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dreamlandcreations · 9 months ago

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Chapter 1 • Faded dreams

Feyd x Atreides!Reader

Summary: You risk your life to find out what your dreams mean...

Warnings: space drugs (🙈), near death experience, mention of blood and death and war, no dialogue, no Feyd yet (well...), this is basically a prologue

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Your dreams were getting worse and it was getting more difficult to wake up each time. They seemed so real, yet they fade away each time within seconds as you finally jolt awake from the nightmares. All that remains is fear and a knowing that you are seeing the end.

You tried to ask your mother for help, well, more like tried to ask for information without telling her what's going on. Paul's own dreams were a good excuse to justify your curiosity but it also limited your options of inquiring about your specifically maddening problem. Because, of course your brother gets to dream about a pretty girl while you drown in a bloody nightmare every night. If only you could see more clearly, the not knowing of what these hazy images mean is almost worse than the death you witness each time.

You can't tell your mother though, or even Paul. They would try to stop you from making this utterly stupid decision that will probably result in your death. They wouldn't be able to understand that that possibility cannot be worse than this slowly driving you into insanity.

It was not as difficult as you thought, tricking a mentat, a doctor and a Bene Gesserit to give you little doses of spice to try. According to your careful research, with what you were gifted by Lady Fenring on her last visit, it should be enough to induce the process.

You waited until nighttime, until you knew everyone went to sleep. It was an unnecessary precaution as it turns out because Paul in the next room startled awake as soon as you took the spice.

With your last coherent thought you were thinking that getting hit by lightning must feel something like this. Only the energy didn't just hit you once, it was trapped inside your body, wreaking havoc in the very essence of your being. It was tearing you apart, and the pain was unbearable.

For a long while there was nothing but the pain, you did not really feel or sense anything. Then the first thing you were aware of was screaming, it took you a moment to realise it was your own, just before you had another wave of power rushing through you and you lost every bit of control over your body. The screaming stopped and you faintly heard your mother for a few seconds before the dreams drew you in.

No, not dreams, visions. You see everything all at once, and at first none of it made sense then you felt... time, in a way it couldn't be explained in words. The connections, the possibilities, the what ifs... like the branches of a tree... too many variants for even a mentat to handle and you were only half-trained at best. Yet, you understood, no, you felt, you sensed, you became a part of each version a little, living in a million moments at once, spread apart and yet still whole beneath that... like the branches of a tree...

The tree, your ancestry, you have to get to the other memory to finish the trial. You try to look within yourself, slightly distracted by regaining some of your physical sense and weakly trying to fight off the poison of the spice.

At the end of the spiral you see a figure, a source of all the death and misery that haunts you. A familiar, yet strange face that seemed to look into your soul. There is that rage and madness you started to see in your own reflection, only this gaze, this unnatural blue scared you more than your own demons.

Well, she is your demon in a way.

With that thought the spice floods your mind again, taking you where you wanted to go, forcing you down on the line of your ancestors, their knowledge and experience becoming a part of your consciousness but you know something is terribly wrong when your mind takes a path that no Bene Gesserit has before. You see your father and his entire line, both female and male members of your extended family tree on his part. And it comes surprisingly easy to you, too easy.

Your mother's line stops with her, there's something horrible beyond that which your mind cannot deal with and it almost shatters you.

On the inside you struggle to get out of the darkness that pulls you in. On the outside your body crashes, your heart stops, and so does your breathing.

You hear Paul's yell to the doctor to do something, followed by your mother's command, using the Voice to order you to breathe. With your last bit of strength leaving you, it feels like what you would call your soul starts to leave your body. It is quite peaceful actually, there's no more pain or worry, only a calm nothingness but unlike the previous cold and twisted darkness that came from within this feels right and you almost slip away from existence when you feel something, someone catch you and practically drag you back.

There's a voice, a command of a simple "No!" comes with the force that knocks you down and holds you in this world. The tone is unfamiliar, the raspy voice with the obvious rage laced into it sounds more like a growl than anything else and it is followed by a similarly angry, yet so much louder order, "FIGHT!"

The presence is gone as soon as it came but you are tethered to your body again, feeling how it shuts down sparks a sudden defiance in you. Not really knowing what you're doing, you will your heart's muscles to move, to pump the remaining spice through your body and your cells absorb it, sparkling to new life, then you slowly and now consciously start to sort of reboot your system with this new strange energy.

When you are done you just rest, unable to truly sleep but too tired to move too, you think. Going through the visions again and again, you start to see a pattern. As soon as you understand the reasons behind the events, it all comes together, all the previously possible paths become clear until a certain point.

Hours go by as you lie there, practically trapped in your own body but there's no fear in you anymore, you are too busy planning your next move. And the next, and the next.

You might have failed getting through the Spice Agony and it's a miracle you are alive but it doesn't matter, it wasn't an unnecessary risk after all, you know the truth now. There is only one person who's decisions changed the end game, all the others who you thought had enough power to be key persons could only influence the path, not the outcome. So you know, your mother can never set foot on Arrakis and if you have to take her place in the story, so be it.

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#feyd #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x you #my stuff #my fics

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 years ago

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What's your price?

Request: For your inspire me challenge, can I request a dark! Tony Stark x f! Reader with smut ? Reader would be a intern for SI? And he tries to flirt with her but she rejects him everytime cause she has no interest so he kidnaps her or blackmails her into being a relationship with him?

AN: Thank you @ironlady1993 (it won't let me tag you!) for your request. This ended up being more soft!dark! than actual dark! but I hope that you still enjoy it. I haven’t written for Tony very often, but I hope this works.

Beta’d by @buckyismybicycle

Moodboard by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Relationship: Soft! Dark! Tony Stark x Naive! Intern Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

CW:Toxic Narcissist Tony, Sexual Harassment, Manipulation, Dub-con, implied smut, shifting POV

Tony was well aware that he was spoiled - he was uber-rich for God’s sake, it would be a miracle if he wasn’t. He was also aware that everything and everyone was for sale; it was just a matter of finding the right currency, and he could always afford it, no matter what it was. Just look at Pepper.

He’d wanted her and he’d got her, all it had cost him was making her CEO of the company. She’d thought it important, but Tony hadn’t, and still didn’t. The company could fold tomorrow or never trade again, and he would continue to sit in the lap of luxury until his final breath. And even though he’d gotten bored of her, it paid to keep her sweet and let her remain in the role that she thought gave her power.

Most times it was easy to gain what he craved - for most people a direct monetary transaction was enough. However, sometimes it took a bit longer to find the right… motivator. He never minded though. These instances normally had a better payoff. Truth be told, it was a rare occurrence he had to actually put work in and he enjoyed the novelty. And what a novelty you were.

In some ways you reminded him of Pepper. You were clever, beautiful, and competent. However, with you, Tony sensed a softness, a caring and loving soul. He wondered if that’s what had been missing from his life so far? But, you also appeared to have a strong moral code. Tony could respect that, but he would admit it was getting just a little frustrating.

He’d never had to work this hard to encourage an intern to sleep with him. In fact, he’d never really had to do anything other than ask - most people would give a limb or promise their first born child, for such an invitation. Also, not to blow his own trumpet, he was a good lover. A considerate lover. All parties came away satisfied. Yet, you seemed to not want it.

He was sure you were just playing hard to get - holding out for something more. He just had to discover what it was that you wanted from him, because everybody always wanted something from him. Everybody always had a price.

You groaned as you got out of bed and got ready for your day. Why was your life such a gigantic mess, when initially it had looked so promising? When you told people that you interned at Stark Industries, they couldn’t believe your luck. You let out a derisive snort.

Luck? Huh!

If you were so lucky, why were you living in a shitty apartment? If you were so lucky, why were you broke? And if you were so lucky, why were you having to go out of your way everyday to avoid your boss?

You knew the reason for the first two; the reason that all of your money disappeared as soon as it hit your account, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It was a choice you’d made and you’d make the same choice over and over again. The third thing, though? As far as you were aware, you hadn’t done anything specific to attract his attention.

Like anyone, when you’d first met Tony Stark you were in awe. He was a genius, a billionaire and very handsome. He was charismatic, not afraid to muck in with anyone he worked with, and knew everyone’s names. However, it didn’t take you long to realise he was a raging ego-maniac, not afraid to throw a temper tantrum when he didn’t get his way. His mood could spin on a dime and you’d seen your fair share of red flags in your life to know that no matter how tempting he was - and, boy, was he - accepting your boss’s overt offer would not be a good idea.

When you’d initially turned him down, you’d been worried that you’d lose your position, but that hammer hadn’t fallen, and you’d breathed a huge sigh of relief. You had enough to worry about without adding unemployment into the mix.

With another sigh, you grabbed your keys, SI pass, purse and jacket, and headed out of your dingy accommodation towards the subway.

“Come on, Sugar-pie. What could one little drink hurt?”

You kept your eyes on the papers in front of you, trying not to roll them, as your erstwhile suitor leant over your desk, his index finger resting on the wood right next to your hand, oh-so-close to stroking your skin.

“Mr. Stark-”

“-Tony.”

You couldn’t hold back your sigh of irritation.

“Tony. I’m working. I’m busy. I have all these reports to go over.”

His hand moved away from yours, but in the next second your head was being tilted up, away from where you were studiously focusing, by pressure exerted under your chin.

Tony’s handsome face came into focus, with his sparkling whisky dark eyes, and dark brown, almost black facial hair, trimmed with precision, surrounding pink lips that twitched with amusement.

“You do know I’m the boss and I could order you not to do the reports.”

“I think you’ll find that Ms. Potts is the boss, and she’s the one who asked me to do them.”

Tony obviously didn’t have the same qualms as you about rolling his eyes in a professional setting.

“Pphht! Don’t worry about Pep. She’s only the boss cos I let her be.”

You pushed your chair back, removing your face from his touch.

“Look, Mr. Stark,” You raised your hand when he was about to protest his title, again. “I’m flattered. I really am. But I’m not interested, and I’d really just like to get on with my work. I’m sure you have more suits to tinker with and other interns to flirt with.”

He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and observed you for a moment.

“Fine. Have it your way for now, Sugar-pie.” His tone was light, amusement etched across his features, but there was an undercurrent of… something as he spoke. “I know you like me and you’re just playing hard to get. I’ll see you later.” He turned on his heels, shoved his hands in pants pockets and walked away from your desk, jauntily whistling.

At half past five you pushed back your chair and stood, letting out a groan as you did. Your eyes were tired from going over the reports all day, and now you just had to turn them in with your overview and comments, so you could finally make your way home.

With the stash of manilla folders in hand you walked down the corridor to Pepper’s office. She’d be gone by now - she’d let you know earlier in the day that she had an external meeting and that you should just leave the reports on her desk for the next morning.

Pushing open the door, you headed towards her pristinely organised desk, placed the folders with their cover note front and centre, turned around and… screamed.

You literally jumped in the air, your hands coming up to your chest.

Tony smiled at you from where he was leaning against the bookcase next to the door.

“Hey, Sugar-pie. I know I’m a catch, but no need to jump out of your skin for me.”

He stood up and walked towards you. No, stalked towards you like a sleek leopard in the jungle, tracking its prey. You didn’t even realise you were backing up until your lower back connected with the edge of the desk.

“Umm… Mr. Stark…”

He leant one hand on the desk, next to your hip and raised the other to press a finger to your mouth.

“How many times do I have to tell you, call me Tony. And are we going to go get that drink?”

Frustration welled within you.

“And how many times do I have to tell you, Mr Stark, that I’m not interested.” You pushed away from him and made your way towards the door, but were halted in your tracks by what he said next.

“Not even to help your grandmother?”

You didn’t turn, but your hands tensed into fists.

“What did you say?” The words left your lips as an angry hiss.

“Your grandmother. She’s in that crappy hospital in Queens, right?” You felt him come up behind you, his breath hitting your ear from how close he was. “She’s not doing too well, is she? I’m sure I could make her a lot more comfortable. Move her to a better hospital here in Manhattan. The best doctors, the best nurses.”

Tony’s hands settled on your waist, thumbs stroking where your blouse met the waistband of your pencil skirt, yet you didn’t pull away and anger flared within you, directed at yourself for not moving. His body shifted even closer so his front pressed against your back, and you could feel his arousal.

Bile burned your throat. This was all wrong, yet… you were considering it. Considering prostituting yourself because, dammit, Tony could make a big difference to your grandmother’s remaining days. And would it really be that bad? You’d heard the rumours of his bedroom prowess, and you did find him attractive.

“W-what would happen? When you get bored?”

“You think I’d get bored of you, Sugar-pie? Don’t put yourself down.” His hands slid around your waist and you lowered your eyes, unable to resist watching as he placed his left one on your stomach and his right underneath, his be-ringed pinky finger resting on your mound. “But to illustrate a point, Pepper’s still CEO isn’t she? That was her price. Yours is care and safety for your grandmother.”

You almost baulked at it being put so bluntly, but Tony’s arms held you firm. “Don’t be embarrassed. Everyone has their price and I’m more than willing to pay yours. Your grandmother could live another hundred years and it wouldn’t make a dent in my bank account.”

“You could just do it out of the goodness of your heart then, if the money means so little.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

His head came even closer and he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, over your pulse point, threatening to rip away the last shred of your morals and self-control.

“This is manipulation, Mr. Stark.”

“Think of it more as a business transaction if it makes you feel better.” He placed a second kiss on your now heated skin and you bit your lip. “I’ll be good to you, Sugar-pie. You’ll be on my arm, dressed as befits beauty such as yours. Other men will want you, but you’ll forget all about them when you’re in my bed.”

He started to sway, moving your body with his. His right hand lowered, fully resting over your sex, gently cupping it. Again, you didn’t pull away, didn’t make any move to dissuade him. You should be though. Your moral compass was screaming at you, but your body was ignoring it in favour of the dizzying sensations that even these few small touches were eliciting and your mind was hurriedly weighing up your options.

“So… just to recap… I date you, publicly. Be your arm candy, warm your bed, and you move my grandmother to the best facility in Manhattan, and will continue to pay for her comfort and care, even if she outlives your interest in me. What if she passes away before then?”

