#absent destiny

[telestoapologist]

DESTINY 2 AS TUMBLR TEXT POSTS 💠💬✨

(30/?)

[anabetel35]

Guys hear me out -- Ninjago DR AU where Morro manages to leave the Departed realm (or the space that used to be the Departed realm but is now in the merged lands) and kind of. appears on the ninja's doorstep. He's held on to a bit of his power as a way of defying destiny. The ninja absolutely hate the idea of keeping him around but he's the only one who can properly teach Euphrasia and also knows what's going on in the Departed realm.

And because he's still technically only like fifteen, not having aged since he died, he's now actually more similar in age to Sora, Arin, Wyldfire and Euphrasia than the OG ninja. Even Lloyd is/acts older than him.

He's the designated gay emo cousin of the monastery. People would definetly use that plant mister that Lloyd has on him when he's being annoying if it wouldn't kill him.

[massive-isopod]

CRYING I CAN'T FUCKING DO THIS DON'T TALK TO ME

[pinkytoothlesso11]

Challenging Destiny chapter 23

With Morando taken care of, Jim and the team reunite with lost members before heading back to earth.

Aja and Krel reunite with their parents, who are finally recovered, and have an easier time than expected explaining everything to them.

A risky plan is proposed to try and convert Area 49-B to their side, to prepare for revealing magic to the world.

[thefirstknife]

Random inquiry! Has there been any interaction between the Vex and Rasputin? I haven’t found anything but honesty I’m curious. Love the blog btw!!!!

That's an interesting question because nope, not that I can remember.

There are some indirect interactions due to the fact that he resided on Mars and Mars had a population of the Vex, especially in D1 while the entrance to the Black Garden was on Mars. Vex enemies were present on missions where we were defending Rasputin's installations and territory. Same with D2 and his bunker on Io: the Vex were present there as well.

However, to my knowledge, he never directly had any altercations with the Vex. Unlike the Eliksni who routinely break into his bunkers and the Cabal that fight anything they see, even the Hive that he had major assaults against on Mars (including freezing Nokris and Xol when he couldn't fight them), he didn't seem to have any issues with the Vex outside of them simply being near his bunkers.

When Osiris confronted Rasputin, it's shown that Osiris has seen what Rasputin truly did to Felwinter and the Iron Lords (Felwinter was Osiris' mentor) and he saw it in the Infinite Forest. This would mean that the Vex can simulate Rasputin. That's about as close as we can get for Rasputin and Vex interactions.

Fairly strange that the Vex weren't on his radar more often. Though on the other hand, he wasn't really on their radar either. They don't seem to have an explicit interest in one another, which is very intriguing.

[thewitchwannabe]

Chapter 5 is done! You can expect it this weekend!

Here’s a sneak peak!

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Eight--Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Rough Sex, Slapping (for sexual titillation), Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, GUNPLAY, Outdoor Sex, Gagging, Choking, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, ANGST ANGST ANGSTTTTTTT!!!!! GET THE TISSUES OUT!

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the aftermath of your heartfelt confession, the ambiance shifted beneath the curtain of rain. Mattheo's initial warmth, which had enveloped the moment, began to withdraw, slowly being replaced by his usual guarded demeanor.

Tension, thick and tangible, emanated from him, as if he yearned to retract, to voice a refusal. The gaze that had once been soft, akin to melted chocolate, now bore a stark reluctance. It was as though the vulnerability you had glimpsed moments earlier had transformed into a protective shield, guarding him against the intensity of the unexpected revelation.

Undeterred, you pressed forward, defying the cooling atmosphere with a resolute step. Your hands, a gentle insistence against the encroaching frost, found their place on his face. Amidst the rhythmic percussion of springtime raindrops, your eyes held an unbroken contact, mirroring the pounding cadence of your heart. A silent gaze held him in place, allowing the weight of your words to permeate the space before you spoke again.

"Don't say anything," you whispered, the words borne on the breath of the rain-soaked air, a plea to let the unspoken emotions settle in the delicate stillness between you two. "You've said so much, Mattheo...you've shared so much with me...I don't need you to say another word...just...just listen,"

Mattheo blinked, the subtle motion accompanied by the quiet working of his throat as he swallowed. His hands, hanging at his sides, remained still as yours maintained their firm grasp on his face. An almost imperceptible nod from him prompted you to inhale sharply, capturing the breath in your lungs.

"Perhaps I lied to you..." you began, your voice soft, tender. "Perhaps I wasn't being truthful when I said I never believed in destiny...because in a way, I do...but I also believe that we are only destined to do the things we'd choose to do anyway..."

A pause ensued as you studied his countenance, your gaze tracing the scars on his skin and taking note of his perfect imperfections that shaped the essence of who he is.

"And I'd choose you, Mattheo...in a hundred fucking lifetimes, in a hundred different realities, I would choose you...every fucking time..." you declared, your grip on him intensifying. Your hands trembled, mirroring the tremor in your voice. "I don't care about your history, I don't care about any of the bad things you've done...everything you've been through has made you who you are...and I am fucking in love with who you are...every single part of you...your smart mouth, your cheeky smirk, every line and every scar..."

