, meaningful look they exchanged. Once Tommy left, Joel turned back to you, his expression softening.

"How about a shower?" he suggested, his voice low and inviting.

"Sure," you replied, your tone a bit distracted. "I’ll go first."

You headed upstairs to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. As you turned on the water and let it heat up, you leaned against the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The steam began to fog up the glass, and you sighed, stripping off your clothes and stepping under the warm spray.

You were trying to clear your head, wash that boy right out of your hair, as your grandma used to say. The hot water and steam were your solace, giving you a moment of peace and contemplation. Thoughts drifted to your art, the desire to paint again growing stronger. But your reverie was shattered when the shower curtain abruptly opened.

Joel stood there, stark naked, a mischievous grin on his face. “I meant us both shower,” he said.

You instinctively covered your body, shock and embarrassment flooding your senses. “What? NO! Go away!” you exclaimed, trying to shoo him away.

Joel laughed, unfazed. “Come on, it’s fun, trust me,” he said, stepping under the shower head beside you.

He reached out to push your hair back, but you stopped him again. “I said no, Joel,” your tone was firm, shifting from surprise to frustration.

Joel’s smile faded, replaced by a look of determination. He didn’t budge when you tried to push him out of the shower. Instead, he stood there, unyielding, his arousal blatantly obvious.

“You think this is a joke?” he muttered, turning off the shower head. When you moved to turn it back on, he grabbed your hand, yanking you out of the shower.

“Joel!” you protested, your body dripping wet, but he didn’t listen. The water left a trail of droplets as he dragged you into the bedroom.

He threw you onto the bed, pushing you onto your back. “You think I’m fucking joking?” he snarled.

You tried to sit up, but he shoved you back down. Fear shot through you, realizing this was no joke. Joel climbed on top of you, straddling your chest, his balls hitting your chin. “Joel, please get off me,” you begged, feeling claustrophobic.

He taunted you, hitting your face with his dick. “Suck my dick,” he demanded.

Your eyes widened in horror. You’d never done that before, only helped him with a handjob during your birthday vacation. “Wh-” you began, but he seized the opportunity, shoving his dick into your mouth.

You gagged, his sadistic chuckle echoing in your ears. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, thrusting harshly into your throat, making you gag over and over. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the water from the shower.

“Come on, I know you love it,” he taunted, gripping your head with both hands and forcing himself deeper into your throat. "That's it," he groaned, thrusting shallowly.

The sound of your gagging and choking filled the room. You took breaths through your nose as he thrust deeply one last time, and you felt a hot, steamy rope of his cum hit the back of your throat, its salty taste overwhelming. You finally managed to break free from his grip, sitting up and spitting his cum out of your mouth.

“What the he-” you started, but Joel cut you off, hitting you square across the face. Shock washed over you, your wet hair clinging to your skin, your throat hoarse from crying and gagging. You felt terrified and overwhelmed.

“GET AWAY FROM ME,” you shouted, standing up, naked and affirmative.

Joel seemed momentarily shocked by your defiance. “Excuse me?” he said, stepping closer as you instinctively backed up.

He grabbed you, pulling you close. “You forget the facts, sweetpea,” he said, his voice cold and possessive. He sat you down on the bed, brushing your hair out of your face, his fingers tracing your skin with a soft, sinister touch. “I bought you… and that means you’re mine.”

Joel's grip on your arm loosened slightly, his eyes softening just enough to make you question your own fear. "You need to understand something," he said, his voice low and deceptively gentle. "I'm doing this for us. I want to protect you, to make sure you're happy."

You tried to pull away, but his hold was firm. "Joel, this doesn't feel right," you whispered, your voice trembling. "You can't treat me like this."

He sighed, his lips curling into a semblance of a smile. "Oh, but I can. You see, you've let me into your life, into your heart. And now, you have to trust that I know what's best for you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and anger surging through you. "This isn't love, Joel. This feels like control."

