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weasleyreidstyles · 1 month ago

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Wait lowk need a amortentia trope in serendipity like before they even interacted as much? Maybe if you could write that please 💕

an: i very much agree!!! im sorry if this is the worst piece of writing you've ever read....please give me grace as im very out of practice LOL....so this little scene is set pre-serendipity!! thanks for the request 🤭🤭💕

also i know that according to the lexicon and other sources, it takes like a week to make the potion but for the purpose of my own timeline, its a fast tracked process (like 2 hours max – to fit a typical double lesson structure) !!

love is for fools — mattheo riddle

"Powerful infatuations can be induced by the skilful potioneer, but never yet has anyone managed to create the truly unbreakable, eternal, unconditional attachment that alone can be called love." — Hector Dagworth-Granger regarding love potions; The Tales of Beedle the Bard

The potions classroom was dark and smelled faintly of crushed herbs and mildew from the stone walls that were slick with age. It was a heavy juxtaposition to the air outside of the classroom. Professor Snape was stood in a shrouded corner of the room, heavy cloak draped around him like shadows as he waited for you all to enter in a calm and silent fashion.

You'd just come from a horrific double session of Defence where Professor Umbridge had, once again, undermined and belittled Harry infront of the entire class, leaving Riddle and his gaggle of friends snickering at the back of the room, with no consequences. To say you were fuming for your best friend would be an understatement. But after experiencing one of her detentions on multiple occasions Harry, and even Fred, had made you promise not to do, or say, anything that the terrorising professor would deem worthy enough to gift you one of her torture sessions.

But as the rest of October ensued, it was becoming harder and harder to keep your loose promise to both boys.

"Someone needs to bring her attitude down a peg or two." You mutter to Ron, who nods his head in grim agreement. "Why won't Dumbledore do anything?"

"Suppose he's not allowed to interfere with the Ministry." Ron replies and you roll your eyes in light annoyance.

"He's never been afraid to oppose them before. And its not like he's oblivious to what she's been doing during her detentions." You whisper, voice barely heard over the scrape of chairs as you and your peers take your seats. You sneak a glance at Harry's freshly bandaged hand and grimace. "It's absolutely barbaric and he can't keep ignoring it."

Ron hums in agreement as he slams his ink pot onto the table, prompting Snape to glare at him with barely hidden disgust.

His beady eyes scan over the room, slow and assessing. They linger on where you, Ron, Hermione and Harry are grouped together at one of the stations, alongside two Hufflepuffs and Padma Patil, who was whispering to her sister on the station next to her's. He then focuses on where Malfoy, Berkshire and Zabini conspire over a piece of parchment in the back, and of course, he says nothing about them, and their other friends, not paying attention.

"Today you will be brewing blindly. To test whether or not you should consider choosing Potions as a subject next year." His monotonous drawl fills the room like an echo.

You could physically feel the way Harry rolled his eyes as he glared, not so inconspicuously, at his least favourite Professor.

"Only few of you in this class will be competent enough to understand which potion you will be brewing when I say it must have a mother-of-pearl appearance." He continues, eyes still continuously scanning the classroom.

Wordlessly, and without him picking up his wand, the ingredients for the potion appear on the blackboard behind him:

One piece of Bdellium....Five Flutterby bush flowers....One sprig of Knotgrass...Three Lacewing flies....

You were brewing Amortentia. The most powerful, dangerous love potion in the world. A NEWT level potion that, if brewed wrong, could cause very serious side effects and even death. And for this reason, Dumbledore had banned the sale, production and usage of such a potion outside of school hours.

While you had faith in your friends, most of the class were abysmal at potion brewing. And Snape was notorious for getting people to try their own potions if he so felt like it.

This would be an interesting couple of hours.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The dungeons were sweltering by the time the first hour had passed.

You had sweat collecting at the bottom of your ponytail, and beside you, Hermione's once pristine curls had become frizzier as the hour progressed. Harry and Ron looked no better, either. In the cauldron between the two of you, your brew had begun to have a slight sheen, however it wasn't quite pearly enough to be a satisfactory brew of Amortentia.

"We just need to keep stirring it anti-clockwise now that we've added the lavender." Hermione says, her voice airy and tired, a side-effect to the heat that swirled around the room. You nodded wordlessly and continued with the ladel as she reaches for her bottled water from her bag underneath the bench. "I hate how there are no windows down here."

"Right! Seems very impractical when we're surrounded by dangerous fumes." You mumble, scrunching your nose up as you get a whiff of whatever your potion was beginning to smell like: firewood or old parchment; you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"What can you smell in the potion right now?" You ask Hermione, who leans close to the nose of the cauldron and breathes in a decent amount of the steam that had begun to settle on the surface of the potion.

"I'm not sure, but we've definitely done it right. Freshly mown grass and new parchment. I think." She responds, thoughtfully. "What about you."

"I can't quite put my finger on it. At first it smelt like smoke but now," you breathe in some of the more concentrated steam, "now I can definitely smell cinnamon or some kind of spiced herb and I think I can smell the soap Mrs Weasley has in the bathrooms back at The Burrow, too."

Hermione is smirking by the time you've recounted what you can smell.

"We've definitely brewed it right." She says, a giggle rising in her throat as you stare at her incredulously.

"Why are you laughing, Mione?" You ask, confusion lacing your rosy face.

"Cinnamon, spiced herbs and Mrs Weasley's soap." Hermione repeats what you said back to you slowly, as if trying to emphasise a point she had made in silence.

"Meadow don't be dim! You must know who the scents remind you of."

You stare at her dumbly for a moment, before going back to the potion, which had begun to give off the correct characteristics of an Amortentia potion, and smelling the steam that was rolling off of it in waves.

And then it hit you immediately. And Hermione's laugh echoed around your station, quietly so she didn't have Snape breathing down your necks, which gathered the attention of Harry and Ron, who stared at you both like you'd gone mad. And maybe you had.

Cinnamon and clove; Mrs Weasley's soap. You were smelling Fred Weasley.

Gods, Ron was going to throttle you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

With the revelation that you were apparently in love with your best friend's older brother, your potion, and a handful of other people's potions were completed, which also signified that the lesson was almost over.

Two hours of sweltering torture and you were ready to collapse into a pool of ice water, at this point.

Your friends clearly felt the same sentiment. Harry's hair was even messier than usual, sticking slightly to the nape of his neck and his glasses were constantly fogging up from the humidity. Ron had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie was loose around his collar, Snape's qualms about his incorrect use of his uniform long forgotten in the heat. And Hermione's hair had somehow gotten more frizzy in the last hour than ever before, although you had mumbled a spell you'd been perfecting wandlessly which tampered it down quite a bit, which your Gryffindor friend was grateful for.

Professor Snape looked as he always did once he took centre stage at the front of the dark classroom once more, dressed head to toe in black; his cloak draping down him like a blanket. One glance at the Slytherins showed that, they too were formidable against the blistering sweatbox that was the dungeons potions room.

Even Theo Nott, someone that you were now forced to put up with due to Prefect Patrols in the evenings, looked as prim and proper as he always did: not a crease to be seen in his shirt or robe, his tie not askew like so many others in the room. He looked as if the heat did not affect him at all, only the slightest tinge of rose on his cheeks gave it away. The rest of his group was in the same condition as him: not a hair out of place, looking as if they hadn't just brewed a complex potion for two straight hours. The only odd one our was Riddle, who was sat lazily in his seat, lounging as if he wasn't in a classroom. Tie half undone, shirt untucked but not ruffled, hair a mess but not in a scruffy, sweaty way. And yet, you had to admit that despite his devil-may-care attitude, he still managed to look effortlessly good. Although you'd never, ever admit that out loud.

Gods, they were all insufferable.

Before thoughts of hexing the smug look of aloofness from Riddle's face could be entained for even a moment, Snape's voice filled the room with a commanding cadence that sent the whispering between stations to an immediate halt.

"You have had two hours to brew your Amortentia." He says, gazing lazily towards each cauldron on the tables in front of him. "Some of you," he looks around at the few cauldrons, including your's, where the tell-tale steam rises and evaporates into the atmosphere, "have been successful and may even have the slightest chance of entering my classroom next year."

"Others, like Longbottom," he turns his glare onto the nervous Gryffindor who practically sinks into his seat. "Have failed so astronomically, that I may consider taking you off the course, prematurely, myself."

Neville and even a few other students cower at that and it sends Riddle and his posse into a fit of quiet snickering that forces you to send a glare over your shoulder at them. Ron does the same. They ignore you both and continue to laugh at other people's misfortune.

"But the Headmaster would, unfortunately, never allow that. So in that case, we won't be testing out those potions." Snape continues as if his Slytherin students were not currently being disruptive towards him.

'Fucking favouritism. Perhaps they should have a taste of Umbridge's punishments.' You think bitterly, and you swear Nott and Riddle's laughter grows a little louder, but you must just be too distracted by their loudness.