Drawing him nearer, you gently guided him until his forehead found solace against yours. His hands discovered the curve of your waist, pulling you into an embrace that emanated urgency, a profound need to absorb every syllable you uttered, each word a testament to the depth of emotions shared between you.

"Your skin, absent of its scars, would be like a sky without stars," you murmured, your shared breaths blending in the intimate proximity. "I didn't fall in love with you; I fucking walked into love with you--with my eyes wide open, deliberately choosing every step along the way. Everything you've revealed changes nothing, Matty...I love you, utterly and unequivocally."

A profound silence enveloped the space, and time seemed to elongate into a suspended realm, each passing moment an eternity. His eyes, a tumultuous storm of unexpressed feelings, gently fluttered closed, his lips parting as his breaths, once steady, now took on a rhythm almost akin to panting--a visceral manifestation of the emotions swirling within.

His hands, deliberate in their motion, traversed the landscape of your back, ascending with a sense of purpose. As they reached your head, his fingers, fueled by a desperate urgency, found purchase, gripping your face with a fervor that spoke volumes. In this charged atmosphere, his eyes, concealed behind closed lids, hinted at the vulnerability beneath the stoic exterior. The suspended moment begged for release, aching for the words that lingered on the precipice.

"Say it again..." his murmured request, laden with longing, reverberated through the charged air. "I just-"

"I love you," you said, the words firmer this time, your hands threading behind his head, fingers entwining in his soaked hair. "I love you..."

His jaw tensed, and he released a shaky breath--his eyelids fluttering, the grip on your skull tightening. "Again."

"I love you," you repeated, your voice gaining strength, fingers digging into his scalp as though you could force the words through. "I fucking love you, Mattheo Riddle."

Breaths intermingled, and your grips on each other surpassed the hold of any chains or restraints. In the pulsating intensity, your minds spun with a whirlwind of thoughts. Was there a sweeter arrangement than this? He gets to ask you, over and over to repeat it--while you get to tell him, over and over, that you mean it.

Your nails dug into his scalp, foreheads pressing together with an almost painful force. "I thought it would be impossible to ever find someone...to ever be with someone, when beneath my surface of composure, I'm scattered in a million different pieces--like a puzzle with missing parts..." you paused, lips softly grazing his. "But then you showed me that every piece doesn't have to be in place to create something beautiful...something real...that love can exist in the most imperfect, lost, broken people."

A guttural noise escaped him, resonating low in his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, cradling your head.

You inhaled a shallow breath before you continued, "and I promise you, my love will be just as strong, just as beautiful, whether you, too, are in a thousand pieces, or just one.”

Mattheo, completely struck silent, locked eyes with your parted lips. In perfect synchrony, your gaze met his, and in that silent exchange, there was a mere gasp of air before his mouth was on yours. The passion between your bodies ignited into an unbridled inferno, refusing any attempt at restraint. His kiss was a slippery bruise, melding madness at your skin, tongue driving into you while he inhaled through his nose. You met him, movement for movement, groaning against him, fingers folding further into his hair, thumbs tracing the tops of his ears, and he groaned against your lips before capturing them again,

The kiss was unlike any before--a fervent blaze spiraling out of control, unwilling to be subdued for even a moment longer. His lips met yours with an intensity that felt almost primal; a hungry, desperate fusion of raw emotion and longing. His hands cradled your head with a force that hinted at an uncontainable desire, making you wonder if he sought to meld your very essence. The cool droplets of rain cascaded around you, soaking your skin to the bone, but you couldn't find it in you to care.

"I need you, princess..." he whispered, parting from the kiss, his hands gliding down your back as his lips found the curve of your neck. "But you already knew that, didn't you? Pretty girl..."

Your eyelids fluttered in response, fingers tightly grasping his hair, a desperate grip that mirrored the intensity of his kisses trailing down your neck. Your lip found refuge between your teeth as his mouth explored the path of rain cascading along your skin.

"My tainted little angel," he murmured, his words a provocative caress against your ear. "Crushingly beautiful...tender like a bruise..."

His hands, firm and insistent, sought the curves of your hips, fingers grasping at the wet fabric of your dress, tugging it upwards along your thighs. "You were the first sin actually worth hurting for...had me wrapped around your little finger before you even fucking touched me..."

You throbbed, a full-body pulse, humming into him with a shudder, Mattheo's lips moved back to yours, nipping at your lower lip before sliding to your chin, following the streams on your skin as he pressed clumsy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, falling to suck and nibble at your heartbeat. Whimpering, you nuzzled your head into his, and he responded with a sharp bite to your neck, barely-restrained, earning a squeal from your throat.

"I told myself I was fine...that I was better off alone...never needed anyone, never wanted anyone...but then you came around, and after all this fucking time, after everything I put you through...it's still you, it's you who fucking believes in me..." he murmured against your skin. “You mean so fucking much to me…and when I finally admitted to that myself, when I finally let myself feel…you made me better, and I don't mean from being my tutor...you just made me want to be better...fuck, Raven...I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at the stars...I wanted to get better grades for you…I quit drinking and drugs because I wanted to be a better man for you..."