Joel's eyes flashed with something dark, but his voice remained calm. "Don't say that," he murmured. "You don't understand. I care about you so much that sometimes it scares me. I just want to keep you safe."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "You can't keep me like this. I'm not some object you can own."

His expression tightened, his voice dropping to a softer, yet still firm tone. "You're not an object. You're my partner, my everything. I need you to understand that. I need you to trust me."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to think of a way out. But Joel's presence was overwhelming, his dominance subtle but pervasive. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I want to make you happy," he whispered, his lips grazing your neck. "I want to give you everything you deserve."

Your resolve wavered, the fear and confusion clouding your thoughts. "Joel, please, this isn't right."

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that threatened to spill. "Shh," he soothed, his voice almost hypnotic. "Don't fight it. Just let go. Let me take care of you."

You closed your eyes as his words continued, "Don't overthink it," he murmured, his voice almost a lullaby. "Just trust me."

[cynic-spirit]

Arches and Turns

Benny Cross x reader

warnings: longing, fluff

A picturesque stone bridge arches gracefully over a tranquil river in the countryside. The bridge is made of weathered gray stones, each one carefully placed to form a sturdy yet elegant structure. Moss and small ferns grow in the crevices between the stones, adding a touch of green to the otherwise muted tones.

The bridge is surrounded by lush meadows filled with wildflowers in shades of purple, yellow, and white, gently swaying in the breeze. Tall trees with dense, leafy canopies frame the scene, their branches creating dappled patterns of light and shadow on the ground. The river beneath the bridge flows gently, its clear waters reflecting the blue sky above and the vibrant colors of the surrounding landscape.

A dirt path, worn smooth by years of use, leads to the bridge, inviting travelers to cross and continue their journey through the idyllic countryside. The peaceful ambiance is occasionally broken by the soft rustle of leaves or the distant chirping of birds, creating a sense of serene isolation. The bridge, though simple, stands as a timeless piece of architecture that seamlessly blends into its natural surroundings, offering a perfect harmony between man-made structure and nature.

Benny, a solitary figure clad in a leather jacket and helmet, frequently rides his motorcycle along the winding country roads. His path often takes him over the old stone bridge, which he usually crosses without a second thought, the roar of his engine echoing through the serene landscape. The bridge, though beautiful, has always been just another part of his journey—a fleeting moment in his ride, never a destination.

One day, as he approaches the bridge, something unusual catches his eye. There, standing alone on the bridge, is a young woman with long, flowing black hair that cascades down her back. The breeze gently lifts the strands, playing with them as if in a dance. She's wearing a simple, flowing white dress that contrasts starkly with the earthy tones of the bridge and the vibrant colors of the countryside.

She stands near the edge of the bridge, looking out over the water, seemingly lost in thought. The sunlight bathes her in a warm glow, making her appear almost ethereal, like a figure out of a dream. The biker slows his pace, captivated by the sight. He's used to the solitude of these roads, where it's rare to encounter anyone, let alone someone so striking.

For a moment, he contemplates stopping, maybe saying hello, but something holds him back. Instead, he keeps his distance, pulling his bike to the side of the road, just out of sight, where he can observe her without intruding. The woman doesn't seem to notice him; she remains still, gazing out over the water, her expression serene and introspective.

The biker watches her in silence, a mix of admiration and curiosity stirring within him. There's something about her presence that feels almost magical, as if she's a part of the landscape, belonging to the bridge and the countryside in a way he never could. The moment feels timeless, and he finds himself wishing he could freeze it, hold on to the peace and beauty of it forever.

But he knows he can't stay. The road calls to him, as it always does. Reluctantly, he revs his engine and continues his journey, casting one last glance back at the bridge. The woman remains where she is, a solitary figure on the ancient stones, as the sound of his motorcycle fades into the distance.

From that day onward, Benny finds himself drawn to the bridge more than ever. His rides, once aimless and driven by the need to escape, now have a clear purpose: to catch a glimpse of the mysterious woman. He times his rides so that he passes by the bridge at the same hour each day, hoping to see her standing there as she always seems to be.

