#but this is a lovely glimpse of joy in the midst of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nayziiz · 27 days

Text

Meet the Parents | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Lando's parents had always been his steadfast pillars of support, unwavering in their encouragement through life's twists and turns. From his earliest dreams to his most ambitious endeavours, they stood by him with unwavering faith and boundless love. Yet, there was something uniquely daunting about the prospect of introducing the love of his life to them.

He longed for his parents to embrace this new chapter of his life with the same warmth they had always shown him his whole life. But with that longing came the fear of disappointment, the fear that this pivotal moment might not unfold as smoothly as he hoped. In the days leading up to the meeting, Lando was riddled with anxiety and doubt. He rehearsed conversations in his mind, imagining different scenarios and outcomes. Despite his confidence in her and their relationship, there was an undeniable unease lingering in his heart.

The surprise that Lando's parents experienced upon realising the true nature of his relationship added an extra layer of complexity to the anticipated meeting. They had caught glimpses of her at race weekends, exchanged polite pleasantries, but never did they fathom that she held such a significant place in his life. In their minds, Lando had always been the embodiment of the carefree bachelor, navigating life with a nonchalant ease that belied any serious commitments.

The sudden revelation that he had arranged a family dinner to formally introduce her spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings. This was no casual encounter or passing fling; this was someone special, someone he wanted to share with the most important people in his life. It was a departure from his usual approach, a signal that this relationship held a significance unlike any before.

With a mixture of anticipation and nervousness coursing through him, Lando stood before his parents' home, his heart pounding in rhythm with the uncertainty of the moment. As his hand hovered over the doorbell, he felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him, the culmination of weeks of anticipation and apprehension.

Lando's grip on her hand tightened, his fingers closing around hers with a fervent intensity. The pressure of his grasp increased, his knuckles turning white as he sought to anchor himself in the midst of his swirling emotions. Sensing his unease, she squeezed his hand gently in return, offering a silent reminder that she was there, steadfast and unwavering by his side. In her touch, he found solace, a lifeline amidst the storm of his thoughts and fears.

As the door swung open, revealing the familiar warmth of his parents' home, Lando felt a rush of emotions flood over him. His heart raced with anticipation, his palms grew clammy, and his breath caught in his throat. But as he stepped inside and his parents enveloped him in a tight embrace, all his fears seemed to melt away.

“Welcome home, son,” Adam, his father said, his voice filled with pride and affection.

“It's so good to see you, Lando,” his mother, Cisca, added, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Lando returned their embrace, feeling the weight of their love and support wash over him like a comforting blanket, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of home.

“Hi, Mum, Dad,” Lando said, his voice quivering with emotion as he stood beside her, his heart pounding in his chest. “This is Y/N.”

She smiled warmly, her hand finding comfort in Lando's as she met his parents' gaze with a gentle reassurance. The love and support in the room was palpable, enveloping them in a cocoon of warmth and acceptance.

Lando's parents exchanged a knowing glance, a silent understanding passing between them as they took in the sight of their son standing beside the person who had captured his heart. Their smiles widened with pride, reflecting the joy and happiness that radiated from Lando's eyes.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N,” Adam said, his voice filled with warmth as he stepped forward to pull her into a warm embrace.

She returned the hug, feeling a sense of belonging wash over her as she was enveloped in the embrace of Lando's family. In that moment, surrounded by the love and support of those who mattered most to Lando, she knew that she had found a home—a place where she was cherished and accepted for who she was.

“Thank you,” Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude as she pulled back from the hug, her eyes shining with emotion. “I'm so happy to be here.”

As Lando navigated the familiar streets of London, the city lights casting a warm glow upon the darkened streets, Y/N stole a moment to study him. She watched as the tension that had gripped his shoulders earlier in the evening seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of ease and contentment that radiated from his very being.

“I can't believe you were so worried,” she chuckled, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Lando glanced over at her, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he recalled the whirlwind of emotions he had experienced earlier that night.

“I know, I know,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “But you know how it is with parents. You always want them to approve.”

Y/N reached out to gently squeeze his hand, her touch grounding him in the present moment.

“They clearly adore you. And I can see why,” she reassured him, her eyes sparkling with affection.

Lando felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words, a sense of gratitude washing over him. In Y/N's presence, he felt understood and cherished in a way he had never experienced before. She saw him—the real him—and loved him all the more for it.

“Thank you, for being here, for being you,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. She smiled, her heart swelling with love for the man beside her.

“Always,” she promised, her gaze meeting his with unwavering devotion.

1K notes · View notes

sinkovia · 4 months

Text

Polaroids

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Angst, mention of suicide, mention of death.

Underneath the winter sky, the world transformed into a pristine landscape of snow-covered fields and frost-kissed trees. You and Simon found yourselves amidst this winter wonderland, bundled up against the chill, ready to capture a moment frozen in time.

With the camera in your hand, you pulled Simon close, wrapping your arm around him as you both huddled together for a picture. There was anticipation in the air as you counted down. "Three!" you exclaimed, and just as the flash burst into life, Simon seized the opportunity. A mischievous grin played on his lips as he swiftly smashed a snowball onto your head right at the moment the picture was taken.

"Simon!" a mix of laughter and surprise in your voice. Your hair was dusted with snow, and you looked at him with mock indignation, but the gleam in your eyes hinted at joy. Simon, with a mischievous grin, reveled in the success of his snow assault.

The snowball ambush marked the beginning of a delightful chaos. Laughter echoed through the winter air as you both dodged, ducked, and retaliated with fluffy ammunition. The pristine landscape transformed into a battleground, each throw leaving its mark on the snowy canvas.

As you dodged and weaved, Simon's infectious laughter filled the air, his playful spirit contagious. Eventually, he closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You felt a mischievous glint in his eyes, and before you could react, he playfully brought you down into the soft snow. The cold powder cushioned the fall, and you found yourself rolling together, laughter bubbling up between you.

In the midst of the snowy tussle, the world around you blurred into a playful dance of white. The winter air was filled with the sounds of your laughter and the soft crunch of snow.

Eventually, the playful roll came to a gentle stop, leaving you on top of Simon. Amidst the falling glistening snowflakes, you looked into each other's eyes, the two of you catching your breath between fits of laughter.

As your laughter gradually faded into a contented quiet, you leaned down, your smile lingering, and pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss. The softness of the snow beneath you mirrored the tenderness of the stolen moment, and the world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you in your snowy sanctuary.

In the midst of this tender exchange, a soft click resonated. You turned your gaze to the right, where Simon held up the camera, capturing another candid moment, immortalizing the post-snowball fight kiss.

Taking the polaroid, you began to huff warm air onto it, warding off the haziness that the cold weather threatened to impose. Squinting at the image, a frown creased your features.

"What's wrong, love?"

"My face is all hazy, damn cold weather."

"Let me see." you turned the photo over so he could examine it with squinted eyes.

"Hmm, only a little, but why would I look at a picture when I'll always have you next to me?" Shaking your head, you kissed him again. "For memories, Si."

Those words echoed in Simon's mind as he held the Polaroid in his hand, sitting alone on a bench. The serene snowy landscape looked dull and gray without you. It had been a year since you passed, your life cut short by a drunk driver hitting the passenger side of the car. The memory of that tragic day haunted him, and the Polaroid served as a bittersweet reminder of the love and laughter that once filled his life.

In the quiet solitude, Simon vividly recalled the moment he turned to look at you in the passenger seat. Laughter filled the car as you both shared a moment over an awful joke. He just wanted another glimpse of you laughing, savoring the way you closed your eyes and held a hand to your stomach in pure joy. Your radiant smile, the tears in your eyes—he longed to see your radiance, a sight he had always cherished.

Then came the headlights on the other side of the passenger window. Panic set in, and Simon tried to react, to steer away, anything to shield you from the impending danger. But it was too late. The impact sent the car flipping several times before landing upright. Simon, initially dazed, was jolted into awareness by the sound of your labored attempts to breathe, a shard of glass embedded on the left side of your neck.

You turned to look at him, tears streaming down your face. Pure desperation filled his gaze as he swiftly unbuckled his seatbelt, reaching over to hold your neck in an attempt to stop the blood spurting from your neck.

"S…si…" Your eyes conveyed agony as your choked attempts at breathing became more shallow.

"Shh, sweetheart, it's okay baby. You're gonna be okay, I promise." He spoke with a tremor in his voice, desperately denying the gravity of the situation when your hand fell limp from your neck, landing in your lap. He reassured himself that you were still alive.

"Help is coming, baby, I promise. Just hang in there, okay? For me, can you do that for me, baby?" His words were a desperate plea, and when he heard you stop trying to breathe, he continued to deny the reality, reassuring himself that you were still alive.

"Just breathe slow, sweetheart. Please, just breathe, baby. Please just—" When your head slumped against his shoulder, he felt his hands begin to shake, a lump forming in his throat that made it hard for him to speak.

"Y/n, baby, I need you to lift… I need you to lift your head up, baby. I can't… I can't." He choked out a sob as his hands slowly moved away from your neck. He started heaving in breaths as he threw open the driver door and collapsed on the ground. His chest tightened, and his heart raced a million miles per hour. He couldn't bear to see your lifeless body. He clawed at his chest as a sharp pain tore through.

He was having a heart attack.

The paramedics arrived just in time to tend to Simon, nearly saving his life, a fact he later cursed them for. Why couldn't they just let him follow you into the afterlife?

Staring at the two Polaroids in his hand, he longed to go back to that day. Back to a time when everything that reminded him of you didn't cause insurmountable pain, a time when he still felt warmth—a time when you were still alive.

Despite the accident not being his fault, Simon carried the burden of self-blame, haunted by the regret of not noticing the oncoming car. The echoes of that fateful day lingered, casting a shadow over the stark winter scene surrounding him. Rising from the bench, he walked back to the house you once shared—a place you had made a home.

In the hallway, he stopped and looked at the framed photo of both of you, taken on your first date. You insisted on framing it, and he softly smiled, almost hearing your voice echo through the walls of the house.

He continued walking until he reached the edge of the bed, where he sat down and pulled out his phone, dialing 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

“I heard gunshots at my neighbor's house, the address is 1311 Amberville Rd,” he reported stoically before hanging up and reaching for the metal box under his side of the bed. Slowly opening it, he revealed a pistol.

He tried his best to carry on, to honor the memories you had together, to keep you alive through the love in his heart. However, the weight of living without you became unbearable. Tired of waking up each day without you by his side, exhausted from the relentless nightmares that plagued him.

He was simply tired of experiencing life without you.

He took the gun from the box, raising it to his temple. Without hesitating he pulled the trigger.

His eyes flew open, and he quickly sat up in bed, confusion clouding his gaze as he realized it looked just like your shared home. The surroundings appeared brighter, more vivid than before. Slowly getting up, he walked through the hallway, glancing at the framed picture on the wall before searching the entire house, only to find it empty. Opening the front door, he stepped outside, the soft crunch of snow under his shoes echoing with each step. The snow seemed to stretch out for miles, and trees covered in a thin layer of snow surrounded the yard.

Furrowing his brows at the unfamiliar scene, he noticed it was odd—they never had trees in their front yard. He remembered your dream of having big oak and willow trees. He smiled when he remembered the small pout you made when he told you that trees take years to grow full size.

Suddenly, a snowball crashed onto the side of his head. He heard your laughter and turned wide-eyed to see you running up, tackling him to the soft snowy ground. Rolling with you until he stopped, you ended up on top of him. He looked up at you in disbelief, tears welling in his eyes. Cupping your face with shaky hands, he questioned if it was too good to be true. Was he dreaming again? No, this felt too real. You felt too real.

“Y/n?” You smiled and gently pressed your lips to his.

“You came too early, Si.” He shook his head, his eyes bouncing all over your features. “I didn't come soon enough. I'm sorry I kept you waiting, love.” You smiled as you gazed down at him, your heart swelling. He combed his fingers through your hair.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.” You nestled your head in the crook of his neck. He took in a deep breath, your scent filling him with warmth. “I missed you too, Si.”

276 notes · View notes

tarotwithavi · 11 months

Text

What is it like to be loved by you?

How do people you love/ have loved see you?

Pile : 1~2~3

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Kindly ask your spirit guides to show you the right pile for yourself and then open your eyes. Whichever pile catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist

Paid services

Customize your reading

Pile 1

Being loved by you is an extremely unique and captivating experience that intertwines passion, inspiration, and profound connection. Unknowingly you're a muse for those around you.

For those whom you love , you become the source of their creative inspiration, the very embodiment of their artistic vision. Your presence evokes a stirring within them, igniting a creative fire that fuels their imagination and propels their artistic expression to new heights. People who are loved by you can express themselves authentically, it makes them love themselves more.

They are drawn to your essence, captivated by your beauty, both outwardly and within.

Being loved by you means witnessing their vulnerability firsthand. People open themselves up, allowing you to glimpse into the depths of their aching souls. You witness their moments of self-doubt, their relentless pursuit of perfection, and their unwavering dedication to perfect themselves.

Being loved by you is a journey of self-discovery, mutual inspiration, and unspoken connection. It is a dance of passion and creativity, where your very existence becomes a catalyst for self expression. Together, you traverse the realms of imagination, transcending the boundaries of conventional love, and entering a realm where love and compassion intertwine in an extraordinary symphony of emotions.

Pile 2

Being loved by you is like riding a rollercoaster. It is a wild journey filled with unpredictable twists and turns. Some moments bring sheer delight and exhilaration and Other times, fear grips them tightly, as doubts and insecurities creep in.

Every encounter with you is an adventure, an invitation to surrender to the thrill of the unknown. With each passing day, people can't help but wonder what awaits them around the corner. It is an experience that keeps them on their toes, never allowing them to get too comfortable.