You hadn’t even agreed to his proposition, but his right hand was slowly pulling up your skirt, the fabric concertina-ing around your abdomen, and his left was deftly undoing button after button on your blouse. You realised that your own hands were no longer balled into fists or lying limply at your sides - they were clutching at the outside of his thighs, anchoring yourself to him.

“Then you would be free to end our association, unless we came to some other arrangement. However, I’d like to think that you wouldn’t want to, though. That you would be so enraptured by my attention, my care, that you’d never want to leave.”

As he started to drag the woven cotton from your left shoulder, you instinctively tilted your neck, giving him greater access to your skin. An involuntary sigh escaped your lips as his mouth travelled over your shoulder, his facial hair tickling your skin.

You screwed your eyes shut, knowing that this was the point of no return. He’d already won. He knew it. You knew it.

“I- I agree, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony, Sugar-pie. You really have to use my name now. At least in public. If you prefer another title for private, I’m quite happy with Sir, or even Daddy.”

Oh fuck! Just the thought of using one of those, of submitting to him in such a way was sending you into free fall. You hated how easily you’d succumbed. However, you were jerked out of it, when Tony suddenly took a step back from you.

You whirled around in shock, clothing completely dishevelled. Tony had his phone to his ear, acting for all the world as though he didn’t have an erection straining the fabric of his designer suit jacket.

“Happy? Yes, get it all sorted, please. An agreement has been made.”

The conversation was short and pointed, ending after a few seconds, and Tony tossed his phone onto Pepper’s desk before reaching up to loosen his tie and pop the top button of his shirt. Then, in one stride he was back in front of you, his left arm around your waist, pulling you to him, and his right brushing over your hair. You looked up at him, saw the twitch of his lips and felt yourself pulled into the depths of his eyes.

“Now, where were we, Sugar-pie?”

His lips descended and just before his kisses made you entirely senseless, you wondered if you’d regret this decision. You hadn’t ever thought things would turn out like this, but it turned out you had a price after all.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @sidepartskinnyjeans @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

#tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x reader #late writes #tony stark x you #soft!dark!Tony Stark #soft dark tony stark #tw: manipulation #fic request

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gunnrblze · 4 months ago

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Okay so your moodboard for Keegan and Ajax got me thinking (plus that old ask way back comparing Keegan and Ajax to the moon and sun respectively) I apologize in advance for my ramblings and the length of this

My song of choice is The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives (aka one of my favorite songs)

"Tell me once again I could have been anyone, anyone else before you made the choice for me."

Basically.. Sandviper. It all set into motion Keegan and Ajax becoming Ghosts -> Ajax's eventual demise

"My feet knew the path we walked in the dark, in the dark, I never gave a single thought where it might lead."

Keegan and Ajax became Ghosts together, walking the same path. In their line of work, you can't really know where the future will go, so they might have tried to live life in the present savoring the moments they had together

"All those empty rooms, we could have been anywhere, anywhere else. Instead I made a bed with apathy."

This just reminds me of Keegan searching for Ajax during struck down, clearing room through room searching for him. I feel like part of Keegan knew Ajax wasn't making it out alive.

"My heart knew the weight, ten years' worth of dust and neglect, we made our peace with weariness and let it be."

More Sandviper for the soul. Your honor, they're tired

"The moon will sing a song for me, I loved you like the sun. Bore the shadows that you made with no light of my own."

I like to think Ajax brought out the best in Keegan, the sun shining his light onto him in a sense. Without the sun's light, you can't see the moon. They both had dark parts of their lives, but Keegan was more than willing to bear both of their pasts if it meant Ajax would continue to shine. Extrovert with their adopted introvert my beloved

"I shine only with the light you gave me." x2

Keegan was aggressive, desperate to get his other half back. He goes from yelling at Federation soldiers to cradling Ajax's body, carrying him with reverence as he's just lost part of his soul, his source of light

"Name your courage now, we could have had anything, anything else instead you hoarded all that's left of me."

Keegan towards Rorke no doubt. Not sticking around for a fight after killing one of their own? Coward. Rorke took the greatest thing in Keegan's life and didn't even hang around to see what he caused- leaving Ajax to have to drop the bombshell that Rorke was hunting Ghosts.

"Swallowing your doubt, like swords to the pit of my belly. I want to feel the fire that you kept from me."

More Keegan vs Rorke here. I'd say if Hesh wasn't the most likely to kill Rorke, Keegan would be a runner up as Ajax's death definitely hurt. What hurts more is that Ajax died from a stab to the stomach by a Federation soldier (like swords to the pit of my belly)

Anyways thanks for letting me lyric dump, I love The Crane Wives and have plenty of other songs that get me thinking about the Ghosts. I hope this made sense

HELLOOOO WHAT?😭 i literally love this song, but the Keejax breakdown? MY HEART omg, makes total sense ur a genius. This is literally their song I’m afraid, such a good dissection of them

“I shine only with the light you gave me” I’ll cry rn

#thank you bestie this made me feel insane #call of duty ghosts #keegan russ #alex ajax johnson #keegan russ x alex ajax johnson #keejax #gunnrblze rambles

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galway-girlatwork · 8 hours ago

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WIP Thursday

Well according to Megan, if I wanted to play, I just needed to consider myself tagged. Now who am I to argue with such sound advice?

I have more WIP's than I can fuckin shake a stick at and one resolution was to not start anymore until the ones I have are done.

In saying that I am currently working on Freya and Jo's...

For Jo's-It is her epistolary for her DEAR-UARY. I got Din and the prompt is "This might be the first fight in history solved entirely through XX." I went with through journal entries. Snip below:

Eve,

I’m sorry. I know those words feel empty right now, but they’re true. I hate that I let you down. I was stuck in that deposition, and all I could think about was getting out in time to make it to your concert. But by the time I looked at the clock, it was too late. I didn’t call because I didn’t want to hear the disappointment in your voice. That’s no excuse, but it’s the truth.

Din,

Thank you for saying you’re sorry. But it’s not just about that one night. This has been building for a long time. I feel like I’m always fighting for a place in your life. You’re so good at what you do, and I’m proud of you, but sometimes I feel invisible. Do you even see me anymore? I don't think you do and I don't know if any of this is working any more.

This is for Freya's angst challenge. I am so messing with history on this. The moodboard she made is fuckin beautiful. It is Oberyn and well angst. I sent this snip to Jana, and she said "she already loves it and that it's gonna hurt so good." Love ya Jana. Snip below:

“Father why has this happened, you need to fix this, now. It is the closest I’ve been to him remembering. I can’t take this constant crushing hurt. We were so close.”

“I cannot. You know this. All the lives you’ve led with him will end the same, until he remembers. My child, you wanted your humanity for this man, this is the price you must pay for it.”

He watched his child collapse on the cold stone floor, great sobs wrenched from her soul, hating to see her in this kind of pain. Enveloping her within the folds of his cloak, shielding her from prying eyes, trying to give comfort as best he could. “Lilith, I must ask, is this man worth what you have gone through? What you will continue to go through?”

“Always father.”

Tagging @jolapeno @almostfoxglove @guiltyasdave @goodwithcheese and @saradika-graphics for the awesome divider.

#my wips #din djarin #oberyn martell #angst #writing challenge #wip wednesday #wip thursday #cause i'm a day late

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legolasbadass · 2 years ago

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The Shadows Which Fire Throws

Summary: Thorin thought he had lost everything when the dragon came and forced the dwarves of Erebor out of their homeland, but when his brother Frerin perishes in the climactic battle in their years-long war against the orcs, Thorin discovers the true meaning of loss. A few years after the Battle of Azanulbizar, Thorin travels from village to village, seeking work as a blacksmith so he can help support his family. One day, he catches young boys playing near the forge, and the sight brings back memories of his childhood in Erebor and his brother, whom he misses dearly.

Relationship: Thorin & Dís & Frerin

Rating: G

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is my entry for @thorinsspringforge! Thank you to my amazing friend and partner for this event @lathalea for all your support and feedback. She created a wonderful moodboard (see above) for the event, so make sure you give her some love for that❤️

The fire of the forge burned in Thorin’s eyes as he swung the hammer down on the anvil with such force that he felt the blow reverberate through his body. Another day of work. Another day of enduring suspicions from Men. The skills of the Dwarves were revered in all Middle-earth, but the Dwarves themselves were looked upon with disdain—like a foreign curiosity that did not belong in this part of the world.

Thorin, once the heir to the most powerful kingdom of Dwarves, was now forced to wander the villages of Men and beg for work. An ache stabbed his chest as the sight of Erebor returned to his mind, unbidden. The halls bathed in golden light. The roaring fires and the songs of the blacksmiths echoing through the forges. Thorin tried to banish the memories by focusing on the task at hand—by reminding himself that he was but a blacksmith now and Erebor was lost, but that only reminded him of just that—everything he had lost. With each blow of the hammer, images of his homeland tore at his soul. But working as a blacksmith was the only way he managed to feed his family, so he swallowed back the pain and carried on.

It was spring now—but that hardly mattered. It was always warm in the smithy, and Thorin cared not for the little things which made the passing of seasons so marvellous to ordinary folk. Leaves turning to fire and gold and coming to rest on the forest floor. A blanket of glittering snow enveloping the land. Flowers waking from their sleep, bathing in the morning mist. It only reminded him of how quickly his life was slipping by him. And Thorin did not want to be reminded of that.

Outside the dark smithy, the village carried on as it always did. Farmers visiting from nearby lands and stopping at the dilapidated inn around the corner for a pint or two. Carts rolling on the muddy streets toward the market, where bakers and butchers and even a weaver or two sold goods to their neighbours. Travellers seldom stumbled upon this corner of the world. It was forgotten. A mere shadow of what it had been in days of old.

Just like him.

On the other side of the narrow street from the smithy was a group of young boys. They were playing a game involving dice Thorin knew from his childhood. Thorin found that fascinating—how children of different races, in all corners of the world, played the same games—but he might have found more joy in the sight if it did not remind him so much of his late brother.

Frerin had been such a lively boy, always pranking his siblings—and unsuspecting adults. Always smiling and laughing. Thorin supposed he must have been that way, too, once. At least, that was what the stories his mother had recounted and his memories told him. But he often felt like those memories did not even belong to him. They belonged to another life. And now, only the cracks in his heart remained as proof that once, he had been that young boy. Full of life. Full of hope. Even his body sometimes did not feel like his own. His mother used to say that there was honour and glory to be found in scars, for they marked a warrior’s victories. Thorin’s body was a map of all the fights he had survived, yes, but there was nothing glorious about it. It was a reminder of all the people he had lost—all those he had failed to protect.

The sun was rising, lighting the mountains on fire, as the dwarves made their final approach toward the Dimrill Dale. Toward the last battle of this terrible war that had already cost them countless lives. The other houses of dwarves had sent troops to aid the Longbeards from all corners of Middle-earth. Before they marched upon the gate, King Thrain spoke to the soldiers ahead of the battle. He spoke of avenging the late King Thrór, Thorin’s grandfather, and of reclaiming the halls of their forefathers. He spoke of honour and glory, but as Thorin glanced back at Frerin, all he could think of was to protect. His brother was far too young for war—too young for all the atrocities the world had thrown at him—but it was too late.

Thorin instructed Frerin to stay by his side. He promised he would keep him safe, but even as he spoke, he knew he did not have the power to make such a promise. Only Mahal could have saved him then, but that was not as reassuring to the exiled prince as it once would have been.

But Frerin smiled back at him. He was afraid, but he was even more determined. Durin’s folk do not flee from a fight, he had said, speaking the ancient words of their house, which their father had so often spoken to them in their youth.

The swoosh of a blade. Splashes of blood. His sword stained black. It reminded him of a quill dipped in ink before it is thrust into parchment by a poet to write words celebrating life and love and beauty. But this was no such tale.

This was a tragedy.

He remembered being a young boy in Erebor, standing in the training grounds, his brother and sister at his side. Always at his side. Together, they mastered the sword, the axe, the bow, and all other such arts their teachers deemed fit for the heirs of Durin to learn. Back then, it had all seemed like a game—a game with no real consequences other than a few bruises the next day. A game at which you always got a second chance. But as the battle drew on and the bodies piled up around him, Thorin knew this was no game. There would be no second chance.

When the first scream tore through the air, Thorin’s blood froze in his veins, and he felt the blow of the mace as though it had struck his own chest. With a deafening cry that could have brought down the mountains from Angmar to Methedras, Thorin tore through the orcs to stand between his brother and his enemy and raised his shield to cover them both. A pale orc with scars carved deep into his twisted, evil face looked down at him. Thorin used all the strength remaining in his body to defeat the orc, not stopping even when his shield was ripped from his hands and he was forced to defend himself with an oaken branch. And by the time Thorin defeated the orc and he could rush to his brother’s side, it was too late.

The snow-covered ground was soaked with blood.

Thorin remembered running through the forest just outside Erebor as a young dwarf, trying to catch up to Frerin and Dís. It was a game; he would close his eyes and let them hide, and then he would have to find them. Thorin was getting old for such activities, but he could never refuse his siblings. The air smelled of bluebells and cornflowers, and golden beams of sunlight snuck through the green canopy overhead, lighting his path deeper into the woods. That day, Thorin was having more trouble than usual finding his siblings, but he was not worried. He could hear their muffled giggles, telling him they were not far, and Thorin knew that no matter the obstacles, they always found their way to each other eventually.

Frerin always came back to him—until now.

When the wicked worm attacked Erebor, desecrating their fathers’ halls and robbing them of their home, Thorin thought he had experienced the most terrible tragedy. But as he stood in the grave that had become Azanulbizar, holding onto Frerin’s limp, lifeless body, he finally understood the true meaning of loss. His tears mingled with the blood and dirt on his cheeks. He looked up to the cloudy sky; the moon was hiding that night, but a few stars looked upon the desolation. Was Mahal up there, watching them? If he was, why did he not help them? Had one of Thorin’s ancestors offended Mahal somehow, and thus doomed their line forever?

When, many hours later, Thorin was forced to bid his brother farewell, he took from his belt a dagger, and as his blood-stained hand wrapped itself around the hilt, he vowed to carry it with him for as long as he lived. Thorin wished Dís had been there, for he truly believed that the three of them together could face anything. They could have protected him together, just like when they were innocent dwarflings.