He never stops to speak to her, though the urge to do so grows stronger with each passing day. Instead, he keeps his distance, letting the engine of his motorcycle hum quietly as he slows down to take in the sight of her. The woman, with her long black hair flowing in the breeze, seems as much a part of the landscape as the bridge itself, as if she belongs there, waiting for someone or something.

Each day, he notices something new about her—how she sometimes wears a light scarf that flutters in the wind, or how her gaze seems to linger on the horizon, lost in thought. He sees the way she gently brushes a strand of hair behind her ear or how she occasionally leans over the edge of the bridge, watching the water below with a contemplative expression. She seems quiet, introspective, and perhaps as lonely as he is.

The more he sees her, the more he feels a connection, an inexplicable bond forming between them. He imagines what her voice might sound like, what thoughts occupy her mind as she stands there alone. He wonders what brings her to the bridge every day and what it is that she’s searching for. In his mind, he begins to create a story for her, one that intertwines with his own, filling the empty spaces in his heart with the possibility of a connection he’s never known before.

Though they never speak, her presence becomes a constant in his life, a source of quiet comfort amidst the noise of the world. He finds himself thinking about her even when he’s not riding, her image lingering in his mind like a beautiful, haunting melody. He knows nothing about her—her name, her life, her story—but it doesn’t matter. He’s falling for her, slowly, deeply, and without even realizing it, she becomes the most important part of his journey.

For nearly a month and a half, the biker’s routine remains unchanged. Each day, he rides out to the countryside, making his way to the old stone bridge. Sometimes, instead of simply passing by, he stops his bike at a discreet distance, far enough not to disturb the peaceful solitude of the bridge but close enough to watch her without being noticed. He often lights a cigarette and leans against his bike, the smoke curling up into the air as he observes her quietly.

He’s come to know her habits, though not her name. Some days, she stands by the edge of the bridge, gazing at the water below, lost in her thoughts. Other times, she sits on the low stone wall, a book in her hands. He can never make out the titles, but he watches her turn the pages slowly, her eyes fixed on the words as if the world around her has ceased to exist. There's a calmness in her demeanor, a quiet resilience that captivates him. She reads with such focus, her expression occasionally softening into a smile, as if whatever story she’s immersed in brings her some small joy.

Benny finds himself more drawn to her with each passing day, her presence on the bridge becoming a strange yet comforting part of his life. She’s a mystery, one he’s in no hurry to solve, content to simply watch her from afar. His thoughts are often filled with her image, her dark hair, her delicate fingers turning the pages of her book, the way she seems both present and distant at the same time.

But one evening, after a long ride with his biker club, he finds himself in an unexpected predicament. They’ve gathered at their usual spot, a small, dimly lit bar where the air is thick with the smell of leather, smoke, and cheap beer. It’s a place where he usually feels at ease, surrounded by the familiar faces of his friends. But tonight, something feels off. He reaches into his jacket pocket for his lighter, intending to light a cigarette as he listens to the banter around him. But his fingers come up empty.

He checks his other pockets, then his saddlebag, but the lighter is nowhere to be found. He realizes he must have dropped it somewhere, maybe during his ride, or perhaps it fell out when he stopped by the bridge earlier that day. The thought of it being lost nags at him, not because it’s irreplaceable, but because it was a part of his routine, a small yet significant piece of the time he spends watching her.

Without the lighter, the ritual feels incomplete, and he finds himself distracted, unable to fully engage in the conversations around him. His thoughts keep drifting back to the bridge, to the woman who now seems even more unreachable without the simple act of lighting a cigarette to fill the silence between them. It’s a small thing, but it feels like a crack in the carefully constructed world he’s built around his quiet obsession.

As the night wears on, he grows restless, the need to return to the bridge and see her again becoming almost unbearable. The loss of the lighter seems to symbolize something more significant, a reminder of how fragile this connection he feels with her truly is, how easily it could slip through his fingers without him ever having the courage to reach out.