As he lifted your dress beyond your hips, your hands eagerly joined the movement, gathering the fabric's hem and peeling it over your head. His eyes traversed over every inch of newly exposed flesh, absorbing the sight with an intensity that spoke volumes. You observed as he swiftly shed his suit jacket, stripping the soaked fabric from his frame and laying it on the ground. His hands deftly moved to undo his belt, discarding his gun in the process. Returning a firm grip on your hips, he crashed his mouth back to yours, a relentless hunger igniting the kiss.

Moaning, you writhed into his chest, and he gripped your face, nails scraping your scalp while he pulled you closer, groaning into you, leaning--you followed him, chasing his kiss until you were both on the ground; him on his back, your legs straddling him, palms planted on his chest.

"I’ve had some, then most of you...all, and then none of you..." a soft, anxious breath escaped his throat, and he swirled his tongue over yours before biting your lip and pushing you up, hands settling on your thighs, rocking you back and forth over his thick erection, covered only by the thin fabric of his boxers. "I-I can't lose you again...it's you...it's fucking always been you..."

"Oh, Gods..." your voice cracked, emotion bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill out as you rolled your hips against him. He watched you, panting in rhythm with you, and you admired him--how fucking beautiful he was--his eyes stark with need, his mouth parted in open anticipation, his muscles tensing as he gripped and squeezed you, jerking his hips into your heat. "You won't...you fucking can't..."

Rain bathed you both, rivers roaming over your curves, white cloth of your bra a dewy illusion over your breasts. His thumbs skimmed your nipples with prickles of pleasure, and you moaned, head falling back on your shoulders. As if the sound awakened something inside him, he gripped your hips, flipping the two of you around until you were on your back beneath him, lips instantly moving to your neck, sucking at your throat.

You slid your hands under his shirt, savoring the firm contours of his body. He tensed, a low groan escaping into the intimate space between you, while his hips pressed against you with a force that seemed intent on melding you with the forest floor. Your fingertips traced the hard muscles, memorizing the damp, heated feel of his skin. In his voracious pursuit, he exhibited no restraint, extracting painful hickeys from the pulse at your neck.

The heat of desire surged between your thighs, and he moved lower, marking you with unrestrained passion. Tissue yielded to the pressure of his teeth, welts blooming under the fervent touch of his lips. Anxiety flickered through your mind as visible evidence of his ardor emerged, but the soft groan escaping his chest erased any concerns. Your back arched, willingly offering more of your untamed flesh to his insistent exploration. Grateful, he bit at the swell of your tits, crimson crescents blooming, and his hands moved to your underwear as he laved at your nipple through your bra, scraping it with his teeth through the fabric.

Mattheo fumbled at your folds, two thick fingers peeling you open, assessing your slickness, teasing your entrance. "Still so fucking wet for me..." he murmured, clucking his tongue. "And in the middle of the fucking forest...you'd take my cock anywhere I wanted, hm?"

You bit your lip, trying to grind against his hand. "What can I say...watching you use that gun did something to me..."

"Naughty, naughty girl..." he leaned to your ear, thumb skating your clit--you gasped. "Weren't you ever told to stay away from the asshole, weapon wielding bad boys?"

"Perhaps," you hissed through a moan as Mattheo pushed two fingers inside you--your walls tightening around him, hips twitching, head lolling against his soaked jacket. "Though I've never been good at following orders."

Mattheo huffed. "I'd say."

His mouth consumed you with a fervor, tracing a path of rich violet marks from your chin down to your clavicle, his spit mingling with the rain. Scissoring you open, he rolled your stiff clit, rocking his wrist, curling and working your walls, his other hand palming at his erection in an attempt to pacify himself. You bucked your hips, a shivering moan escaping, and he cursed, slamming in to the knuckle.

"If I fuck you now," he muttered at your jawline, "you'll have to take all of me. Everything I give you." He bit your neck, hard, forcing a cry from your lips. "I won't be able to control myself."

Heat scorched you, and you pulsed around him in anticipation, his fingers crooking in your wet core. Thunder grumbled in the distance. "Thought I'd long proved my capability."

Mattheo purred, and bit you again, pain shooting through you. "Earlier doesn't count, we were rushing...I need to wreck this tight little cunt...I'll fuck you harder and deeper than any of those assholes could ever fucking dream of..."

You shuddered, meeting his eyes. "Do your worst."

Snarling, he leaned back onto his knees, tore his fingers from your core and stuffed them in your mouth; you whinged in surprise, working to suckle them clean. Mattheo's free hand unleashed his dick, twitching eagerly despite its thick, heavy length. He jammed his hand to the back of your throat, and you gagged before he depressed your tongue, prying open your jaw.

"You know how this works." His gaze locked onto you, and the sky seemed to ignite with lightning around him. "Beg for it."

When he released you, you gasped into the rain. "Please, fuck me."

In the blink of an eye, his hand struck you, unleashing a spray of saliva from your parted lips. "That was pathetic," he snickered. "I fucking said beg."

Your face burned--humiliation, shock, and most importantly: desire. If this is what he meant, you wanted more. "Why don't you fucking make me?"

"There's that dirty mouth..." Mattheo smirked, shifting as he reached for his gun, gripping it with his free hand while the other stroked his cock. Before you could process it, he brought the barrel toward your temple, pressing the cold, wet metal against your skull. "Last fucking chance, princess...if you don't beg for my cock I'll fuck you so hard you'll be begging for mercy instead."