Yet deep down, they know that this love is not meant to last forever. It is a temporary amusement, a fleeting joy. No matter how much they crave stability and security, they think that your time is limited. However it also makes them crave for more of you and your love. It's addicting.

Despite the uncertainty and the knowledge that the love would eventually come to a time of numbness, they can't resist the allure of your love. They are captivated by the exhilaration, the way you make them feel alive. Even in the midst of the fear and uncertainty, they find themselves holding on tightly, cherishing each moment of the love they think is forbidden.

Falling for you is like falling for trouble itself. It's a risky endeavour, filled with uncertainty and potential consequences but it is an addiction they can't resist. Some fear being loved by you because of how addicting it is. They have seen people fall for the way you love.

Gives me the vibe of the one that got away.

Pile 3

Being loved by you is a truly transformative and life-changing experience. Your love is so profound that it has the power to touch the deepest parts of a person's soul. When you pour out your love, people can't help but be overwhelmed by its magnitude and the way it envelops them entirely.

Your love is like that of a toddler's favorite person. Just as a child finds comfort, joy, and unwavering trust in their favorite person, those fortunate enough to be loved by you experience a similar sense of security and contentment. Your affection becomes their safe haven, a place where they can always find solace and be themselves without any fear of judgment.

In your presence, people feel cherished and valued beyond measure. Your love has the ability to heal wounds, mend broken hearts, and restore faith in humanity. It's a love that brings out the best in others, inspiring them to be the most authentic version of themselves.

They become more confident, more compassionate, and more open to the wonders of life. Your love has the power to uplift and empower, encouraging others to pursue their dreams and embrace their true potential.

Being loved by you is an extraordinary privilege, for your love has the capacity to transform lives in profound ways. It's a love that knows no boundaries, that has the ability to break down walls and bridge divides. Those who are lucky enough to experience your love are forever grateful, knowing that they have encountered a love that is truly rare and special.

837 notes · View notes

vilentia · 9 months

Text

Cozy Evening

Tim Bradford x reader

Summary: In the midst of their bustling lives, Tim Bradford and his girlfriend find solace in the simple joys of a cozy evening together, a glimpse into their heartwarming domestic bliss.

****

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow over your cozy apartment, Tim and you returned home from a long day at work. You kicked off your shoes, the familiar feeling of relief washing over you as you stepped into the comfort of your shared space. You exchanged tired yet loving smiles. It had been a hectic day for both of you, but you found solace in the fact that you could unwind together.

Tim slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. "How about we tackle dinner together tonight?" he suggested, his blue eyes filled with warmth.

You nodded, your heart fluttering at the thought of spending this evening with him. "Sounds perfect."

You made your way to the kitchen, where Tim donned an apron with a playful wink. You couldn't help but giggle at his enthusiasm. It was moments like these that reminded you why you fell in love with him. You began to chop vegetables and prepare ingredients side by side, the rhythm of your movements synchronized, a testament to the time you had spent together.

The kitchen soon filled with the delightful aroma of a homemade meal in the making. Tim occasionally stole kisses, his lips brushing against your cheek or neck, making your heart race. Each kiss sent shivers down your spine, and you reciprocated with gentle touches and loving smiles.

With dinner now simmering on the stove, you set the table, carefully placing your favorite dishes and utensils. The soft glow of candlelight danced on your faces as you shared stories and laughter. Tim was known for his dry wit, and your laughter was his favorite sound in the world.

After dessert, you cleaned up the kitchen together, washing dishes in comfortable silence. Your connection transcended the need for words. It was in these everyday moments, the quiet ones, that you felt most connected.

As the clock approached bedtime, you prepared for a peaceful night's rest. Tim walked you to your bedroom, and you changed into cozy pajamas. You slipped beneath the covers, Tim's strong arms wrapped protectively around you, your bodies fitting perfectly together. It was in this embrace that you felt safest and most loved.

You whispered sweet nothings to each other, sharing your dreams and aspirations, and discussing your plans for the future. With work awaiting you the next day, you cherished these moments of intimacy, feeling grateful for the love you had found in each other's arms.

As you closed your eyes, your breathing slowing in sync, you knew that no matter what challenges tomorrow might bring, you could face them together, hand in hand. Your love was a sanctuary in a chaotic world, a place where you could find peace and solace, and you were grateful for it every single day.

528 notes · View notes

mikaikaika · 1 year

Text

Seeing Wilbur stumble into JuanaFlippa's room just absolutely broke my heart man. In the midst of the house that is all blown up and filled with darkness , her room has stayed intact in its secluded little nook and appears to be completely safe and sound on the first glance. In a complete contradiction to the house, it is illuminated by the glow of light and looks to have been a place of joy and love.

But then you take a look at the walls and they are adorned with pictures of her with her best friend Tilin, and a sign declaring her love for her parents. Which might appear heartwarming to an outsider but for those who are aware of the story, they are absolutely heart wrenching reminders. The pristine state of that room is a constant ode to the tragedy that has befallen the family, and the sadness of a life cut short. It's like a glimpse into a world that once was full of love and light, but now it's abruptly all gone and came to a standstill. Like I know grief makes your heart ache and gives you wounds that might not heal for a long time but seeing these small moments of beauty really break my heart and I can't help but think of the future that could have been.

#Just seeing her room made me cry #JuanaFlippa #Qsmp #Angst #Wilbur #Tilin #I miss her so much #She was my absolute fav #Followed by Tilin #And just .....#Meta #Mika mumbles

404 notes · View notes

warabidakihime · 10 months

Text

A Glimpse Beyond Grief: Prologue

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x Reader | Office AU | Both characters are in their early 30s | toji is good daddy in this uwu Synopsis: galactically intertwined journey of two souls: one navigating the depths of loss, the other offering a beacon of healing. through witty banter and unspoken connections, they find solace in unexpected places, uncovering the resilience of the human spirit and the power of love to mend even the most shattered hearts. Content warning: profanity, (eventual) smut, highkey adult themed, can be psychologically and emotionally triggering for some so read with caution.

Toji's voice echoed through the house, a sense of urgency coloring each word. "Megumi! Tsumiki! Hurry up!" His eyes darted to the clock, ticking away the precious minutes before his crucial job interview.

From the upper floor, Megumi's small, hurried voice floated down. "Wait! I'm still tying my shoes!"

"Hurry up! I can't be late for my interview!" Toji called back, the weight of the day pressing on him.

"Be there in a second, Dad!" Tsumiki's reassuring response reached him, a small comfort in the chaos.

Toji sighed, standing in the foyer, anxiety gnawing at him. Today was no ordinary day; it was his final interview for a job he desperately needed. The past year had been a relentless struggle since his wife's tragic death, a wound that refused to heal. But today, he needed to be more than just a grieving widower; he needed to be a father, a provider.

Exactly a year had passed since the accident that shattered his world. His wife's life was cut short by a drunk driver, leaving Toji to navigate the overwhelming responsibilities of single parenthood. The pain lingered, an ever-present companion in his daily life.

Months of grief and depression had followed, a period where Toji lost himself in a haze of despair. He isolated himself, succumbing to the numbing embrace of alcohol and neglecting his basic needs. The memories of that time were a blur, a testament to the severity of his trauma.

Megumi, at seven years old, and Tsumiki, at eight, sought refuge with their grandparents during those dark days, visiting their father cautiously, ensuring he was in a state to be seen. It seemed as though everyone had given up on Toji, convinced he was a lost cause.

But one night, in the midst of his self-destructive routine, Toji's gaze landed on a family photo. His wife's smile and the innocent joy radiating from his children's faces pierced through his numbness. In that moment, a spark of clarity emerged, an epiphany that whispered of a responsibility he could not ignore.

Today, as he waited for his young children to join him in the rushed chaos of their morning routine, Toji carried the weight of the past year on his shoulders. The interview was not just about a job; it was a chance for redemption, a step towards reclaiming his role as a father and provider.

Toji needed to wake up from his stupor and get his life together. If not for himself, at least for Megumi and Tsumiki, who relied on him to be there for them. If their mother were still alive, she would have given him a good smack for neglecting their well-being. And so, fast forward to the present, and here he is, doing his darndest for them. Though despite his eagerness to start anew, job hunting hasn't been a very pleasant journey for Toji.

He has been going from interview to interview for five months, but luck hasn't been on his side until a week ago, when a company reached out to him, offering a possible job position. Of course, Toji immediately accepted and went through the application process almost right away, and so far, it's been going well. He passed the initial interview and panel interview, and even though the company is an hour away from his home address, they were more than willing to grant his preferred salary, and their company benefits weren't too shabby either.

It'll do for now.

Toji slows down the car as the kids’ school finally comes into view; he then turns to them for a second before focusing on the road again, “I won’t be able to pick you up later, okay? The interview I’ll be going to is fairly far from here so I might take a while considering the distance and traffic later. Grandma will come and fetch you. You can spend the night with them if you want too.”

Megumi nodded while his face was perpetually glued to his phone, “Okay.”

Tsumiki, on the other hand, flashes his dad an encouraging smile, “Best of luck, Dad!”

Toji softened at his daughter’s words of affirmation, “If I score this job, I will take you both out for dinner. You can choose whatever you want to eat.”

Upon hearing this, Megumi finally looked away from his phone and turned to his father with an expectant look on his face, “Really?”

Toji couldn’t help but snicker at his son’s reaction; he then reached out to him to gently tap his fist on his son’s chest, “A man never goes back on his words.”

After bidding his kids farewell, he set out for the neighboring city to attend his final interview. As he journeyed there, Toji couldn't help but feel a surge of nervousness. Uncharacteristically agitated, he found himself being snappy on the road, even verbally shouting at a car that changed lanes abruptly. The profanities he spewed might have left anyone who heard them scared for life, as Toji appeared scarier than he had ever been before.

However, another part of him was also angry at drivers in general, given what happened to his wife. If only they had been a little more responsible, she would still be by his side, reproaching him for losing his temper on the road.

To prevent any further thoughts of his late wife from plaguing his mind, Toji shook his head and directed all his attention and concentration towards the upcoming interview. He knew he couldn't erase memories of her forever, but for now, if he wanted to move forward and flourish, he needed to push any distracting thoughts to the back of his mind. For the sake of Megumi and Tsumiki, he was more than willing to compartmentalize the memories of their mother and focus solely on his new path ahead.

After an hour of driving, he finally arrived at his destination. Toji stood before the imposing building, his heart pounding wildly in his chest from nervousness. The rejections from his previous job applications had taken a toll on his self-esteem, despite having an impressive degree and a colorful, praiseworthy career.

Taking a deep, heavy sigh, Toji gathered his courage and pushed himself to enter the building, determined to give his best shot at acing the final interview.

"Mr. Toji Fushiguro? Ms. L/N, Y/N is ready to see you now. You may proceed to her office."

Toji acknowledged the secretary with a nod and a brisk "Got it," then rose from his seat to attend the final interview. The position at stake was Executive Assistant, a role that would place him directly under your supervision, offering a perfect opportunity to gauge compatibility.

"Good morning, Mr. Fushiguro," you greeted with a warm handshake, guiding him towards the chair near your desk. As you observed him, you detected a momentary blankness in his gaze, swiftly replaced by an intense focus as your eyes met. It was as if he had shifted gears, honing in on the upcoming interaction. His greeting, delivered in a husky tone, was accompanied by a faint smile, creating an intriguing dynamic in the room.

"Good morning to you too, Ms. L/N, Y/N. Nice to meet you," he responded.

You reciprocated with a polite smile. "Likewise. Please, make yourself comfortable. Let me know when you're ready, and we can begin."

Toji settled into the chair with ease, projecting an air of confidence that hinted at a dominant personality.

'Clearly the type who commands attention when entering a room,' you thought.

"Let's get started. I'm all set," Toji declared, prompting you to open his resume and delve into his credentials. As you scanned through his work history, your amazement grew evident. "It says here that you were the CEO of your own business. Can you shed some light on what happened there?"

His response was accompanied by an enigmatic expression, a blend of dread and detachment. Yet, as he began to speak, his voice resonated with confidence. "My wife passed away last year, and I wasn't in a position to sustain my business. I'd rather not delve into the details, if that's alright."

"Absolutely. We can keep it professional. My sincerest condolences," you replied, offering a genuine note of sympathy.

Toji met your gaze, a faint, crooked smile on his lips. "Thank you."

"Moving on, you have an impressive background in banking. What led you to shift to the HR sector?"

Toji leaned back, his eloquence shining through. "I wanted to explore new opportunities. Despite my extensive experience in banking, I'm no stranger to HR. I worked for a consulting firm, catering to financial clients. Later, I ran my own business. The shift seemed natural."

Your smile widened. "Your insights are invaluable, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji responded with a charming smile. "The pleasure's mine, Y/N."

'Already on a first-name basis, huh?' you mused, managing to suppress a smirk.

As the final interview with Mr. Toji Fushiguro unfolded, you posed standard questions, delving into topics such as his availability and adaptability to a hybrid work setup, considering his role as a single father. Reassured by his commitment, he affirmed his ability to be onsite twice a week. Discussions extended to compensation and company benefits, both monetary and non-monetary, and concluded with a firm handshake, officially welcoming him to the company.

"Truthfully, you were practically a shoo-in for the job. Our final interviews are more of a formality, a gauge for compatibility with the supervisor and company culture. As you've proven, you passed with flying colors. Congratulations and welcome to JJK Holdings. Looking forward to working with you, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji reciprocated the handshake with confidence, his smile widening. "Likewise. Thank you, Y/N."

With a final exchange of handshakes, you bid each other farewell. As Toji exited your office and disappeared from view, you glanced at your hand that had just shaken his. A faint blush crept across your cheeks, quickly dismissed as you refocused on the captivating city view outside your window.