Benny, unable to shake the feeling of unease, decides to ride out to the bridge, even without his lighter. As he speeds down the familiar roads, the cool evening air brushes against his face, doing little to calm the restlessness growing within him. He knows it’s irrational, this need to see her, but the pull is too strong to ignore. The lighter, though just a small object, had been a part of his quiet ritual, a companion to his moments of silent longing. But more than the lighter, it’s her absence that weighs on his mind.

When he reaches the bridge, the sun is dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows over the landscape. The stone bridge is bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, the river below shimmering like liquid gold. But as he pulls up to his usual spot, something feels off. The bridge, normally graced by her presence, is empty.

He scans the area, searching for any sign of her, but there’s nothing—no fluttering scarf, no dark hair catching the light, no book resting on the stone wall. Just the quiet hum of the river and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

A sense of emptiness settles in his chest. He dismounts his bike, standing there for a moment, hoping that maybe she’s just late, that any second now, she’ll appear like she always does. But as the minutes pass, the bridge remains deserted, and the reality begins to sink in: she isn’t coming.

He walks closer to the bridge, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. For the first time in weeks, he steps onto the bridge itself, moving to the spot where she usually stands. The stone is cool under his touch as he leans against the railing, looking out over the water as she so often did. The peaceful scene before him, which once brought him solace, now feels eerily still, as if the world has lost some of its color in her absence.

His mind races with possibilities. Perhaps she’s simply late, or maybe she’s found another place to pass the time. But the deeper fear, the one that gnaws at his heart, is that she might be gone for good. That he’ll never see her again, never have the chance to know her beyond the silent moments they’ve shared from afar.

As the sun continues to sink, the sky fades from gold to deep purple, and a chill settles into the air. The biker lights a cigarette with a spare match he found in his pocket, the action feeling hollow without his familiar lighter. He takes a long drag, the smoke curling up into the dusky sky, and stares out at the empty road ahead.

The evening feels strange, unsettling. The bridge, which had become a place of quiet connection and unspoken feelings, now feels like a void, a place where something important has been lost. The biker realizes how much he’s come to depend on her presence, how much he’s been changed by those silent, shared moments. And now, with her absence, he feels more alone than ever.

He stays there for a long time, long after the sun has set and the stars have begun to emerge, hoping against hope that she might still appear. But the night grows colder, and the bridge remains empty.

Just as he’s about to mount his bike and ride off, he hears a soft voice from behind him, gentle yet clear in the stillness of the evening.

“Hey, is this yours?”

He freezes, his heart skipping a beat. It’s a voice he’s never heard before but instantly knows. Slowly, he turns around, his breath catching in his throat.

There she is—standing just a few feet away, the woman who’s occupied his thoughts for weeks. She looks as stunning as ever, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes bright with a mix of curiosity and something else—shyness, perhaps? In her hand, she’s holding his lighter, the one he thought he’d lost, the one he’d been missing all evening.

For a moment, he’s completely at a loss for words. The world seems to narrow down to just the two of them, standing on that bridge in the fading light. His heart beats erratically, the sudden rush of emotions overwhelming him. He’s spent so much time imagining what it would be like to talk to her, but now that she’s standing in front of him, words fail him entirely.

The first time Benny sees her up close, it’s as if the world around him fades away, leaving only the two of them standing on that quiet bridge. He’s seen her from a distance so many times, admired her beauty from afar, but nothing could have prepared him for this moment.

As she steps closer, her long black hair catches the light, shimmering like a cascade of midnight silk. Each strand seems to move with a life of its own, framing her delicate face in a way that makes her seem almost ethereal. Her skin, soft and pale, contrasts with the dark locks, and he can’t help but notice how it seems to glow with an inner warmth.

Her eyes—he’s never seen eyes like hers before. Up close, they’re even more striking, a deep, dark brown that holds a universe of emotions within them. They’re large and expressive, framed by thick lashes that flutter slightly as she looks at him, curiosity mingling with something more elusive. There’s a depth to those eyes that draws him in, making him feel as though he could get lost in them forever and never want to find his way out.