“Thorin?”

A gentle voice, like the melodious singing of the first birds in spring, pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up from the anvil to find Dís standing in the doorway, the golden light of the setting sun making her silhouette glow. A soft, sad smile tugged at her lips as she watched him uncertainly.

“What are you still doing here, brother?” she asked. “Night is falling.”

“I must have lost track of time,” Thorin replied absently, trying to chase away the memories still floating in his mind, to no avail. “I will join you in a moment.”

Dís nodded, and as she turned around to wait outside, the silver beads in her raven hair and beard gleamed in the last rays of the sun, and Thorin was reminded of how the sun used to shine upon the highest peak of the Lonely Mountain.

When Thorin stepped out of the smithy some time later and locked the door, night had fallen. Only a thin stream of gold peaking over the horizon remained.

“Will you tell me what is on your mind?” Dís asked hesitantly.

Stone walls. The hard floor of the training ground as laughter echoed all around him. Pine needles burning under the dragon’s fiery breath. His shield crashing against the bloodied rocks.

“I was thinking of Frerin.”

A shadow fell over Dís’ fair face, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. They had rarely spoken of him since the war. In the months following Azanulbizar, all had wept for Frerin, but the pain was too great, and his memory became a wound that refused to heal. His father had always buried his emotions, and with time, Thorin decided that he must do the same. That was the only way he could survive this agony. And now Dís was married, and soon she would have her own family, so it did not feel right to burden her with his grief. It did not feel right to taint her new life with the horrors of the past which refused to let go of him. As such, he was not sure why he uttered their brother’s name on this spring evening, as night swallowed the village in its blue cloak.

“I miss him terribly.” Dís admitted after a long moment of silence, her voice low, as though she was afraid to speak those words. She surprised Thorin again when she said, “Do you remember when we were children, how the Mountain would sometimes wake and Amad would sing to us to comfort us?”

Thorin remembered; as a child, the tremors had frightened him, for he had not understood them. His mother would wrap her arms around all three of them, and her voice would banish all evils lurking in the depths of the Mountain. He remembered her fair voice—so similar to his sister’s—and the gentle touch of her hands against his shoulder. He would have smiled at the memory if it did not hurt so much. He desperately wanted to stop talking about it, but he owed it to Dís, whom he had disappointed too often. Despite the tears clouding her vision, she seemed to derive comfort from the memory.

“Of course, I remember. You would press your little body against me and I would not be allowed to let go until you deemed it was safe—and that often meant holding you until you fell asleep.”

Dís smiled wistfully, and when she reached out for his hand and leaned her head into his shoulder, Thorin momentarily felt once more like a young dwarf whose only heroic feat to date was chasing his sister’s nightmares away.

Dís went on, her voice heavy with emotion. “When her singing was not enough to comfort me, I remember her telling me that as long as we had each other—you, me, and Frerin—then all would be well.”

The scream. The blood. His brother’s eyes looking back at him for the last time.

“I am so sorry, Dís. It is all my fault.”

His sister’s misty eyes sought his gaze in vain. “You did everything you could to protect him.”

If he had, Frerin would still be here. Thorin had failed him—he had failed them both.

Dís’ sniffling pulled him back to the present, and though Thorin barely had enough strength to maintain his composure, he pulled his sister into his arms and held her tight, hoping he could offer her the comfort he sought so desperately.

“Even after all this time, I hate myself for not having been at his side. Perhaps things might have turned out differently….” She shook her head. “But I was not, and we cannot change the past. So I beg you, brother, do not torture yourself needlessly. I cannot bear the thought of you suffering in silence.”

“And you need not worry yourself on my account. I am fine.”

Dís looked up at him and raised her eyebrows, knowing it was a lie. She was silent for a moment; the wind tore at her blue dress, and in her eyes, the light of the stars and moon shone brightly. “No matter what happens—no matter how much our lives may change—I will always be there for you, Thorin. Please do not ever doubt it. I could not save Frerin, but I am at your side. Always.”

A wistful smile lit up his tired face. He remembered when Dís was born. A storm raged on all day, but as night fell and her cries filled the royal chambers, the sky turned quiet, and the pale light of a crescent moon shone upon the mountain. He remembered, too, how her presence never failed to brighten even the darkest of days. Even after the dragon stole their home and they wandered through the wilderness, cold, starving, and exhausted, Dís could make anyone laugh. She could make anyone feel like there was a reason to keep going—like there was a reason to keep living. She was always the strongest of Durin’s heirs, and now, as Thorin pulled her into his arms, a weight was lifted from his shoulders. A weight that he had been carrying for longer than he could remember.

“And I am at yours, dearest sister.”

Her smaller hand took refuge in his as they walked in silence the rest of the way. High in the sky, a crescent moon illuminated their path.

Tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @mcchberry @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my tag list! 💙

#TSF23 #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #thorin #thorin fanfic #dis #frerin #durin siblings

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agentstarkid · 2 months ago

Text

m e e t . . . vittoria sousa

(the joker & the queen's character moodboard & hc's)

☀ Vittoria Micaela Sousa Lopes — March 8, 1997

☀ Vitto is the heart of sunshine, warmth, and endless good vibes from São José dos Campos, Brazil. With her Pisces soul, she moves through life with a dreamy quality, always smiling, always ready for a good time, and never far from a laugh.

☀ As a dancer and model, she’s got that natural grace. When Vitto joined Y/N’s first tour as a dancer nearly a decade ago, she had no idea it’d also be the start of their lifelong friendship. Now, they’re inseparable, and Vitto’s made herself a fixture in everyone’s lives, her positivity and laid-back attitude grounding the group in the best way.

☀ Vitto’s not only got moves on the dance floor—she’s also an incredible painter. Her house is full of vibrant canvases that reflect her creativity and passion, though few people know she’s a secret powerhouse singer too.

☀ She had Izabele at 24—totally unplanned but not unwanted—and prides herself on being a “cool mom,” letting Iza grow up surrounded by love, laughter, and creativity.

☀ She doesn’t take life too seriously and believes in embracing every moment, always saying things like “If it’s meant to be, it’ll be” with that easygoing smile.

☀ This woman is as nurturing as she is spirited—a natural caretaker who makes everyone feel at home the moment they’re with her. She’s the friend who’ll listen to your worries and give you the warmest hug, with a heart as vast as her imagination.

☀ If you’re feeling down, Vitto’s got you covered with a cozy blanket, some feijoada, and one of her all-encompassing hugs that instantly makes you feel lighter. And if she really wants to spoil you, she might whip up some Vatapá, her go-to comfort dish straight from Brazil, because she’s convinced there’s nothing that can’t be solved by good food and good company.

☀ Also when it comes to cheering people up, she’s got a foolproof method: spontaneous dance parties. Vitto will turn any moment into a mini carnival if it means getting a laugh or a smile out of someone.

☀ She’s absolutely obsessed with Guaraná Antarctica—it’s practically her fuel, and she’s got a mini stash of cans everywhere: her car, her bag, and even stashed at her friends’ places “just in case.” Whenever they’re out and she’s got her hands on one, she’ll jokingly say it’s “a taste of home” before downing it with a content sigh.

☀ Surfing is her favorite escape, and she gets a certain sparkle in her eye whenever she’s out catching waves.

☀ Most weekends, she’s got some DIY project going on at home, whether it’s painting murals in her living room or learning to make jewelry out of beach glass. Her place is like a treasure trove of her quirky collections, from vintage postcards to unique rocks she’s picked up on her travels.

☀ As the tallest in the group, Vitto jokingly refers to herself as the “designated human lamppost,” always reaching for things on high shelves and playfully resting her arm on one of the girls' heads.

☀ She has a tendency to mix up sayings, particularly in English. She’ll earnestly say something like “It’s water under the fridge,” or “Don’t count your eggs before they swim,” leaving her friends in stitches and Vitto herself slightly confused before cracking up, too.

☀ Her Brazilian accent gets stronger the more excited she is, so they know when she’s really thrilled or passionate about something by the way her words tumble out in Portuguese with barely a pause for air.

☀ With Andrew, she’s found her match. She took her time opening up to him—not because of hesitation, but because she values genuine connection. Now, seeing them together is like witnessing pure harmony; there’s an unspoken tenderness between them, a warmth that spills over to anyone around them. In their home, love is abundant, grounding, and comforting, creating a sanctuary of joy for all who enter.

fio's moodboard — danna's moodboard

╰┈➤ card symbols divider by cafekitsune -`♡´-

#tjatq moodboard #vitto is my sweet ray of sunshine #this playlist is 100% based on mine lol #all this food talk makes me want some warm pamonha rn

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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 1 year ago

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Welcome back! good to see you back here, I missed your content! for the aesthetic game, can you please do one for Dottie and one for Mathias? love them!

Hi there Nonnie! Thank you for your kind words, it's good to be back indeed! :D Allow me to present the Aesthetic for Dorothea and Mathias (also, keep an eye on my dash, because I have other requests for these two, so I have more aesthetic things coming for them :D)

🌹DOROTHEA MARIANNE STARRICK ✨

MOODBOARD:

PLAYLIST:

"Morning Star" - Blackmore's Night

"Winter's Bloom" - Adrian Von Ziegler

"Ghost of a Rose" - Blackmore's Night

STEAL HER LOOK:

QUOTES :

“Those freckles make you seem like a galaxy of stars, just waiting to be explored and loved.” - Nikita Gill

“All men have stars, but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems... But all these stars are silent. You-You alone will have stars as no one else has them.” - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Le Petit Prince

“...her who whose beauty is not like earthly beauty, dangerous to look upon, but like the morning star which is its emblem, bright and musical.”- James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

“In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?” ― Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

HER AESTHETIC:

Starlit sky; Northern Lights setting the sky blazing; stargazing alone on a secluded beach with the waves as gentle company; frost-covered roses in a hidden garden; walking down a path in the forest at night holding a silver lantern as a sole guide with the snow gently falling silently all around; abandoned manors hidden away in the depths of an ancient forest; ghosts still dancing together in ballrooms accompanied only by the music of their memories; sitting by the fireplace on an ancient rocking chair and reading an ancient tome under a thick pelt; sipping on warm rose tea while looking at the snow falling outside; snuggling under the comfort of heavy blankets in a canopy bed;

🌙MATHIAS SÉBASTIEN DE BEAUMONT🎨

MOODBOARD:

PLAYLIST:

"Hijo De La Luna" - Mecano

"Outdoor" - Roberto Cacciapaglia

"Adagio" - Il Divo

STEAL HIS LOOK:

QUOTES:

“Because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen.”- Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent”- Victor Hugo

“Now I want to live like everybody else. I want to have a wife like everybody else and to take her out on Sundays. I have invented a mask that makes me look like anybody. People will not even turn round in the streets. You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight. You are crying! You are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! All I wanted was to be loved for myself. If you loved me I should be as gentle as a lamb; and you could do anything with me that you pleased.” - Gaston Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera

“He stared dully at the desolate, cold road and the pale, dead night. Nothing was colder or more dead than his heart. He had loved an angel and now he despised a woman.”- Gaston Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera

HIS AESTHETIC:

A small nook to sit and reflect quietly; new quills and parchments; the perfume of freshly brewed coffee, the way the air smell when Autumn is about to arrive, the feeling when the fingers start tickling the ivories and a melody is born, completely encompassing one's soul; the sound of rain against the glass of the windows; riding a horse with the wind caressing one's hair, free from all fears and worries; songs sung together with friends; the perfume of orange flowers and neroli still lingering on the pillow; the sight of the full moon after a night storm; waves crashing against the sand in the distance;

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#Aesthetic Game #Assassin's Creed #OCs #Mathias De Beaumont #Dorothea Starrick #Moodboards #this was SO MUCH FUN #also sorry for the delay I was immensely busy in the past couple of days due to finally moving into our rightful apartment #now I am catching up with the asks #I will have them out in the next few days :)

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invinciblerodent · 9 months ago

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1) Will your OC get married and with who? 2) Will they have any children? What are their names?

OC Ask Game!

I think I’m gonna go on for a long (long, long, LONG) time about Iona, and mention the others kind of as a footnote, because I think Iona’s answers to these are just… the ones that are most interesting to me, lol

(fair warning looking back, this got PROFOUNDLY away from me- the TL; DR of it is that for Iona marriage is "yes, eventually" and kids are "no, never", for Arvid marriage is a "yes, of course, sure" and kids are "well if you want it", and for Petyr both are "hah! no. nope. no.")

So, this whole “what now” issue in Iona’s case, it’s… all a bit muddled.

As a little background to it, in 3e, it’s said that courtships between elves often take a very long time, sometimes decades, before a commitment is reached- which is understandable, especially considering that elves are also said to seldom fall out of love with one another, and don’t typically remarry after the death of one spouse. A commitment that’s meant to span a lifetime of centuries (whether the life of one has a natural endpoint or not is irrelevant), it makes sense that they’d take it seriously, and not jump into soul-bonds willy-nilly. (An albatross is definitely going onto her moodboard now, lol.)

I think both Iona and Astarion would still be kind of... feeling themselves out, by the end of the game, and neither of them would be drawn to the thought of “blissful mutual domesticity” just yet.

I mean, on top of being a quite young elf, she’s spent a good 80% of her life among humans: her experience with life is colored by the perceptions of a people who are constantly trying to outrun the rushing of a clock that might as well be standing still for her. So exploring what time even means to her, that’d be a very exciting prospect. While Astarion, he was even younger than she is now when he had the “elven” part of his identity taken away from him, only to be made into someone that’s seen as a tool first, monster second, and person a distant third. He’s eager to re-learn personhood and live again, so they’re both sort of… (re-?)discovering themselves and their “feyness” together, and in each other.

My little idea is that after the Brain’s defeat, they’re going to spend one or two decades on solo adventuring: primarily looking for a way to allow him to walk in the sun again, but that… proves itself to be something of a wild goose chase. The travel itself is annoyingly cumbersome (either they have to shelter during the day and cover no ground, or he has to be polymorphed and be both unable to communicate and practically defenseless [can’t risk fighting, if his form is dismissed he’s dead]). But also, there are just… too many disappointments. Too many dead ends. Too many times they’ve gotten too close only to find out that they were either late, or misled, or just plain wrong about something.