"Looks like we've got a new face in the company," you joked aloud, addressing no one in particular. A chuckle escaped your lips at the lighthearted thought, keeping the atmosphere light.

'Focus, Y/N,' you reminded yourself, shaking off the momentary distraction.

Taking a deep breath, you let the welcomed intrigue of having Mr. Toji Hotshot Fushiguro on board settle in. He promised to be a valuable addition to the team, and optimism filled you as you considered the fresh perspective he would bring.

Throughout the day, as you managed various tasks and attended meetings, Toji's name kept surfacing in your thoughts. Beyond his impressive background and confidence during the interview, there was an underlying curiosity about the man behind the resume. At times, you felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he was still navigating grief and had other pressing priorities.

'Keep it professional,' you reminded yourself sternly, pushing aside personal musings. Nevertheless, a subtle anticipation lingered as you looked forward to working with Toji, eager to discover the dynamic he would introduce to the company.

After the successful interview, Toji headed home with a newfound sense of accomplishment that had eluded him for quite some time. Driving, he couldn't help but replay the conversation with you, his new boss. Your initial surprise at his former CEO position, the genuine condolences you offered, and the subtle interest you displayed in his career choices had all left him curious about the future interactions he might have with you.

From the moment Toji stepped into your office, he couldn't help but take notice. A commanding figure, you radiated a presence that demanded attention—confident, capable, and unyielding. It was a subtlety that impressed him, and as your eyes met, he caught a glint of curiosity that sparked something within him, a sensation he struggled to articulate.

During the interview, your insightful questions caught him off guard. Anticipating formality, he found himself letting his guard down as you delved into his past experiences. The subtle nods and genuine interest in your expressions were a rare quality, making him feel at ease and prompting him to open up in ways he hadn't in a long time.

Playful banter found its way into the conversation—an unexpected cheeky remark here and a witty response there. You weren't the typical stiff and formal interviewer, and Toji couldn't help but match your energy. The interview, meant to be serious business, transformed into something far more enjoyable. The interaction felt refreshing, like a breath of fresh air that swept away the heaviness he had carried for too long.

As the final handshake concluded and you bid each other farewell, Toji found himself lingering for a moment longer. There was a spark, a connection that transcended the professional setting. Whether it was the shared sense of humor or the way you seemed to understand him with gentle insight, he felt a thrill in the air—a glimmer of hope that had been dormant for too long.

'Well, well, Ms. Y/N, you've certainly piqued my interest,' Toji thought mischievously, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. 'Looks like this new job is going to be a whole lot more interesting than I thought.'

At home, Toji decided to channel his energy into some productive spring cleaning. It proved to be therapeutic, providing a welcome distraction to tidy up the house and clear his mind of the lingering stress from the whirlwind of emotions that accompanied the interview process. Polishing furniture, dusting shelves, and meticulously organizing the kids' rooms allowed him a sense of control he sorely needed.

Once the house felt fresh and inviting, Toji picked up Megumi and Tsumiki from their grandparents' house. The kids animatedly chatted about their day, but Toji's thoughts lingered on his new job and the memory of their late mother. Despite this, he made a conscious effort to engage in their conversation, injecting humor to elicit their laughter.

True to his promise, Toji treated them to a well-deserved pizza night at their favorite family restaurant. Settling into a cozy booth, he watched with softened eyes as his children eagerly selected their favorite toppings. Their happiness was infectious, bringing a genuine smile to his face.

Throughout dinner, playful banter flowed between Toji and the kids. He teased them, allowing them to reciprocate, creating a light-hearted atmosphere. As the pizza night concluded, they drove back home with contented hearts. Toji tucked his kids into bed, kissing their foreheads—a ritual he had embraced more religiously since his wife's passing. Though he might not express it verbally, his actions spoke volumes of his deep affection for them.

Stepping out of their room, he reflected on the new chapter awaiting him at JJK Holdings. His heart swelled with hope for a fresh start and an even brighter future, not just for himself but for Megumi and Tsumiki as well.

'Challenge accepted,' he thought with determination.

Tomorrow marked the beginning of his new journey, and he embraced it with open arms as he settled into his own bed. Thoughts buzzed with possibilities, eagerly anticipating what the future held for him and his children.

In the haze of drowsiness, his thoughts drifted to you.

"Will you haunt my dreams and slap me if I say my new boss is a feast for the eyes?" he blurted out, half-hoping the ghost of his late wife would hear him.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and moments later, sleep finally claimed him.

#warabidakihime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagine

164 notes · View notes

kckt88 · 4 months

Text

Nepenthe.

Summary:

Vaella stands on the shores of the gods eye and grieves for her lost love.

Warning(s): Grief, Devestation, Heart break, Sorrow, Mention of Death.

AEMOND x SISTER WIFE

INSPIRED BY THE SONG - BILLIE EILISH - WHEN THE PARTY'S OVER.

Word Count: 2852

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Vaella stood alone on the shore of the Gods Eye, her heart heavy with grief and her eyes fixed on the tranquil surface of the lake.

The soft lapping of the water against the shore echoing the sorrow that enveloped her. The air around her was heavy with the weight of loss as she mourned for her beloved husband, Aemond.

The waters of the Gods Eye, once a source of serenity, now held the remains of her greatest love and the last remnant of Aegon’s conquest.

Vaella's gaze remained fixed on the lake, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of Aemond's spirit lingering in the ripples.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the scene, but it offered little comfort to her grieving soul.

Tears welled in Vaella's eyes, reflecting the hues of the setting sun. She clutched the sapphire pendant that Aemond had given her, a token of their love that now felt both precious and painful.

Memories of their shared laughter and the promises they had made to each other echoed in her mind, making the void left by Aemond's departure all the more profound.

The wind whispered through the reeds along the shore, as if trying to convey a message of solace. Vaella, however, remained lost in her grief, a solitary figure standing at the edge of the Gods Eye, seeking some semblance of connection to the love that had been tragically lost.

Vaella stood on the shore of the Gods Eye, her hand gently cradling the subtle swell of her abdomen.

The soft breeze played with strands of her hair, and the gentle rustle of the reeds seemed to harmonize with the rhythm of her heartbeat.

In the midst of the mourning for Aemond, there was a bittersweet moment - the undeniable proof of their love growing within her.

She glanced down at the small life burgeoning beneath her touch, a radiant mixture of sorrow and hope in her eyes.

Aemond's child, their child, was a living testament to the love they had shared. The realization brought both warmth and melancholy, as waves of joy mingled with the ache of loss that still lingered.

The sunlight danced on the surface of the Gods Eye, casting a golden glow over Vaella and the life growing within her.

A mix of emotions swirled within her - the pain of Aemond's absence, the wonder of new life, and the unspoken promise to carry on their legacy. She whispered words of love to the unborn child, a connection to Aemond that transcended the boundaries of life and death.

Vaella gently squeezed the pendant around her neck, a reminder of Aemond's enduring presence. She felt a mix of gratitude and sorrow, grateful for the life growing within her and sorrowful for the life that had been taken too soon.

The weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders, and she vowed to raise their child with the same courage and love that Aemond had embodied.

The air carried a subtle hint of mystery, as if the very essence of the lake held whispers from beyond. As she gazed out at the tranquil water, memories of Aemond flooded her mind, and a deep ache settled in her heart.

Then, carried on the breeze, she heard a faint whisper, a voice that seemed both distant and familiar. At first, she questioned whether it was a figment of her grieving imagination, but as the wind played through the reeds, the words became clearer.

"Vaella," the voice murmured, carrying the timbre of Aemond's familiar rasp. Her heart skipped a beat, and she strained to catch every precious syllable. "My love do not despair. I am with you, always."

The words hung in the air like a delicate melody, and Vaella's eyes welled with tears. It was as if Aemond's spirit lingered in the breeze, reaching out to comfort her in her moment of sorrow.

The whispers carried a sense of reassurance, a reminder that love transcended the boundaries of life and death.

A small smile touched Vaella's lips as she closed her eyes, allowing the whispers of Aemond's voice to envelop her. The wind seemed to carry his love, a balm for her wounded soul. She could almost feel his presence, a comforting embrace from beyond.

Alys silently observed Vaella as she stood on the shore of the gods eye.

Her green eyes glinted with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, an understanding of the intricate threads of fate.

The Witch of Harrenhal was no stranger to grief, having witnessed the ebb and flow of sorrow throughout the ages.

She sensed the weight of loss that hung heavy over Vaella, the widow mourning not just a man, but deep love now lost.

Alys Rivers, though a figure steeped in mysticism, held no malice in her gaze. Instead, her presence seemed like that of a silent guardian, a spectral witness to a broken heart.

She saw the vulnerability in Vaella, the fragility of a soul grappling with both the beauty and brutality of life.

"Is it true?" Vaella's voice trembled with a mix of vulnerability and determination "Rumours circulate like vengeful spirits, haunting my marriage. They say my husband, Aemond, sought solace in your company. Tell me, did he betray our love with you?"

Alys’ expression was unreadable as she met Vaella's gaze with a steady look.

She sensed the turmoil within the grieving widow and understood the need for clarity in the midst of shadows.

"No, my lady," Alys responded, her voice a soft murmur that carried an air of ancient wisdom. "The rumours are but twisted echoes. Aemond never touched me, nor did his heart waver from its devotion to you. His love belonged solely to you”.

Vaella's eyes searched Alys's face for any sign of deception, but the witch's countenance remained serene and truthful.

A wave of relief and gratitude washed over her, mingling with the lingering sorrow.

In that moment, Alys Rivers became more than a mysterious figure; she became a guardian of the truth, a presence untainted by the webs of deceit that often spun through the world.

"Thank you," Vaella whispered, her shoulders relaxing as the weight of doubt lifted. "I needed to hear that. His memory deserves to be cherished without the stain of falsehoods."

Alys Rivers inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the shared understanding between them.

The echoes of secrets and mysteries persisted in Harrenhal, but in this exchange, a moment of truth emerged from the shadows.

Vaella, guided by Alys's assurance, found a measure of solace in knowing that Aemond's heart had remained true, a flame that burned undiminished until his last breath.

"Aemond spoke of you often. Your name was a melody on his lips, a song that echoed through the chambers of his heart. He spoke of your love; of the moments you shared beneath the vast sky and the promises you exchanged."

Vaella's eyes, still tinged with grief, widened at Alys's words. A mixture of surprise and gratitude painted her expression as she listened intently, hungering for any connection to the man she had lost.

"He spoke of the child you carry," Alys continued, her voice carrying a soothing cadence. "His eyes would light up with a warmth that only the prospect of fatherhood could bring. He envisioned a future where his legacy would continue through the life growing within you."

As Alys recounted Aemond's words, a fragile smile touched Vaella's lips. The weight on her shoulders seemed to ease, replaced by a sense of reassurance that Aemond's love, and thoughts had transcended the boundaries of life and death.

"He cherished the idea of becoming a father," Alys concluded, "and his love for you, my lady, was a flame that burned brightly until the very end. The Gods Eye may hold the echoes of his battle, but it also resonates with the echoes of his love for you and the child you carry."

Vaella, grateful for this glimpse into Aemond's heart, felt a renewed connection to the man she had lost.

The knowledge that he had spoken of her, and their unborn child brought a profound sense of solace.

In the midst of Harrenhal's ancient mysteries, Alys Rivers became a conduit, allowing the whispers of Aemond's love to reach Vaella's grieving heart.

"Aemond had dreams for the child you carry. In the quiet moments, when the world seemed distant, he would share his hopes for a future that now lies beyond the veil."

Vaella's gaze met Alys's, a mix of anticipation and trepidation etched on her face as Alys continued, revealing the tender sentiments Aemond had harboured in his heart.

"He wished to call your son Rhaegar," Alys revealed, the name hanging in the air like a melody. "A name that would be the embodiment of the Targaryen legacy.”

The weight of the revelation settled upon Vaella, and a soft gasp escaped her lips. Rhaegar – a name he wished to be woven in the threads of Targaryen history, a name that resonated with the power and grace of dragons. Aemond's choice held a profound significance, an unspoken promise for the legacy he wished to leave behind.

"He spoke of Rhaegar with a glint in his eye," Alys continued, her voice carrying the weight of shared moments. "A future where a father would train his son with the sword, where a father would read to his son the histories and philosophies of years passed, where a father would witness his son soaring through the skies on the back of his own dragon”.

Vaella, touched by the revelation, felt a bittersweet warmth spread through her.

The name Rhaegar became more than a choice; it became a beacon of remembrance, a testament to the dreams Aemond held for the family they had envisioned.

In the midst of Harrenhal's shadows, Alys Rivers became the bearer of Aemond's wishes, linking past and future in a tale woven with love, loss.

In the quiet halls of Harrenhal, where ancient whispers seemed to blend with the present, Vaella made a poignant decision.

The imposing castle, with its storied history and mystical aura, became both a sanctuary and a tether to the memories of Aemond.

Instead of retreating from its haunting echoes, Vaella chose to remain with Alys within its walls, a silent witness to the chapters of her past.

The decision to stay at Harrenhal was not born of fear or melancholy but rather an enduring connection to the man she loved.

The castle, with its towering towers and sprawling courtyards, held fragments of Aemond's presence - a memory etched in stone, a lingering essence in the air.

As the widow walked through the vast corridors, she found solace in the shadows, as if Aemond's spirit still lingered in the unseen corners. The great halls, once filled with echoes of ancient lords and ladies, now resonated with the quiet footsteps of a woman bound by love and remembrance.

Vaella chose a chamber overlooking the Gods Eye.

It was here that she felt closest to him, as if the wind carried whispers of Aemond's love through the rustling leaves and across the waters.

The local folk, who had long regarded Harrenhal with a mix of awe and fear, now witnessed a lady who had chosen to embrace the castle's mystique.

Vaella became a silent guardian of Aemond's memory, her presence a testament to a love that transcended the boundaries of life and death.