As she speaks, her voice soft and gentle, Benny notices the way her lips move, their fullness accentuated by a hint of natural color. He finds himself mesmerized by every word, every subtle movement, as if she’s casting a spell over him without even trying. Her lips, slightly parted as she breathes, are inviting, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to kiss them, to feel their warmth against his own.

He’s close enough to see the delicate curve of her collarbone, the gentle slope of her shoulders, and the way her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes. There’s a fragility to her, something that makes him want to protect her, to shield her from anything that might harm her. Yet, at the same time, there’s an undeniable strength in the way she carries herself, in the quiet grace with which she moves.

Benny’s heart pounds in his chest, his breath catching as he drinks in every detail. He’s utterly captivated, entranced by her presence. It’s as if time has slowed, allowing him to savor this moment, to memorize every feature, every nuance of her being.

For the first time, Benny feels something shift deep within him—a connection, a pull that goes beyond mere attraction. He realizes, in that instant, that she’s not just a fleeting infatuation, not just a beautiful woman standing on a bridge. She’s someone who has touched something deep inside him, awakened feelings he didn’t know he could have.

As he stands there, looking into her eyes, Benny knows that he’s enchanted—not just by her beauty, but by the very essence of who she is. And in that moment, he understands that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get to know her, to be close to her, and to see where this newfound connection might lead.

All he can do is nod, his eyes locked on hers, trying to keep his composure as his mind races. She smiles, a small, shy smile that makes his heart pound even harder.

“I found it over there,” she continues, pointing to the spot where he usually stops to watch her. “I wasn’t sure whose it was, but I’ve seen you here before, so...”

Her voice trails off, and she takes a step closer, holding out the lighter for him to take. He reaches out, his hand trembling slightly, and takes it from her, their fingers brushing for just a brief moment. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt through him that leaves him even more tongue-tied.

“Thank you,” he finally manages to say, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. It’s all he can muster, but it’s enough. She nods, still smiling, her eyes lingering on his for just a moment longer before she glances away, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

There’s a silence between them, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s filled with all the unspoken words, all the feelings he’s been carrying in his heart without even realizing it. He wants to say more, to tell her how he’s noticed her every day, how much her presence has meant to him, but the words are tangled up inside him, caught in the whirlwind of emotions he’s never experienced before.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “I’m here most evenings,” she says softly, her eyes meeting his again, as if inviting him to stay longer next time, to maybe speak to her instead of just watching from afar.

He nods again, still too overwhelmed to say much, but his heart is racing with the possibility of more moments like this—of conversations, of connections, of maybe, finally, getting to know the woman who’s been a silent part of his life for so long.

With a final shy smile, she turns and walks away, heading toward the other side of the bridge, her figure gradually fading into the twilight. Benny watches her go, his lighter clutched tightly in his hand, feeling as though everything has changed in that brief encounter.

As he stands there, still processing what just happened, a sense of hope fills him—a hope that maybe this is just the beginning.

As the woman disappears into the twilight, the biker remains rooted to the spot, staring at the space where she had just stood. His heart is still pounding, but now that she’s gone, a wave of frustration begins to wash over him.

“What just happened?” he mutters to himself, still clutching the lighter she handed back to him. The realization of how he’d stood there, dumbstruck and unable to say anything meaningful, hits him hard. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh of exasperation.

“I stood there like a buffoon,” he chastises himself, shaking his head. He had imagined this moment so many times, had thought about what he might say if they ever spoke. But now that it had finally happened, he’d barely managed to get out a single word. “I could have said so many things,” he groans. “I didn’t even ask her name!”

He kicks at the gravel beneath his boots, annoyed with himself. This wasn’t like him at all. Normally, he was confident, smooth even. He knew how to talk to women, how to charm them. He’d never had trouble before—he could snap his fingers, and women would be drawn to him. But this woman, the one he’d been quietly obsessed with for weeks, had completely undone him with just a few words and a shy smile.

“What has this woman done to me?” he wonders aloud as he finally mounts his bike. He revs the engine, the familiar sound giving him a small sense of comfort, but it doesn’t shake the strange feeling that’s taken hold of him.