I think he’d grow frustrated with it first, and grow reckless: strain against his limits, start pushing his luck with the Sun, start making dangerous mistakes, and it’d be her who’d start gently encouraging (cajoling, bargaining, eventually pleading with-) him that maybe they should return to the Gate. To regroup, try to find other avenues, head off in a different direction. And while he'd know she's right, agreeing… it'd still feel like he’s admitting defeat.

Of course, he’d try to put on an unbothered face, but she would still obviously be able to tell that he’s upset: primarily with himself, but also a little bit with… everything. Of feeling both free and trapped, both bursting with the desire to DO something, but also being… powerless.

Which (stay with me, we're a third of the way!) is the context in which the thought of kids and “marital bliss” would rear its ugly head.

Because I headcanon that vampire spawn are naturally sterile. (I know full vampires can sire mortal offspring, but since spawn can’t create new vampires via bite and the bite is almost always a penetration-allegory, I like to think that translates to them being just… unable to reproduce, period.) And elves in general already have far lower fertility rates, so even if he wasn’t sterile because of the vampirism but just maybe less fertile than usual, the chances of conception between the two of them would still be infinitesimally small.

And I mean, the topic really wouldn’t come up naturally, so I think Astarion would likely think that she’d eventually want children. I mean, he knows very well that she had been previously married to a human- humans usually want kids, so it’d be a natural assumption that she’d be on the same page as her ex-husband, and the fact that she doesn’t have kids now wouldn't be for a lack of wanting. (It is. It is for a lack of wanting. But both of them being ~excellent~ [pejorative] at communicating, he definitely wouldn’t ask- if only for fear of the answer he thinks he'd get.)

So it'd kind of… eat at him, for a while, the thought that at some point, she might grow to resent him. There'd be a small, niggling part of his mind that'd worry that at some point, the limitations would all prove too much, and she’d grow frustrated, tired of always having to work with and around his… shall we say, conditions. Beyond his partial reliance on her pain and literal body for sustenance, the physical differences between them, and the messiness of healing (the times he startles awake screaming, the times he can’t bear even the thought of being touched, the times he’s frustrated with himself and takes it out on her), this is just one more thing.

He can’t take her out for a nice day in the city. He can’t warm her body at night, wine and dine her (or just share a meal like a regular person), or love her as brazenly as he did starting out, out on the street for all to see because… well, he can’t go out into the streets. Can’t even travel with her during the day, not without taking the shape of a stupid animal that can’t communicate with her, joke with her, or even delight her with the looks he had thought for so long were the only thing he was good for.

Though secure in her love of him, he’s not stupid, or an idealist who’d think that love alone is enough for a happily ever after. While enjoying the time while it lasts, naturally there’d be sort of a running tally in his head of all the ways their lives chafe against one another.

Watching her face grow paler and paler as she’s deprived of the sun and has her blood drained, he’d never quite stop wondering at what point is the scale going to tip, at what point she’d finally realize that she had bet on the wrong undead horse by choosing to love the vampire who asks her to sacrifice so much, and not only doesn’t want to, but isn’t even able to give her what (he thinks) she wants.

Which, she doesn’t want it, of course. She has not even one maternal bone in her body.

Iona is well aware that she would make a terrible mother, and she absolutely does not want to be one. So it wouldn’t even occur to her that this would be something on his mind on top of all else. When he’d be having his little personal crisis about this, she’d be busy trying to make the impossible happen and circumventing the need to find a way to give him back the Sun by inventing one herself. That’d be why she'd lock herself into her study alone for longer and longer periods of time, why she sometimes wouldn’t come out for days, why she'd sometimes steer the conversation away from certain things- she wouldn’t want to give him false hope in a project that’d quickly prove so far beyond her abilities.

But, she'd still obviously recognize his occasional bouts of melancholy- I mean, it’s very unusual for someone to look at another so fondly and happily one moment, and then get quiet and forlorn the next. That distance she'd see behind his eyes sometimes when she'd tell him she loves him, that’d be rather worrying to anyone.

It’ll take a while for this particular cat to work its way out of the bag, but it would happen eventually, of course.

In reality, none of that would bother her.

She delights in being the sole person deciding what, when, and how she wants to eat. She loves the coolness of his touch- it soothes the heat of the draconic blood running through her veins better than any balm. Sure, going to markets and doing all that domestic pish can be fun, but... well, she’s always been an indoorsy person. Being bitten is no burden (she wouldn’t offer if it was), and there being no risk of a pregnancy, even after the tadpole’s death? At the risk of sounding crass, that’s an incredible perk, with no downsides. Feeling him find his pleasure while buried deep inside her, with no pang of fear or worry? It’s absurd how perfect that is, how happy she is with the fact that with the man she loves, that fear of being impregnated against her will can be put completely to rest.

And the rest, the messiness, the less “pretty” parts of it all, the evenings spent soothing his pain that’s either real or real only to him, that’s… just what happens if you love someone. Sure, she worries of course, but even when it’s inconvenient, when it’s ugly, when the old scars feel like they’re on fire and she can’t even being to think of a way to help… she still loves him just the same.

So no, no children necessary. It’s not in the cards for them, and even if it was, I don’t think either of them would really want it, or be good at it.

... She’d probably like to overwrite the memories of her first marriage (and speak the word “husband” without rancor) though, but only eventually.

And I like to think that that’ll have to happen with an item I’m tentatively calling “Taran Tal’hondnor” (The Gift of True Love), and it’s an enchanted ring that she will finally be able to create after many years of study, and even more miserably failed attempts at creating an enchantment that’ll let a vampire walk in the sun.

I like to imagine her proposing to him, on her own terms this time, with one such gift.

Because she loves him to the point of invention.

Quickly on the others, Arvid… might like fatherhood, if he were so inclined. He’s a very caring, kind, nurturing person, and if he were to be in that position, he would probably be a very good dad. He’s generally in a nurturing role already, and Gale being in a teaching role, they could prove to be excellent parents, if that were what they wanted.

But they… probably wouldn’t want that. Gale being the age that he is (“canon” says 35, I see ~38-40, minor difference) and a human, yet saying that he’s “not ready”, I personally interpret that as a rather telling thing. His past of having spent such a long time in a "monogamous" (I'm fairly sure that part's one-sided, no time to go into that now) relationship with a goddess who had no intention of having kids with him, and his present willingness to be with an illithid who can’t, that to me is implying that it’s not something that’d be that important to him. Like I personally see that as him not actively preferring to have kids if it’s up to him (he likes peace, and quiet, and downtime, and a nice glass of wine with a quietly romantic evening meal- very much the quintessential childless millennial, 100% part of the appeal to me lol), but he’d be happily willing to do it if his partner wanted it themselves.

But in my world, his husband (I like how I skated by the first part of the question, I mean they already ARE married lol)… doesn’t really have such strong feelings about it either. So, since two "maybes" don’t make a "yes" (and for this kind of thing, you need two enthusiastic "yes"-es for it to no longer be a no), it’s a "no".

But I think their marriage is going to be very happy and fulfilling to both of them nevertheless. <3

And since I don't yet have any kissy-shots of them (☹️), have an "are you seeing this shit" silent exchange for these two <3

Honestly? I would sooner give a baby to a pack of feral wolves and hope for the best than have Petyr become a father. He'd absolutely be the kind of dad whose kids become DnD characters. He's someone's tragically emotionally distant boomer dad just waiting to happen. (I mean, come on. My guy felt inadequate once, and coped with it by fucking off to the woods for 20 years? Yeah, sure, father of the year.)

And Shadowheart, she basically didn't have parents growing up, she has a TON of cult indoctrination to process and unlearn as an adult, and -let's be real- likely has no fucking clue how motherhood would even really work. Like the woman whom she used to call "mother" pretty much straight-up tortured her. C'mon now.

I like to think that, though they are the only two in my lineup who are physically able to have kids by accident, they (with their 8 and 10 INT scores respectively) would still be smart enough to smell that particular disaster before they'd barrel into it head first, and either actively decide not to have kids, or put it off so far into the future as for it to be meaningless. Maybe the discussion can be tabled in a few decades' time, but since by then their home will be surrounded by, god, so many animals to take care of (including a barely not feral, adult owlbear) (and their mutual boyfriend who sometimes shows up for like a month to fuck nasty on every available surface of the house and surrounding wilds), I doubt it'll result in a resounding "yes".

In the same vein of things, if a big, beautiful, traditional wedding is something that she wants (which I... kinda doubt would be super important to her), she definitely bet on the wrong horse, because this guy is not one for pomp and circumstance.

I like to imagine that after their departure from the Gate (and their bidding of not exactly "farewell", but "see you later" to Halsin), he'll just... take her "home" to his little shack in his corner of the forest, and then, sitting under the canopy of his favorite woods, enjoying the balmy evening breeze and the undisturbed night sky with his favorite person, he'll look up at the moon, take her hand, and silently, in his head, give his thanks to the Moonmaiden for this peace.

And... that'll be it. From that point forward, it'll be easy to fall into a kind of sweet, quiet domesticity that is essentially a marriage in all but name.

I definitely like- and relate to the idea of them foregoing the "2.5 kids, white picket fence" idea of a happily ever after not out of a conscious rejection, but rather just by... being themselves. Together.

#hi this is 2.6k words #i sincerely apologize for i hopelessly run at the mouth #oc: iona raedir #oc: arvid trygg #oc: petyr wildbrook #squirrel plays bg3

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redwinewhiteroses · 3 months ago

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Hey

Thankyou so much for giving me a chance to participate in your new game. So for the exchange I would go non tarot exchange, as I don't do tarot. Here is the moodboard for you Alexa based on your mentioned personality. I channeled intuitively with a clear, hope it resonates.

Also I would like to add a note, when I channeled your fs, I don't the first thing that came to me was that he was someone who is fun at the same time someone who has filled with love. To him, you are the most important person in his life. He is very possessive about you and he always wants to keep you happy. If you are sick, he will always be there by your side. For him, you are his everything. With him, you will have a fun filled journey as he is someone who is chill. He is flow with life person. He is stable enough, he wouldn't mind you be at home. He is simple yet rich in heart. He loves hanging out with people, he is people person . He will take you on dates and picnics. Also, i got this really hard, that he is very romantic. Overall, I loved the energy of you two. Anyways, I wish you the best, dear. I really hope it resonates because I am still learning, so please give me feedback so I can improve.

Now my side, my name is cheril. My sun is in gemini and my venus is also in gemini and in sideral my sun is in taurus and my venus in Taurus. I prefer male.The personality trait that I admire in my fs is someone who is kindhearted, empathetic, loyal, committed. I want someone who put their ego and pride aside, act based on feelings and povs. I would love they have balance in all the factors of life. I also love my partner to be open and vice versa.

Thankyou so much for the opportunity. I hope you like your reading. Have a good day ahead.🧡

Thank you so much for the moodboard Cheril🤩💗 I love the aesthetics and the vibes.

I love the intuitive messages you provided me about my fs. He seems like a really nice guy. And I think your intuition is incredible.

Also from your vibes, you sound more like a Sun and Venus in taurus person💗 and not a gemini 😭 Sidereal is more accurate in my honest opinion. I have my Sun and Venus in taurus too🥰

So your fs is very interesting. He is someone who has had an awakening, a significant transformation has led them to their true north. They have found some purpose. They could have a significant mission in this life or they are simply very dedicated to living a purposeful life. They hold wisdom but at the same time they have a young heart. They are very good at walking away from things that no longer serve them. I think your fs constantly looks for fulfillment through finding purpose in life. They are always on the lookout to find a calling, something that gives them purpose. He is someone who has done soul searching and decided that they wanna do this thing in their life. Your fs gives of sagittarian vibes. They are inspired by things they are passionate about and they are ready to tread the path towards fulfillment. I feel like he has a specific life goal, maybe a specific career or mission that they are passionate about and they've only recently found that. So they've walked away from situations that held them back and being more true and authentic to themselves. I pulled another card and I think he has found whatever fulfills his soul. He has achieved significant emotional stability. He has a lot of abundance and has reached full emotional fulfillment. They either can be rich and well recognized or they are deeply content with themselves, who they are as a person. Very satisfied about life. I think he is also a family man. He can be very supportive of his loved ones.

Your relationship dynamic is intense and passionate😭 Almost wild and really fun. I think you'll travel a lot together. You could even move countries. There's a lot of moving places energy so travel can be a major theme in your married life. Also you have plans for the future and constantly work towards making the relationship even better. You could go on holidays often too. You will always be on the lookout for new opportunities and grab them as soon as they are presented to you. There can be significant expansion and growth in this relationship. Jupiter and sagittarius energy is pretty strong here. You will grow together as a couple. You will also have burning passion brewing and boldly pursue each other in the relationship. Flirty conversations and tempting each other is also possible.

Your feel like your fs is highly skilled and charismatic. In your eyes he's the most gorgeous, hottest and confident man alive. You feel inspired by him. You know you can create a good life with him, you know he's very capable of fulfilling your desires and needs.

Your fs can struggle with expressing their feelings sometimes. He may have fears and insecurities and he can feel weighed down because of them. He can keep to himself. Or he can feel burdened because you hide certain things from him or at least he feels so. I don't know exactly what it is, but it's not a big issue because your relationship dynamic is already so healthy and good.

Bale and Wilson can be significant names. Also orange color. I thought of powdery love, I don't know if that's even a real word😭😂 Feel free to dismiss these msgs if they don't resonate with you.

#fs moodboard #tarot answer #belleamesblog

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liliesdiary · 1 year ago

Text

「 ♡ THE WALKING DEAD ♡ 」

「 ♡ TWD Moodboard M.List 」

「 ♡ Recent Work | Recent Work | Recent Work 」

♡ Rick Grimes

Rick Grimes Pops Your Cherry

♡ The older man pops your cherry in your daddy's barn..

Fuck Your Boyfriend, You're Mine.

♡ Your boyfriend didn't deserve you and Rick knew that as he watched you everyday. He stalked you, he loved watching you on patrol throughout Alexandria, you never questioned him since he was the constable of this community but one day he pays you a visit and makes you his.