"Miss Meadow and Miss Granger," Snape says, snapping you from your thoughts. "Bring up your sample."

Once you have gotten a vile full of your potion, you wordlessly stand up and walk to the front of the class, Hermione hot on your heels. Snape swirls the glass under his nose for a second and breathes in the potion's aroma. He's silent for a moment before the ghost of smile flashes across his face. It's gone before either of you can blink.

"Tell me, Miss Meadow. What do you smell in your potion?" He asks, blatantly ignoring your friend beside you, who is bouncing on her feet with restless energy, eager to be told that you'd done it right. The whole room had begun to smell like your potion at this point. But you know that in higher concentrations, Amortentia tends to be stronger in scent. Not that you're complaining, though.

"Umm..." You pause and your eyes catch Ron's before you look away immediately. "Cinnamon and clove, fresh soap and–"

You pause as another smell becomes more clear to you when you smell the air again.

"–and something smokey. Like a fireplace or burning embers."

You sneak a glance at Ron, who is staring at you with widened eyes before he turns to Harry as if to wordlessly say, "can you believe what we're hearing right now?!?!"

Harry, of course, is clueless. But Hermione just smiles knowlingly.

"Very well." Snape responds to you before his eyes are finally snapping to the back of the room, where the Slytherins are all gathered.

"Mr Riddle," he says monotonously and the boy looks away from where he had been staring aimlessly around the classroom.

Riddle makes an exaggerated effort to get a whiff of his own potion, the scent of whatever it is that satisfies him clearly catching him off guard as his brows furrow in light confusion.

"I don't know." He says boredly. "Wildflowers and rain."

He doesn't elaborate and Snape doesn't pester him for an answer but when you take your seat, you feel the beginning of a headache form at the back of your skull.

You grimace and rub at the spot that hurts but think nothing of it. It's probably the discomfort of the heat finally getting to you now that you know you can leave and sit in the courtyard once the clock strikes midday.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The air in Professor Slughorn's classroom is vastly different to what you've been used to experiencing while Snape was your Potions teacher in the past. Despite the fact that it was still held in the dungeons, this classroom felt brighter somehow. More cosy and breathable in comparison to the dreary environment that caused you and your friends to dread ever having a lesson down in the depths of the castle.

Walking into the first potions lesson of the year was not dissimilar to what it had been like before, except this year the class was vastly smaller than it had been in previous years. Only a handful of your classmates had evidently passed the Potions OWL, as there were about twenty of you in total.

You and Hermione followed Lavender Brown and Romilda Vane through the door and you're met with a variety of smells that hit you all at once. It's impossible to tell one scent from another.

Theo and Pansy are already sat at a station near that back of the room and you immediately drag Hermione to the remaining two seats. She follows, albeit begrudgingly, and her face paints a picture of unease as Pasny smiles at her and then you in greeting.

"Must we sit here?" She mutters under her breathe, casting a look of dread and disgust towards the station next to you, where Riddle sits with Berkshire, as aloof as always.

"I'm sorry but I'm not sitting next to Romilda bloody Vane all year. I think I'd pitch myself from the Astronomy Tower." You reply quietly. "Besides Pansy and Theo aren't so bad."

"She's right, Granger. We are a dream." Theo butts into your conversation with a smirk that stretches across his whole face.

You and Pansy roll your eyes.

"You do have a point, Meadow. At least we won't see her oggling Harry." Hermione replies to you, ignoring Theo altogether.

He sees this and his mouth drops open dramatically.

"Tesoro! Your friend cannot ignore me!" He says with a whine that has all of his friends, including you, scoffing at his theatrics. But you don't say anything, only smirk as he becomes more gobsmacked at the fact that a girl could blatantly ignore his existence. But you can see how Hermione visibly relaxes beside you and you're instantly grateful that he was able to, unknowingly, put her at ease.

'You and your friends really don't like us do you?' His voice is grating in your mind and you grimace as a stabbing pain slices through your skull at the slightest intrusion.

'You've all been worldclass dicks to her, and the others, for years. I'm surprised she hasn't gotten up and moved tables.' You say, or you think you say, in response to him.

And by the way he raises an eyebrow at you and laughs under his breath, you don't know whether you have succeeded or not. And it bothers you to no end.

'You need more practice, Princess.' He says and for the rest of the lesson, you know that your head is going to hurt more from this slight interaction than it will if Ron and Harry were to get into another Quidditch debate.

Speaking of, the two boys stumbled into the classroom, later than usual, their uniforms askew and bags half hanging off their shoulders. Professor Slughorn however, hardly batted an eyelid as they took the teo remaining seats near the back of the room.

The Professor only smiled warmly at Harry, who sat down with huff, before he stood in front of his desk, ready to address the class.

"Now then," He says, clasping his hands together before he motions towards everyone. "Get your scales and potions kits out, everyone. And your copies of Advanced Potion-Making too-"

Harry's raised hand halts his instruction.

"Sir?" He asks, his face tinged red.

"Yes, Harry, m'boy?" Slughorn asks and from beside you, you can see Theo roll his eyes. You kick his shin with your foot.

'Tesoro what the fuck!'

You ignore him, and the stabbing pain in the back of your head, rubbing at it in mild annoyance.

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything – neither has Ron – we didn't realise we'd be able to do the NEWTs you see-"

"Yes! Professor McGonagall mentioned so. But not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all! You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today and I'm sure I can lend you some scales. There's a small stock of old books in the cupboard at the back of the room too. They'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts..."

You tune the conversation out, instead focusing intently on your abandoned quill that rests on the table. In your mind, you make a swirling notion which sends the quill into graceful spirals which occupies your bored state until the sound of a minute scuffle interrupts you.

Harry and Ron are grasping for a book. A book. You can't believe your eyes.

When Ron victoriously wanders back to his seat with the more pristine version of Advanced Potion-Making you smirk at Harry who holds a battered, crumpled version that has clearly seen better days.

Hermione stifles a laugh from beside you.

"Now then," Slughorn says, which gathers your attention once more. "I have prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Can anyone tell me what this one is?"

He begins going through each potion that had been sat at the main station at the front of the room, which explained why you were so overwhelmed by various smells when you first walked into the room. He showed and discussed Veritaserum, a truth potion that was colourless, odorless and banned to use, and Polyjuice Potion which you were, unfortunately, rather familiar with already.

"Now who can tell me what this one is?" Slughorn uncovers the lid and your hand shoot's into the air without a second thought as the smell overwhelms your senses.

"That's Amortentia, sir. The most powerful love potion in the world." You say once he motions for you to give your answer.

"Excellent. And I assume you knew this by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"Yes and the characteristic spirals." You say with enthusiasm. "It's also supposed to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them."

Slughorn nods to let you continue.

"For example I smell burning embers..." You pause and take a breath of the potion, which has a different scent profile than when you remember it last year. "Spiced amber and something else but I can't quite tell."

You sound as confused as you look but Slughorn, thankfully ignores it.

"Thank you for sharing, Miss-"

"Meadow, sir."

"Meadow? You wouldn't happen to be related to Joseph Meadow, would you?"

"Yes, he's my father." You reply and Slughorn smiles warmly in recognition.

"Ah you do resemble him very well now that I think about it. He was one of my star potioneers when he was a student here. Twenty points to Ravenclaw, m'dear."

You smile in response to that as Slughorn continues the lesson. But you're left reeling at the scent that the Amortentia omitted when you smelled it for the first time in just over a year.

Because the last time you checked, Fred Weasley did not smell like that.

Like burning embers and spiced amber and dark oud. And he most certainly didn't smell like the distinctive metallic of blood, either.

You glance at the station behind you and Riddle is staring at you. It's unnerving and unsettling and you don't like it.

You feel his stare as it prickles against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The prickling sensation leaves you soon after it starts, as if he's finally taken his dark eyes off of you, taking the headache-y sensation with him.

You think nothing of it and ignore the Amortentia, to the best of your ability, for the remaining hour of the lesson.

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heesmiles · 2 months ago

Text

A FLOWER GROWN IN MOONLIGHT.... ( PT. 1 ) ; a perfect stranger

೨౿ ⠀ ׅ ⠀ ̇ 7K ⸝⸝ . ‌ ׅ ⸺ word count.

pairings 𝜗𝜚 fae prince .ᐟ beomgyu ៹ moonskin .ᐟ reader , fae prince .ᐟ kai ៹ moonskin .ᐟ reader ᧁ ; fantasy ˒ fae ˒ smut ˒ series

warnings ⊹₊ ⋆ mentions of abuse toxic traditional ideologies mentions of death reader has long dark hair kinda stalker-ish vibes from beomgyu (he's just fascinated ok...)

synopsis ୨୧ In the twilight hush of the world, there are strange and wondrous things — shimmering beneath the silver moon, curling their fingers through the soft soil of reality. Like flowers that bloom from the skin of a girl with a secret garden in her veins, these marvels are born from the quiet ache of longing and the fierce defiance of wonder.