As he rides away from the bridge, the cool night air rushing past him, his mind is a swirl of thoughts and emotions. He tries to make sense of what happened, but the more he thinks about it, the more confused he becomes. There was something about her—something that made him feel things he hadn’t felt before, something that made him vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to.

The ride back is long, giving him plenty of time to think. He goes over the encounter again and again, replaying every detail in his mind. He imagines what he should have said, what he should have done differently. But despite his frustration, there’s a part of him that’s excited, hopeful even.

He knows now that she’s noticed him too, that she knows he’s been there, watching her. And the way she looked at him, the way she spoke—it was almost as if she wanted him to come back, to talk to her again.

As he pulls into his driveway, he kills the engine and sits on his bike for a moment, staring up at the night sky. He’s never felt this way about anyone before, and it scares him a little. But it also exhilarates him.

With a deep breath, he decides that the next time he sees her, things will be different. He’ll find the courage to speak, to ask her name, to finally start the conversation that’s been building in his heart for so long. He’s not sure what will happen, but he knows he can’t just let this opportunity slip away.

As he heads inside, he pockets the lighter, the small object now holding much more significance than before. He knows he’ll be back at that bridge tomorrow, and this time, he won’t just stand there like a fool. He’ll do what he should have done tonight—he’ll make sure she knows how much she’s come to mean to him.

part 2

let me know, you guys, my first benny fic, likes and reblogs welcome. <3 let me know if i should continue this....

[psychics4unet]

(PAC) What Will Your Future Spouse’s Home Look Like? 🏠✨

Instructions: Look at the 3 images of the piles below. Choose the pile that you feel most drawn to. Trust your intuition and select the one that resonates with you the most. Once you have made your choice, scroll down to read the description for the pile you selected.

I put a lot of effort into this reading, so please show some love by leaving comments, likes, reblogs, and follow me! ❤️💬✨

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Pile 1:

The Magician 🎩, The Four of Wands 🎉, The Hermit 🌟

The Magician shows a home where creativity and personalization shine, with unique touches that reflect innovation. The Four of Wands suggests a space filled with celebration and joy, perfect for hosting gatherings and special events. The Hermit indicates a cozy, reflective area for solitude and personal peace. Together, these cards reveal a home that balances vibrant social spaces with serene retreats, blending creativity, celebration, and introspection into a harmonious living environment. 🏡✨

Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment! 🌟💫

Pile 2:

The Empress 🌸, The Ten of Pentacles 💰, The Five of Cups 🌧️

The Empress points to a home that is nurturing and full of natural beauty, creating a cozy and lush environment. The Ten of Pentacles indicates a stable and possibly luxurious setting, with a focus on comfort and long-term security. The Five of Cups suggests that there may be elements of the home that address past disappointments, offering space for healing and moving forward. Together, these cards suggest a home that combines comfort and abundance with a supportive atmosphere for emotional growth and recovery. 🌿🏠💖

Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment! 🌟💫

Pile 3:

The Star 🌟, The King of Cups 💧, The Tower ⚡

The Star indicates a home filled with inspiration and renewal, offering a hopeful and uplifting atmosphere. The King of Cups suggests an emotionally balanced and mature environment, fostering deep connections and understanding. The Tower points to dramatic changes or transformations, which might mean the home undergoes significant renovations or shifts to reflect new beginnings. Combined, these cards suggest a home that evolves into a space of hope, emotional depth, and transformative energy. 🌠🏡🔄

Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment! 🌟💫

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best. Remember to reblog, like, comment, and follow for more cosmic guidance and positivity!

Paid readings (7 questions for just $7) are also available for more in-depth insights and personal guidance! 🌟💫

[kanzakiaizen]

OLD SCHOOL LOVE - GOJO SATORU X FEM! READER

A/N: I really really love old school romance like we need those back 😭🤍

Warnings: angst, fluff, dramatic rain scene, comfort, 2006 high school era, gojo being ooc, might seem cringe or cheesy but I tried my best 😭

In the heart of Tokyo, in the early 2006s, there was a high school nestled between bustling streets and serene temples. The school, with its old brick buildings and cherry blossom trees, was a world unto itself, where young dreams and hopes flourished.