♡ Daryl Dixon

Fairy On Acid series ↓

I Bet She Bangs Like A Fairy On Acid

♡ “In the forest there's a fairy, she waits for me. She tells me if I hurry, my dreams will come true. She tells me she wants it, so I started to kiss her lips. Milk and honey drips.”

♡ Sleep Paralysis

♡ The fairy in the forest continues to haunt Daryl. She haunts him in his dreams and continues to lure Daryl in. He was drowning in those eyes, lost in her depths . Her tune slowly consumed him as she hunted her prey.

Daryl x Fem Walker Series ↓

♡ Home

♡ You were a lost soul searching for your home, following the river as the moon guided you. Suddenly you feel an arrow piercing through your skin and a man holding a crossbow.

More for Daryl Dixon ↓

♡ The Rose And The Thorn

♡ The Rose And The Thorn, a tune that pricked you both with nostalgia and loss. He stared at you, falling deeply in love with the way you play.

Waking Up Daryl Dixon

♡ You found a special way to wake up the man who saved your life..

Kisses Sweeter Than Sugar

♡ Part two to waking up Daryl Dixon

Cherries, Bruises & Cigarettes (smut)

♡ Cherries, Bruises & Cigarettes...

Headcannons ↓

♡ Being Daryl Dixon's Sex Doll Headcannons

♡ Shane Walsh

"Not So Tough Now, Huh Darlin?"

♡ The older man hate fucks you in a drunken rage after several arguments with you.

Dad's Perverted Best Friend

♡ Dad's Perverted Best Friend corrupts you

The Farmer's Daughter

♡ The drunken older man sneaks into your house and fucks you

♡ Rick & Shane

Living Sex Doll

♡ “You're such a good doll for us, Sweetheart. We own you.”

♡ Requests

Everything is going to be okay (Yandere Aaron)

♡ You and Aaron have been best friends since the start of the apocalypse but as time passed, the war with Negan broke out. Aaron had lost his lover, Eric. Over time, Aaron found himself becoming increasingly possessive and paranoid about you. He couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else, especially not you. One day, without warning, he locked you inside his house, forcing you to become a mother to Grace. One day, Aaron didn't come back home, you kept repeating yourself that everything was going to be okay.

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stayxlix · 2 years ago

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helloooooo!!!🩵🩵 moving was pretty difficult, but thankfully, some of my friends helped and etc and now I'm ready to start anew!!

AKWKEHEG i'm just so so so glad that you've actually decided to endulge me with this trope😭 😭 I can't even explain just how excited I am to THOROUGHLY read the next chapter (and ALLLLL the other ones to come) and haha yes I'm pretty much also living for any media that include romance, buuut like I said, angry love confessions and angry passion just really do it for me🤭 and you're so right! Having a happy ending really makes me feel like crying all those times and screaming into my pillow was really worth it😭

I'm really glad you're happy that I said otde is my fav way to get rid of excessive stress, bc it really is!! I honestly want to find every single thing that could make you happy and just give it to you bc you're just so nice and ahaiwiowowjw

AND DID YOU JUST YOU VALUE MY OPINION THAT MUCH?!?!??! I ACTUALLY CANT DI THIS WTF ALEX WJY ARE U SO NICE HELP ME I'm so unbelievably glad that I can talk to you like this and try to make you feel the love for you and your story and blog, even if it's just through asks (for now!! I'm trying to build up my courage to finally text you and not do it like this by being anonymous) and I honestly wish I could give you a real life hug, I just wanna squish you and qjqjwhegejqo1 😭😭💗

I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKE THE MOODBOARD!!!!!!*×*×[×[2[2> And YES I PUT A LOOOT OF THOUGHT INTO IT BUUUT I REALLY REALLY ENJOYED MAKING IT AND I'M JUST SO FREAKING GLAD YOU LIKE IT HELPBMEKAJQ i really tried to put in what i feel when i readd otde, so i'm just really glad that you can see what I meant and it makes me even happier taht you actually like it and even SAY THAT IT'S THE PERFECT VISUAL JOURNEY FOR OTDE AND THAT IT'S THE EXACT VIBE YOU ASSOCIATE WITH OTDE??? OMFG I CANT DO THIS I AM ABOUT CRY

and yes, I will gladly talk to you about every single pic that I've decided to add, and hopefully it'll be very VERYYY soon bc I am pretty close to dming you😭🩵 and I'm in the middle of the red version already, so I'm even MORE excited to share it with you soon!! (Possibly through normal dms🤭🤭) I AGREE!! i would like to announce, that now it is canon that mc wears red Vans bc it reminds of Felix (she probably wouldn't admit it at the beginning but we KNOW) (and, why do I feel like otde Felix is the type to get something related to mc tattooed?? Maybe just a small thing like her fav flower and on his wrist somewhere so that he knows she's always somehow with him😭 or if she gave him a bracelet, he'd literally NEVER take it off like no matter what... and I feel like he'd also be the type that wears EVERYTHING related to her proudly [and probably gets a bit too turned on when he sees that she does the same] okay I may be ranting a bit too much now... i need to stop)

I'm extremely glad that the new chapter is coming along nicely!! I'm soooo anticipating it and I'll definitely have so much motivation to make something that I don't even know with what new creation of mine we'll end up with☠️😭 aaaand i'll so let you in on a little secret, I love LOVE LOVE LIKE WITH MY WHOLE SOUL LOOOONG STORIES like give me 35k words and I'm eating ALL OF IT UP. especially from you?!?!?!? But i wish you so so much good luck with the finishing up/ just writing in general!🩵🩵 don't feel any pressure to finishing it! I'll honestly wait however long is needed without any problems if it's otde🩵

And thank YOU for being so wonderful!🩵 I'm so happy to be writing another ask again💗 your answers also mean the world to me, and I love sharing the excitement and happiness I hold for not only otde, but also you🩵 Hearing that what I make for you/otde is a source of motivation truly makes me so happy that I can't even put it into words, thank you for existing, honestly!🩵

I now find myself thinking about you when I'm writing and wondering if you'll like where the story is going or certain parts etc. etc.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDUNG ME?!??!?!?! I LITERALLY XANT DO THIS IM SO CLOSW TO CFYING LIKE ARE U SERIOUS RIGHT NOW THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME ITS ACTUALLY UNREAL PLEASE

Our interactions also mean so so much to me and YOU make all of the time spent reading, and creating thinks for you/the story so so worth it that I wouldn't even imagine it being unworthy, really, I know I've said this before but finding this story/ you and your blong has genuinely made my lately life better and happier💗🩵 I am also so thankful to have you as a friend and to see what you create with your beautiful writing🩵

And yes!! Honestly, though, who wouldn't have a crush on otde Felix?! I also sometimes need to take a break and make myself that, unfortunately, otde Felix is not real anywhere else than our minds and hearts😭 (ps. I am now extremely excited for next week and am omw to add some songs to the playlist, and work on the red version of the moodboard bc I'm so glad that you are excited to see it😭😭)

This was also VEEERY long so hopefully you've survived through this (and yet I still have so much more to say help me) i'm sending another hug right back to you! Stay safe and take care, have the best rest of your day and good luck with everything!!🩵🩵 i love you just as much!!

hi hi hiiiiiiii🩵🩵🩵 im so sorry i wasn’t able to respond until now, i had the most hectic weekend!! i went on a roller coaster for the first time and i don’t think i’ve ever been so happy and terrified all at once before😂😂 (although i do love a good scary movie lol). but im so glad you had good friends to help you move, i know from experience that it makes all the difference :) starting anew is one of my favorite things about life!! even if it can be scary sometimes, it sounds like you’ve got a wonderful support system there with you<333

are you kidding me?!? i LOVE talking about tropes like the one you sent, it resonated so much with me (as does everything you say lol) angry love confessions? YES. angry passion? YES. and a happy ending to wrap it all up?? SIGN ME UP. (btw i like how you mentioned screaming into your pillow because this has also become a regular occurrence for me while writing this story😂) but the fact that you said you’re excited for the new chapter makes me that much more excited to share it (although i am a bit nervous, but what else is new lol) it also makes me want to take even more care with every single word that i include (much like answering your asks lol) im a bit particular about it and it makes me feel really good to know that you want to read it thoroughly because it makes the time spent writing all worth it🥹🥹 (even if it does end up being 35k words lmao) at least i know you’ll still be willing to read it all🥹because ill let you in on another secret, a little over halfway through i checked and it was at like 12k words????? help🙃 and the middle is still a bit of a mess but im really really stuck on my goal of putting it out some time this weekend, so we’ll see.🤭 ive considered splitting it up, and i honestly still might (but i don’t really like the idea of the first half being it’s own part so i even thought about doing like 5.1 and 5.2????? is that even a thing to split a chapter into two?????) lol idk all i know is im just hoping i have plenty of time this week to figure it out😂 thank you so so much for the good luck, kind words, and your amazing support🩵🩵 i need it more than you realize😂

you saying otde is your favorite way to relieve stress is like its own kind of stress relief for me🥹🥹 seriously!! and you are so unbelievably sweet to say that you want to give me every single thing that makes me happy😭 but 🩵, i promise you your asks already make me happier than you could ever imagine!! i only hope that my responses do the same for you because you are so incredible and important to me💕💕which means that OF COURSE I VALUE YOUR OPINION!! readers are the heart and soul of any story, and feedback like yours is the backbone that keeps me going. it keeps the story alive, you know???? and i would be a fool not to recognize that. you have done more than enough to make me feel the love for my little story and blog, even if it is through asks!! don’t ever discount that or feel pressured to do anything further. of course my dms are always open for you🩵 but take all the time you need love, no pressure :)

LIKE THE MOODBOARD???!?!?!? NO NO I L O V E IT. I CAN TELL HOW MUCH THOUGHT YOU PUT INTO IT AND I AM SO PROUD OF IT THAT I WANT TO SHOW IT OFF TO EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN MY LIFE (and i totally would, if any of them knew that this blog existed lol) BUT THAT IS HOW MUCH IL OVE IT. I LVOE IT WITH MY ENTIRE HEART AND SOUL.😭 (and i think mc would too) because i could literally feel the emotions you portrayed, and i cannot even put into words how that makes me feel. your love for this story is something i will never ever forget. even years down the road. you are so special to me, and the offer to go through and discuss all of the pictures (and the songs on your playlist) stands forever. my door will always be open<3 you don’t even have to knock lol just come on in and we can pick right back up wherever we left off. AND WHEN I TELL YOU I AM SO EXCITED FOR THE RED VERSION I MEAN LIKE SHAKING WITH EXCITEMENT ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT BITING MY NAILS ANXIOUSLY AWAITING THE MOMENT IT DROPS🤭🤭(take your time though of course, because i know these things can’t be rushed🩵)

and if i’m being honest i have been thinking about this whole vans thing ever since you brought it up…like my mind has been spiraling with ideas about how our main couple would be in a world like ours, like if they were real college students or something idk. and we have definitely confirmed that its canon that mc would wear red vans because of felix and IT IS EVEN MOre CANON that felix would have something related to her tattooed?!?(I SQUEALED WHEN I READ THIS NO YOU DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND) “Maybe just a small thing like her fav flower and on his wrist somewhere so that he knows she's always somehow with him” THIS.😭 but wait what if the flower was something SHE drew, like maybe just something small that she casually sketched while they were together and he kept it without her even knowing, or if she drew it on a little note to him?????? i am WEAK.😭😭😭😭

“or if she gave him a bracelet, he'd literally NEVER take it off like no matter what” no this is SO good too because even though he would rather die than admit it, he is so fucking obsessed with that little bracelet. because it was from her. OR MAYBE ITS JUST A LITTLE HAIR TIE THAT SHE TOOK OF AND WRAPPED AROUND HIS WRIST CASUALLY oNE daY AND HE HASNT TAKEN IT OFF SINCE BC IT REMINDS HIM OF HER AND - I CANT.😭 pls. we need to discuss this further. and don’t even get me started on how turned on he would be if he catches her wearing something of HIS. nah you’re insane for this and i’m cutting myself off before i get too invested and start making this into its own separate little fic. (mc and lix in a parallel universe or something lol, maybe a past life even??) idk send help😂

thank YOU for existing 🩵, my adoration for you grows even more every single time i see you pop up in my askbox, if that’s even possible :) i mean every word i put into in my responses and i cannot WAIT to see what new creations we’ll end up with from you💕 (starting with the red moodboard of course) you are wonderful, and you have no idea how much you have touched me with your words and interactions. for all we know, we might be halfway across the world from each other, but whenever i read your asks i always feel so close to you.🥹 they give me life, and its probably a good thing we don’t know each other in person, because I would be absolutely SHOWERING you with love 24/7, i would never leave you alone and you’d probably get sick of me lol.😂😂 you make my life better too🩵🩵thank you so much for saying that you think my writing is beautiful, how am i not supposed to think of you when i write when you say such kind things like this???🥹🥹🥹

“I also sometimes need to take a break and make myself that, unfortunately, otde Felix is not real” the struggle is REAL😭 and omg i saw that you added the eve by exo to the playlist and i HAVE to ask if it was because of the hyunlix dance cover from the fanmeet??? bc i also considered adding that song to mine after i saw their dance (don’t even get me started on that and how RUDE it was lmao)

okay okay, if you have made it to the end of this then i sincerely thank you for taking the time out of your day to read it, i could go on forever (you’d never believe how quiet i am in real life😂) but i just have SO much to say when it comes to you. so have an absolutely amazing start to your week 🩵🩵🩵 i hope its full of all of your favorite things and plenty of moments that make you smile<3333 sending SO much love and the biggest warmest hug back your way🤗 talk soon💕💕

#otde.feedback #alex answers asks♡#🩵

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fortheloveofwonderland · 3 years ago

Text

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 1 | S.R

My moodboard

Next Chapter

A/N - this includes part of the sneak peak but it’s been heavily edited since and some more content. Chapter title and lyrics are from a song by Neil Young. Happy belated Father’s Day, Dad Spencer!

Chapter Summary - Spencer is struggling to adjust to his life as a single dad after his divorce. Dating was the furthest thing from him mind. That is until he meets the new TA at Georgetown.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut in later chapters.

Content Warnings - mentions of one night stands, unplanned pregnancies, talk of cheating, divorce, heavy drinking.