The forest swallowed her in a single, silent breath, as though the ancient trees themselves had conspired to hide her from the world’s ruthless gaze. She ran, feet slick with blood and dirt, each desperate stride echoing in the cathedral hush of moonlight and shadow. The night clung to her skin, damp and trembling, as if it too feared the fire and steel that had burned her past to ash. She had no name to call herself, no echo of who she had been to anchor her in the darkness; only the wild, unbroken rhythm of her heartbeat and the magic that bloomed in quiet defiance across her skin.

She was but a girl of twelve or thirteen summers, and yet her world had already been reduced to a single thread of survival. She had seen the ruin of her family; the house that had once held laughter and warm bread now a silent grave of splintered wood and broken bodies. Their faces flickered behind her eyelids with every breath: her mother’s gentle hands turned still and cold, her father’s fierce laughter replaced by the rattle of dying breath. They had been her world, and now they were echoes, ghosts of warmth fading into the frost of memory. All because of the flowers she bore, the blossoms that stirred and unfurled with each racing beat of her heart. Flowers that were both curse and promise, beauty and burden, shimmering with a magic that the world had deemed too precious to be left unclaimed. The men who had come for her were strangers, eyes hard as iron, voices like the crack of breaking ice. She could not remember their faces, only the glint of cold steel and the smell of smoke as they tore her world apart. They had come for the gift that grew upon her skin, but she would not let them take her. She would not let them claim what was hers, what was a part of her soul. She watched as her mother and father begged for mercy, begged to be left alone. She had been an enigma to them but still loved the same as any other child was. A parents' love was unconditional no matter their faults.

So she ran, deeper into the forest’s waiting arms, her breath ragged and sharp as winter air. Each footfall was a defiance of the darkness that stalked her, each stumble a vow she would not yield.

The forest was alive around her; a symphony of ancient whispers and sighing leaves, the hush of roots burrowing deep into the earth. Branches reached for her like the gnarled hands of old spirits, tangling in her hair and tearing at her tunic, but she pressed on, driven by the wild thrum of fear and something older still, hope, perhaps, or the raw, unbreakable will to endure. The flowers on her skin pulsed with a soft glow, petals trembling as they opened to the night. Their perfume wove around her like a spell, the scent of summer rain and the promise of life in the midst of ruin. She ran until her legs gave way, until the night became a blur of tears and silver light, until the world narrowed to the raw ache of her lungs and the cold bite of the earth beneath her feet. She fell in a hollow where the moss was soft as a mother’s touch, the ground damp and cool against her fevered skin. Around her, the forest held its breath, and for a moment, she let the darkness cradle her, let the grief and terror spill from her in shivering gasps. She had no name, no home, no memory of safety left to her, but she had her breath, and the flowers that unfurled with every exhale. She had the pulse of life beneath her skin, a quiet rebellion in every bloom.

The petals glowed faintly in the darkness, delicate as moonlight, fragile as a child’s dream. They were her only inheritance, the only proof that she was still here, still breathing, still hers. She pressed her hands to the mossy earth, feeling the slow, steady heartbeat of the forest beneath her palms. In that moment, she made a promise, not to the memory of the family she had lost, nor to the kingdom that would never claim her. She promised herself, in the hush between heartbeats, that she would not be taken. That she would not be broken. That she would rise from the ruin, root herself in the quiet strength of the earth, and grow. And so she lay there, nameless and alone, while the forest wrapped its green heart around her, weaving her into its endless song of shadow and life. In the hush of ancient trees and the sigh of wind through hollow branches, she let herself rest; just for a breath, just for a heartbeat. Tomorrow, the world would hunt her still. But tonight, she was alive. And the flowers on her skin bloomed brighter than the stars above.

Beomgyu lay awake, staring at the vaulted ceiling of his bedchamber, where moonlight spilled in pale rivers through the glass. Sleep had fled from him, as it so often did, leaving him adrift in the quiet hours of the night. Outside, winter sang softly against the windows, snow falling in delicate flurries, each flake a fleeting marvel. He welcomed the cold that pressed against the ancient stones of Silvertheed, the way it crept into his bones and made him feel more alive. There was a purity to the cold, a sharpness that cut through the murk of dreams and memory.

Unable to bear the restlessness any longer, Beomgyu rose from his bed and dressed in silence, his movements swift and sure. He slipped from his chamber with the stealth of a shadow, the marble halls of the palace echoing beneath his boots. Silvertheed was a kingdom of silver light and ancient enchantments, where the fae blood that ran in his veins sang to the moon and the stars. But tonight, the stone corridors felt too close, too heavy with secrets. He needed the breath of the forest, the hush of snow-laden branches to soothe the storm within him. He stepped into the cold with a sigh of relief, the winter air biting at his skin and turning his breath to mist. The forest at the palace’s edge was a cathedral of white and shadow, branches heavy with snow and moonlight pooling in icy hollows. Beomgyu walked slowly, savoring the hush of the night, the way the world seemed to pause in reverence for the quiet majesty of winter. His thoughts drifted like snowflakes, half-formed and shimmering, until he heard it; a sound that did not belong to the forest’s ancient hush.

A song, soft and lilting, like the echo of a forgotten lullaby. It wove through the air, pulling at something deep in his chest, something that felt both fragile and unbreakable. Beomgyu stilled, his breath caught in his throat, and followed the sound through the hush of snow and the sigh of wind. There, in a small clearing where moonlight pooled like quicksilver, he saw you. A girl, no older than twenty summers, your hair dark as the midnight sky. You sat upon a fallen log, weaving flowers into your hair with a careful, almost reverent touch. The flowers glowed faintly in the moonlight, petals of lavender and rose, pale blue and the soft blush of dawn. But it was not the flowers themselves that held Beomgyu spellbound — it was the way they grew from your skin, each bloom unfurling in delicate wonder before you plucked it free and wove it into your braid.

His breath stilled, the cold forgotten as he watched you. In Silvertheed, magic was woven into every stone and stream, but he had never seen anything like this. Your humming was soft, the notes unfamiliar yet haunting in their beauty, as if you sang to the forest itself and the forest bent to listen. you seemed a part of the night, your presence both fragile and eternal, as though you had stepped from a dream spun of moonlight and memory. Beomgyu pressed his back against the rough bark of a pine, heart pounding with wonder and something else; an ache he could not name. He watched your fingers move with delicate precision, each flower a promise of something unspoken, something ancient and aching. The snow fell around you, each flake a benediction, and you moved as if the world itself was a secret you alone could read.

For a long moment, he simply watched, caught between the world he knew and the wonder of the girl before him. You were weaving flowers of your own skin, and he could not look away. The cold pressed closer, sharp as glass, but he welcomed it — it made the moment feel real, made him feel real. In that clearing of moonlight and snow, Beomgyu felt as though he had stepped beyond the edge of the world, into a story that had waited centuries to be told. He did not yet know your name, or what fate had led you here, but he knew this: he would remember this moment forever. The girl with flowers on her skin, humming to the night as if she had always belonged to it.

Beomgyu lingered in the shadows, the snow beneath his boots a muffled echo of your soft, secret song. He watched you through the hush of ancient pines, heart caught in the quiet reverence of the night. Your voice, a low hum that seemed to draw the moon closer, drifted across the clearing in a language he did not know. You sat upon a fallen log, weaving flowers — no, not flowers, but pieces of yourself, into your dark hair, petals pale as dawnlight against the night’s dark silk. Each bloom you plucked from your skin was a quiet rebellion against the cold, a testament to the magic that pulsed beneath your breath. Beomgyu watched with the rapture of a child who has seen a miracle; each unfurling petal a spell, each sigh of wind a promise. He watched you until the night was no longer night, until the stars began to fade and the cold blue hush of dawn bled into the sky. The snow fell softer as the world began to wake, and he felt the pull of duty of the life he could not leave behind, gnawing at the edges of this stolen moment. He could not be caught here, a prince hidden among the roots and shadows, watching you like a pilgrim before an altar.

With a final, lingering glance, he turned and slipped away, his cloak a whisper of darkness against the snow. You did not see him go, lost in your quiet ritual, your voice still weaving ancient secrets into the hush of the forest. The memory of your song clung to him like a heartbeat as he made his way back to Silvertheed, the cold burning against his skin, each breath a promise that he would return. And though the sun rose over the kingdom in a blaze of gold and winter fire, for Beomgyu, the world remained moonlit and trembling with the wonder of you; the girl who grew flowers from her skin and sang to the night as though it alone could understand.

The next night, sleep eluded Beomgyu once again, as if it were a fickle spirit dancing just beyond his grasp. He lay in the hush of his bedchamber, the cold seeping through the stones and into his bones. His mind was a restless sea, every thought a wave breaking against the memory of you; the girl who sang to the night and wove flowers from her skin as if she were born of the forest’s breath. All day he had carried the wonder of you like a fragile bloom, tucked close to his chest where no one could see.