In the evenings, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Vaella would stand on the shores of the Gods Eye, gazing into the distance. The castle loomed behind her, an ancient guardian overlooking her silent vigil.

Harrenhal became not just a place but a vessel for her enduring connection to Aemond, a haven where the threads of their story continued to weave through time.

And so, Vaella, with a heart anchored in love, remained at Harrenhal, her days and nights entwined with memories of Aemond. In the stillness of the castle, where the past and present coexisted, she found a sense of belonging, a poignant tribute to the dragon rider who had once soared through the skies.

As the hours of labour unfolded, with the guidance of Alys, Vaella embraced the bittersweet dance of pain and joy.

The air in the chamber was filled with a palpable tension, an energy that mirrored the duality of her emotions—grieving the loss of Aemond while welcoming the arrival of their son.

Harrenhal's stones seemed to absorb the echoes of Vaella's whispered prayers and the rhythm of her laboured breaths.

In the flickering candlelight, a loud cry filled the air, a herald of new life that resonated through the ancient halls. Alys carefully placed a swaddled bundle into Vaella's arms, and tears welled in her eyes as she beheld the tiny face that bore Aemond’s features.

With a tender smile, Vaella cradled her newborn son close to her heart.

In that moment, the castle's shadows seemed to recede, giving way to the radiant glow of motherhood.

The air was imbued with a sense of renewal, as if the very essence of Harrenhal acknowledged the arrival of a Targaryen heir.

"He shall be called Rhaegar," Vaella declared, her voice carrying both conviction and a touch of vulnerability. The name, chosen by Aemond in dreams and whispers, now became a living legacy.

It was a homage to a vision of the future they had once shared—a future that Aemond had held in his heart.

As little Rhaegar nestled in her arms, Vaella felt the weight of responsibility and the warmth of newfound joy.

In the quiet chamber, with the flicker of candles casting a gentle glow, Vaella found solace in the bond between mother and son, and in the enduring love that connected her to Aemond, whose spirit seemed to linger in the air, blessing the new life that bore the name he had once dreamed of.

Vaella stood on the familiar shores of the Gods Eye, the glistening waters reflecting the sun's gentle embrace. Cradled in her arms was Rhaegar, the living testament to a love that had transcended both time and loss.

The baby, swathed in Targaryen colours, seemed to mirror the hues of the sky and the ancient castle that loomed behind them.

As the gentle breeze played with Rhaegar's wisps of silver hair, Vaella's eyes sparkled with a mix of joy and reverence.

She whispered words of introduction to the tranquil waters, as if the lake itself held echoes of Aemond's spirit. The air, laden with the essence of their shared history, seemed to carry the weight of a silent conversation between past and present.

"Look, my love," Vaella murmured softly, her voice a tender melody that only the winds and waters could comprehend. "This is Rhaegar, our son. Born of your dreams and our love, he carries the legacy you envisioned for our family."

The sun cast its golden glow upon mother and child, and Vaella felt an inexplicable warmth in the embrace of the Gods Eye.

It was as if Aemond's spirit, carried by the wind, hovered in the air, witnessing the introduction of the heir he had dreamt of.

The lake, once witness to battle, now bore witness to a new chapter—the legacy of a dragon rider and the son he had hoped for.

Rhaegar, oblivious to the weight of his name and the echo of a father's dreams, cooed softly in response.

His innocent amethyst eyes, wide and curious, seemed to reflect the azure depths of the lake and the expansive sky above.

In the soft rustle of the leaves and the distant murmur of the lake, Vaella felt a familiar presence, a whisper from the depths of her memories.

As she gazed down at Rhaegar, the wind carried with it a familiar voice—a voice that sent shivers down her spine. It was Aemond's voice, tender and full of l love, as if carried on the very breath of the wind.

"Rhaegar, my son," the voice murmured, wrapping around the newborn like a gentle caress.

Vaella's eyes widened, and a mixture of awe and joy painted her expression as she witnessed the spectral reunion between father and child.

"Grow strong, my little dragon," Aemond's voice continued, its resonance a lullaby that danced in the air. "May your wings carry you to heights untold and may the fire in your heart burn as bright as the dragons of old”.

Rhaegar, seemingly captivated by the unseen presence, cooed again in response.

His innocent eyes, wide and curious, held a spark that seemed to mirror the spectral warmth of his father's words.

The bond between the living and the departed, bridged by the whispers on the wind, created a sacred moment that transcended the ordinary.

Vaella, both moved and grateful, stood as a witness to this ethereal communion.

The veil between the realms of the living and the departed seemed to thin, allowing Aemond's voice to guide and bless the son he had dreamt of.

The wind carried not just a message but a legacy—a father's love echoing through time.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond x oc #aemond fic #aemond x original female character #hotd fic #hotd #prince aemond targaryen #aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x oc #alys rivers

54 notes · View notes

muiitoloko · 4 months

Note

heeeey,i love your writing!! i was wondering if you could post something related to being pregnant/ having a baby with harry hart?? ty!! <3

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for the request!

Title: Small Steps

Summary: A glimpse into the intricate balance of the Hart family as they navigate the challenges of espionage, parenting, and the heartfelt joy of shared moments.

Pairing: Harry Hart (Kingsman) × Fem! Reader.

Warnings: discussion

Word count: 4886

As the moonlight bathed the room, your one-year-old bundle of joy, Hadrian, stirred with the night's hunger. You woke to the sound of his cries, a familiar melody of baby demands that tugged at your maternal instincts.

You began to rise, your intention clear, but Harry, ever the attentive husband and father, gently caught your wrist. His voice, still hoarse with sleep, cut through the quiet room, "I'll go get the boy, love."

You didn't argue, your trust in Harry unwavering. You nodded, and Harry slipped out of bed, his movements fluid despite the late hour. You flicked on the bedside lamp, casting a warm glow across the room as you leaned against the headboard, patiently waiting.

In a short while, Harry returned with Hadrian in his arms. The little one's cries softened as he found comfort in his father's embrace, tiny fingers clutching onto Harry's shirt. Yet, as Harry climbed onto the bed, Hadrian's curious eyes fixed on you, a silent invitation for you to join the nighttime routine.

With a tender exchange, Harry gently passed the baby into your waiting arms. Hadrian, still in the midst of sleepy fussiness, reached out for his mother. The room echoed with a mix of soft coos and comforting whispers as Harry and you coordinated the handoff.

Hadrian stayed nestled in your arms, his tiny fingers exploring the fabric of your nightgown. His adorable baby babbles filled the room, creating a sweet melody that warmed the hearts of his parents. Sensing his needs, Hadrian tugged at your nightgown, a clear signal that he was ready for his nightly feeding.

You sighed softly, your motherly instincts kicking in as you lovingly responded to Hadrian's cues. You pulled down the strap of your nightgown with practiced ease, offering your son the nourishment he sought. As Hadrian latched on, a serene calm settled over the room, interrupted only by the soft sounds of suckling.

Harry, sitting on the bed next to you, leaned back against the headboard. His gaze fixed on his son with a mixture of adoration and amusement. As Hadrian blissfully fed, Harry, ever the gentleman, couldn't resist reaching out, playing with his chubby son's little toes. The room was filled with a sense of familial warmth and contentment.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Harry addressed his mini-copy. "Well, little one, it seems you're starting to outshine your old man in the feeding department. I'm starting to get a bit jealous, you know."

You, catching Harry's playful comment, shot him a look that was a perfect blend of amusement and affection. You chuckled softly, appreciating the lightness he brought to the moment. Parenthood had its challenges, but these shared smiles made it all worthwhile.

As Hadrian continued to feed, Harry couldn't help but revel in the joy of fatherhood. He spoke to his son in a playful tone, "You're a hungry little rascal, aren't you? Taking after your mum in more ways than one, I see."

You rolled your eyes playfully at Harry's remark, your heart full of love for the two most important men in your life. The gentle rhythm of your nightly routine continued, creating a tapestry of shared moments that bound your family together.

Hadrian, in the midst of his feeding, decided that his father's playful fingers were no longer welcome entertainment. With a determined kick, he protested against the ticklish disturbance. Harry, catching on quickly to his son's discontent, chuckled and withdrew his hands, realizing the gravity of disturbing a man's sacred feeding time.

As Harry withdrew his hands, he looked down at Hadrian with a mockingly serious expression. "My apologies, little one. I shall disturb your sacred feeding time no more," he declared in a tone filled with theatrical regret.

You, catching the playful exchange, rolled your eyes with an amused smile. "Harry, really? Can't you let him eat in peace?" you scolded, though your tone held a hint of affection.

Harry, undeterred by your scolding, leaned over and cooed at Hadrian, "You see, my precious little dick blocker, you've got your father on a tight leash. No more fun for Mom and Dad, it seems."

You shot Harry a disapproving look, your eyebrows raised in a silent reprimand. "Harry, stop calling him that. It's not funny," you chided, though a small smile betrayed your amusement.

Harry, recognizing the limit of your patience, cleared his throat and shifted back to his stoic spy exterior. "Apologies, my love. I shall refrain from using that term henceforth," he declared with a mock salute.

Hadrian, oblivious to the banter, released your breast with a little giggle, seemingly amused by the exchange between his parents. His innocent laughter filled the room, and Harry couldn't help but break into a genuine smile at the sound.

You, despite your scolding, couldn't hide a small laugh at Hadrian's response. "You're quite the troublemaker, Hadrian," you remarked, gently patting the baby's back as he continued to giggle.

As you finished feeding Hadrian, you gently passed the baby to Harry, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Burp the little troublemaker, would you, love? I need a moment to compose myself," you requested, your exhaustion evident in your eyes.

Harry, ever the attentive husband and father, obediently accepted the task. He cradled Hadrian in his arms, supporting the baby's delicate head with practiced ease. Gently patting the tiny back, Harry whispered praises to his son, marveling at how the little one seemed to be getting chubbier with each passing day.

You took a moment to collect yourself, watching the tender scene between father and son. As Harry continued to burp Hadrian, you approached and checked the baby's diaper, relieved to find it clean. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your family, the exhaustion momentarily overshadowed by the love that filled the room.

Harry, his playful demeanor replaced by a more serious expression, looked at you with visible tiredness. He gently pushed you away, insisting, "Go to sleep, my love. I'll take care of putting the boy to sleep."

You tried to protest, but Harry, asserting his bossy exterior, was having none of it. He firmly instructed you to rest, his protective instincts taking charge. You finally complied, giving in to your husband's insistence.

As Harry left for the nursery with Hadrian in his arms, the room echoed with the soft lullabies he hummed to soothe the baby. The door closed behind him, leaving you alone with a mix of gratitude and fatigue. You settled into bed, allowing the sounds of Harry's comforting whispers to reach your ears.

In the nursery, Harry continued his fatherly duties. He gently laid Hadrian in the crib, tucking the little one in with a tender touch. As he stood there, gazing down at his peacefully sleeping son, a sense of fulfillment washed over him.

With a final kiss on Hadrian's forehead, Harry left the nursery, ensuring the room was dimly lit to maintain a serene atmosphere. He rejoined you in your bedroom, where you lay with eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"Sleep, my love," Harry urged, his tone gentle yet firm. "I've got everything under control. You need your rest."

You, despite your initial protests, succumbed to Harry's bossy yet caring demeanor. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to drift into a well-deserved slumber, knowing that your husband was watching over your precious family.

In the quiet moments that followed, Harry took on the role of the vigilant guardian, keeping a watchful eye on both your sleeping form and your peacefully dreaming son. The room embraced the tranquility of the night, a haven for a family bound by love and the unspoken understanding that each member played a crucial role in your shared journey.

Days later, the serene atmosphere that once filled the room with familial warmth was replaced by the tension of a brewing storm. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a harsh light on the kitchen where a heated argument took place.

Your frustration was palpable as you voiced your concerns, the tone of your words cutting through the air. "Harry, it feels like you're never home. Another mission? Seriously? We barely get to spend time together as a family, and now you're off again."

Harry, his face carrying a mixture of guilt and determination, defended his position. "You know the nature of my work. I'm doing this for our safety, for the future of our family. I can't just turn away from my responsibilities."

As your voices clashed, the chaos of the morning unfolded around you. Hadrian, oblivious to the tension, sat in his high chair, hands smeared with baby food as he gleefully made a mess. Harry, in an attempt to diffuse the mounting tension, multitasked by feeding Hadrian while engaging in the argument.

Eggsy, the 6-year-old bundle of energy, sat at the table, alternating between munching on his breakfast and passionately drawing on a piece of paper. At intervals, he would stand up, waving his creation in an attempt to draw your attention, but neither you nor Harry spared a moment to acknowledge him amidst your clash of words.

The clattering of dishes echoed as you, with a determined expression, washed yesterday's dirty dishes piled up from the night before. The routine chores blended with the rising tension, creating a chaotic symphony that mirrored the disarray in your emotions.

The exchange grew more heated as you continued to hurl words at each other, the atmosphere thick with tension. Meanwhile, Eggsy, desperate for attention, stood on his chair and jumped down, brandishing his drawing with excitement. "Mum, Dad, look what I made! It's for both of you!"

However, the plea for recognition fell on deaf ears as you and Harry remained locked in your verbal sparring. Their focus on the argument overshadowed the joyful innocence of your son's attempts to share his creation.

Hadrian, sensing the discord in the air, babbled incoherently, adding his own contribution to the chaotic soundtrack of the morning. The contrast between the obliviousness of the younger son and the frustration of the parents painted a vivid picture of the complex dynamics within your family.

As the argument escalated, Eggsy, feeling unheard, tried to intervene with a louder proclamation. "Mum! Dad! Look! It's important!"

You, momentarily breaking away from the heated exchange, turned to Eggsy with a forced smile. "Sweetheart, not now. Mum and Dad are talking."