Word Count - 4.4K

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Out on the Weekend

See the lonely boy, out on the weekend,

Trying to make it pay.

Can't relate to joy, he tries to speak and,

Can't begin to say.

Spencer Reid thought that nothing in life could be as challenging as being an FBI Agent.

He’d chosen one of the hardest and scariest professions to dedicate his life to and he loved it, but it wasn’t without its hardships.

Facing down unsubs, having guns drawn on him, and being held hostage on multiple occasions had to be the most arduous thing he would encounter in his life, surely?

Being a child prodigy had its difficulties. Being the youngest kid in high school and college and then grad school wasn’t without its obstacles.

The FBI had been one challenge after another but Spencer loved it. He loved it despite his lack of physical prowess and the times he had to end lives to save the lives of others.

It made him feel like he was contributing. Every time they arrested an unsub and tidied up another dark corner of the world, he felt accomplished.

But it was demanding. It took a lot out of him, chipped away a little more of him each time they couldn’t save someone. He let it bear down on his soul.

But it was how he’d chosen to use his genius. He was aiding people. He was making a difference.

Sometimes it just felt like he wasn’t helping enough. The cases they didn’t close, the ones who got away, stayed with him.

But at least his work with the BAU was the most complicated thing he would ever face.

Or so he thought. But even a genius could be wrong on occasion.

And that was proven a few weeks shy of his thirtieth birthday when he’d had his very first one night stand. At least that’s what it was supposed to be.

It had been Morgan’s idea. Spencer was happy just having a few drinks with his best friend but Morgan had been playing the unwanted wingman from the moment they’d stepped into the bar. Despite Spencer’s protests.

“When was the last time you got some good loving?” He’d prodded Spencer, causing him to blush.

“That’s none of your business.” It had been a long time, too long if truth be told.

If Spencer was honest with himself, he was touch starved. Maybe some good loving as Morgan put it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Maybe he hadn’t protested quite as hard as he once would have had. It was possible he didn’t hate the idea of taking someone home, of having one night where wasn’t alone in his bed.

“What about her? She’s your type, pretty boy.”

He’d glanced over in the direction Morgan was nodding his head and when his eyes landed on the woman Morgan eyeing up, and Spencer was instantly smitten.

Morgan wasn’t wrong. She was his type to a tee.

Spencer hadn’t responded, instead just stared across the bar at her and Morgan knew his pretty boy would need a push in the right direction.

Before Spencer knew what was happening, Morgan was all but dragging him over to the woman and introducing them.

They talked for hours. They had a surprising amount in common and Spencer smiled more that night than he had in a long time.

She was beautiful and fascinating and the night had ended with Spencer taking her home and having more sex than he’d probably ever had in his life.

The next day Morgan tried to goad details out of him but Spencer stayed tight lipped. He wanted to preserve the memory of his night spent with her just for himself.

He might have thanked Morgan for his instance of talking to her. Might have. It wasn’t for the fact that several weeks later she had called him out of the blue and dropped a bomb shell.

“Spencer, I don’t really know how to say this other than to just come out with.” There was a long pause on the phone and then she spoke the sentence that changed his whole life. “I’m pregnant.”

Spencer could still remember to this day the way the air felt like it had been forcibly removed from his lungs from a single sentence.

His vision had blurred and his hand clutching the phone went limp and he’d almost dropped it.

All of him had gone limp. The woman he’d had a one night stand with, a woman he never expected to see again was pregnant.

He’d gotten a complete stranger pregnant.

The walls felt as though they started closing in as he sat in silence and processed her words.

This couldn’t be happening. He’d always wanted to be a dad, but not like this. Not after one night spent with a woman he barely knew.

He was supposed to be married to the love of his life and when the time was right they would plan to have a baby. Spencer planned everything. Spencer did not like surprises. He did not like to be blind sided.

But she made it clear she was going to keep the baby regardless of whether he was a part of their life or not. And Spencer was a good man, his mother raised him so. So Spencer did the admirable thing.

He married her.

Spencer Reid married Maeve Donovan, a woman he hardly knew anything about when she was four months pregnant with his child.

It was a simple affair at City Hall, only the BAU members in attendance. Spencer wore a suit from his closet and Maeve wore a white summer dress.

Fall leaves lined the path outside City Hall and crunched under foot as they left hand in hand in matching wedding bands.

Doctor and Mrs Reid and their future child.

And if Spencer thought working at the BAU was the hardest thing he’d ever done, it was nothing compared working at the BAU and being a father.

At least before after a hard case he could crawl home and hide under his duvet and recuperate. He could shut himself off from the world for a few hours and just feel the weight of whatever case they had worked.

But now his apartment wasn’t solitary. He had a wife and newborn daughter to come home to. There was no peace for him anymore. There was no alone time. Spencer was never alone.

It was funny really that he’d hated being alone all these years but now he couldn’t be, he missed it. The irony wasn’t lost on Spencer.

But Daisy Diana Reid was the absolute light of his life. The first moment he held his daughter in his arms he had cried against her soft fuzzy hair and he knew he would die for her.

Standing in the hospital room, cradling her, he’d whispered against her tiny ear, “I promise I will love you forever.”

He wished the same could have been said about her mother.

He liked Maeve, of course he did. She was beautiful and smart and she was an amazing mother.

If they’d met under different circumstances or if she hadn’t fallen pregnant he was sure things would have been different. Maeve was the kind of woman he could fall in love with. But fate had dictated he never got that chance.

Their forced family had governed that they never found out what could have actually been.

He wanted to be in love with her. He wanted to be in love with the mother of his child. But he knew with startling clarity when Daisy was born, he never would be.

Juggling having a child and working at the BAU was completely exhausting. He never had a moment to just breathe. He was always on. He was either an agent or a dad, never just Spencer anymore.

Honestly, Spencer didn’t know how Hotch and JJ made it look so easy. He kind of hated them for making it seem so effortless.

But the long days and the excruciating cases were worth it in the end to see his daughter's beautiful smile when he came home.

For five years things carried on this way. Spencer got a handle on his work-life balance and he started to feel like he’d finally gotten a grip on things.

But once again, fate intervened.

The air didn’t quite escape his lungs this time like it had the first time Maeve had dropped the bombshell that she was pregnant.

Maeve always talked about having a second child, she thought a little brother or sister for Daisy was just what they needed.

And although he loved Daisy, he really wasn’t sure he could handle another.

But they hadn’t been actively trying. Spencer wasn’t ready for a second child, one was hard enough with his job and he didn’t think they were ready for a second.

And since the shock of getting a woman he barely knew pregnant, Spencer had been vigil with his use of condoms.

Except that one time on Garcia’s birthday a month or so prior when he and Maeve had gotten a sitter for Daisy and really let loose.

They’d both drunk a lot that night and it stood to reason that in their states, contraceptives had been the last thing on either of their minds.

So a little after Daisy’s sixth birthday, Maeve gave birth to her little sister Lily Mae. And once again the first time Spencer held her, he knew he would die for her.

His two girls were his whole world. But having two children and a demanding job became way too much for Spencer. So somewhat reluctantly, he quit the BAU and started teaching.

Leaving the BAU was one of the hardest decisions Spencer had ever made. Sure it was draining but he loved his job with a passion.

But he loved his kids more. He’d missed a lot of Daisy’s life while he was away on cases and he didn’t want to make that mistake a second time around.

But he never imagined he would be here. Teaching was something he’d always thought about doing, but not until much later in life once he retired from the FBI. Not at thirty seven.

However it allowed him to work more regular hours and spend precious time with his beautiful daughters. It was worth it to be able to read them bedtime stories and do the school run.

But he missed the BAU with every beat of his heart. And he knew he always would.

They moved to a bigger house in the suburbs to accommodate their growing family and Spencer thought he was at least something akin to happy.

He grew to love Maeve, in a way, or maybe he just grew comfortable with her. He loved her because she gave him the two greatest gifts of his life. He loved her, because without her Daisy and Lily wouldn’t exist.

He loved her because he loved his daughters. But he wasn’t in love with her.

They did make a great team. They balanced each other out like a well calibrated set of scales.

Maeve was the strict parent whilst the girls had Spencer wrapped around their little fingers. They learnt at an early age how they only had to give him a certain look and he would offer them the world on a silver platter.

He was content. Parenthood was hard but he had Maeve to fall back on. It wasn’t exactly how he saw his life playing out but he’d resigned himself to it.

Over the years as the girls grew older, Spencer finally started to believe he might actually be in love with his wife.

They had fun together. Maeve made him laugh and she was fascinating to talk to. And admittedly their sex life was incredible, even after all those years of marriage.

She was Spencer’s best friend. He supposed she was the love of his life considering he didn’t really have anything to compare it to. He could picture growing old with her while their kids had their own families. He could imagine them reminiscing about their life together in years to come.

He could see them on a porch swing at seventy years old wrapped up in blankets and sipping hot cocoa. He’d read Arthur Conan Doyle to her while she laid her head on his shoulder.

Maybe that’s all love was. Maybe love was as simple as being comfortable with someone and being content. It was possible he’d built up expectations in his mind of what he thought love would be like. Perhaps what he and Maeve had was real love.

And just when Spencer thought all the hardships in his life had passed, just as he’d grown accustomed to his life and gotten comfortable with the way things were, Maeve dropped one final bombshell.

And this one forced the air from his lungs in an entirely different way than finding out she was pregnant.

Daisy was twelve and Lily was six the day Maeve came home in tears and told Spencer she couldn’t lie to him anymore.

She proceeded to sob as she regaled him with the story of her three year long affair. She shared every single sordid detail of how she met the man named Bobby and had a few too many drinks before falling into his bed.

She re-enacted every moment of her infidelity including the part where she fell in love with Bobby.

Spencer felt his life flash before his eyes. He saw every moment of their relationship before him, as he listened to her recount her affair.

He’d tried so hard to love her for the sake of his kids. He’d been nothing but the perfect husband to her and this was how she’d repaid him?

He felt like a complete idiot.

Maeve had finished by telling Spencer she still loved him. She told him she didn’t want their marriage to be over.

Spencer’s response was to tell her to go to hell.

There was no talking about it. There was no discussion of where they went from here. To Spencer there was only one way this ended and it was not up for debate.

So now a year after the fateful day that destroyed life as he knew it, Spencer was facing his hardest challenge ever: single parenthood.

Maeve moved out of their family home the very day she’d disclosed her affair at Spencer’s insistence. She’d tried to convince him to work on things, to at least talk to her.

But Spencer was done. He kicked her out and had barely said two words to her since.

The divorce papers were finalised a few months ago.

Hotch had some old contacts from his days as a prosecutor which helped Spencer gainprimary custody of the girls and they spent every other weekend with their adulterous bitch of a mother.

Spencer stayed in their family home, and Maeve moved in with Bobby.

He had to cut his hours at work to be there for the girls. Daisy who was now thirteen understood more of what was going on than seven year old Lily who kept asking why mommy didn’t live with them anymore.

Life was intrinsically unfair. It was one thing for Maeve to hurt him, but another entirely for her to hurt their daughters.

Picking up the pieces in the wake of his wife’s betrayal was the biggest challenge of Spencer’s life. Because it wasn’t just his pieces that needed picking up, it was Daisy and Lily’s too.

Some days Spencer barely held it together for himself, let alone them. On some weekends they spent with that cheating whore he would spend forty eight hours with several bottles of scotch and his couch.

Sometimes he’d go out. Sometimes he’d call up Luke or Matt or Emily and go to a bar and get blind drunk and stare at the tan mark where his wedding ring had sat for thirteen long years.

Some weekends he didn’t even get out of bed.

But without fail, once his daughters were back in his care, Spencer put everything aside for them. He plastered on a smile, he cooked dinner and asked about their days. He drove them to and from school and read to them and played with their toys with them.

If Spencer Reid knew one thing to be true it was this: he was a great dad. He put his all into giving his angels everything they could possibly need. He showered them with love and adoration. He taught them everything he knew. He made sure they would grow up to be better women than their skank of a mother.

But when they weren’t around, he crumbled.

That’s not to say he was necessarily heartbroken. He’d never loved Maeve the way he should have. But he’d been comfortable, he’d had a stable life he’d grown accustomed to and Maeve threw it all away for some man named Bobby.

Thirteen years of marriage, two beautiful daughters and a large home in the Virginia suburbs weren’t enough for her. He wasn’t enough for her.

Spencer had been abandoned one too many times before for this not to rip him apart from the inside.

He’d spent years trying to love Maeve for the sake of Daisy and then later for Lily too. He’d put his all into a relationship he’d never really wanted in the first place.

He’d wasted all these years trying because he knew Maeve loved him. He did it for her. Only for her to throw it back in his face.

It made him feel like a fool, and no one made Spencer feel a fool.

But he held it together. He kept his anger and his sadness bottled up for the sake of his daughters who didn’t deserve any of this.

And that was how, at forty four years old, Spencer found himself a single divorced dad.

***

It was nearing the end of winter and the cold days and bitter nights were expected to pass soon.

Gloves and hats had been left behind in the previous weeks but Spencer still ensured he wrapped his girls up in their winter coats and scarfs before they left the house.

He dropped Daisy and Lily off at school like he did every morning, stopped by his favourite coffee shop for his morning fix and then drove to Georgetown for his morning class.

The girls had been at their moms for the weekend and if truth be told, Spencer was still feeling a little worse for wear after his weekend of binge drinking.

He wasn’t as young as he used to be, he didn’t bounce back as quickly as he would have once had.

Luke and Matt had taken him out, slightly against his will. He would have much preferred to stay home and drink alone but when the two men had arrived on his doorstep, it made it harder to decline.

His old team members kept telling him he needed to move on. They told him needed to get back out there and meet someone if he ever wanted to be happy.

But dating was the last thing on Spencer’s mind. Dating had always been difficult for Spencer but now with two kids it was neigh on impossible.

He had too much else on his mind to bother with dating. Luke and Matt had reluctantly let it slide.

The coffee in his hand aided in keeping him warm as he strolled across campus and also went some way to stemming his hangover.

He tugged the lopsided purple scarf tighter around his neck as he fought against a soft breeze.

The trees lining the path were still bare, looking somewhat baron this time of year. He looked forward to spring when all the flowers on campus came alive again, filling the otherwise drab courtyard with bursts of colour.