He rose at last, drawn again to the forest’s quiet promise. But before he could slip out into the snow, his thoughts turned inward, to the echoes of a past that still clung to him like winter’s frost. The memories of his childhood in Silvertheed’s halls were etched in the marrow of his bones, a tapestry of bruises and hollow silences. His father; the king in name and name only, had never looked upon him with anything but disdain. Beomgyu was not his son, not truly. He was a relic of the queen’s past, a living reminder of a love that had bloomed before the king’s shadow fell upon her. The king’s cruelty had been a quiet poison, administered in cold words and cold hands, each blow an echo of a truth Beomgyu had always known: that he did not belong. Yet in the darkness of those years, there was always Kai; his brother, his solace. Kai was the balm to every wound, the soft light in the kingdom’s cold embrace. Sweet and nurturing, Kai held his brother’s hand when the world grew too dark, his presence a soft murmur of safety in the night.

Kai did not carry the king’s venom in his veins; he was all gentleness and soft-spoken wonder, a soul untainted by their father’s bitterness. He would sit with Beomgyu by the fireside, weaving stories from the smoke and the shadows, their laughter a quiet rebellion against the kingdom’s chill. It was not Kai’s fault that the king’s love was a blade turned inward, a wound that never healed. And Beomgyu, despite the ache of it all, loved his brother with a devotion that could not be broken. But tonight, as he slipped from his chamber and into the forest’s embrace, it was not his father’s cruelty that consumed his thoughts; it was you. The memory of your humming, the way your flowers bloomed in the cold, unfurling with the soft sigh of winter’s breath. The forest seemed to remember you, each tree a silent witness to the magic you carried in your skin. Beomgyu walked deeper into the hush of snow and moonlight, his breath a pale ghost in the night, his heart a restless flame.

He did not know what he would find when he reached that clearing, only that he could not stay away. In the quiet ache of the night, with the stars as his only guide, Beomgyu let himself hope that he would see you again, that you would be there, humming to the cold and weaving your secret blooms beneath the gaze of the moon. This time, the forest was a cathedral of silence, the snow beneath Beomgyu’s boots a muffled prayer to the moon. Each step was a deliberate hush, a reverent pause in the symphony of winter. He felt the cold in his bones, but he welcomed it — it was a sharp, clarifying thing, a promise that he was awake and alive in this moment. The ache of the cold was nothing compared to the pull that guided him through the dark, a quiet gravity that led him back to you.

He followed the thread of your song, a gentle melody that wound through the pines like a silver river. The night itself seemed to lean in to listen, each branch heavy with snow, each shadow holding its breath. And then he saw you, the clearing opening up before him like a secret. You were a small, wild flame against the hush of winter, your dark hair a river of shadows that caught the light of the fire you had kindled. The pot above the flames glowed faintly, steam rising in soft curls that vanished into the frozen air. You moved with a surety that spoke of ancient rituals, of secrets whispered by the forest’s oldest trees.

One by one, you plucked the flowers from your skin, each bloom trembling with a quiet reverence as it gave itself over to your hands. Beomgyu watched as the petals slipped from your fingertips into the boiling water, the surface of the potion shimmering like moonlight caught in a pool. The fragrance was delicate and strange, a mingling of snow and something sweet, something that made him think of distant summers he had never known. He could not look away. You poured the shimmering liquid into a small metal mug, your hands steady as though you had done this a thousand times before. The way you cradled the cup was almost tender, like a lover’s touch or the gentle promise of dawn. And then, without hesitation, you lifted it to your lips and drank.

The effect was immediate, a soft bloom of light that spread across your skin in a sigh of blue. It was a color he had never seen before, the deep, pulsing blue of glaciers and ancient seas, a color that seemed to hold the memory of every winter that had ever been. You laughed, a sound like bells, like the first breath of spring, and began to dance. Beomgyu’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you. You moved with a grace that defied the cold, your feet barely stirring the snow as you spun and twirled, arms lifted to the moon’s soft gaze. The glow of your skin lit the clearing, a quiet miracle that made the whole world seem to hold its breath. He laughed too, the sound slipping from him like a confession, soft and awed and full of wonder.

It was not a laugh of mockery — no, never that. It was the laugh of a man who had stumbled upon something so beautiful, so impossibly bright, that he could not help but be humbled by it. You were a secret the forest had been keeping from him, a miracle that had bloomed in the snow and laughter that made the cold seem soft. You did not see him. Or if you did, you gave no sign, lost in the music only you could hear. The firelight painted your face in shades of gold and shadow, the blue glow of your skin a quiet defiance of winter’s hush. Beomgyu watched as you lifted your arms to the sky, fingers splayed wide, as if you were trying to hold the stars in your palms.

For a moment, he imagined what it would be like to step from the shadows and into the circle of your dance. To feel the glow of your skin beneath his fingers, to share in the secret you carried like a promise. But he stayed hidden, content to watch and let the memory of your laughter etch itself into the deepest parts of him. The night stretched on, a quiet river of stars and snow. Beomgyu leaned against the rough bark of a pine, his breath a pale mist in the cold, and let himself be consumed by the wonder of you. And in the quiet spaces of his mind, memories began to rise, memories of another fire, another cold night, long before he had known your name.

He remembered the hush of the royal halls, the stone walls that had never felt like home. He remembered his father’s voice, sharp and cold as the winter wind, each word a blade that cut deeper than any frost. He had always known he was not the king’s son. It was a truth that lived in the hush of the servants’ footsteps, in the way his father’s gaze slid past him as though he were nothing but a shadow. The way his hand would rise to strike Beomgyu’s cheek when he would say the wrong thing. Beomgyu was a reminder of another man’s love, a love the queen had known before she had been bound to the king’s cold hand. But there had always been Kai.

Kai, with his gentle smile and quiet strength. Kai, who had never let the chill of the kingdom seep into his soul. When the nights were at their coldest, it was Kai who would slip into Beomgyu’s room, his hands warm and steady, his voice a soft murmur of comfort. “It is not your fault,” Kai would whisper, each word a promise, a shield against the darkness. “You are loved, brother. You are loved.” And in those moments, Beomgyu could almost believe it.

But tonight, as he watched you dance in the snow, the memory of his brother’s voice felt like a distant echo. You were a new kind of warmth, a light that had nothing to do with the cold halls of Silvertheed or the shadows that had always haunted him. You were laughter and magic, a song that belonged to the moon and the snow and the quiet ache of his own heart. He did not understand you — not even a little. But he did not need to. The forest seemed to hold its breath around you, each tree a silent witness to the miracle you wove with every step. And Beomgyu, hidden among the shadows, felt something inside him begin to thaw.

For so long, he had carried the weight of his father’s hatred, the cold truth of his own blood like a stone in his chest. But here, in the hush of snow and moonlight, he felt that weight begin to lift, if only for a moment. He did not know what you were, or what magic you had wrapped around yourself like a second skin. But he knew this: you were something bright in a world that had always felt too dark.

The night grew old around him, the stars a pale river above the trees. Beomgyu watched until the last embers of your fire died down, until the glow of your skin faded into the hush of dawn. You sat then, quiet and still, your head bowed as though in prayer. The blue glow had ebbed from your skin, leaving only the pale curve of your shoulders and the soft spill of your hair. For a moment, he wondered what you were thinking. If you knew he was there, a shadow among the shadows, watching with a reverence he could not name. Then, before the first light of day could slip through the trees, he turned and fled.

The snow swallowed the sound of his footsteps, and the forest closed around him like a secret. The cold bit at his skin. It was a promise that he was still here, still alive, and that this moment had been real. As he walked back to the castle, the memory of your laughter clung to him like a breath of summer, a warmth he carried into the cold stone halls. And though he did not know what magic burned in your blood, he knew one thing for certain: he would return. He would return to the forest, to the hush of snow and the glow of your skin. He would return to the place where the world seemed to breathe in color and light, and where he, too, could be something more than the king’s unwanted son. He would return, again and again, until he could name the magic that had bloomed in his heart the first time he heard you sing.

The next night, the cold was even sharper, the moon a pale blade that cut through the darkness and laid the forest bare. Beomgyu moved through the snow with a quiet purpose, each step a prayer to the mystery that had taken root in his heart. The memory of your laughter was a ghost at his shoulder, a warmth that had no place in the winter’s chill. He did not know what it was that drew him to you; whether it was the way your magic bloomed beneath your skin or the simple wonder of seeing something so bright and wild in a world that had always felt too sharp. But he knew this: he had to see you again.

So he went back, moving through the dark like a promise, the hush of snow beneath his boots a secret shared only with the night. The forest opened around him, the pines heavy with frost, each branch a quiet sentinel that watched his passing with a patience that had no end. He did not know that he was not alone. In the hush of his thoughts, in the quiet ache of wonder that pulled him forward, he did not hear the faint rustle of footsteps behind him. He did not see the flicker of movement, the shadow that slipped between the trees like a wraith.