Undeterred, Eggsy persisted, his enthusiasm undiminished. "But it's really cool! You'll like it, I promise!"

Harry, juggling the responsibility of feeding Hadrian and engaging in the argument, glanced briefly at Eggsy. "Not now, Eggsy. We're busy."

Eggsy's excitement turned into disappointment as he lowered his drawing, retreating to his seat. The once vibrant energy in the room was replaced by a somber air, each family member lost in their own thoughts and frustrations.

Amidst the escalating argument, Harry's patience wore thin when Hadrian, in an innocent act of rebellion, decided to use his breakfast as a makeshift art supply. A glob of baby food landed squarely on Harry's impeccably white shirt, prompting a light but audible swear from the frustrated father.

You, hearing the swear, instantly snapped at Harry, your voice reaching a new pitch. "Harry! Watch your language! Not in front of the kids!"

Harry, his own frustration mounting, retorted sharply, "Oh, for heaven's sake! It's just a word."

The exchange grew more heated as you continued to hurl words at each other, the atmosphere thick with tension. Meanwhile, Eggsy, determined to reclaim your attention, seized the opportunity. He stood on the chair and jumped, creating a commotion to shake you from your argument.

Eggsy's attempt to draw your focus took an unexpected turn as he lost his balance on the chair. The room fell silent for a split second as the chair teetered, threatening to send Eggsy toppling backward.

In an instant, Harry's reflexes kicked in. He reached across the table, lightning-fast, and grabbed the collar of Eggsy's dinosaur pajamas. The sudden shift halted Eggsy's fall, leaving him hanging mid-air, his wide eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and relief.

Simultaneously, you, dropping the dishes you were washing, rushed to stabilize the chair. You straightened it with urgency, your eyes filled with concern for your son's safety.

Harry, holding Eggsy securely, shot you an irritable look. "Bloody hell! Can't you keep an eye on him?"

You, your worry turning into irritation, retorted, "Maybe if you were more present, I wouldn't have to watch them on my own!"

Before your argument could escalate further, Eggsy, sensing the tension between his parents, decided to intervene. "Mum, Dad, stop fighting! Please!" he pleaded, his voice a mix of desperation and sadness.

His tearful plea caught both Harry and you off guard. Harry reluctantly let go of Eggsy, allowing him to land safely back on the chair. As Eggsy started to cry, he begged his parents to stop arguing. "Just stop, please! I don't like it when you fight," he sobbed.

Harry sighed, his stern expression softening as he reached out to comfort his older son. You, realizing the impact of your argument on Eggsy, hurriedly joined in to console him. The room echoed with the sound of Eggsy's cries, a heartbreaking reminder of the toll your disagreements took on your children.

However, your attempts to calm Eggsy were in vain, as the distress had already spread to the youngest member of the family. Hadrian, sensing the emotional turmoil, began to cry in his high chair. The once chaotic room now filled with the sounds of both children's tears, amplifying the weight of the situation.

Harry, feeling a pang of guilt, gently handed Eggsy over to you. He then sighed and went to pick up Hadrian from his high chair, cradling the baby in his arms. The weight of responsibility and the realization of your impact on your children weighed heavily on both parents.

Harry expertly calmed the cries of Hadrian, gently rocking him in his arms, while you held Eggsy close, offering soothing words to ease his distress.

As the tension in the room began to subside, Eggsy, with tear-streaked cheeks, looked up at you and Harry with skepticism. "Promise you won't fight anymore, Mum and Dad," he demanded, his voice a mix of vulnerability and determination.

Harry, exchanging a knowing glance with you, nodded sincerely. "We promise, Eggsy. No more fighting. Mum and Dad are going to work together to make everything better."

However, Eggsy wasn't easily convinced. He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, his demand clear. "Make up properly, then. Hug and say sorry. That's what you taught me, right?"

You and Harry exchanged a silent understanding. You knew Eggsy was right, and you needed to demonstrate the same conflict resolution you had taught your son.

Following Eggsy's guidance, you stood up and faced each other. With Hadrian still cradled in Harry's arms, you shared a heartfelt hug. You, his eyes filled with regret, whispered an apology to you, acknowledging that he shouldn't have yelled.

Harry, equally remorseful, admitted his fault as well. "I'll try my best not to take on such long missions, love. Family comes first."

Eggsy, satisfied with the display of affection, grinned mischievously. "Now say sorry with a kiss!" he declared, making a dramatic gagging sound.

Harry and you chuckled at Eggsy's playful antics but complied with his request. You shared a tender kiss, ignoring Eggsy's exaggerated protests. Meanwhile, Hadrian, still in Harry's arms, grabbed a handful of your locks and pulled, adding a touch of baby chaos to the moment.

As you and Harry separated from the kiss, Harry looked down at Hadrian and remarked with a playful smirk, "Looks like Hadrian has strong opinions about our make-up kisses."

You struggled with Hadrian's grip, attempting to free your hair from his strong little hands. Harry, being the attentive father he was, stepped in to help, gently prying Hadrian's fingers from the tangled locks. Hadrian, however, protested with a slight whimper, not entirely pleased with having to let go of his newfound toy.

Seeing the potential for a full-blown baby meltdown, Harry quickly improvised. He reached for Eggsy's drawing, strategically placed on the table, and presented it to Hadrian with a flourish. The colorful creation instantly captured the baby's attention, diverting him from his previous hair-pulling mission.

As Hadrian was captivated by the vibrant drawing, Eggsy, possessive of his artistic creation, voiced his concern, "Oi, Dad! Hadrian's gonna ruin it with his baby hands! Give it back before he messes it up!"

Harry, still holding the drawing out of Hadrian's reach, chuckled at Eggsy's protective nature. "Alright, alright, Eggsy. Here's your masterpiece back, safe and sound." He handed the drawing to Eggsy, who cradled it carefully, ensuring it remained unscathed.

However, as Harry gave the drawing to Eggsy, Hadrian, determined to explore the fascinating piece of paper, stretched out his chubby hands, attempting to snatch the artwork. Eggsy, noticing his little brother's advances, protested loudly, "No, Hadrian! Bad baby! This is mine!"

You intervened with a gentle laugh. "Come on, Gary. Let Hadrian have a look. He's just curious." You carefully reached over to take the drawing, intending to show it to the curious baby.

Yet, as you reached for the drawing, Hadrian's protests grew louder. Unwilling to part with your newfound treasure, Eggsy held onto the drawing with determination. "No, Mum! It's mine! Hadrian can't have it!"

Amused by the sibling drama unfolding, Harry decided to diffuse the situation. "Eggsy, let your little brother have a peek. We can't deny him the joy of appreciating your art."

Reluctantly, Eggsy relinquished the drawing, but not without giving Hadrian a stern warning, "Okay, but just a look, Hadrian. Don't mess it up!" Eggsy carefully handed the drawing to you, who allowed Hadrian to inspect it under your watchful eye.

Meanwhile, you, now holding Hadrian, noticed the baby's fascination with the drawing. You couldn't help but smile at the innocence of your children, each displaying their unique quirks and possessiveness.

As the drawing exploration continued, you glanced at Harry, who was still standing nearby. You noticed the baby food stains on his shirt, evidence of Hadrian's artistic adventure with his breakfast. "Harry, go change your shirt before you're late for work," you suggested, your tone a mix of amusement and practicality.

Harry nodded, acknowledging the need to present a more professional appearance for his work. "Right you are, love." He exchanged a brief yet affectionate kiss with you before heading upstairs to change.

In the bedroom, Harry quickly discarded his soiled shirt into the laundry basket and grabbed a fresh one. He efficiently changed, ensuring his gun holsters were securely in place. The routine of a spy, seamlessly blending with the duties of a husband and parent.

Once his shirt was changed, Harry picked up his jacket, left carelessly on the kitchen chair. He looked at you, who were still managing the chaos at the table. "I'll see you later, love. And you, little troublemakers, behave for Mum."

With one last loving glance, Harry headed towards the door, ready to face the challenges of both the espionage world and family life. As he stepped outside, the door closed behind him, leaving you to manage the lively breakfast scene.

Eggsy, concerned by the prospect of his parent being away for an extended period, turned to you with wide eyes. "Mum, is Daddy gonna be gone for a long time this time?"

You, maintaining the facade of normalcy, smiled reassuringly. "Oh no, sweetheart. Not too long. Daddy's got an important suit to make for a very important event. He'll be back before you know it."

Eggsy, accepting your explanation, nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, Mum. If it's important, then I guess it's okay."

With a determined look, he straightened up in his chair, a newfound sense of responsibility settling on his young shoulders. "Well, if Dad's gonna be away, then I'm the man of the home now. I'll keep everything in order until they arrive."

You couldn't help but smile at Eggsy's earnest declaration. "That's very thoughtful of you, Eggsy. You're a great big brother and a wonderful helper."

As Eggsy beamed with pride at the praise, he continued to take his role seriously, making sure his little brother, Hadrian, was content and the breakfast chaos was under control. You, grateful for Eggsy's mature outlook, focused on feeding Hadrian, enjoying the support of your eldest in managing the bustling household.

The morning continued with a blend of familial warmth and the subtle undercurrent of secrets hidden from Eggsy. He remained blissfully unaware of his father's true identity as a spy, believing him to be a simple tailor. You and Harry had made the decision to keep this information from Eggsy until they were old enough to handle the truth.

As Eggsy assumed the responsibility of the man of the home, you admired their sense of determination and the genuine care they showed for the family. The charade continued seamlessly, allowing Eggsy to maintain his innocence and live a childhood untainted by the shadows of espionage.

Three days later, Harry found themselves getting into the Kingsman taxi, the familiar comfort of the tailored suit contrasting with the tense atmosphere that often accompanied their return from a mission. As the sleek vehicle navigated through the city streets, Harry activated their Kingsman glasses, the digital interface lighting up before their eyes.

With a few swift taps, they dialed your cell phone. The device rang a few times before your voice filled the earpiece, "Hello?"

"Hello, love," Harry greeted, relief evident in their voice.

"Harry! Is everything alright? Are you well?" Your concern echoed through the connection.

Harry reassured you, "I'm perfectly fine, my dear. Just a few bumps and bruises, nothing serious."

A sigh of relief escaped your lips. "Thank goodness. I always worry when you're away."

"I appreciate your concern, my love. I'm on my way home now," Harry assured you, his voice carrying a warmth that only heightened when he thought about reuniting with you.

Your tone shifted to one of excitement, "Oh, that's wonderful news! The children will be thrilled to have you back."

Harry couldn't help but smile, "How are they, by the way?"

"Eggsy is at school now, but Hadrian is playing on the living room floor. He's been talking a lot lately," you shared, a hint of pride in your voice.

"That's fantastic to hear. I've been missing their voices," Harry admitted, his eagerness evident.

As if on cue, you encouraged Hadrian to talk with Dad. The babbling and giggles of their youngest son filled the line, and Harry's heart swelled with joy. Hadrian's attempts at forming sentences were becoming more coherent, and the sound of his little voice was a soothing melody.

Your voice returned, "He's been practicing. I think he's excited to talk to you."

Harry felt a warmth in their chest as he responded, "I can't wait to hear him."

Hadrian's adorable voice came through the line, "Dad! Dada!"

Harry couldn't help but grin. "Hey there, Hadrian! How's my little man doing?"

Hadrian's babble continued, a mixture of excitement and incoherent words. The proud parent couldn't help but imagine his son's playful expressions as he spoke.

Your voice returned, "He's really getting the hang of it. He's been calling for you all morning."

"I'll be home soon, little one," Harry promised, the anticipation evident in his voice.

You asked, "Are you almost here?"

Harry glanced out the window and responded, "Just a few blocks away. I can't wait to see you all."

The conversation continued as Harry shared his plans, "I've also got something special for you, love. A box of German chocolates. Thought I'd bring a little piece of Germany back with me."

Your gratitude came through the phone, "Oh, Harry, that's sweet of you. Thank you. The kids and I will enjoy them."

As the taxi approached their home, Harry announced, "I'm about to pull in. Get ready for a surprise."

"Can't wait," you replied, excitement evident in your voice.

A few minutes later, the Kingsman taxi came to a stop, and Harry entered the house with a bouquet of flowers and the box of German chocolates in hand. The living room welcomed him with the sounds of laughter and playful chatter. Hadrian, upon spotting his father, let out a squeal of delight, reaching out to be picked up.

You welcomed him with a kiss, your eyes sparkling with joy as you accepted the flowers and chocolates. Harry couldn't resist pulling you close, savoring the warmth of your embrace. Ignoring Hadrian's persistent calls for his daddy, Harry deepened the kiss, momentarily losing himself in the reunion.

Breaking the kiss, Harry murmured against your lips, "I missed you, love."

You whispered back, "I missed you too, Harry."

Hadrian's excited shouts interrupted your tender moment, pulling your attention to the living room floor. There, you witnessed a heartwarming sight—Hadrian, standing on unsteady legs, attempting to take his first independent steps towards his father.

Your eyes welled up with tears of joy as you exclaimed, "Harry, look! Hadrian's walking!"

Harry, equally surprised and overjoyed, activated the camera on his glasses to capture the precious moment. Crouching down, he opened his arms wide, ready to welcome his little one.

Hadrian, determined and wobbly, took one step, then another, his tiny hands reaching out towards his father. You, unable to contain your emotions, cried happy tears, proud of your son's milestone.

Wiping away tears, you whispered to Harry, "Our little man is growing up so fast."

Harry grinned, a mixture of pride and tenderness in his eyes. "Indeed, love. It seems he saved this special moment just for my return."

As Hadrian reached Harry, the delighted father scooped him up into his arms, showering him with kisses. Hadrian giggled with infectious joy, clearly pleased with his newfound walking abilities and the attention from his father.