A whirlwind of shame and yearning left your head spinning, the likely instigators of your brief lapse into temporary insanity. "I'm not scared of you, Riddle..."

“Oh, princess.” His smirk grew. "You should be."

Adjusting the gun, he compelled the barrel past your lips, the icy metal coating your tongue. His other hand delved into your hair, gripping your soaked strands tightly as he forcefully drove the gun deeper into your throat. Then, without warning, he broke you open, splitting your core with a deep, harsh thrust, head slamming your cervix. You cried out against the weapon, body recoiling in pain, hands moving to his hips, and he shook you in reprimand.

"Oh, no--don't fucking bother." He drove his palm into your head, his nails scratching your scalp. "No running. Take it."

Mattheo pulled out fully before ramming back into you, spearing you with his cock, your body quaking with the force of each of his violent thrusts. His breath was already ragged, furious groans pushed from his chest as he fucked deep into you. Your lungs were empty, failing to find oxygen in his onslaught, your walls squeezing his length in delight, drool spilling down your chin and mingling with the flow of rain.

"Fuck--such an insatiable little cunt..." he growled, his eyes drilling into yours, taunting you through his gaze. "It missed this cock already, didn't it?"

Another deep thrust, meeting your cervix, and you winced, groaning against the gun as you tried to nod.

"That's right...shit..." he pulled the gun from your mouth, strings of drool hanging like garland from the barrel, quickly being washed away with the rain. "My girl...my fucking beautiful, filthy girl..."

He tossed it onto the ground next to your head, drawing his hand down toward your belly, slick fingers rubbing merciless circles on the bundle of nerves in rhythm with his pistoning hips--you wailed, drooling with pleasure, assaulted with a sudden, immediate need to orgasm.

"Fucking hell, you're so tight when you're about to cum..." he groaned, punishing your pussy with hard, rapid thrusts. "Prove you can take it. Cum on this cock."

Between the attention on your clit and the size of his dick, you snapped, convulsing and trembling while your blood flooded with flames, blazing heat through your thighs and to your toes. Above you, Mattheo hissed, fucking you through it, valiantly holding off his own orgasm as yours fizzed at your flesh. When your core's pulsing slowed, he shifted, propping your calves up his shoulders before he leaned forward and clamped his palm down on your neck.

"Don't squirm, baby..." his low voice commanded, and as you whimpered, squirming beneath him, his grin deepened. His eyes, now wild and intoxicated with desire, held a promise. "I gave you fair warning."

His free hand pinched your cheeks, slowly sliding out before slamming back in and pounding your cunt, growling breath leaking from his lungs, his hold on your throat tightening. The pressure in your head only doubled the frenzy of being fucked--you wheezed, your pulse thumping in your temples, and this spurred him on, drilling you with a depraved stare as he plowed into your tight pussy again and again and again.

The rain was steam on your skin, thunder a distant noise behind the sound of slapping skin and your strangled, whimpering moans. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his throbbing dick, sore clit twitching once more with a growing demand to be sated--Mattheo grunted, tugging you closer, eyes drilling into yours.

"Open that filthy mouth."

Wincing, you complied, parting your lips as he commanded. Without hesitation, he leaned down and spat into it.

"Now swallow it. Show me."

With determination etched on your face, you managed to comply against the pressure of his massive hand. Popping your jaw apart with a grimace, you showcased your resilience, earning a smirk from him. In response, he rewarded you with a series of both painful and blissful strokes of his hips, pushing your body to its absolute limit. Your breath had vanished ages ago, your heart now a wild entity, coursing through your veins.

"Poor baby," he sneered, feign sincerity in his tone. "I think you need to cum again."

He snaked his free hand between your legs, rolling your aching clit, and you groaned--or tried to, anyway--the speed of your pulse resonating through the grip on your neck. He felt it, too, head bowing in pleasured shock as you thrummed around him, your oncoming climax massaging his thick cock with every new thrust.

"Fuck." Resolute, he rubbed you faster, watching you--in his gaze, you saw nothing but an endless, dark void of lust. "Who do you fucking belong to?"

The words barely made it out. "Y-you, Mattheo..."

His choke tightened, and your vision blurred. "Who owns this tight little pussy?"

"You--you do, Mattheo..." you gasped.

"That's right," he sneered, and swirled your nub so quickly you squealed. "Cum for me, princess..."

The force of your orgasm surged through you, blurring your vision, and you screamed, choked by his hand as every muscle below your waist convulsed in a rapturous ecstasy. Your pussy milked and squeezed his cock, but he resisted his own climax once more, sinking into you until you descended. He drank in the sight of you--eyes rolled, raindrops scattered like diamonds on your skin, your throat and chest smothered with the evidence of his possession.

"Good fucking girl...take me...take all of me," he muttered, voice low and deep in the night air. "Every single fucking inch."

Mattheo shifted again, one arm coiling under you to fist your hair, the other cranking your leg back until your knee hit your chest. Groaning with pleasure, he hammered into you, stretching you wide, filling you to the base. Soaked strands of his hair slid into his eyes, and he tossed them back, wetting his lips and fucking you deep, trapping you in his feral gaze.