Satoru Gojo was a quiet, introspective student who spent most of his time in the library, lost in books and music. He had an old Walkman that he carried everywhere, playing mixtapes he'd carefully crafted from late-night radio shows. His passion for music was well-known among his classmates, but few knew the depth of his feelings for a certain someone.

Y/n was the school's spirited and kind-hearted student council president. Her laugh was infectious, and she had a way of making everyone feel included. She excelled in her studies and was always busy with school activities, but her favorite pastime was painting. She often sketched scenes of the city, capturing its beauty on her canvases.

Their paths seldom crossed, despite being in the same class. Satoru admired y/n from afar, too shy to approach her. His friends teased him, calling it an unrequited crush, but he cherished the small moments—her smile when she greeted him in the hallway, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought.

One crisp autumn day, the school announced a talent show. Students buzzed with excitement, eager to showcase their talents. Y/n decided to participate, choosing to paint a large mural representing the unity and spirit of their school. Satoru, encouraged by his friends, signed up to perform a song he'd written, a heartfelt melody inspired by his unspoken feelings.

The weeks leading up to the talent show were a whirlwind of activity. Y/n spent her afternoons in the art room, her hands covered in paint, her eyes sparkling with creativity. Satoru practiced his song in the music room, pouring his heart into every note, hoping to convey his emotions through the lyrics.

On the night of the talent show, the school auditorium was filled with students, teachers, and proud parents. The air was electric with anticipation.

Y/n's mural was revealed first, a breathtaking masterpiece that brought tears to many eyes. The audience erupted in applause, and Y/n's smile was radiant.

Then it was satoru's turn. He stepped onto the stage, his heart pounding. As he strummed his guitar and began to sing, the room fell silent. His voice was filled with raw emotion, and the lyrics spoke of a love that was pure and enduring. Y/n, standing in the wings, felt a strange sense of recognition.

When Satoru finished, the audience gave him a standing ovation. Y/n approached him backstage, her eyes shining. "Your song... it was beautiful," she said softly.

Satoru blushed, looking down. "Thank you. It was inspired by someone special."

Y/n's heart fluttered. "Really? Who?"

Taking a deep breath, met her gaze. "You."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, then softened with understanding. "Satoru, I had no idea..."

He smiled shyly. "I've admired you for so long, but I was too afraid to tell you."

Y/n reached out and took his hand. "I'm glad you did. Your song was the most beautiful confession I've ever heard."

From that night on, satoru and y/n's bond grew stronger. They spent their days together, discovering shared interests and supporting each other's dreams.

The weeks following the talent show had been a whirlwind for Satoru & y/n. Their relationship blossomed, and they became inseparable, sharing their dreams and insecurities, their laughter and tears. Yet, as the pressures of school and personal obligations mounted, so did the strain on their young love.

Satoru had always struggled with his studies, and the looming college entrance exams filled him with dread. His parents, strict and traditional, expected nothing less than excellence, and he felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. Meanwhile, y/n, with her myriad responsibilities as student council president and her own academic pressures, found herself stretched thin. Despite their deep feelings for each other, their time together became sporadic, their conversations often tinged with frustration.

One gray afternoon, as storm clouds gathered over Tokyo, Satoru and y/n found themselves in the middle of a heated argument. They stood in the courtyard, their voices rising above the din of the approaching storm.

"You're never around anymore, y/n!" Satoru exclaimed, his voice raw with emotion. "It's like you have time for everyone else but me."

y/n's eyes flashed with anger. "That's not fair, Satoru. I'm doing my best. I have so many responsibilities, and I'm trying to balance everything."

"But where do I fit into all of this?" Satoru demanded, his heart aching. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just another obligation to you."

The first raindrops began to fall, mingling with the tears on y/n's cheeks. "You're not an obligation, Satoru. You're the person I care about most. But it's so hard... trying to be everything for everyone."