You, joining the embrace, hugged both Harry and Hadrian, creating a cocoon of familial love. The room echoed with laughter, the sweet melody of your family bonding overpowering any traces of the morning's chaos.

In the midst of the joyous reunion, Harry couldn't help but express his overwhelming emotions. "I can't believe I almost missed this," he murmured to you, his voice filled with gratitude and love.

You, understanding the nature of Harry's work, whispered back, "But you didn't, Harry. You're here now, and that's what matters."

You shared a tender moment, savoring the completeness of your family. Hadrian, still cradled in his father's arms, babbled happily, oblivious to the significance of his achievement.

As the family settled into the warmth of the reunion, Harry couldn't help but feel a profound sense of fulfillment. The unpredictability of his dual life as a spy and a family man often presented challenges, but moments like these made it all worthwhile.

You, still overwhelmed with joy, exclaimed, "Harry, we should've recorded this moment so Eggsy could see his little brother taking his first steps!"

Harry, with a knowing smile, revealed, "Don't worry, love. I recorded it with my glasses." He tapped on the side of his Kingsman glasses, to indicate that he recorded with them.

You, grateful for Harry's attention to detail, set the flowers and chocolate aside. You cupped his face, giving him a strong and affectionate kiss. In that intimate moment, you conveyed how much you cherished this detail-oriented man who made an effort to capture and share the special moments in your family's life.

Breaking the kiss, you glanced at the watch on Harry's wrist, realizing it was almost time to pick up Eggsy from school. You took the flowers and chocolate, saying, "I'll keep these safe. I have to pick up Eggsy from school."

However, Harry, wanting to be as close to your family as possible, offered, "I'll come with you, love. I want to share in the joy of bringing our eldest home."

You, appreciating Harry's eagerness to be part of the family moments, agreed with a smile. They left the flowers and chocolate on the table, hand in hand, ready to pick up Eggsy and continue your day as a complete and loving family.

And so, with Hadrian in Harry's arms and the promise of reuniting with Eggsy, you walked out together, your steps in sync, embracing the warmth of the family bond that transcended the complexities of Harry's spy life. The flowers and chocolate, symbols of love and thoughtfulness, waited patiently on the table for your return, a testament to the simple yet profound joys that enriched your lives.

#harry hart #kingsman secret service #harry hart x reader #eggsy unwin #colin firth

49 notes · View notes

vitaminseetarot · 8 months

Text

PAC: What Does Libra Season Have in Store For You? ☁💗🌆

Happy Autumn folks and welcome back! I'm stoked. I enjoyed my first day of Autumn with some good ol cider. This is looking to be a very busy fall season!

NEWS! Starting tomorrow I will be heading out on a vacation trip for a little over a week where I'll be away from Tumblr for the majority of the time, so things will be pretty quiet on this blog until mid-October. But stick around because when I come back, I'll be bringing some Tarot games with me, sprucing up my page, and more! 🍎

(I also got a new desk which is going to make card spread layouts so much easier! kazoo)

So for now, I thought I would tune into the vibes of the upcoming sun in Libra transit and catch a brief glimpse into what it has prepared for you all this crispy cool season.

(Content warning: there is an image containing blood on one of the cards. It's from the Shadowscape Tarot deck. I will find a way to modify this card in the future.)

Please select one of the three sunset skies below. I will dub them Peach (1), Fuchsia (2), and Violet (3).

Pile 1: Peach Sky

Ace of Pentacles, Page of Cups, King of Pentacles, Six of Cups, Ten of Swords; Compassion, 21. Venus, 6. Sun - Light, Sadness

Hi pile 1! Your Libra season will be filled with a sense of grace. I feel like you've been going through some struggles lately and you're wondering if help is available. Libra season may be a good time for you to reach out to loved ones and anybody who can help you in your current struggle. It could be related to money. You're going to be near those who understand your troubles and may have advice which can re center you. With the open minded Page of Cups, you may receive a nugget of wisdom which can propel you to create something new.

You'll be able to reconnect more with your inner child during this next month. In the midst of struggling, we can often forget or neglect our child side which needs to feel safe in order to come out of hiding. You'll have chances to let small joys assist you in healing. Try watching that movie you've been thinking about, you might end up really enjoying it. These moments can help give you important insights into helping you heal something that's kept you down in the dumps.

You may likely have episodes throughout the month where your energy and drive take a dip and you'll have to sit some stuff out to process your thoughts for a while. I'm feeling a lot of this gloomy Ten of Swords energy is from various past issues. Nothing in your deck suggests rushing through this, if anything the King of Pentacles says "success isn't an overnight thing". Take the time you need to work through old sticky feelings that stop you from moving forward.

A lot of self care will be required for this solar season, pile 1. Give yourself the occasional indulgence, but look closely over your finances this month. Don't use indulgence as a distraction from getting important work done. Libra is a season of balance, and this pile is about the balance between prudence and play. Make time to regenerate yourself with fun, then tend to needed duties. Do what you can and stay open minded to receiving outside help from guides or people.

Pile 2: Fuchsia Sky

XVII Star, King of Cups, X Wheel of Fortune, Three of Swords, Six of Wands; Listening, 29. Ceres, 3. East - Beginnings, Frustration

Hey pile 2, it seems like for the first time in a while things may finally be looking up. During this time, you could meet someone who will be like a counselor figure to you (or an actual counselor). You will have someone who will be there to understand you. I get the impression that you recently went through some form of upheaval and lack the sensation of solid ground. Things are likely still in a state of flux during Libra season, but since the King of Cups has no trouble sailing over choppy waters, you can lean on that wisdom and spiritual strength to get through.

A lot could be changing in your life, or even that you're in the liminal phase of being from one place to another. It's like you're holding a train ticket that lets you visit any city you want. You're beginning to scratch the surface of what possibilities are out there for you. Decisions are hardly in the books right now. The key is to tend to what opportunities you would love more than others and allow the one you want to grow. Ceres wants you to be patient and deliberate with your moves.

Situations may come up where you're made to reckon with your old memories that have caused pain. I'm putting a content warning for blood on this pile and to be honest, even if blood doesn't trigger you there may be times in this month where something may trigger old wounds when least expected. On the flipside, this month also shows that you are undergoing a lot of change as to how you deal with these situations. Your reactions to old stimuli may change and you may find yourself being cool where you were once upset.

Although hope is forecast in your reading, you may not be in the right place to ring any victory bells. Achievement of something major is not likely to happen this month, for you pile 2 this will be a developmental month that will allow you to gently transition into the next phase of your life. Be sure to check in with yourself every now and then to congratulate yourself for the little things, even--no, especially when progress appears slow or all over the place. The time will come where you will feel more focused and determined to tackle something big, but for now appreciate the small victories and rejoice in silver linings of any kind.

Pile 3: Violet Sky

Page of Swords, Five of Cups, Eight of Wands, Ace of Wands, Five of Wands; Mystery, 6. Virgo, 22. Air - Motion, Love

Hello pile 3, This Libra season will likely involve education for you of some kind. You may be a student in school now or you're out of school but looking for something new to try. You could also be looking into new ideas or plans for your next year. I think this pile is really into the autumn season, like you guys are ready to let it go and slide into the next year. This season has you in a contemplative space where you get to weigh options. Though you may find some time to work things out, I think the month will move faster for you than you think. (If you're applying for scholarships or the like, check your emails vigilantly.)

You will definitely be blessed with a feeling of catharsis, as Five of Cups can talk about pure emotional release. Something has likely been an issue either in the front or back of your mind, some kind of long term issue involving relationships and making goals work. Your mind has spent enough time whirling around trying to solve the problem with pure logic. The only way to let go of the scattering thoughts is to allow the emotions locked in to completely flow out. Then the logic will work more effectively, like taking a jammed piece of paper out of a printer.

Some of you could have recently broken up with someone and you're figuring out how to move on with your life. Or there was a recent argument with a loved one. Something like that which creates a need to reevaluate one's path. Since one path didn't work out, what other options could be on the table? You're being given the chance to dive into anything without anticipating results good or bad. Allow yourself to explore and find something that either creates joy or helps you to release old pain (like an artsy workshop).

This month could open up a lot of chances for you to organize and set easier priorities for your life, for this year and the next. The catharsis will finally allow everything to move, both your actions and manifestations. You'll be amazed by how quickly and smoothly the pace will pick up after relationship issues are placed on the backburner (unless there's an urgent issue involved). Note that catharsis doesn't always involve crying it out; sometimes it can be done through a good laugh or even a great workout. You could find emotional release through whatever it is you'd like to learn. For some of you, this is your sign: It's worth looking into.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

66 notes · View notes

bijouxcarys · 5 months

Note

WAIT NO SORRY I MEANT NUMBER 5 FUCK

Okie dokie, i didn’t proof read this, but I sincerely hope it’s okay! At some point it gained some kind of mythological undertones, but I kinda like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aphrodite

Pairing: Robert Plant x Unnamed OC

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUTTY SMUT

Smut Prompt #5: “I can’t pull out when you wrap your legs around me like that.”

Tags: @callmethehunter @celestial-dragoness @whothefuckisanja @m-faithfull @strsmn @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @chromations @angrychicksposts

Robert was so excited when he saw that familiar face in the wings.

She said she wasn’t going to be here. That she had too much going on at work to join him on tour. But yet, here she was, an expression of encouragement towards her long-time lover as he pranced and jived across that stage.

Toothy grin plastered on his face, Robert’s energy skyrocketed, and it showed during Heartbreaker. Even from her place at the side, she caught glimpses of a singular prominent vein up the side of his strong neck as he wailed for his people.

With a permanent smirk, the Golden God strode along the expanse of the stage, dragging his snake-skin-clad feet behind him like a noble steed. Though, Robert transcended the prototypical energy of a knight and his steed.

His chest puffed and shoulders back, the command over the ministrations of his onlookers was a mere act compared to the way his fair lady conquered his being.

For a moment, he was in the midst of symphonic coitus, making balmy and visceral love to his Queen through the way his body rocked and rolled in time with Jimmy’s cadenced playing.

Through the thousands of flushed and elated faces looking up at him, he only saw her.

Even when his eyes were shut, or she was an ocean away, it was always her.

His mind began to wander. He thought of all the ways he could convey the joy of seeing her, of having her with him…by having her. He envisioned her soft, feminine form straddling his lean hips, joined together from below. She’d roll her body over his, creating a perfect rhythm synonymous with worship.

But as much as she loved to worship him, he lived to worship her.

That’s why, when all was said and done at the venue, Robert and his lover bypassed the post-show extremities and landed exactly where they both desperately needed to be. Locked away in Robert’s hotel room.

Very little was said between them as they devoured one another, mind, body, and soul.

Their lips were aching and swollen from heated kisses. Hair was tangled and clothes were carelessly disposed of once Robert had her hoisted up against the wall.

Her hands clung to his golden locks as he meshed their lips together once more, and steadily ground into her, teasing her core with what was waiting to bury itself deep inside.

Robert took advantage of the way she leaned her head back against the cool wallpaper, attacking her supple throat as he coiled his hips back and forth. Her moans were so ethereal, her gasps were the life source he needed, and her hot, flushed core was home.

She let out a small yelp as he urgently pulled her from the wall and over to the bed, making his fantasies a reality by holding her above him. She loved this position. When she was able to feast her eyes on the man she was lucky enough to call hers. To watch as his chest tightened and his jaw fastened shut, his brows creased and his plump lips dropped open to give way to hefty breaths.

Observing him intently, she raised and lowered herself onto his rock-hard cock, smirking as he widened his eyes in response.

“W…Don’t we need—“

She cut him off by pressing her hand to his mouth. With a shake of her head, she reassured him that she needed him raw and entire within. They could worry about the potential consequences later.

“Just pull out, baby…” she hummed against his lips, teasing him with a stolen kiss. “You know how much I like it when I’m covered in you…”

“Fuck,” he huffed, digging his fingers into her hair and smashing his lips into hers. He was slowly losing control. Her hands splayed across the expanse of Robert’s broad chest, using all her strength to rotate her hips just the way he liked it. His hips were instinctively lifting to meet hers, quickly picking up a pace that had them both moaning and panting in congruence with one another.

She unleashed a barrage of praises, words of pride, over his earlier performance on stage, relentlessly reminding him that he was the ruler of her world, her body, her mind, her soul… her perfect man.

Earth could have the Golden God, but she got to have him.

Robert was unable to form a coherent response, her soaked walls coating his cock and creating lewd noises below each time they met with eager, passionate thrusts. He gripped onto her with mammoth hands, moving her body in time with his the needier he became. Until it wasn’t enough. He needed to take his control back.

He sat up, wrapping his muscular arms around her waist as he flipped them over completely. He stood at the edge of the bed, pulling her towards him by her legs until she was pressed flush against him. Blue eyes piercing into hers, his cock once again impaled her, and the remnants of Zeppelin’s Golden God came back into view.

Robert fell over her, humming at the restricted feeling he felt as she locked her legs around his waist, her ankles crossed and the heels of her feet pressed into his lower back. One hand on the side of her neck and the other holding onto her smaller hand, fingers intertwined, he proceeded with a spine-chilling, earth-shattering pace, angling his hips in such a way that allowed his cock to hit all the right places in the depths of her aching cunt.

“Mmm—missed you, darlin’…” he grunted, lips inches from hers. He attempted another kiss, but the speed and intensity of his love made it near impossible to do so. So he settled for the continuous dance their lips played upon one another’s. He could tell by the way her neck and chest flushed up and the heaving of her chest became unsteady that she was on the edge.

“Robert…” she gasped, arching her body up into his in an attempt to feel every single part of him. Her free hand clawed at his shoulder. She was so close now. She’d been thinking of this moment all day. He coaxed her into her blazing release, proclaiming his unconditional love for her, the woman he deemed the Aphrodite to his Eros.