"You love me." He tilted your head back with a deliberate motion. "You fucking love me."

You nodded, not a shred of hesitation. "Yes-fuck! I do!"

He swallowed, inching closer, his forehead tenderly meeting yours. "After all of it," he whispered, the words almost lost in the shared breath, "after everything..."

Your chin quivered, and the revelation about his parents cut into your heart, a painful echo of his turbulent past. It hurt, yes, but it also felt like the a groundbreaking revelation, the ending to the story which finally explained why he was the way he was. There was an undeniable understanding that surged between your hearts, a silent recognition that both of you needed love in ways only the other could provide.

Despite the turmoil, you couldn't blame him for something so deeply rooted. The man craved love as desperately as you did, neither of you ever willing to admit it. In the synergy of your souls, there existed an undeniable connection, a perfect harmony that transcended spoken words. Even in the hushed language of silence, your hearts resonated, acknowledging that there would never be two souls more perfectly suited for each other than yours.

"After everything." You wrapped your arms around him, safe when lightning crashed, rocking your hips in his pace. "No matter what."

"Fuck." He wound your hair in his fist, and wrenched your head back, tearing at your throat with his teeth, harsh thrusts pulverizing your cunt. "...I'm--fuck--I'm going to make you break again." His hand left your leg, long fingers back to stroking your tender clit. "And then I'm going to fill you up with my cum."

Senses barraged, you shrieked, overwhelmed and oversensitive. He wasn't fucking joking. You wanted mercy. "Fuck! Mattheo! Please-please-"

"No. Take it," he snarled into your ear. "Take it."

He assailed your nub, and you quailed, curling around him like a snake, shaking from the overwhelming intensity of his power, lids shut while he nipped your neck, demolished your pussy, panted hard into your ear.

"You're mine." He growled, his voice shredded raw with lust. "Mine."

"I'm yours!" You shrieked, nails digging crescents into his back. "Yours."

"Fuck-" he hissed, slamming harder, deeper. "Mine! All fucking mine..."

"Yours! Fuck!" It was all too much, too great, brain crashing into a wanton mess. "All fucking yours!"

Your body convulsed, teeth sinking into your lip, propelled through a realm of heightened sensitivity into an ecstasy that seared your skin. Gasps and incoherent pleas spilled from your lips, a desperate supplication for release, for him to unleash the crescendo that would send you soaring and screaming and cumming.

"That's it," Mattheo growled, pumping into you, folding you into his frame. "You're taking me so fucking well baby, just one more...cum for me, angel."

Your senses fractured, caught between euphoria and disbelief, and your body spasmed, climax radiating through your every fiber, a luminous burst that shattered any remnants of sanity, setting Mattheo ablaze in its wake. He groaned, grunted, burying himself to the hilt, warm cock pulsing as he poured hot cum deep into your cunt. For a moment, he didn't move, silently working to catch his breath before he pulled back, shifting onto his knees.

You fixated on him, your head weighed down, struggling to fathom the endearment he had bestowed upon you--silently endeavouring to etch every detail of this encounter into the recesses of your memory. A contented sigh escaped you, accompanied by a smile that radiated the joy swelling within your chest.

However, as you gazed at him, basking in the warmth of affection twinkling in his eyes, you noticed a flicker of something else--an abrupt shift. His thumb grazed your chin absentmindedly before he moved, working to tuck himself away. You mirrored his actions, attempting to salvage what was left of your clothing, now thoroughly drenched by the relentless rain.

Walking through the forest on your way back to the castle, the shadows of the trees played in the puddle-soaked ground, creating a surreal dance around you. Mattheo extended his hand, a silent invitation you willingly accepted. The brief connection sent a comforting warmth through you, grounding you amidst the uncertainty.

As you navigated the path, thoughts swirled like the mist around you. The night's events echoed in your mind, and a cloud of questions veiled the clarity you sought. Contemplating a potential job at the castle, you wondered about its impact on your newfound bond with Mattheo. Did you still harbour the same enthusiasm for the job amid these compelling complexities? The walk became a journey through both the tangible forest and the intricate maze of your thoughts, navigating the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Approaching the castle, the distant melody of music embraced the night air, whispering promises of celebration within. Capturing the tune, Mattheo halted abruptly, pivoting to face you as the two of you lingered just outside the castle walls, hidden by the shadows of the night.

Your brows furrowed inquisitively as you locked eyes with him, seeking to understand the meaning behind this sudden pause. "What are you-"

"Shh." He cooed, eyes darting around.

After a brief survey of the surroundings, he fixed his eyes back on you with a newfound emotion swirling within them. Without another word, Mattheo enveloped you in a tender embrace, guiding your arms to rest on his neck as his firm hands settled on your hips. Bathed in the gentle glow of castle lights, he initiated a graceful sway to the rhythm of a slow, melodic tune that harmonized seamlessly with the rain-soaked ambiance.

In the suspended moment, your gaze locked with his, the world around you blurred as the rain continued its gentle descent, creating an intimate cocoon amidst the springtime storm. It felt perfect, a clandestine world of your own, away from the prying eyes of others.