The path ahead of him was clear and it looked like he might make a clean break to his office without any students asking for assistance on last week's lecture.

He lifted the coffee to his lips again and relished in the way the liquid warmed him from the inside out. When he lowered his cup, he noticed someone now stood in the middle of the path ahead, effectively blocking his way.

The person was facing away from him, something in their hands garnering their attention. A large navy overcoat hung around their frame, almost coming down to touch the floor.

As he approached he realised there was no way around this person without walking across the grass and the groundskeepers frowned upon that.

The figure didn’t even seem to realise they were in anyone's way, or even hear him coming.

“Uh…” Spencer cleared his throat. “You’re kinda blocking the path.”

Your eyes suddenly snapped up from the paper clutched in your hands and you spun to look at him, slightly wide eyed.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” You brought the paper to your chest, a look of shock on your features. “I’m lost, if you couldn’t tell.”

In his entire life, Spencer had never felt his world stop turning the way it did when he looked at you for the very first time.

You had a smile that could bring a thousand men to their knees. Your eyes sparkled as if they held all the stars in the sky.

The last time Spencer felt the air leave his lungs like this was when a woman he’d had a one night stand with told him she was pregnant.

But this time he was breathless for completely different reasons.

He watched you tuck the piece of paper inside your purse that hung from your shoulder. He willed himself to speak, to say anything as opposed to standing and staring dumbly.

“Uh…” he swallowed. “Where are you trying to go?l

“Do you work here?” You smiled sweetly at him, toying with the strap of your bag.

“Uh yeah.” Spencer nodded, feeling as though his IQ had been completely slashed just by looking into your eyes.

“Oh great!” You bounced on the balls of your feet. “It’s my first day. I’m trying to find Professor Monroe’s office but this place is so…huge.”

A breeze fluttered past and he watched the way it caused strands of your hair to dance. He tried to ignore the effect such a simple action had on him.

“Oh, sure.” Spencer nodded. “He’s over in the psychology building. I’m heading there myself, I can show you?”

“That would be great.” You nodded, waiting for him to lead the way.

He started walking again in the direction of the psychology building and you fell into step with him. Your heeled boots clicked against the concrete as you strolled together and Spencer found the sound oddly comforting.

You fell into silence and Spencer wanted to talk to you, about everything and nothing, but he found himself at a loss for words.

When he’d first laid eyes on Maeve all those years ago across the crowded bar, he thought she was beautiful, but he wasn’t floored by her.

Conversation had come easy with her but that was probably only because he didn’t feel so tongue tied around her.

She hadn’t knocked him for six the way you had, causing his brain to short circuit and effectively shut down.

His reaction to seeing you for the first time was how Spencer always pictured great love stories to begin.

He was nervous and his palms were sweating even though it wasn’t warm. His heart was racing more than it had a right to, and it only got worse when he saw you glancing at him as you walked.

You made him feel dumbstruck, causing his usually impressive brain to become a ball of cotton wool. He’d never in his life felt this way before.

“What do you teach?” You suddenly asked him, snapping him out of his daze.

Your words felt as though they waltzed to his ears, wrapping him in a warmth DC hadn’t seen for months.

“Criminal Psychology.” He heard the way his voice cracked, he hoped you didn’t notice. “You’re a bit late in the year to be joining a class aren’t you?”

You giggled and the sound sent shockwaves through Spencer’s body. It was a sound of hope, of freedom; a sound that ignited something in Spencer he thought had long ago died.

“I’m not a student, although I’m flattered that you think so.”

“No?” Spencer raised an eyebrow at you.

“No, I’m a TA. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to come up here for a while and thankfully I was top of the list when his last TA left suddenly.”

You reached the psychology building and Spencer held the door open for you.

You smiled in thanks as you brushed past him inside and he caught the scent of your hair.

“He’s a really good professor.” Spencer mused out loud as you walked the corridor together.

“Yes, I’m excited to work with him.”

Spencer came to a stop outside Monroe’s office and motioned to the door.

“This is him.” The plaquared on the door stating his name should have been enough to suggest that but thankfully you didn’t point that out.

“Thank you so much. The last thing I needed was to be late on my first day.”

“You’re very welcome.” Spencer felt a knot forming in his stomach at the thought of saying goodbye to you so soon.

And by the way you hovered in the corridor he wondered if you felt it too.

“I’m Y/N by the way. Y/N Y/L/N.” You offered him a slightly awkward wave.

“Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Oh I know who you are.” Your lip turned up at the corner. “Doctor Spencer Reid, former BAU Agent.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly as he gave you a curious look.

“I…uh…should I be scared?” He scratched the back of his neck.

“I’m just…a fan.” You shrugged. “Your thesis on Identifying Non-Obvious Relationship Factors Using Cluster Weighted Modelling and Geographic Regression was fascinating.”

Spencer felt himself blushing, never one to take compliments.

“I wrote that when I was at CalTech. You couldn’t have even been born.”

Again you shrugged and your eyes twinkled in that way that left Spencer speechless.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Doctor Reid.” You clutched the door handle behind you. “Hopefully I’ll see you around.”

“I really hope so.” He admitted.

He watched you open the door and continued to stay vigil until you disappeared behind it.

His heart was yet to return to a normal rhythm even after you were out of sight.

His hangover was a long forgotten memory and for the first time in years, Spencer felt alive again.

Taglist -

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #me and you and everyone we know #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds

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writethatdown · 4 years ago

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so I was in a pretty bad rut for a few weeks, and now I'm in a fairly better place, still not living on a full fledge but the initial fog has lifted.

rut could be from a lot of things: burnout, lack of motivation, procrastination, outside triggers, bad mental health, or the overwhelming feeling of life falling apart but too numb to act upon it. the causes of it could be numerous as well: online schooling, student stress, work stress, a certain relationship with someone not working out or being stuck at an uncomfortable environment.

so I just want to remind you that you aren't alone love. you will eventually find a way out. you just gotta give yourself time.

note: this isn't science supported or anything. it's just a bunch of thoughts I had while I was trying to get back the stability in my life. I'm not all the way successful at handling my daily routine like a pro either. if any of you have better alternative in mind, feel free to add/correct.

let yourself feel: give yourself some time to feel the sadness, cry about it, wrap yourself up in blankets, sleep if you're tired and let it all out.

remind yourself about the things that makes you feel happy and the things you love: so when your life slows down and everything seems to be distasteful, it maybe because you haven't revisited your favorite hobbies in a long time. maybe you had detached yourself from your comfort shows, books, any form of entertainment. so go back to them. remind yourself about the things which makes you, you.

change the perspective around this funk phase: now the immediate response we have when we hit a rut is the guilt of not being productive. well you see, the first ultimate aim should be to get yourself back together. what have you been shoving away for too long? maybe it's a good talk with your best friend, go talk to your support group and the people who make you feel loved. but if you're someone stuck in a place where there aren't much people to remind you that irl, read posts from the #selfcare #gentlereminders tags on tumblr or pinterest. there are so many sweet people across the internet who know how you feel and have written about the same. listen to music, vent in a diary and get yourself back.

some ideas to get some serotonin inside you: music + dance, if you haven't taken a shower in a while—change your clothes, put on some dry shampoo and deo and comb your hair with fingers. eat and hydrate. aesthetic vlogs on youtube. making moodboards on pinterest for your favorite show, band, movie, aesthetic, anything. paint, draw, doodle or color. rewatch your comfort shows, movies or series. read or reread the works from your fave genre. stretch a little. make lists of random things. watch the sunset. look at clouds and stars. write a letter to your loved one, your past self or your future self.

identify the things which went out of proportion these days: maybe you were not taking care of properly these few days. not enough hydration, food maybe? find that out and make a reminder to slowly getting back into it. not by the span of a day. give yourself a week or two if you need to it's okay!

think about what new things are to be implemented and what was not working earlier: only now you will have to focus with the problem at hand. let's say your poor organization for school led to this much frustration. it's okay. we all learn gradually. so find out how you can organize better. there's literally so many resources across each of these problems on the internet. and once you do, start really small. as said earlier, give yourself enough time to get used to it. unrealistic expectations will make sticking to habits hard.

always remember winding down and taking some time out for your soul is important as well: the thing about consistency is to always go back to our why's and values and our happy things as frequently as possible. we tend to forget about the little things which are parts of us. so take time out for your hobbies and loved ones!

I'm not sure how much of a help these had been. I hope this makes sense. getting yourself back up doesn't happen in a day. give yourself as much time as you want. please please please don't be hard on that cute little yourself. that thing which brought you down was hard enough and you fought through all of it love! so I want you to give yourself a loving pat on the back and be proud! do feel free to share your experience and tips regarding this. it'll be greatly appreciated!!

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ditttiii · 4 years ago

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gold rush. || kth {m}

⇢ summary: kim taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. all narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is everyone’s dream. after months of sharing an elevator with the man who makes your heart race until you can scarcely breathe when the chance finally comes; are you willing to risk it all for his touch?

⇢ genre: porn with feelings, soft smut, angst, is unresolved tension and feelings a genre?

⇢ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

⇢ word count: 4.4k

⇢ rating: explicit / 18+

⇢ theme: strangers to lovers, s2l!au

⇢warning/s: public/elevator sex, exhibitionism, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (female receiving), lots of kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex? reader’s on the pill, swearing, tension and so much of it, unresolved-repressed feelings, taehyung is a certified dingus & reader is hopelessly smitten.

⇢ a/n: betaed by @yeojaa who owns my heart and is the most precious bean ever.

also have all my virtual, socially distanced cuddles @btsmosphere @papillonsgf @birbdae & @unoriginal-username15432. if it weren’t for their support this wouldn’t be out today. my gratitude knows no bounds ♡ also big thanks to taylor for the fic title.

banner by @chillingkoo & moodboard by @today-we-will-survive their art breathed life into this fic ♡ a belated birthday fic for one mr.kim taehyung & the beautiful @kerikaaria. this fic is also my submission for @thebtswritersclub january monthly project.

lastly, i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy it x 2021 here v go ♡

You wonder when the shame stopped making you hide behind a curtain of messy bed hair. When the smell of a man's cologne on you and a fruity fragrance on him started to feel normal; routine.

The elevator closes with a 'ping', and your eyes track the numbers as they descend, the warmth of another human, the soft puffs of his breath, warming your shivering, scantily dressed body.

"What happened to ‘she’s too old for me?’ " You grunt, slipping off your six inches of agony inducing footwear and pushing them to a corner.

"What happened to you not being jealous?" You can feel his smirk, oozing of self-assured nonchalance and smugness that would seem ugly on anyone but fits like a well-tailored suit on him. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he leans back, hands resting on the metal railing while his tall, lean body slouches lazily, almost invitingly, and you have to force your eyes away from tracing the curves of his pecs. It's a tempting sight, but you aren't about to give him any more ammo to goad you with. As it is, he already knows too much, is far too keen.

"Of your sugar mama? I don't think so."

Taehyung hums but doesn't refute the statement and the silence between you two stretches on. A burning ball of jealousy in your stomach continues to eat away at your peace, and with a clenched jaw, you allow your head to rest against the cool metal of the elevator and pretend that the proximity doesn't affect you.

It's always the same between you two, a constant game of tug and war, where one pulls too firmly, and then the other comes tumbling close until one of you comes back to your senses and then it's back to square one. Back to bickering and recounting the previous night’s escapades of half-truths and lies told from kiss-swollen lips and hooded gazes as you try your best to rile the other one up.

It's stupid. You are in your twenties and this isn't like you. The lying, the pretence that you are still seeing your ex-boyfriend and biting and sucking your own lip until it swells; until you look properly ravished; none of this is you.

You should have known the day he first stumbled into the elevator with a half-buttoned shirt and bite marks painted over the pale skin of his neck, a satisfied smirk curled on his dark pink lips, that he wasn't good for you. But no, like the absolute fool that you are, you fell for him. Fell knowing full well he wasn't yours to have, that back then you weren't his to have.

The elevator comes to a stop with a shudder. Your eyes, closed sometime during the descent, snap open and your feet pause when the sight of the closed doors grace you.

"You stopped the elevator." It's not a question, not when his hand is still hovering over the stop button, head tilted as his eyes stay trained on you.

"I did." He admits to a question you never asked.

Biting back a hiss at his insistence on being difficult, you twist on your heels, lips pulled into a smile whose edges sting like shards of a broken glass and parry, "And why did you do that, pray tell?"

He doesn't answer, just looks at you with that half-lidded gaze and his silence only infuriates you more, makes the back of your neck feel heated as an angry flush rises from your chest all the way up to your cheeks and with a few angry stomps you’re in Taehyung's space, barely a few inches left between you two.

"God!" You start, and the anger, the jealousy, the ugly ball of insecurity and lust and something you haven't quite found a name for yet all coagulate and rise up your throat, burning your heart in their wake until you are hurting and seething. “I don’t get you, nor do I want to anymore!" The words tumble out, one after another and half thought out but your chest still burns and the ugly ball still feels scorching hot in your throat and you can't bring yourself to stop, to shut up and think. "Stop doing this. Stop flirting with me and stop looking at me with those hooded eyes of yours and for the love of god, do you really need to lick your lip that often? Why don't you carry a lip balm if your lips are that dry, huh?"

The cross of your eyes is almost painful, but you have started and fuelled by anger and unreciprocated feelings there’s no stopping your steam. "And now this! Stopping the elevator! What the hell is this supposed to mean?" His lips part as if to answer but without waiting for his response, you plow on, "What! Do you actually have an answer? Really? Let's face it; you think I’m some sort of challenge that needs to be conquered. Another notch on your bedpost. You and your stupid smirks and half-lidded eyes and that damn mole on your nose and god, can you just not—"

The soft pad of his finger on your lips pauses your rant, leaves them parted and your heart hammering while unsaid words clutter the hollow spaces in your throat, tighten around your vocal cords like a noose until they become their own nemesis.

"I broke up with her last night," Taehyung says, and from where you are standing so close to him, his breath on your neck, cheeks, lips is too enchanting, too much like something you had hoped and begged and prayed for far too long now. Breathing out harshly you blink yourself back to reality because you must be hearing him wrong.