Kai was there, his brother’s steps as silent as snowfall, his gaze a quiet flame that burned with questions he did not yet have the words to ask. He had watched Beomgyu all day, had seen the way his brother’s thoughts had drifted far from the stone walls of the castle and the weight of the king’s cold gaze. Kai had seen the wonder in Beomgyu’s eyes, the soft light that had never belonged to the kingdom of Silvertheed. And so he followed, silent and unseen, the bond of blood and brotherhood a thread that pulled him through the night.

Beomgyu moved as though the forest itself was a dream, each breath a hush of wonder that quickened in his chest. He thought only of you, of the way the light had danced across your skin and the laughter that had made even the snow seem warm. He reached the clearing just as the first flicker of firelight began to bloom in the dark. You were there, as he had known you would be, your hair a dark river that spilled over your shoulders, your hands gentle as you plucked the flowers from your skin. The ritual was the same; petals and fire and the soft hush of your song, but tonight, there was something different in the way you moved.

Your eyes were distant, your fingers trembling just slightly as you fed the fire with the blooms that grew like a promise beneath your skin. The potion simmered in the small metal pot, the steam rising in slow, lazy curls that vanished into the cold. Beomgyu’s breath caught in his throat. He had thought he was prepared for this, for the quiet wonder of your magic and the wild grace of your dance. But tonight, there was something else, a shadow in your gaze, a weight in the way you held the cup to your lips.

You drank, as you had before, the glow of blue light blooming across your skin in a sigh of wonder. But tonight, your laughter was softer, almost sad, the dance you wove around the fire a quiet defiance of some sorrow he could not name. He watched, his heart a silent drum in his chest, each beat a question he could not ask. And in the hush of snow and moonlight, he did not see the shadow that watched with him, Kai’s breath a soft mist in the cold, his eyes dark with worry.

Kai saw the way Beomgyu’s gaze followed you, saw the wonder and the ache that lived in the spaces between each breath. He saw the way his brother’s hands clenched at his sides, as though he was fighting the urge to step forward, to break the hush of the forest and let the world know he was there. He understood, though Beomgyu had not said a word. He understood the pull of magic and mystery, the quiet ache of wanting something so bright it hurt to even look at it. And he felt the first flicker of something else — something that lived in the quiet spaces of his own heart, something that made him wonder what it would be like to feel the warmth of your laughter, the soft glow of your magic against his own skin.

But he said nothing. He stayed hidden, a shadow among the pines, his breath a silent promise that he would watch and wait, even if he did not yet understand what he was waiting for. In the clearing, you danced with the fire, your blue-lit skin a miracle that made the night itself seem to hold its breath. And Beomgyu watched, his heart a quiet bloom of wonder and fear, each beat a prayer that this moment would never end.

The forest was a cathedral of silence, the snow beneath their feet a quiet hymn to the cold. And in that hush, two brothers stood in the shadows, bound by blood and the quiet ache of a magic they could not yet name. And you, in the center of it all, were a song that had no words, a promise that the world was still full of wonder, even in the hush of winter’s breath.

Beomgyu once again found himself hidden behind a great pine, his breath a silver mist in the winter night, his heart thrumming a hymn of wonder and ache. You sat across from him, your small frame hunched over a log, the crackling fire’s glow painting your skin with flickers of gold and shadow. Your hut loomed behind you, a shape of secrets and solitude that rose like a phantom in the snow’s hush. Your shoulders trembled with quiet sobs, the sound of your tears lost to the hiss and crackle of the flames. Beomgyu watched, each tear that slid down your cheek a glimmer of sorrow that caught the moonlight like dew. He did not know why it hurt him so, to see you cry. You were a stranger, your name a mystery, your story written in a language of petals and magic he could not yet read. And yet, something in him ached to bridge the distance between you, to cradle your sorrow in his hands as though it were a fragile bloom that needed only the sun to open.

He did not know what it was that drew him to you; whether it was the quiet glow of your skin, the flowers that bloomed like whispers of beauty beneath your touch, or simply the hush of your song that still lingered in his thoughts like a memory of something long lost. All he knew was that he wanted to be close to you, to offer the warmth of his presence against the cold hush of your tears. He stepped forward, just a breath, just enough to taste the promise of closeness. But before his foot could find purchase in the snow, a sharp crack split the air, a branch breaking under weight not his own. Beomgyu froze, his breath catching in his throat like a secret. In the same heartbeat, your head lifted, your eyes wide and searching in the darkness.

He turned, and his breath left him in a rush of frost. Kai stood there, his brother’s face pale in the moonlight, his dark eyes wide with surprise and apology. Beomgyu’s heart stumbled at the sight—he had been so sure he was alone, so lost in the pull of your sorrow that he had not noticed the presence of the one who had always been his shadow, his silent witness. You stood, your body taut as a bowstring, the tears still fresh on your cheeks but your gaze sharp and wary. The fire crackled between you all, the hiss and pop of burning wood a chorus to the sudden hush that had fallen over the clearing.

For a moment, none of you moved; three hearts caught in the hush of winter, three souls bound by secrets and the quiet ache of what had just been revealed. Beomgyu’s mouth opened, words a tangle in his throat that he could not find the courage to speak. His brother’s eyes met his, dark with a thousand questions that neither of them knew how to ask. And then your voice, soft as the hush of snow falling in the dark. “Who are you?” you said, your words trembling like the branches that shivered beneath the weight of frost.

Beomgyu stepped forward, his hands half-raised in a silent plea. “I—my name is Beomgyu,” he said, the words a sigh of truth in the cold night. “And this is my brother, Kai.” His voice faltered, the weight of your gaze a quiet thunder in his chest. “We…we didn’t mean to startle you.” Kai moved beside him, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm of uncertainty. “Forgive us,” he said, his voice a low warmth that contrasted the chill of the night. “We didn’t mean to intrude. We…we were only curious.”

The hush that followed was heavy with possibility, each breath a question that waited to be answered. You looked between them, your eyes dark with the shadows of things you did not yet trust to share. And Beomgyu, his heart a quiet storm, found himself caught between the wonder of your magic and the silent echo of his brother’s presence at his side.

The quiet of the forest seemed to cradle you all in a hush, a sanctuary of frost and shadows, the fire’s glow a heartbeat between you. Beomgyu and Kai stood close together, two figures cut from moonlight and winter breath, their princely faces made softer by the hush of the night and the wonder of your presence. You stood across from them, your hair a dark halo of wildness, stray flower petals tangled in its knots, your skin glistening with the tears you had not yet wiped away. The question in Beomgyu’s eyes was a soft ache, a quiet pull he could not name, but it was Kai who gave it voice.

“What are you?” Kai asked, his tone gentle, like a child asking the forest to tell its secrets. His eyes, so like Beomgyu’s but calmer, steadier, shone with a wonder that made your heart tremble. Your shoulders hunched slightly, as if the question itself weighed upon you. “I don’t know,” you said softly, the words tasting of truth and sadness. “All I know is that I’ve always been…like this.” You raised a hand, and from your palm bloomed a small flower; blue as the night sky, fragile as a sigh. “At night, they come. From my skin. They have…power.” Your voice faltered, and your eyes turned down to the flickering fire. “Sometimes they change how I feel. Sometimes…how others feel.”

Beomgyu watched, his breath caught in the hush of your confession. The way you spoke; soft and careful, as if every word was a petal you had to coax to bloom. He wanted to reach out, to take your hand and tell you that it was alright, that your strangeness was a wonder and not a curse. But he stayed still, his heart a quiet storm in his chest. “Please,” you whispered, your gaze darting between them, your voice suddenly urgent. “Don’t tell anyone. They’ll come for me. They always do. They’ll say I’m cursed, or that I’m a witch. I don’t want… I don’t want to be hunted again.” Your words cracked like ice underfoot, and the memory of your tears glistened in the glow of the fire.

Kai stepped closer, his hand lifting as if to touch your shoulder, but he hesitated. “We won’t tell anyone,” he said, his voice the gentle hush of a promise. “We swear it.” Beomgyu nodded, his throat tight with the weight of your fear. “You’re safe with us,” he said, and he meant it. Even if he didn’t yet understand why, even if he didn’t know what the pull in his heart meant, he knew he would not let harm come to you.

For a moment, the three of you stood in a hush of snow and breath, the fire’s crackle the only sound in the world. Beomgyu’s gaze drifted to your clothes; threadbare and dirt-smudged, a cloak of tattered wool that did little to shield you from the cold. Your skin, though glowing softly in the firelight, was streaked with the dust of the forest, your nails rimmed with soil as if you had clawed your way from the earth itself. He wondered, suddenly, how long you had lived like this, alone in the woods, your hut no more than a shadowy refuge, your days marked by the hush of fear and the gentle bloom of your strange magic. His heart twisted, the ache of it a quiet song he could not ignore.

It was Kai who spoke the words that would change everything, his voice soft but sure. “Would you like to come with us?” he asked, the question simple and gentle, like a hand offered in the dark. Beomgyu’s eyes widened, surprise flickering like a flame in his chest. He had not expected it, this sudden kindness from his brother. But then again, Kai had always been the gentler one, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve like a badge of honor. Beomgyu, with all his jagged edges and quiet ache, had never known how to offer such kindness so easily.