"All those people think love's for show..." Mattheo blinked, drawing his face closer. "But I'd fucking die for you in secret."

Your breath hitched, water welling in your eyes. You quickly blinked it away, searching his face, mapping it, along with everything else from this night into memory.

"How'd I get so lucky..." you tightened your hold on him, the raindrops adding a gentle percussion to the soundtrack of the moment. "A sky full of stars, and yet you're staring at me..."

"There's no need," he murmured, directing your head to lay against his chest. "Avere lei è come avere le stelle."

Your heart leapt. "How did you-"

"Notts been teaching me," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, the pride in his tone. "You know what I said, don't you?"

You blushed, unable to stifle your grin. "I do."

He hummed. "Tell me."

"No," you whispered, fingers digging into his neck as you shifted your head to look up at him. "I'd like to hear you say it."

His smirk grew, and he peered down at you. "To have her, is to have the stars."

“Mm,” you glimpsed his mouth, brushing your lips against his as you murmured, "E averlo, è come avere la luna." (And to have him, is to have the moon.)

His smirk blossomed into a radiant smile as he gripped your face, drawing you into a profound, messy, deep kiss. Every fiber of your being quivered under the intense surge of emotions you felt for this man--love enveloping you entirely, and whether or not he uttered the words, you could sense it--right now, ten minutes ago, and every moment in between.

All you wanted, more than anything, was that he’d hold you tight, and whisper that you’d find a way to be together. But then, his hands fell from your face, wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you back into him. With his lips pressed to your forehead, he whispered,

“I’ve never loved anything, Raven…anyone…I didn’t even know I had a heart until you made it beat.” He murmured, tightening his grip. “Now this heart belongs to you. And I’ll fucking kill every last person that tries to keep you from me…”

You shuddered, breathing him in. “We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out.”

He hummed, nodding softly, the two of you swaying to the gentle melody, ignoring the cold rain pouring down against your bodies. You weren’t sure how long you’d stood there, minutes, maybe even hours--but as the song came to an end, switching to another, more upbeat one, you smiled, meeting his dark, gleaming eyes.

“I love you, Mattheo.”

He pressed his lips to yours. “I love you, Raven.”

[forlix]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying? 

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile. 

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES.  From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket. 

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge. 

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being. 

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair. 

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each. 

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[eratosmusings]

Stolen Destiny (III)

summary: your limits are pushed until something snaps

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, smut in future chapters, blood, misogyny, dark themes, canon typical violence

word count: 2k

previous chapter / dividers / masterlist

Feyd-Rautha is in your dreams again. Black teeth, barking laugh. But it’s not the same. Eyes alight with something you don’t understand. Dress heavy and clinging. Nails dragging down your wet skin. Dagger in your hand pressing against his throat. Poisoned words on his lips. “You wear blood well, my darling.” His image fades as hands cup your cheeks.

The day that follows is endless. Finalizing preparations for the coming days of events. Fielding requests from the minor houses for a moment of your time. A meeting over concerns of recent tectonic activity that your absent father is supposed to attend. Two more run throughs of the dance. The swordmaster demands two more after dinner.

Irulan is entangled in conversation with Duke Leto throughout the meal. Nauseously you wonder when an engagement will be announced. It was the destiny the Atreides had stolen. Paul would be Emperor and you would be nothing but a disappointment. Your father toasts to how proud he is of the woman you’ve grown into. There’s no truth in it. You can only blink at the lemon tart that’s served for dessert as he promises he’s prepared a fun few days ahead. 

When the meal is over you do not seek Fandral. You do the opposite and duck out of his sight at the first opportunity. He knows you’re supposed to return to the Small Hall and practice again. As comforting as his presence has been, you don’t want comfort or encouragement or protection. You want to stab something. Repeatedly.

The training yard is empty. The weapons are locked away, but you have the dagger Feyd-Rautha had gifted. You’d carried it with you throughout the day. Tucked away into the deep pockets of the borrowed gowns. You aren’t sure why today you felt the need to have it and not any other. Maybe you knew you’d need it. Or maybe you made the need for it because you had it. Either way, it serves your purpose.

The mannequin takes the blade with little resistance. It was natural in your hand. No matter how much or little pressure you use, it doesn’t slip and slice your palm like others do. A well made dagger.

You flick on the mannequin’s shield to test how well it handles the added strain.

“I am glad to see you enjoying my gift.”

There’s little resistance as you sink it into the stomach of the mannequin. “I am sick of pleasantries and pandering, na-Baron. Leave me be.”

Feyd-Rautha is predictable. You knew he would follow. You know he’ll take the chance to attack.

There’s the slightest whoosh of air that warns you. You evade the blade in his hands by millimeters, dodging to the right. You push the mannequin towards him. It knocks into him, unbalancing him for a moment long enough to twist your own shield on. His black grin is wide again as he recovers and stands tall. The dagger he carries isn’t much different from his gifted one. The handle thicker and longer, a few teeth in the blade, but from what you can glimpse it’s clear they had been made by the same hands. 

He lunges, expecting your evasion and slices at where your throat goes. He’s too fast and it bounces off. You counter with a jab to his arm, slow enough that it strains his shield. He doesn’t give it the time to penetrate as his blade comes back again.