The way she tightened around him sent him into overdrive, so much so that pulling out seemed like a far cry from reality. His love felt too good, but he knew better.

Robert gave her a warning look as she only seemed to strengthen the hold she had on him with her legs. With a breathless chuckle and a crooked smile, he pushed some hair out of her face to look down at her.

“I can’t pull out when you wrap your legs around me like that.”

Her post-release daze made it hard to decipher what he had panted in her face, but not impossible. And in some impulsive, orgasmic throe of eternal ecstasy, she ripped her hand away from his and held his face close to her, breathing in a silky voice.

“Then don’t… come on, baby, I want it…” she encouraged him, her hips jolting through her sensitivity. “I want you inside me forever. All of you.”

“Naughty little minx…”

“Yeah?” She hummed. “Show me how naughty I am… make me feel it for the rest of the night…” She nipped at his lower lip. That did it. With a primal growl and a shudder, Robert gave her what she wanted, happily filling her with his thick load, and giving in to the power she had over his white-hot libido.

In that moment, they knew she’d be making unexpected appearances for as long as they presided at the feet of Aphrodite.

#Robert plant #Robert plant x reader #Robert plant fanfic #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant smut #led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin fanfiction #rock music #70s #classic rock #writing #writer #fanfic #fanfic writing #smut prompts #writing prompt

50 notes · View notes

dc-and-arfrona · 1 year

Text

Yours to break

------

Jason Todd x GN! Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 700+

Based off this prompt

Masterlist

------

The rain poured down relentlessly, washing away the sins of Gotham City. Within the dimly lit walls of the dilapidated safe house, Jason Todd found solace from the chaos that consumed their life. Their heart was burdened with emotions they had long kept hidden, feelings they dared not acknowledge until now.

In the midst of their thoughts, they caught a glimpse of them. Standing by the window, their silhouette highlighted by the soft glow of a flickering streetlamp. Their presence always seemed to bring warmth to Jason's tormented soul, offering a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

Taking a deep breath, Jason walked over to where they stood. They watched them for a moment, admiring the way the raindrops kissed their skin, each one like a fragile caress. Their heart pounded in their chest, each beat a reminder of the intense affection they held for this person.

Without warning, Jason's voice trembled as they spoke, "You know, I've never been good with words. But lately, something's been eating at me, and I can't keep it to myself anymore."

They turned to face Jason, their eyes filled with curiosity and concern. The unspoken tension between them was palpable, as if the air itself held its breath, waiting for Jason's next words.

"I don't know how to say this," Jason confessed, their voice barely above a whisper. "But every time I look at you, every time I'm near you, my heart races, and it feels like I'm alive again. You...you mean more to me than I ever thought possible."

Their eyes widened, the realization slowly dawning on them as they listened intently. Jason's vulnerability frightened them, yet they pressed on, determined to bare their soul to this person.

"The truth is," Jason continued, their voice growing stronger, "I've never loved anyone the way I love you. You've seen the darkest parts of me, and yet, you still stand by my side. You make me want to be a better person."

Silence hung in the air as they processed Jason's heartfelt confession. Their gaze softened, and a gentle smile graced their lips. It was a smile that held understanding, acceptance, and perhaps even reciprocation.

Reaching out, they took Jason's hand, intertwining their fingers. Their touch sent shivers down Jason's spine, as if their connection ignited a dormant fire within them.

"I've been waiting for you to say those words," they replied softly. "But actions speak louder than words, Jason. And you've shown me your love in countless ways. You've protected me, supported me, and stood by me when no one else would. Your love has always been there, even when it remained unspoken."

Tears welled up in Jason's eyes, a mixture of relief and overwhelming joy. They pulled this person into a tight embrace, their heart beating in sync with theirs. In that moment, the weight of Jason's past mistakes and tragedies seemed to lift, replaced by a newfound hope for a brighter future.

Whispers of redemption echoed through the walls of their safe haven, sealing their unspoken promise of love and understanding. And as they stood there, locked in each other's arms, they knew that together, they could conquer any darkness that lay ahead.

"My heart is yours," Jason whispered, their voice filled with sincerity. "Break it if you must, but let me love you completely."

This person held Jason even tighter, their touch conveying reassurance and tenderness. "I'll guard your heart as fiercely as you guard mine," they replied, their voice steady. "Together, we'll heal each other's wounds and create a love that is unbreakable."

In that moment, all doubts and fears melted away, replaced by a profound sense of belonging. They knew that love was not without its challenges, but with trust, understanding, and a shared commitment, they were ready to face whatever obstacles lay ahead.

As the rain continued to fall outside, washing away the remnants of the past, Jason and this person found solace in their shared vulnerability and unwavering love. The storm had brought them together, and now, they would weather it side by side.

#dc universe #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #robin x reader #dc imagine #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood imagine

139 notes · View notes

marispunk · 5 months

Text

Dear Simon...... || Simon "Ghost" Riley

pairing: simon "ghost" riley!cod x grieving reader

reader is writing a letter to simon to cope with simons death :(

warnings: mention of death, grieving, no use of y/n. please let me know if i missed anything this is my very first post!

idk why of all things i write, i write this FORGIVE ME.

Dear Simon,

It's been 4 years since you left this world, yet the pain in my heart feels as fresh as the day you were taken from me. In this desolate world, I find myself reaching out to you, as if the words I write can somehow bridge the gap between the living and departed.

The days blur together, each one a relentless tide of the undead. But in the midst of this grim reality your memory becomes a beacon, guiding me through the darkness. I often find solace in the quiet moments, stealing a breath between the chaos to imagine your warm smile and the way your laughter used to echo through our once vibrant world.

I've met others along this harrowing journey—strangers turned allies in the fight for survival. Among them, there's a man named Joel. His presence feels like a thread connecting me to life beyond the horrors we face. He listens to my stories of you, sharing in the laughter and tears that emerge from the depths of my memories.

Joel is not you, and I would never claim that he could replace what we had. Yet, in the hushed moments when the world seems to pause, I catch a glimpse of something resembling hope. Perhaps it's the universe's twisted way of offering a sliver of light amid the encroaching darkness.

As I traverse this broken world, I carry your love with me like a cherished relic. Our dreams of a future together may have crumbled, but the love we shared endures, resilient in the face of the apocalypse. I hope you can see, from whatever realm you now inhabit, that your absence hasn't left me shattered beyond repair.

In the midst of this nightmare, I am learning to find joy in the fleeting moments, to appreciate the beauty that persists even in the most unexpected places. And through it all, I hold onto the belief that you're watching over me, a silent guardian in a world gone mad.

The nights are the hardest the silence amplifies the ache in my chest, and I yearn for the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch. Yet, as I write these words under the feeble glow of a flickering candle, I feel a connection—a whisper of your presence in the shadows.

This letter may never reach you in the way I wish it could, but the act of writing to you provides a form of catharsis, a release for the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. In these lines, I pour my heart out to you, hoping that somewhere, somehow, the essence of our love transcends the boundaries between life and death.

Until we meet again, my love, whether in this world or the next, know that you are cherished, remembered, and deeply missed.

Forever Yours

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #call of duty modern warfare #cod

41 notes · View notes

thedemonofcat · 11 months

Text

Upon learning of Radovid, Geralt was caught in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Familiar with Jaskier's penchant for fleeting passions that often fizzled out after physical intimacy, Geralt couldn't help but cautiously approach this situation. Yet, something undeniably distinct about Radovid set him apart from Jaskier's usual trysts. Geralt could perceive Jaskier's genuine love for the prince, which intrigued him, leaving him uncertain about what to make of it all.

Amidst the chaos of their escape and the constant threat looming over Cirilla, Geralt had grown accustomed to placing his trust in only a select few individuals. Whenever Radovid was in their midst, a nagging sense of apprehension crept into Geralt's mind, as if the prince harboured ulterior motives that could potentially lead to betrayal. However, it was Jaskier's vulnerability that concerned Geralt the most. He dreaded the possibility that Radovid might ultimately shatter Jaskier's heart, inflicting irreparable pain upon the bard he cared for deeply.

After Jaskier suffered a grievous injury in a sudden ambush, Geralt's heart pounded regretfully, knowing he had been too slow to protect the bard from the merciless stab. With great effort, Geralt brought Jaskier to the safety of a trusted healer, intending to remain steadfastly by his side throughout the recovery. Little did he expect the arrival of Radovid. At that moment, Geralt braced himself for a potential strike, anticipating that the prince would take advantage of Jaskier's weakened state to enact his malevolent agenda. Yet, to Geralt's surprise, Radovid exhibited genuine concern for Jaskier's well-being. In the prince's eyes, Geralt caught a glimpse of an affectionate fondness that puzzled him, challenging his preconceived notions about Radovid's intentions.

Several days passed, and Jaskier had regained enough strength to move about. From a concealed vantage point, Geralt observed the interaction between Jaskier and Radovid. As he watched, the prince effortlessly drew a genuine smile from Jaskier's lips—an authentic expression of joy, unlike the theatrical smiles the bard often wore during performances. It reminded Geralt of the intimate moments they shared by the campfire, where genuine laughter would fill the air. In that fleeting moment, Geralt's doubts began to dissipate. Seeing the prince bring such happiness to Jaskier reassured him that perhaps Radovid could be trusted, at least to some extent.

#the witcher netflix #joey batey #jaskier the witcher #geralt of rivia #the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #gerskier #headcanon #Jaskier and Radovid #jaskier x radovid

74 notes · View notes

rozecrest · 2 years

Text

today i rewatched black panther. in the past few years, before this rewatch, i had soured a little on it. i think i understand why.

i first watched black panther in theaters with my high school black student union when i was 17. i was in my senior year, in the midst of my first heartbreak, and had never seen a single marvel movie. it was spectacular.

the experience of watching black panther wasn’t one that stayed at the theater, like most movies did for me, it spilled into my online world. it felt like every black person i knew was talking about it. 2018 had been a hard year for us in the united states, in ways i hadn’t fully processed yet, but felt profoundly and silently hurt by. but this movie was a moment of joy. black people showed up to theaters in traditional wear, we gave each other the wakandan salute in a mixture of coy reference and earnest connection, we laughed, we laughed, we made the most out of a good thing like we always do. we had nuanced discussions about our community on a scale i had never experienced before.

i watched it again when i showed it to my mom and it started our quest of watching every single marvel movie in order. i enjoyed most of them just fine in the moment, but they dulled when looked at with an analytical eye.

i went to college. i reconnected to writing. i learned more about the kinds of storytelling i loved. i also, in my largely white college, had my blackness directly challenged in a way that wasn’t just systematic and structural, but personal on a scale i had never experienced before. hand in hand with these new levels of pain came a fiercer protective love of my identity. the summer of 2020 happened. like erik’s father, seeing the truth of this country laid bare and bleeding and undeniable, i was radicalized.

i watched more marvel movies. i liked them less and less. they became emblematic of the patterns i detested in mainstream formulaic storytelling. they became okoye’s “guns… so primitive.” with an ugly twist of u.s military propaganda and uninspiring emotional climaxes.

i did not think much about black panther. in these very busy years key aspects of it slipped my mind and it was shuffled it into a media category in my brain that labeled it as “black!!! ….but still marvel -_-“

and then, today

black panther starts with a father telling his young son the worn-smooth history of a people, his people, that he never had the chance to be a part of, of a richness of culture and community that he wouldn’t glimpse until the last days of his life. erik was a child who found panther claws in his father’s chest, and grew up in hardship knowing that not only was there a prosperous home for black people, but they were the reason he was without a father. he wasn’t able to face his trauma, so he grew a violent shell around it to protect himself. (later, when he visits the ancestral plane, he is separated from the iridescent grasses by his small apartment and dead father’s regrets. he is a boy again for moments, helpless in the face of death and crying before hardening himself to the father he so mirrors. he bursts out the unfamiliar ceremonial sands, gasping like a man being hunted and sets fire to the first thing within reach.) the question on whether killmonger was “right” is a question that feels too shallow to be the leading question on what he represents.

black panther casts a sharp light on the way the way black pain shapes us young in erik. it speaks to an black anger i hadn’t fully tapped into when i was 17 but now know intimately. this movie speaks to the tension between second generation black people and the african identity in erik and t’challa, cousins who never had the chance to grow up together and see another sunset side by side. this movie speaks to the tensions between genders in the black community with the dora milaje and w’baki’s border tribe men. this movie did not paint wakanda as a monolith of perfection, but as a complex civilization. there is young shuri who lays less heed to traditions, there are the isolated jabari who have grown distant and resentful of the rest of wakanda, there is nakia who can’t live in paradise when there are african people with nothing, there is t’chaka and his secrets, there is pervasive fear of the world cutting into wakanda like cake if their home was revealed, fear strong enough to look away from horrific cruelties, there is t’challa, a good man and therefore a troubled and conflicted king. this movie, a blockbuster marvel movie, said the quiet part out loud with how the world has ground the gears of progress in our labor and paid us dust in return. this movie starts and ends with black kids playing ball in a vacant lot. this movie knows that black people have always carved joy and community out of cracks in the concrete.

and beyond all this, there is the sheer delight i feel at seeing a movie so bursting with black people. this movie showed afro-futurism at a scale and budget leagues past anything i had ever seen before. this movie celebrates the practicality and intricacy and intelligence and beauty in african traditions. this movie nudges me at moments of arrogant white ignorance of blackness and says “can you believe they live like this?” and it is a JOY to have that feeling after a lifetime of films in this genre that relegated us to comic relief, to the person clueless and in over their heads, to the supporting role, to agent ross locked in a room while the spotlight points somewhere else. this movie walked black, it talked black, it did not make itself smaller or less complex for nonblack consumption.

i don’t think i understood all of this when i was 17. but i felt it.

i am not a person who is immensely knowledgeable about film as a genre and art to the technicalities. but that’s not what this review is about. i do not think this movie is perfect, but it gave me a five star experience. four years later, i have grown up in countless ways and still, this movie rang profoundly in my heart. and still, i am taking feelings from it that tug at me enough that it feels necessary to spend this time trying to articulate at least some of them.

black art is one of my favorite things in the world because of how meaningful it is for me to find specificities of my black experience mirrored back to me and shown as something beautiful, powerful, worth centering creations around when often it feels like the force of the entire nonblack world pushing against it. this movie feels like a victory, it feels like a conversation, and it tastes sweet on my tongue.