"Huh?"

His hand slowly comes up to hold your chin, thumb running over your lower lip with a feather-like touch, "I broke up with her last night, went home and came back early because I didn't want to miss you." He says, and your chest feels tight, palms numb and it's only when his hand gently settles over the nape of your neck and you inhale painfully that you realise that you had stopped breathing.

"Why?" You rasp out.

Don't hope. This means nothing. Do not hope.

Something twists in your belly, a thread tightens around your heart, and you know, despite it all, that you are hoping.

"Why do you think?" He asks instead, and you stifle the sudden desire to bash his head into a wall.

"Don't play games with me."

A sigh, his breath dancing on your lips and you barely suppress the tingles that burn down your spine, "I'm not. I don't want to, not anymore." The hand resting around your neck curls, fingers caressing the soft skin behind your ear.

"What do you want then?" Your words are quiet, hope and longing laced into every syllable that you desperately hope to hide but fail.

Your heart hammers into your ribs with so much force you are half afraid it will leave them cracked; splintered just like your love for the man who is touching you, holding your entire heart in the palm of his hands while you wait for it to be crushed. Because it will, it's inevitable. Kim Taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. All narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is too good. Too good for the woman he was with and certainly too good for you. You would be happy if you looked half as good on your wedding day as he regularly does because he is that gorgeous. And unreal, and pretty and it hurts.

It hurts because you can never have him and any second now he will push you away and ridicule you for getting flustered so easily and he will never understand, and god it cuts. It tears at you because despite knowing better, you long for him, his touch, his warmth.

Maybe even his love. But that is one hope you refuse to acknowledge out loud.

Your breaths mingle from where you two are standing so close, and part of you aches to reach out, to pull him closer and wrap yourself around him until you can sync the beat of your heart to his, to nestle your face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in, drown in the scent of that spicy cologne that you associate with him and nobody else. Because it's tempting, oh so inviting and he is so so close.

You could touch his chest, caress the skin peeking from in between the dip of his low neck shirt and it would be easy, he would let you, you know that too but what about after? How do you come back from holding someone your soul is in love with and then pretend that being with them for one night was enough? How does your hope keep living on in the name of that fragment of love? His arms your shelter for one night and then you are back to being strangers, sharing elevators and bumping into each other at the grocery store, pretending all the while that you do not yearn to visit that one night you spent together whenever your head hits the pillow?

"I..." Taehyung struggles, chews the words before his lips form them because this is his last chance and if he loses you now, it's over; he knows that too. The pair of you are done playing cat and mouse.

"I know my words don't hold a whole lot of value. I could promise you things, but you won't believe me and that's fair. I get it." He admits, another hand coming up until your face is cradled in his open palms, fingers slipping behind the edges of your ears and you will yourself to not drop your gaze, to look into his eyes and search for...love? Honesty? You wish you could say you know what it is that you are hunting for, but held so close all you can think about is the chestnut brown of his eyes, the black that rims them, the high arched brows and the thin, smooth lips and that mole; that mole that you can only see when you are pressed close, a hair's breadth of space between you two.

"But...?" You ask, pray, and yet again, against your better judgement hope.

"But I love you." He confesses, voice forever rich and deep and you feel the hum of his baritone from where your chest is still pulled tight to his. "My love for you is unlike any I have ever known, and it scared me; it still scares me because I don't know. I don't know what I will do if I ever lose you. I care too much, I—" His grip on you tightens and instinctively your hands snake around his waist, clenching the soft cotton of his shirt, nails biting into your skin as his words thread your hopelessly lovesick heart back together; piece by piece.

"I love you too much." Taehyung whispers and the ice around your heart thaws, his raw confession lighting a fire in your nerves until you are left buzzing from the high of his admission. "Trust me. Just this once. Please." He is vulnerable in his plea, and for the first time you wonder if you had characterised him wrong. Boxed and stored him like a gift on a shelf without bothering to look underneath the paper wrapping.

Taehyung doesn't have to beg, he doesn't have to try and persuade anyone, and for all the gibes you threw his way, all the daggered words about him dating only for money, you didn't truly believe any of them. Sure, the woman he had been with for the last few months was older (a voice in your head whispers wiser), but that wasn't because she was, as you would often insist, his 'sugar mama', but instead because their interests aligned. Kim Taehyung is a man of taste, whether it be his fondness for a violin's trill, fascination with modern art, or his love for jazz music. He is an enigma and with no small amount of embarrassment you think back to all the times you have bought a book after he made a passing comment on it, searched the pages and the characters to find some semblance of him.

Maybe you are pathetic, perhaps you are far too infatuated with this man for it to be healthy. Just maybe...

"No," Taehyung commands, his voice so determined you’re snapped back to the present, head thrown out of the haze your wandering thoughts had created.

Seeing your obscure expression and strayed eyes (look away because you can't acknowledge how much he matters), he pushes, one hand sliding down to grip your chin and urge you to look him in the eye. "Don't."

Maybe he sees something in your eyes, spots your hidden insecurities, reads you like an open book and dog-ears the pages that hold your weakness.

"Don't what?" You deflect, gaze drifting away again as you pretend to not know what he means but secretly long for him to keep pushing, to keep trying—your denial’s a facade to hide all your pleas.

"Don't do this to me. To us."

"You'll hurt me." You protest, a half-hearted attempt at trying to protect your already doomed heart even as your fingers clench tighter, pull him closer.

"No, I won't." He speaks with certainty that you don't wholly believe but fuelled by far too much love and longing, you don't protest any further and instead toe closer, rise higher, and breathe in the shaky exhale he lets out when your lips skim the sharp curve of his jaw.

"I've wanted this for so long." Unadulterated desire courses through your veins at his admission. Even if Taehyung is lying, even if he leaves you stranded after today, you'll live. You'll live on the high of this moment, the memory of his skin under your touch, the crisp of the cotton draped over his lean torso.

It's easier to let go and surrender yourself, easier to lay yourself bare because you have already come too far and there is no protecting yourself anymore—your heart is now his to do with.

Your hands twine around his waist, slide over the vast expanse of his back like he is yours; as though if you try hard enough, you'll leave an imprint, a sign that he belongs to you. Mark him for the rest of eternity and brand him with your name on his heart.

Kissing him is easy, the slight ache of staying on your tippy-toes going by unregistered as you get lost in the sensation of his lips, his sighs on your chin, the tickle of his lashes against the high curve of your cheek.

The cradle of his palms around your face is gentle, almost careful, as though you are a porcelain doll and he is afraid one harsh move will leave you splintered. Chest tight, you push down the last remaining traces of hesitation clinging inside your throat and twist to catch his lips instead, licking a long strip from the soft cleft of his chin over to his parted lips, dip into the hollow of his mouth and slide over the soft flesh on the inside before you catch his upper lip in between yours and suck.

His responding groan has you clenching your thighs and you break the kiss, breathing in to replenish the oxygen that doesn't seem as important when his lips are on yours. When your gaze catches his, for once you don't look away, don't force yourself to stop from swimming in the beautiful, clear pool of his eyes.

"I love you too." Your admission is quiet, more a careful whisper than anything else, as though any louder and you'll break this spell and things will go back to the way they were. He will come to his senses and realise he doesn't love you after all and then you'll go back to being a pining, lovesick fool, only this time with a broken heart and no hope to cling to.

His eyes grow soft—gentle in the curve of two crescent moons, and you smile your first real smile, the edges twitching and pulling into a gentle grin before you can bite it down and the answering smile that Taehyung rewards you with has your heart squeezing almost painfully inside your chest.

"Yeah?" He asks as though he already knows the answer but just wants to hear you say it again, profess your love for him again and you do. You say it again and again, press your lips over every inch of his face and emboss the words onto the smooth, unblemished skin.

Taking in a shuddering breath, you answer from around the suspended ball of disbelief and love in your throat. "Yeah."

When the clothes start coming off it’s a gentle, slow affair, the spaces in between filled with tender touches curious to explore the skin that they had desired for so long and open-mouthed kisses pressing promises of forever and happily ever after onto the naked expanse, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Legs twined around his waist like ivy, you arch off the floor. A tug of your hand and his shirt slips low, and then your mouth is pressing warm, wet, kisses, tongue slipping out and desperately tasting his skin, his sweat— him. You lean back and then he's on you, low, low, low until his lips are close enough to skim the edges of your panties and you buckle, arch and push without meaning to as you ache for relief only he can provide.

"You are beautiful. So so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

His words are rough, less speech and more growl as he pushes his head closer to your soaking heat and inhales. "Fuck."

Breathes turning to hitches, words into gasps, you can scarcely keep your eyes open when he runs a long, slim finger through your folds and circles your wet opening before your walls are pulsing around him, sucking and pulling the finger in as deep as it will go. One and two then three, your cunt can't have enough of his fingers, his heat and him and oh—

His lips are velvet against your clit, your body a molten mass of gold moulding itself around his fingers, your sanity and restraint slipping and dripping down onto the carpeted floor from in between the spaces. With the last left strength, you prop yourself onto your elbows and the sight of Taehyung's mouth on your sex is almost enough to send you slipping back down again. His tongue laves across your folds with the desperation of a man parched, caressing every fold, greedily licking away your dripping arousal and moaning out obscenities too vulgar for how early the day is.

When you come, it's with a cry that sounds too animalistic to be yours. One that comes from your chest and leaves your back arched like the ends of a boomerang. "Good?" He asks with glistening lips, and you wanna scream, hysterical in your pitch— good? Is there anything better that exists in this world than his lips on you making you come? Again and again, until you can no longer stand the sensitivity?

But instead of screaming, or shaking him by his shoulders until it gets through his head, you reply with a spent nod and let your elbows slip. This is what being eaten out by Kim Taehyung feels like. The pleasure coursing through your veins is something far more potent than any you have ever felt before. The blood in your veins thrumming, almost sizzling under the thin layer of your skin.

He presses his forehead to yours, rests to catch his breath and with every shuddery inhale you breathe your arousal in, a swipe of your tongue across his glistening lips, and then you can taste it too. It tastes of nothing and yet everything. Coming from his lips, it tastes of what your dreams are built from, like liquified recklessness and yearning and above all —Taehyung.

It tastes of him and his smirks and all the kisses you couldn't have and all the kisses you now hope for.

His fingers are gentle when they tuck your hair, eyes bright behind the curtain of messy, ink-black strands, "There's a law somewhere that says when you love someone with all your heart, you are unavoidably loved by them as well. Amor ch'a null'amato amar perdona."

Your eyes search his, frantically rove all over his face, search the lines under his eyes, pause at the small mole on his nose, and then stop at the sight of the one on his lower lip, the one that your eyes would always drift to every time he'd smirk or grin in the past. Now he's smiling, lips stretched into a soft boxy curve, the mole evident against the edge and you raise a trembling hand, run your thumb across it. Cup his face with both your hands until your vision blurs and then your lips are on his. Locking and licking and your mouth is a leaking faucet of I love you's, hands working to the back of his head and getting lost in those perfectly long, wavy strands.

You hope this is the real thing when you wildly take off your dress, rip off his shirt unmindful of the last few buttons that clatter to the floor and undress until the both of you are as bare as you were the day you were born.

The steel railing is startlingly cold against your rear but before you can wince Taehyung's large hands are on your waist, pulling you closer until all that's on your mind is the feel of him, hard and hot against your dripping heat. His mouth is on your breast, lips sucking marks into the flesh and tying you to him, leaving traces of his presence behind until you can no longer differentiate the ache in your heart from the burn in your belly.

Somehow through the haze of want and compulsive need, you collect yourself enough to tell him you're on the pill when he remembers the lack of protection in his wallet, and then he's inside you. The thrust inside is fluid, and you are moaning, keening at your wetness, at how long he is, at how unbearably, entirely full you are.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, like the last words of a man dying an untimely death, desperate and hurried and like if he takes a second too long he might never get the chance again. The scratch of your nails against his back must hurt, the grip of your heels around his sides must be painful, and still you can't bring yourself to let up; to let go.

The air inside becomes humid, reeks of sex and sweat and everything that shouldn't seem so right, and yet does.

You come first, hit your peak and crash through it like a ship in a torrential sea, hot and volatile and like something vital that you'll retain even in the afterlife. Taehyung–sweet, sweet Taehyung – helps you ride it out, makes your body sing with the honed practice of a pianist who has spent more decades playing than he can recall. His tongue is on your neck, stroking that one sensitive spot in the hollow of your clavicle while his hand brushes your clit, builds the pleasure and lets it drift, unhurried and soft until you are crying from the overwhelming rightness of it.

With a shudder, you finally push his hand away from your quivering heat and bring it to your lips, kiss the bony knuckles and let it rest on your thigh from where he wraps it tight around your waist and drives to chase his own high.

Sated you watch Taehyung, catalogue all the features that you had never seen before but up close can. Just in case—just. File them all in a part of your heart where only he resides, a piece you will always come back to, regardless of if the man in your arms chooses to stay or not. You will be selfish with these memories, hoard and treasure them in secrecy until the day you can look back upon them with nothing more than nostalgic fondness.

The appearance of a deep furrow on his forehead, between those long arched brows and the breaking rhythm of his thrusts, alerts you to how close he is and you clench. Clench with all the love and devotion you nurture in your heart and hope that somehow it will be enough. If not forever, then at least until you can have your fill, until you can love him for a life's worth and live off on those memories. Live on them like a late mother's half-finished perfume bottle that you take out and sniff on your sorriest days, a push strong enough to keep you going.

One more day, then one more and then just one more until you can finally meet him in the afterlife, old and having done all that you had been sent to do. Except for love. You doubt you can ever love like this again.

Kissing him after feels like the best kind of heartbreak because you know, somewhere deep in your gut where you house your intuition and insecurities, you know this won't last.

Yet you wouldn't take back anything. Your lips form words on Taehyung's shoulder 'i love you so much. i always will', and you tighten your arms around his waist. Anchor him to the present and pray that the defence will be strong enough to keep him with you for a little while more.

Just a little.

a/n: the end is up to your interpretation, you are free to imagine whatever end you’d have liked to see. If you enjoyed reading this please let me know through comments, reblogs, tags or asks. the feedback makes me insanely happy and i love hearing from you guys ♡

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