You looked up at Kai, your eyes wide and uncertain, the firelight turning them to pools of shadow and wonder. “I… I couldn’t,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t belong in a place like that. And I have nothing to give you in return. No gold, no… no power that could be of use to you.” Kai’s lips curved into a small, tender smile. “We don’t need anything from you,” he said. “We’re princes. We have enough gold to last a hundred lifetimes. We only ask because… no one should have to live alone in the cold. You deserve warmth, and a place to belong.”

Your breath caught, a soft hitch of disbelief. Beomgyu watched the wonder and confusion that flickered across your face, the way you bit your lip as if you were afraid to hope. He understood that feeling all too well; the ache of wanting something so badly that you were afraid to reach for it. He found himself stepping closer, his voice low but sure. “My brother means it,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity. “If you come with us… we will keep you safe. We won’t ask you for anything you can’t give.”

You looked between them, your gaze lingering on Beomgyu’s face for a breath longer than it lingered on Kai’s. In that moment, he felt something shift in the hush of the night, an invisible thread binding the three of you together, woven from the hush of snow and the crackle of fire and the quiet wonder of a girl who could grow flowers from her skin. For a moment, you looked as though you might refuse. Your shoulders tensed, your eyes shuttered like the closing of a door. But then your breath left you in a soft sigh, and you nodded, just once, the motion small and delicate as the unfurling of a petal.

“Alright,” you said, your voice a whisper. “I will come with you.” Relief flickered across Kai’s face, a gentle warmth that softened the angles of his jaw. Beomgyu felt it too, a quiet loosening of the ache in his chest, though he did not know why. He only knew that the sight of your soft, uncertain smile in the glow of the fire felt like the first bloom of spring after a winter that had seemed endless.

Kai stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “Come,” he said, his voice a soft beacon in the hush of the night. “We’ll bring you home.” You hesitated only a moment before you took his hand, your fingers cold and small in his. Beomgyu watched as Kai’s thumb brushed gently across your knuckles, a quiet promise in the softness of his touch. And then the three of you turned away from the clearing, the fire’s glow fading behind you as you stepped into the hush of the forest.

The snow fell in slow, lazy drifts, the moon’s light painting the world in a hush of silver and shadow. Beomgyu fell in step beside you, his eyes tracing the curve of your cheek, the small smile that lingered there like a fragile bloom. He did not speak, but in the quiet of the night, he let his presence be its own kind of promise, silent, but sure. Beside him, Kai’s hand still held yours, his warmth a gentle anchor in the cold hush of the world. And though Beomgyu did not yet know what lay ahead, what this night had set in motion, what magic and ache and wonder would bloom from the meeting of three hearts in the winter’s dark, he knew that something had shifted. Something had begun.

In the distance, the castle of Silvertheed rose like a dream against the horizon, its spires dark and glistening with frost. Beomgyu felt a quiet thrill in his chest as they approached it — an ache of wonder and uncertainty, a hush of possibility that felt as bright and fragile as the flowers that bloomed on your skin. And in the hush of that winter night, as you walked between the two brothers, your breath a soft fog in the cold air, the first threads of a story began to weave themselves into the world; threads of magic and mystery, of sorrow and wonder, of love that would not be denied.

(♬) - @beomiracles @biteyoubiteme @hyukascampfire @dawngyu @izzyy-stuff @1-800-jewon @xylatox

#txt imagines #tomorrow x together imagines #tomorrow x together #beomgyu imagines #kai imagines #choi beomgyu #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai #beomgyu smut #hueningkai smut #tomorrow x together x reader #beomgyu x reader #kai x reader

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evelineheaven · 5 months ago

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Soulmate Tarot Card Indicators 👰🏻‍♀️

note : this is about the cards in upright position, not at reversed position.

10 of cups (marriage, lifetime commitment, starting a family) when you get this in the reading, it means you will have a fairytale happy ending with this person, you guys complete each other, you guys going to start a family.

6 of cups (soulmate could be one you know from your childhood, or from past life, this card you guys coming in reunion, and starting beginnings with each other, you could have a nostalgia feeling when you met them, like you already know them it’s true love)

2 of cups (Union between 2 people, soulmates, partnership, mutual attraction) It’s about true love, getting into happy relationship, ending as marriage, most beautiful compability)

Ace of cups (pregnancy, marriage, proposals, love allows you tap into your pyschic abilities, heart chakra opening, new romance with your soulmate, intimacy)

Lovers (symbolism commitment, soulmates, unbreakable bond that can exist between two people, it makes you have a mutual attraction to someone, chemistry, a perfect union)

four of wands (getting a home together, choosing commitment, wedding, having a happy family, happy ending, often this can indicate moving into a new home with the person outside your city or even country)

Empress (for men) (means you found your divine feminine, she is going to be your wife, she is going to bring you the unconditional love, you will get a baby with her)

Emperor (for woman) (means you found your divine masculine, he is going to be your man, he is going to bring you commitment, a relationship that last, bring you protection, that father energy)

Temperance (divine connection, spirit guides & angels bring fated connection, spiritual connection and comes with divine timing)

Wheel of fortune (Destiny, universe gives you guys a happily after, soul mate bond, love journey, came in your life after a transition)

#tarotcommunity #tarot deck #tarot cards #tarot #soulmates #paranormal #spirituality #future #love #astro notes #astro community #astro observations #astro placements #astrology #astroblr #astroids #astronomy #astro content #astro icons

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kaidaimaou · 19 days ago

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Alnst and IvanTill

oh what a tragedy, ivan’s love is twisted because let’s be real here, none of them have experienced healthy love (maybe till with his mom) and “parasite” is such a beautiful interpretation of a love that at its core tries so hard to be good and pure.

ivan loved till so much he became nearly perfect for the aliens, an obedient pet so entertaining and odd, just so he can gain the ability to free roam at parties, because he knew till would never stop fighting back, would sass and get beat and left to rot, obedience to gain power, power to help till.

to ivan, till is the stars, the sky, he is the entire universe.

ivan had his chance to run away from anakt, yet he returns because the man he loves won’t leave.

ivan achieved an A+ in smiling, an unbreakable facade that we only saw falter once, during “black sorrow” when he reaches for the audience, when he’s singing about the despair of love, his face breaks, for a single moment we get to see the anguish he feels.

and through all of that? till is unconscious, he wakes up just as the song ends and the facade is perfected once again, after that during “cure” and “blink gone” there are moments in which till thinks about ivan only for them to be fleeting, to feel like afterthoughts of afterthoughts, just like the trill of the xylophone.

in the post karma comic, we learn that till’s neck wounds are self inflicted, that he is haunted by the last touch of ivan, that somewhere after the final he broke, his hallucinations of adult ivan are mean and vile, they taunt him, they make him relive that death over and over again, while young ivan is sweet, young ivan is how, in my opinion, the real ivan felt, unconditional love with a small bit of jealousy? hurt? he asks how come till never drew him even though they spent so much time together, and till’s answer? he did draw him, he did care about him, but somewhere in the cruelty of anakt and the alien stage a line of communication withered away.

ivan died full heartedly believing that till never cared about him a single time, but he still died because he could not exist in a world without till.

and now till is haunted by the thoughts and visions of what was left behind, tormented by his own fears that ivan hated him, that he was used for ivan to kill himself.

survivor’s guilt is twisted.

the love in alien stage is

immature

obsessive

unhealthy

but it is still love.

and i think that’s beautiful

#alien stage #ivantill #alnst till #alnst ivan #doomed yaoi #rants about things i like #yapping #phd in yappology

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truevedicastrology · 10 months ago

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What Makes You Irresistible? 🌟

Ever wondered why people are drawn to you? Your Venus sign might hold the key! Here's what makes each Venus sign utterly captivating

♈ Aries Venus:

Your bold, fearless attitude 🔥

Being unapologetically yourself 💁‍♀️

Strength that turns heads 💪

"I'll try anything once" spirit 🚀

Refreshing straightforwardness 🗣️

Confidence that lights up a room ✨

Daring, experimental style 👗

Knowing exactly what you want 🎯

Carefree, infectious energy 🌈

♉ Taurus Venus:

Graceful, dancer-like movements 💃

Rock-solid reliability 🏔️

Fierce independence 🦁

Admirable work ethic 💼

Unwavering loyalty 🤝

Nurturing nature 🌱

Strong morals and values ⚖️

Sensual presence 🌹

Appreciation for life's pleasures 🍷

♊ Gemini Venus:

Quick wit and sharp intellect 🧠

Insatiable curiosity about everything 🔍

Laid-back, worry-free vibe 😎

Childlike sense of wonder 🌟

Humor that keeps everyone laughing 😂

Open-mindedness to new ideas 🌈

Eyes that sparkle when passionate 👀✨

Gift for teaching and active listening 🎓

Adaptability in any situation 🦎

♋ Cancer Venus:

Soft, nurturing presence 🤗

Deeply emotional nature 💖

Leading with your heart in all things ❤️

Touching vulnerability 🕊️

Fierce protection of loved ones 🛡️

Heart of pure gold 🌟

Genuine care for others' well-being 🤲

Unconditional love that knows no bounds 💞

♌ Leo Venus:

Show-stopping style and confidence 👑

Boundless creativity 🎨

Knowing your worth and owning it 💯

Passionate expression of love ❤️‍🔥

Loyalty that never wavers 🦁

Effortless authenticity 🌟

Ability to make others feel special ✨

Thoughtfulness in grand gestures 🎁

♍ Virgo Venus:

Selfless desire to help others 🤲

Intellectually stimulating conversations 🧠

Confidence in your knowledge 📚

Well-ordered priorities and life 📅

Generous spirit 🎁

Mature outlook on life and love 🧘

Effortlessly polished appearance 💅

Attention to detail in all you do 🔍

♎ Libra Venus:

Sweet and kind demeanor 🍯

Natural, effortless beauty ✨

Curated, aesthetic social media presence 📱

Hopeless romantic nature 💘

Self-love and self-care prioritization 🧘‍♀️

Go-to friend for relationship advice 💌

Childlike joy and wonder 🎈

Creative flair in all aspects of life 🎨

♏ Scorpio Venus:

Deep trustworthiness and devotion 🔒

Ability to discuss life's depths and shadows 🕯️

Authentic to the core 💯

Intriguing air of mystery 🕵️‍♀️

Unbreakable loyalty 🤝

Safe haven for others' secrets 🤫

Magnetic, almost hypnotic presence 🔮

Smoldering sensuality 🌹

♐ Sagittarius Venus:

Always up for the next adventure 🌍

Contagious humor and generosity 😂🎁

Life of every party 🎉

Laid-back approach to life 😎

Refreshing honesty and directness 🗣️

Surrounded by loving friends 👥❤️

Enthusiasm for trying new things 🆕

Optimistic outlook that inspires others 🌞

♑ Capricorn Venus:

Ambition that commands respect 🏆

Success-oriented mindset 📈

Polished, put-together image 💼

Mature beyond your years 🧓

Impeccable taste in all things 👌

Fierce independence 🦅

Clear, achievable goals 🎯

Self-investment and growth mindset 🌱

Deep sense of responsibility 📝

♒ Aquarius Venus:

Judgment-free zone 🚫👨‍⚖️

Fascinating intellect and chill attitude 🧠😎

Life of the party energy 🎉

Ability to converse on any topic 💬

Authentic to your core 💯

Embracing and celebrating uniqueness 🦄

Innovative perspective on life 🔭

Impressive, often unexpected talents 🎭

♓ Pisces Venus:

Boundless compassion for all 🤗

Deep love for animals and nature 🐾🌿

Ethereal, otherworldly beauty ✨

Kindness that touches hearts ❤️

Head always in the clouds, dreaming big ☁️

Hopeless romantic soul 💘

Craving for soulmate-level connections 🔗

Safe harbor for others 🏡

Wearing your heart on your sleeve 💖

Innocent spirit in a complex world 🕊️

#astrology #astro community #astrology observations #vedic astrology #venus aspects

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thollandsgirl2013 · 9 months ago

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𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → suggestive, 18+

Summary → After an exhausting day, all Peter is go to his safe haven.

After a long day of being Spider-Man and saving the city, Peter finally came home, exhausted. You had been waiting for him, knowing how stressful his days could be. As he climbed in through the window, you greeted him with a warm smile and a loving hug, instantly making him feel at ease.

Peter shed his Spider-Man suit, revealing his lean, muscular form, and quickly changed into a t-shirt and boxers. "Hey, babe," he breathed, giving you a tired smile.

"Rough night?" You ask, your concern evident.

He shrugs, running a hand through his brown curly hair. "Same old, same old. But seeing you makes it all worth it."

You blush, your heart racing at his words. Peter’s sweet, attentive nature always makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world. His innocent charm and kind heart are irresistible.

As you both settle onto the bed, Peter pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you. His warmth seeps into your skin, calming you instantly. His touch is like magic, soothing away all your worries and fears.

"You're my safe haven," Peter whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you more than anything."

"I love you too, Peter," you reply, snuggling closer to him.

You lie there in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other's presence. But soon, you notice a mischievous gleam in Peter's eyes, and you know what's coming.

Peter reaches out, his hand hovering over your chest. You feel a rush of excitement through your body. Peter's always been fascinated with your boobs, finding them the perfect size for him to grab and play with.

"Can I, um, touch them?" He stutters, looking at you with puppy eyes.

You nod, feeling a flush of heat spreading across your cheeks. Peter gently took off your shirt. He's touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine. His hands are warm and gentle, caressing and squeezing as he pleases.

It was his way of relaxing and unwinding, his own safe haven. You let out soft moans and sighs as Peter gently squeezed and caressed your boobs. You loved how he made you feel loved and desired.

Peter, on the other hand, found comfort in your warmth and softness. He loved to lick and suck on your boobs, knowing how much you enjoyed it. It was a way for you to connect on a deeper level, to show your love and affection for each other in a physical way.

You closed your eyes, lost in the pleasure and intimacy of the moment. You ran your fingers through Peter's hair, enjoying the feeling of his touch. Peter was in his own world, savoring the taste and feel of your soft skin against his lips.

He leans up to kiss you, his hand still firmly on your right boob, you feel a surge of desire and need. Peter's lips on yours feels like a heavenly sensation, melting away all your inhibitions.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces meant to be together. You lose yourself in his embrace, in his touch, in his love.

Eventually, exhaustion caught up with Peter, and he started to doze off. You smiled, knowing how much he needed the rest. Gently, you guided him to lie down, and he instinctively reached out, resting his hand on your boob, finding comfort in your presence.

As Peter drifted into sleep, you wrapped your arms around him, feeling grateful to have him in your life. You knew that no matter what challenges you faced, you would always have each other to lean on.

In the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace, you both drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a future filled with love, adventure, and endless possibilities. Your bond was unbreakable, your love unconditional. In that moment, you were truly content, happy, and at peace.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker spiderman #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #tomholland2013 #tom holland #spider man #tom holland spiderman #imagines #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman far from home #spiderman homecoming #spiderman #thollandsgirl2013 #tom holland fanfiction

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sandgold · 2 months ago

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lomeli/lawrence and bellini have different dynamics in the book and in the film and yet both managed to exude the air of a strong unbreakable bond and both managed to be so so good in their own ways.

turning point in their friendship was definitely the tremblay simony.

both the book and the movie had lomeli go to bellini to ask him to continue with his candidacy, told bellini he would take the fall once he revealed tremblays business and ends up with bellini refusing and lomeli calling bellini a coward.

the only difference is movie lomeli accused bellini of taking tremblays bribe. Still, i dont think he truly believes bellini did such a thing. he only ends up calling out bellinis cowardice and not said anything abt bellini being a sell out.

the book and movie differs in their conclusion to this.

book lomeli and bellini resolve their differences without much fanfare. they had their spat and now they're back to their comfortable companionship. bellini seems pleased he was proven wrong, that the reveal of the simony papers didnt backfire on lomeli and actually made the cardinals Look at their dean. that lomeli is a steadfast leader. "that steady hand of yours has its admirers" bellini is talking abt himself btw. bellini admires his friend for having the courage to do what he did not dare to.

just as lomeli didn't resent bellini for calling him ambitious, bellini didn't resent lomeli for calling him a coward. they know each other too much for that. this is the kind of longstanding bond that pretty much tells you that these two would still choose each other despite the small hurts they inflict on one another. that they have HAVE been through this infliction of pain before but has risen above it to stay together.

afterwards, bellini says he'll pray for lomeli and vote for him. meanwhile, lomeli says his confidence in bellini was shaken but still, for the last time he casts his vote for him and god didn't explode the building yet since lomeli wasn't committing perjury. for him bellini IS the best person for the job. it was only when in that very same ballot, when bellinis votes went to single digits that lomeli reluctantly stops voting for him.

lomeli's confidence in bellini has been shaken badly but still, STILL asks for his advice when giving another information to the conclave, this time about the terrorist attacks. he asks bellini, "Am I doing the right thing?" and bellini, recognizing and learning from his past mistake, defers judgement to lomeli and instead of abandoning him like with the simony papers, he pledges unconditional support. he doesn't need to apologize, he has learned his lesson and will do better.

in the movie, the conclusion was a lot more raw but more intimate and human with bellini baring his soul in an apology to lawrence. he saw lawrence say in the cafeteria that he had examined his conscience and it led him to this very difficult decision but it must be done because it is what is right and that perhaps triggered a deep sense of shame in bellini that he felt the need to apologize. that, after all this time, he doesn't even know what he stood for anymore. that he let himself root for someone who clearly did not deserve it. that in his zeal to stop tedesco, he forgot to examine his own morals. it was him humbling himself and choosing to connect with lawrence. he saw and admired what lawrence did. a lesser man would have been more prideful, held a grudge over being accused of accepting bribes and being a coward but bellini chooses his friend over his own ego

anyway i love them

(sidenote: i don't think "ambition is the moth of holiness" line refers to bellini himself. at this point, he had long given up on the papacy. this conversation was triggered by the tremblay simony papers. this was referring to tremblay and not bellini. this entire convo was not about bellini confessing his own ambitiousness but how he haphazardly bends his own morals in desperation.)