#i wrote this for letterboxd but i'm posting here bc with wakanda forever out (which i'm seeing this week !!) i'm sure there are black people #on here thinking about the Impact this movie had and i want to join the collective thought and add to the discussion #i love black art!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#black panther #chats

184 notes · View notes

escapingrealityforamoment · 10 months

Note

Hi! I love your writing so much! Can I request a Jonah one shot? Can you write something like, the reader is a famous actress and singer who is really well known, and goes to the little mermaid premiere and meets Jonah there and he’s super starstruck and they end up falling for each other?

Thank you so much love for your request! I hope you enjoy reading this and I enjoyed writing it 💖

The night was filled with excitement and anticipation as Hollywood's elite gathered for the highly anticipated premiere of "The Little Mermaid." As cameras flashed and fans clamored for a glimpse of their favorite stars, I stepped out of my car, feeling a mix of nervousness and thrill. As a renowned actress and singer, I was no stranger to red carpet events, but tonight felt different. It was as if destiny had something extraordinary in store for me.

As I walked down the red carpet, the air crackled with energy, and I couldn't help but catch glimpses of familiar faces and rising stars. Among the crowd, my eyes locked with Jonah Hauer-King, the talented actor who portrayed the film's prince. His captivating smile and kind eyes drew me in, and for a moment, time stood still.

As if pulled by an invisible force, our paths converged, and Jonah approached me with a mixture of awe and excitement on his face. "I can't believe I'm meeting you," he confessed, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness.

A blush tinted my cheeks as I replied, "The feeling is mutual. I've admired your work for so long."

We engaged in conversation, and as the night unfolded, I discovered a kindred spirit in Jonah. We laughed, exchanged stories, and shared our love for the arts. It was as if we had known each other for years, effortlessly connecting on a profound level.

Throughout the premiere, we found ourselves drawn to each other's company, seeking solace amidst the chaos of the event. We stole moments between interviews and photo sessions, our conversations filled with laughter and genuine interest. With each passing interaction, the spark between us grew stronger, undeniable and impossible to ignore.

Under the starlit sky, we found ourselves on a balcony overlooking the bustling city. The hum of the premiere faded into the background as we locked eyes, and the world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of us in that magical moment.

"I never expected to meet someone like you tonight," Jonah admitted, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and vulnerability. "You're everything I've ever admired, and so much more."

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I replied, "And you, Jonah, are a beacon of talent and charm. Meeting you has been an absolute joy."

In that instant, the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. The undeniable chemistry between us had ignited a flame that couldn't be extinguished. The premiere had brought us together, and now, we stood on the precipice of a love that promised to transcend the glamour and fame.

As the night wore on, we held hands, intertwining our fingers as we walked through the crowd, no longer separate entities but two souls entwined in a tapestry of fate. The world watched as we danced, laughed, and embraced the chaos of the evening, finding solace in each other's arms.

In the midst of the celebration, Jonah leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want this night to end," he confessed. "I want to explore this connection we have and see where it leads."

I nodded, my heart racing with excitement. "I feel the same way, Jonah. Let's embark on this journey together."

And with that, our love story began—a tale woven amidst the glitz and glamour of the entertainment world. From that magical night, our lives intertwined, each chapter more enchanting than the last.

As we stepped into the unknown, hand in hand, we knew that our love would be a constant amidst the chaos. With our hearts aligned and a shared passion for the arts, we were ready to face the world together, embracing the magic of love and the beauty of our intertwined destinies.

#jonah hauer king #jonah hauer king imagine #prince eric #prince eric imagine #the little mermaid #jonah hauer king x reader #prince eric live action #the little mermaid live action

41 notes · View notes

foggytastemakercreation · 4 months

Text

A Child is Freer Than a King

As Ezran's council gathered in the throne room following Aaravos's defeat, the room erupted in jubilant celebration. After years of struggle, the Startouch elf’s reign of terror had finally come to an end.

King Ezran embraced his council members with infectious enthusiasm, pride shining in his youthful features. “We did it!” he grinned.

Soren clapped his sister Claudia on the back, pride shining in his eyes that she had finally chosen the right path.

"We couldn't have done this without you," the young king said. "Your magic helped turn the tide."

Claudia shifted, wariness creeping into her smile. Amidst all the camaraderie, she was distinctly aware of the guards flanking the room, hands on their weapons. She caught the council members shooting her cautious glances when they thought she wasn't looking. One good deed could not erase her past sins.

Then Soren swept his sister up in a rib-cracking hug. “You really came through!” Claudia basked in her brother’s whole-hearted acceptance and Callum’s fond smile, the Corona of the Heavens humming with energy on his head. For now, she was home.

As Soren plopped down beside her, regaling her with an exaggerated re-telling of the battle, while Callum reminisced fondly about their adventures, she allowed herself to take in the unconditional love of her brother and dear friend. For this moment at least, she felt the flickering sense of home.

In the midst of the cacophony, Claudia noticed Callum slip away, almost unobserved. As he eased open the balcony doors, a gust of night air swept into the room, making the torches sputter. Frowning, Claudia watched him step outside, his figure receding into shadows.

Moments later, Ezran detached himself from the party. Claudia marked the way the young king's cheeks were still round with baby fat, so at odds with the anxiety deepening the creases on his forehead. With a discretion belying his years, Ezran made his way towards the balcony, shutting the doors behind him.

Claudia edged closer, straining to glimpse the two through the narrow glass panes. Callum stood with his back towards her, hands spread beseechingly while Ezran paced agitatedly. Even with the doors closed, Claudia could see Ezran's lips shape around urgent words, his expressions fluctuating rapidly between confusion, anger and distress.

Finally he stepped towards Callum, throwing his arms fiercely around his brother. Claudia saw Ezran's slim shoulders shake with muffled sobs. Callum held the boy king tightly, bowing his head over Ezran's own in profound grief. Watching the two, Claudia felt her stomach knot itself into tense coils. This picture of vulnerability was at complete odds with the euphoria behind her.

She wrapped her arms around herself, goosebumps rising over her skin despite the room's warmth. Something was terribly wrong. What had passed between the princes to transform joy into sorrow? A premonition gripped Claudia that whatever Callum had told Ezran would change everything.

After Ezran departed, Claudia joined Callum outside.

"So..." she began lightly, "What was that about?"

Callum turned to her, and for the first time, she saw the High Mage he had become – standing aloof, hands behind his back, jawline hardened. But his eyes were still kind. "It's good to be on the same side again," he said.

Claudia let out a relieved chuckle. "Who would've thought after...everything. But I'm glad too."

A shadow crossed Callum's face. "Claudia, you have tremendous talent. I think it's time you used your magic to help people - starting with Katolis. Which is why..." He listed his staff and held it out to her. Claudia's throat tightened.

"That staff belonged to that Sky mage on the Storm Spire," she whispered. “Didn’t it?”

Callum's gaze was solemn. "Yes. When you and Ibis fought, it set in motion a series of terrible events," he said quietly. "After Terry took Ibis's life, this staff was given to me. But with the Corona of the Heavens, carrying a Sky mage's staff kinda feels redundant."

He ran his fingers over the intricate runes carved into the ancient wood. "I understand now that the past cannot be changed. But the future holds possibility for healing."

Callum held the staff out to Claudia, palm upturned in offering. "Your actions helped cause Ibis's death. But maybe, it feels right that you take his staff, and use it to help fix what was broken. As the new High Mage of Katolis.”

Claudia took an involuntary step back, gripping her elbows. "Callum, I can't. What I did-"

"-Is in the past," he finished gently. "You've been given a second chance. Make the most of it."

She accepted the staff with trembling hands. A bittersweet tide of hope, regret and purpose washed over her. She would spend her life striving to become worthy of this honor.

"Thank you," she rasped.

Callum placed a hand on her shoulder. "There's no one else I trust with this duty. Or my brother."

Puzzled, Claudia opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, but Callum continued.

"Helping Ezran has been the honor of my life. But now destiny lies elsewhere." His gaze turned distant, as though beholding visions only he could see.

Before she could summon any response, Callum gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "I know you will rise to meet this challenge," he said softly.

Then he turned and slipped back inside the throne room, leaving Claudia alone on the balcony with turbulent thoughts swirling through her mind, the newly bestowed staff resting heavy in her hands.

***

Rayla noticed Callum's uncharacteristic silence as he led her by the hand through the winding halls. His strides were purposeful but his shoulders slumped under some unseen weight. Puzzled, she searched his downcast eyes but found them opaque.

At last, they reached the secluded balcony by Ezran's chambers. The moon bathed Callum's features in gentle light as he turned to face her, sharp shadows carving hollows under his cheekbones. Apprehension gnawed at Rayla's insides.

"What's going on?" she asked, forcing brightness into her tone. "We won! Aaravos is finished, the war ended, so now..." She faltered briefly before continuing hopefully, "Now we get to start our life together, just like we always talked about. Right?"

Callum was mute, staring at some distant point beyond her shoulder. The silence swelled between them until Rayla could bear it no more. She reached out and turned his face toward him, meeting his anguished eyes with her own growing alarm.

"It...it is over," she faltered, "isn't it, Callum?"

His face was all the answer she needed. Rayla's hand dropped away as foreboding and grief clenched her heart in icy fingers. Something was terribly wrong.

Callum stared down at the land stretching endlessly before them. "I wish I could say it was." He lifted his eyes to meet hers, agony etched on his features. "When we finally struck down Aaravos, the other Startouch elves didn't see it as a happy ending. They were always terrified of humans possessing magic, and now this proved they could actually be harmed by us."

He relayed what the Celestial elf Astrid had confessed to him. That the Startouch elves would perceive Aaravos's defeat as a threat to their power, and seek to snuff out the human race's magical abilities.

"The Starscraper needs a king," he finished softly. "Someone has to protect Xadia from whatever comes next. And thanks to this..." He raised the glowing Corona of the Heavens circled around his head. "...that duty falls to me now."

"How long?" Her voice caught on a sob, as she surely knew the answer in her heart. "How long will you be gone? A few weeks? A month?"

Callum wrapped her in his arms, tears streaking both their faces. "The duties of a Starscraper king is everlasting," he whispered. "As eternal as these skies stretching vastly beyond sight or measure...” He pulled back to gaze into her eyes, love and sorrow intermingling. “But so too will my love for you endure, until stars rain down from the heavens bringing us together once more."

Their kiss was long and achingly sweet. Then Callum stepped back, magic already swirling around him. He spared one last smile for Rayla. "May we meet again among the stars."

“I love you, Callum,” she whispered. “So much.”

Blazing light erupted from Callum's back, unfolding into glorious white feathery wings that fanned high above his head. Their radiance washed his features in otherworldly brilliance as he rose slowly into the air. He looked like one of the celestial immortals of myth come to life.

Heart cracking, Rayla stretched one hand upwards as if to pull him back down through the force of her yearning alone. But Callum hovered just out of reach, sadness and resolve etched on his face.

"I will always love you," he vowed, his words resonating with the weight of prophecy. Then he turned his gaze to the horizon beyond. His wings swept down powerfully, launching him skyward.

Rayla watched through a veil of tears as he flew higher, like a fallen star returning to the heavens. Just as he crossed the moon's glowing arc, the air before Callum shimmered like a heat mirage. A portal appeared, golden light spilling from its depths.

Callum arrowed towards that radiant gate. Right as he entered its event horizon, he glanced back one last time. Across the infinite distance, his eyes found Rayla's.

In them, she read eternity - endless love entwined with unimaginable grief. Then, between one heartbeat and the next, he vanished as the portal collapsed in on itself with a sound like a sigh.

Ezran hurried to Rayla’s side but the elf did not appear to register his presence. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she gazed up and up. Ezran followed the desolate track of her eyes. Somewhere past the blanket of clouds and darkness, the stars were emerging in a glittering trail leading towards infinity.

The journey to the Starscraper passed in a blur. When Callum landed at the tower’s peak, weariness and heartache weighed on him like the heavy mantle of kingship he was destined to bear alone.

As he sank onto the opalescent throne, the Corona hummed with energy, synced to the rhythms of the cosmos surrounding him. From his lonely perch he could see the world below bathed in dusky shadows, the lights of Katolis castle flickering like earthbound stars.

Callum wondered if Ezran was watching the night sky, taking comfort in the light of his brother’s new home glowing down at him. He wondered if Rayla was tracking the constellations, taking solace in the reminder of Callum’s enduring love.

“A child is freer than a king.” King Harrow imparted those words to Callum on his last day alive. An observation, he had thought, but now knew it was also a warning. One last burden for Callum to shoulder when the time came.

As the stars spun slowly overhead, their glittering forms cold and remote, Callum grieved all he had lost. His home, his love, his freedom. The price for being the guardian of Xadia.

Yet as loneliness threatened to overwhelm him, King Callum gazed upward through eyes blurred with tears. Somewhere across the infinite gulf of space, the constellations watched over those he cherished under the same boundless sky. The power of love and hope shining eternally as the beacon to guide his reunion with those he loves.

(Honestly felt inspired after reading The Snake by @jelzorz, so gotta give credit where credit is due 😊 ).

#callum #claudia #ezran #soren #rayla #rayllum

18 notes · View notes