The dance continues. Both of you manage to knick the other occasionally. You feel blood seeping from a slash across your chest and more from one along your back. He has two along his arms and one on his hip. You’ve held well, but he is taller and stronger and you feel yourself begin to falter.

“Growing tired, my lady?” he teases as you barely dodge another attack. 

“As would you under the weight of this dress.”

“I have no objection to you removing it.” He’s quick even after the extended duel. He strikes, and in your attempt to get away, he catches your hand and turns your shield off. The humming of his shield silences as you're pulled and turned until your back meets his chest. His blade is against your neck with a familiar chill and fingers digging into your hip. “Though it may tempt me into distraction.”

An unfamiliar fire blooms with the confession. “Careful what you share, na-Baron. I might use that sort of information against you one day.” Something twitches against your lower back.

“Let her go.”

The hand gripping your hip, the blade at your throat, and the warmth on your back are gone in an instant. You’ve never heard The Voice before, but it’s unmistakable. It’s not even directed at you, but your mind blurs and your body is pliant, as if waiting for its own command to follow. Fandral’s face blocks your view. He’s questioning if you’re alright, if you feel faint or dizzy. You can’t answer. It’s as if you're treading through the water again. 

You’re turned and pulled again, but now you’re separated from Feyd-Rautha by your guard and Paul Atreides. The heirs point their blades at each other. Paul accuses him of taking and hurting you. As if you were some helpless damsel.

“Stop,” you say. It’s too quiet, your mouth numb. Fandral shushes you and tries to lead you away. You try again, louder, “Stop!”

Neither heir moves.

“I asked him to spar.” It’s only a half lie. Paul’s tense pose eases as he finally breaks his gaze off Feyd-Rautha. “I wasn’t taken. He didn’t hurt me.” Paul's eyes dip to your chest. “Not anymore than I did him, anyways.”

Fandral questions, “In an evening dress? Alone?”

“It is when she is most vulnerable.” Feyd-Rautha has lost his smile. “Given her security leaves much to be desired at the best of times.”

You can feel the loathing radiating from Fandral. But there is no denial.

You nod at your former opponent “Thank you for your time, na-Baron. It was very enlightening.”

“It was a pleasure, my lady. You fight like a Harkoneen.”

The fire he lit burns brightly on your cheeks.

“What was the point in asking for a personal guard?” Fandral huffs when you’ve returned to the palace. His jacket is around your shoulders to cover the slice in the back of your dress. He’d wanted you to see the doctor, worried again about poison, but you refused. “If you wanted to train, you should have asked me.”

“Or me,” Paul says on your other side. “He could have hurt you.” He doesn’t recognize the condescension of his concern.

“That was the point.” You have to stop yourself from touching the wound on your chest. “How am I supposed to know training has been effective if I’ve never faced real consequences?”

Fandral scolds, “If you stay with your guard, you’ll never be in a situation where you have to find out if it’s effective.” He shakes his head, pushing the door to the Small Hall open. It was the compromise he relented to. No doctor visit if you came here. 

“You’re late,” the swordmaster calls out from where he stands in the middle of the room with a guard you recognize as one the Atreides’. His eyes travel across your mussed form. “I hope the other person looks worse than you.” 

“He doesn’t.” 

You glare at Fandral as the swordmaster decides that is a personal offense against his training and decides that practice will be doubled for it. It’s only as you look for the woman who always carries your swords that you realize she’s not there. None of the others are. But Paul still is.

“I shall see you tomorrow?” You hope he understands it’s a dismissal.

The question amuses him. “I intended to practice with you tonight.”

“With me?”

He smiles as if you’re missing something obvious.

The dance isn’t silly anymore. Fandral had been right. It does tell a story. One of submission. 

There are no troubadours, only the sole Atrides guard who plucks at the strings of a Baliset. Your feet move in the familiar pattern, hilts of the swords bouncing against your hips.

Even without the additional instruments you recognize the melody. The blades gnash against their sheaths in protest as you pull them free. They shriek in the air, spinning easily between your fingers. Faster and faster they spin until the music nearly dies.

Once, twice you clink the blades’ together before you stab one into the plush stool. Fandral claps to the beat the drums usually play as you turn your back to it. The sword that remains drags its tip against the stone floor. Sparks follow when you twist quickly.

Paul stands there now, sword pulled free. He brings it in front of him as he drops into a defensive stance. The Baliset begins again now you fight. Thrust, retreat, parrie, circle, advance, lunge, parrie, retreat, parrie, parrie. On and on it goes until he flicks the sword out of your hand. You take the hand he offers and spin into him as the music reaches a subdued crescendo. Chest heaving, you stay there and stare into the eyes of the person who has taken everything from you until the music and the last of your dignity finally dies.

Three more times you are subjected to the humiliation. It will be once more tomorrow.

When Paul and his guard are gone, jolly at the surprise they’d sprung on you, you round on the swordmaster. He answers your unspoken question. “Your father did not want you to know until the last possible moment.”

“Perhaps you should wait until morning,” Fandral attempts to persuade you as he shadows you down the empty corridors. “Or at least remove your swords?” You don’t bother with a response. 