#conclave #aldo bellini #jacopo lomeli #thomas lawrence #lomellini #lawrellini

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lynn-w3st · 2 years ago

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MK: Preference One Shot #4

Prompt: Syzoth, Johnny, Raiden, Liu Kang, Rain, Bi Han, Tomas, and Hanzo react to the reader having a confident flirtatious and sassy personality like Bayonetta. Bonus Noob Saibot.

Note: This was requested from my dear bestie @khaotic-kris. I hope you enjoy it and I was more than happy to make this for you 😊🥺.

This took a long time to make but I’m very honor and happy to make this. So sorry if some of these came out to inaccurate, I tried my best but if you have questions please message me.

Raiden

This precious pookie is so down bad for his mommy (Y,N). He blushes deeply when you tease him but admires how confident you are.

He would literally do ANYTHING for you. Raiden often wonders how he landed with such a magnificent woman like yourself.

You often tease him when you both would be having a friendly spar in the academy. Johnny teases him badly when he is caught staring at you. (Please let him marry you.)

Raiden gets super flustered when you flirt with him and often tries to flirt back but your mommy rizz is to much for him.

Aside from all the teasing and flirting, you have a very strong and unbreakable bond with him as you are willing to go through hardships and obstacles to protect him.

Raiden worries for you as he knows that you hate being emotionally vulnerable in which he reminds you that it is ok to seek help as he’s willing do anything for you.

This precious pookie would do anything for you and his deep unconditional love for you is what makes him train harder and vows to always protect you and make you happy.

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

Liu Kang

This man is precious and a gentleman. Please he gets super flustered when you tease him or jokingly flirt with him on random occasions.

Liu Kang doesn’t really know how to handle a woman of that caliber such as yourself but he is respectful and caring towards you.

He is such a gentleman towards you it’s so adorable. Gets shy when you flirt with him to rizz him up but he is extremely loyal.

This man immediately notice your fake behavior by trying to act sassy to cover up your emotional vulnerability. Please this man will remind you that it is ok to show emotions and to let yourself be vulnerable.

Liu Kang will support you and show you how much he loves you and how much he cares even when he’s busy as an Elder God.

He admires your overprotective attitude towards him and to others as you are willing to go through hell to protect those you love.

This adorable pookie is a gentleman and a softly because he’s willing to always protect and shower you with his unconditional love.

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Zeffeero (Rain)

Zeffeero admires your confidence since he’s also confident and a bit arrogant himself. He is old school will court you the old fashion way.

Rain will actually flirt back at you but in a formal and romantic way. He is Outworld’s best mage so he is immediately courting you by sending you love letters and flowers.

He loves the way you tease others and admires your sassy attitude as he finds it very attractive when you use your rizz.

Zeffeero will show you his magic and often do little shows with it to make you smile and laugh just for you because he’s in love.

Since you are a powerful witch yourself, Rain would often ask if you don’t mind training him so he can admire your skills.

He notice how much you would cover up your emotional vulnerability by putting up a fake sassy behavior but will remind you that it is ok to be vulnerable and seek support.

Rain loves you so much as he is willing to support you and will do anything for you.

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

Syzoth (Reptile)

Like Raiden, Syzoth is deeply in love with you but often times he wonders why would you fall in love and marry with a freak monster like him.

This cutie of a man get so flustered easily as he deeply loves you with all his heart and often gets scared that you would get taken away from him like his previous family.

Szyoth would get extremely flustered and cover his blush face when you flirt with him and shower him with kisses and cuddles.

Please he would do anything for you as he is afraid to lose you to and often tells you that he’s will be there for you all the times.

Johnny teases the hell out of him when you flirt with him. He deeply admires your confidence and headstrong attitude.

Syzoth deeply worries for you as he sees how much you dislike being emotionally vulnerable and often reminds you that he is there for you and will do anything for you.

To say the least Szyoth can’t image a life without you as you are his world and new purpose. He loves you and will protect you

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Tomas (Smoke)

This pookie cinnamon roll is in love with you that it’s so wholesome and adorable. He loves his strong and confident princess and is a good boyfriend to you. Biggest green card ever.

Tomas gets extremely shy and flustered when you tease him occasionally. This man will blush super madly that smoke (no pun intended) will come out from his body.

This man will do anything for you and often admires your confident and sassy attitude as it lightens up his day after feeling down.

Smokey bear treats his princess with lots of love and care. Often makes you relax as he cooks, cleans and tends to your needs. You both would cuddle in each others arms.

Madam Bo (Granny) playfully teases him when he would take you on a date to her tea house. She is proud of her baby boy.

Often worries for you when you try to hide your emotional vulnerability as he wants to help you and is willing to share your burden.

He admires your fighting skills and has heart eyes when you would take down your enemies. His loyalty to you is unbreakable as he is willing to go to the end of the world just for you as he wants spend his life with you and hopes to start a family of his own.

Johnny Cage

Knowing his cocky and arrogant personality this man has a huge mommy kink for you. (He doesn’t mind you stepping all over on him.)

Johnny will literally worship the ground you walk on. This man is such a big simp to you that he is willing to do ANYTHING for you.

This man will constantly posts about you on social media like it’s not even funny. He is so super down bad for you that he gets extremely blushy and hot when you flirt.

Star boy here would faint at the amount of teasing and flirting he gets from you. Your mommy rizz makes him feel so blushy.

Please this man desperate for his mommy that he is puppy material when you save his life and vows to treat you like a Queen.

Aside from his simp behavior, Johnny is a good partner and often makes you feel safe and comfortable by making dinner or giving you loads and loads of hugs and soft kisses.

Johnny loves your sassy nature but often gets worried as he notice that you dislike showing emotional vulnerability which he reminds you that he is supporting you and that he’s willing to help you out in anyway.

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

Bi Han (Sub Zero)

Like Johnny, this man secretly has a mommy kink. The Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei is a simp for a strong and loyal woman like yourself that is the only one fit to rule by his side as his wife.

Bi Han will lowkey get a bit erotic when you flirt and tease him. This man is secretly a mommy worshipper he’s down bad for you.

He admires your confident personality and fighting skills. Worships you by treating you like an empress and gifting you expensive gifts for you like jewelry, clothes and etc.

The Grandmaster will not allow anyone to disrespect you and show them how much you mean to the Lin Kuei. He will kill for you and gets jealous when you tease others. (He gets rizz up by your teasing nature.)

Expect a lot of heating and intimate private moments between the two of you. Let’s just say he makes sure to show you who you belong to by marking you as his.

Bi Han would shower you with love and affection and does secrets services by massaging you after a long mission or simply cuddling with you in his arms.

He may not be very good with emotional support but he’s is willing to tear the world apart if someone threatens you and won’t rest until that poor bastard is dead.

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

Hanzo Hasashi (Scorpion)

The new Grandmaster of the Shirai Ryu would be both in awe and down bad in love with you. You better believe this man is on cloud nine.

This man is so in love that he gets flustered when you tease him in front of his students. He will make sure to punish you for that 😉.

Hanzo admires your confidence and loyalty and often finds your sassy nature attractive.

He knows how you hate being emotionally vulnerable so he remind you that it is ok to be vulnerable and he’s always there for you.

His students often tease him when he would get flustered when you flirt with him, this man has a bit of a mommy kink for you.

He gets a bit hard when take down the enemies and use your flirtatious skills to seduce your enemies for any information.

Hanzo loves you with his whole being and is such a gentleman towards you and will do anything for you like cooking dinner, giving you a massage or simply cuddling with you.

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Bonus: (Something extra)

Noob Saibot (Bi Han)

Just like his counterpart, this man has a very big mommy kink for you. He sees you as his beautiful goddess and will gladly serve for you.

Like I said, this man will be like Johnny and have a massive mommy kink towards you. This man will and would mark you as his.

Bi Han gets erotic when you flirt with him or tease your enemies in front of him as he felt himself get extremely possessive of you. He gets jealous and would get extremely hard.

This man will literally worship the ground you walk on. He is such a big simp to you that he is willing to do ANYTHING for you.

Expect a lot of heating and intimate private moments between the two of you. Let’s just say he makes sure to show you who you belong to by marking you as his.

Noob Saibot would gladly serve you and would deal with anyone who dares to use your emotional vulnerability against you.

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Hope you guys enjoy and this took very long to make so I’m deeply sorry if some characters came out inaccurate but I did tried my best.

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