Cherrypop-cherrybomb - Untitled

SAY IT DONT SPRAY IT MOTHERFUCKER

MANIFEST

MANIFEST

with how much time my cat spends in his litter box (and how loud that time is), i can only assume he has the greatest litter zen garden in the lands

The Goa'uld about once a year probably:

Image description: a picture of Poe Dameron from Star Wars standing in front of a crowd of people. There's a caption that says "Somehow, Daniel Jackson's returned."

God gives his hardest battles (taking decent pet pictures) to his bravest soldiers (people with black cats)

This blog has been telling you not to trust pelicans for over a decade and this is why

Lovely Thorn part 2

@zoya-olenko @ladyoflindon part 2!! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT! MDNI! Idiots in love

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The soft light of the dawn seeps through the windows, waking you slowly, your body heavy and aching from the battle, though the pain is more of a dull throb now. The first thing you notice is the warmth of a hand gripping yours, firm but trembling slightly. Blinking, you shift your gaze and find Gil-galad seated beside your bed, his normally regal face shadowed by exhaustion and worry.

“Well,” you rasp, your voice barely above a whisper. “You look dreadful, Ereinion.”

His lips twitch, but his eyes don’t lose the edge of worry. “I could say the same of you,” he replies, voice hoarse and rough, though you can tell he’s attempting to keep it light. “Not your finest look, if I may say.”

You attempt to smile, but it hurts too much to try. “Then why are you still here, looking at me like I’m about to keel over?”

His expression falters, and for the briefest moment, you see the fear he’s trying so hard to hide. “Because, for a moment, I thought I might lose you.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, the heaviness of his words making your heart thud painfully in your chest. You blink, and when you open your mouth to speak again, he beats you to it.

“Do you know,” he starts, his voice quiet and trembling just slightly, “that I’ve stood in battles most of my life? I’ve led armies, watched warriors fall under blades, stared into the eyes of death itself.” His gaze drops to your hand, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “But I have never been as terrified as I was seeing you lying there, screaming in pain.”

A lump forms in your throat, but you don’t let him see it. Not yet. You shift, sitting up gently, resting against the wall behind you. “I’m not that easy to kill, Ereinion.”

“No,” he agrees, his voice tightening, “but I think you’re reckless enough to send me to an early grave.”

You scoff, but before you can retort, he leans forward, his face just inches from yours, his expression deadly serious. “I’ve been a fool,” he says, his voice low and taut with emotion. “A damned fool for thinking that I could keep pretending I don’t care. For thinking that denying how I feel would somehow protect you.”

Your breath catches at the change in his tone. “What are you saying, Ereinion?”

“I’m saying,” he begins, his hand still gripping yours as if you might vanish, “that I love you. I’ve loved you for far longer than I care to admit, but I kept pushing you away, telling myself it was better that way. That you deserved more than the burdens I carry. More than a life tied to the High King.”

You blink, staring at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “And you didn’t think to tell me this before I got skewered by an orc?”

He huffs a breath, half a laugh, half frustration. “That would’ve been ideal, yes.”

For a moment, the tension between you flickers into something lighter, but the weight of his words quickly pulls you back down. You sit in silence, the realization settling in—he loves you. He’s loved you all this time, even while you two were too busy bickering over every little thing.

“And what if I said,” you start slowly, your heart pounding now, “that you’re an idiot for thinking I’d ever consider you a burden?”

His eyes snap to yours, surprised, wary. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” you reply, your voice sharper than you intend, “that I would bear any burden if it means being with you. If you thought I was going to walk away because your crown weighs a little heavy, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”

He stares at you, stunned into silence, before a smirk pulls at his lips. “You really are a thorn in my side, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes. “And you’re an insufferable idiot. What’s your point?”

His smirk softens, and he squeezes your hand, his voice lowering. “My point is that I love you. And if you’ll have me, thorns and all, I will gladly bear the weight of that love, every single day.”

For a moment, you can’t say anything. Your throat tightens, your heart feels too full. But then, as if the tension has finally snapped, you surge forward, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that speaks of all the frustration, all the longing, all the unsaid words between you.

He kisses you back just as fiercely, his hand slipping behind your neck, holding you close as if to make sure you’re real, that this moment isn’t some fevered dream. When you finally pull away, breathless, you rest your forehead against his, eyes closed.

“Meleth nin,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. He goes to pull away, presumably to advise Elrond of your waking. Unwilling to let him go so soon you frantically pull his lips back to yours. 

A shocked sound comes from his throat. He chuckles against your lips, kissing you back just as frantically. Ereinion's hands roam across your body, exploring every inch of skin. He presses his body against yours, feeling the warmth and desire that flows between you.

You moan softly, arching your back as Ereinion's fingers trace delicate patterns on your skin. Your hands move to undo the laces of Ereinion's shirt, revealing his muscled chest.

Your kisses grow deeper and more intense, a fiery passion igniting within you both. In this moment, you are lost in each other, blocking out the world outside.

As he pulls the sides of your garments apart, your eyes lock in a heated gaze. Ereinion's hands dance delicately along your stomach, making you shiver with anticipation. You moan softly as he kisses his way down your body, stopping to tease and nip at your sensitive spots.

You arch your back, begging for more as Ereinion slips his tongue inside you, exploring your depths. You clutch at his hair, urging him on as he continues to pleasure you. Your bodies move in perfect sync, and he growls like a man starved as he devours you.

He holds your hips down as you ride the waves of pleasure, gently coaxing you through it. He murmurs soft words of encouragement, placing kisses along your thighs, up your stomach and across your chest as he shifts to lay beside you. 

As you collapse back onto the bed, panting heavily, your heart still racing, Ereinion rolls onto his side to gaze at you. His face is flushed and bright with happiness, his eyes filled with love and satisfaction. He leans in to kiss you softly on the lips, tasting yourself on his mouth.

“I love you too, you stubborn king,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

His thumb strokes your cheek, and he smiles—a real, genuine smile that makes your heart ache in the best way. “Then stay with me,” he whispers. “At my side. Through whatever comes next. Be my queen, and together we will face the trials of the world.”

You smile, exhaustion creeping back over you, but there’s a contentment, a peace you’ve never felt before. “Always.”

Epilogue:

In the years to come, you stand as Gil-galad’s queen, a constant presence at his side as the dark shadow of Sauron rises once more over Middle-earth. The trials of the Second Age are many—wars, treachery, alliances tested—but you face them together, an unyielding pair bound by love and loyalty.

And though the crown is heavy, though the burden of leadership grows with each passing year, it never weighs you down. Not when you share it with him.

Side by side, through every storm, you remain—forever his thorn, and he, forever your maddening, beautiful king.