As the rain intensified, their argument reached a fever pitch, their words lost in the downpour. Satoru turned away, running a hand through his drenched hair. "Maybe we're just too different," he muttered, the pain in his voice unmistakable.

y/n stepped closer, her own tears mixing with the rain. "Satoru, don't say that. We can make this work. We just need to try harder."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and despair. "I don't know if I can, y/n. I'm scared of losing you, but I'm also scared of losing myself in the process."

The rain fell harder, drenching them both, but neither moved. They stood facing each other, the storm reflecting the turmoil in their hearts. Then, in a moment of vulnerability, y/n reached out and took Satoru's hand.

"Satoru, I love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain. "I don't want to lose you. Let's not give up on us."

Satoru felt his resolve waver as he looked into her eyes. Despite the storm, despite the chaos around them, he saw the sincerity in her gaze. Slowly, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as the rain poured down.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I don't want to lose you either. We'll find a way, together."

y/n nodded against his chest, her arms wrapped around him. "Together," she echoed.

In that rain-soaked courtyard, amidst the storm and their shared fears, Satoru and y/n found a renewed sense of hope. They knew the road ahead would be difficult, but they also knew they were stronger together. As they kissed, the rain washing away their tears, they made a silent promise to each other—to fight for their love, no matter the odds.

[lou-0111]

How each character from Percy Jackson might confess their love to you:

Percy Jackson

Percy would likely be straightforward but a bit nervous, possibly choosing a relaxed, meaningful setting to make it special.

“So, I’ve been thinking a lot lately... and I’ve realized that I really care about you. More than just as a friend. I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

Annabeth Chase

Annabeth would likely plan a thoughtful moment, perhaps during a meaningful activity or after a deep conversation. She’d be sincere and direct but with a touch of her intellectual charm.

“I’ve been thinking about us a lot. We work so well together, and I’ve come to realize that I have feelings for you. I don’t want to just be friends anymore. I want to be something more.”

Luke Castellan

Luke would be passionate and straightforward, often in a way that reflects his rebellious nature. He might make a grand gesture or choose an exciting moment to reveal his feelings.

“I know I’m not always the best at this kind of thing, but I can’t keep it in anymore. I’m in love with you. I want to be with you, no matter what happens.”

Clarisse La Rue

Clarisse would be blunt and honest, expressing her feelings with a straightforward approach. It might not be overly romantic, but it would be heartfelt and genuine.

“Listen, I’m not good with all the mushy stuff, but I want you to know that I really care about you. I’ve been thinking about us a lot, and I’m falling for you. I want us to be together.”

Thalia Grace

Thalia would be direct but sincere, possibly confessing her feelings during a quiet moment or after a shared adventure. She’d be confident but genuine.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about how much I enjoy spending time with you. I’ve realized that my feelings for you are stronger than just friendship. I want to be with you, if you feel the same.”

Nico di Angelo

Nico would likely be introspective and a bit nervous, choosing a quiet, intimate setting to open up about his feelings. His confession would be heartfelt and sincere.

“I know I’m not always the easiest person to be around, but I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I have deep feelings for you. I’m falling in love with you, and I hope you feel the same.”

Jason Grace

Jason would be confident and respectful, possibly during a calm moment or after a significant event. His approach would be sincere and considerate of your feelings.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us and what we mean to each other. I’ve come to realize that I have strong feelings for you. I care about you deeply and would love to be more than just friends.”

Hazel Levesque

Hazel would be gentle and heartfelt, possibly in a setting that feels serene or reflective. She’d express her emotions with sincerity and vulnerability.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us and how much I value our time together. I’ve realized that I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship. I’d really like us to be together, if you’re open to it.”

Piper McLean

Piper would be charming and sincere, often making her confession during a sweet or romantic moment. Her approach would be warm and emotionally expressive.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while now. I’ve realized that my feelings for you have grown into something deeper. I’m in love with you, and I hope you feel the same way.”