The guards stationed outside his door attempt to stop you, but you’re quick to dip under their arms and push into the room. You're unsurprised to find a courtesan in his bed. There’s a scandalized shout from her and curses from him as they scramble to cover themselves.

“Get out,” you tell her. 

Your father objects, but she is quick to comply. She pulls her dress from the floor and slips into it with practiced ease. She’s gone within a minute. The door closes behind her.

“You’ve gotten bold,” he growls.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?”

With a huff he says, “Because you wouldn’t have done it if you did. I told the Atridies you’d be too shy to do it if you knew and the boy thought it was enduring.”

“Why have me dance with him at all?”

He shrugs. “It was their suggestion.”

You stare at him. He’s pathetic. “You were wrong,” you tell him, bile on your tongue. “I would have done it if you asked. I would’ve done anything for you.” You leave before he sees the tears slide down your cheeks.

Feyd-Rautha doesn’t have a chance to visit you that night. Sleep never comes. Anger too potent to allow any rest.

When morning comes the maids work on making you presentable. There’s comments on the bags under your eyes and the new scar across your chest. You let them cover the former, but insist on keeping the latter. “Your father won’t like it,” one cautions. You're not inclined to care what he likes anymore. It’s something they soon realize.

They’re hesitant to style your hair in the way you instruct, but relent. Then the dress they offer, another of his choosing, is refused. You see their realization when you tell them what you’ll wear instead. Their efforts to sway you are in vain as you threaten to leave the room as bare as the day you were born.

Fandral stops in the doorway after the maids leave. “You look…”

You're still standing in front of the mirror. The dress is lilac, frilly and feminine in a way you’ve never been allowed. Your hair is braided, save for the pieces that frame your face. You look soft. Delicate. Like a painting that had been tucked away when you asked too many questions.

“Like my mother.” 

There’s only one thing missing. The rogue lies abandoned on the vanity. It’s vivid enough that a single dab of the brush colors both your cheeks.

your thoughts & reblogs are appreciated!

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[telestoapologist]

[black-lake]

astro observations 12

heyy here are some of the things i found out lately while i was wasting time

——

🎠 An aries moon and capricorn sun man, I always find this mix intriguing. Can give off the vibes of a character straight out of a webtoon, or a fuck boy that’s just visibly toxic. Either way I find them so incredibly magnetic. They possess strong fiery auras and usually have a rebellious streak to them. If they act out of their shadows they can be arrogant, insensitive, disloyal and only chase after the physical. 

🎠 Initially I wondered why eminem doesn’t give me libra sun vibes at all, then I looked a bit deeper into his chart and realized that he’s just textbook uranian, he even looks like an alien and acts like one at times. He got sun conjunct uranus, aquarius moon, mars conjunct uranus, and uranus square nn. He was born to be a rebel. 

🎠 He’s one of greatest rappers to exist and it’s worthy to mention some of the aspects that indicate his unique talent for rapping. First of all mars conj uranus is known to give unique talents, so that’s that. In this case sun and mars conj uranus granting him a natural rhythm, quick thinking, and unique expression. But the supersonic speed doesn’t come just from that. What’s interesting is that his ability to be a fast rapper and master lyricist is amplified by pluto also being in libra, conjunct his mars and pallas, fueling him with anger, intensifying his capabilities with determination, and heightened mental control and intelligence. Saturn is also in an air sign (gemini), indicating speed and intelligence. This gives rise to a grand air trine, linking his powerful stellium of sun, mars, uranus, pluto, and pallas in libra, his moon in aquarius, and saturn in gemini. The stars really aligned there making him the rap god huh.

🎠 If you know eminem's story you'd know that he had a tough upbringing. From a difficult mother and absent father to being an outcast bouncing between schools and sketchy neighbourhoods, the only white kid in a black community, being bullied by gangs, and even beaten up till he drifted out of consciousness, then dropped out of school. Makes me think it's why he keeps his bodyguards with him all the time! He was left with nothing and a daughter to provide for, encountered racial prejudice in rap contests for being white, despite these obstacles, he rose to become the best-selling hip-hop artist and earned recognition from rappers as one of the greatest of all time. Leads me to the next obs.

🎠 Heavy uranus/aquarius or 11°, 23° can easily become misfits without trying to. They’re constantly put in new environments, places where they’re the only ones of their kind, like a white kid in a black community, a foreign in a mostly local area, the new kid in school. There’s always ‘something different about them’ that people pick up on even if it was as early as elementary school. Which may get them outcasted or bullied. Their experiences at times lead them to hate school and drop out. 

🎠 People with these placements have something special to offer the world. It may seem like obstacles are constantly put in their way without them doing anything, but it’s their path unfolding. So they can wake up from their conditioned states and break from the status quo. The more that happens the more they realize who they are. 

🎠 Here’s why I think those that got capricorn north node can be the best fathers or the child’s favorite parent. It’s part of their destiny to be a caregiver and a good example for their children and they have the biggest hearts when it comes to caring for them and protecting them. They desire to give their child what they themselves may have lacked in their youth and shield them from the pain they experienced. Their child is their inspiration and reason to keep going in a way.

🎠 The biggest two examples I can give, Eminem singing mockingbird (one of my favs) for his daughter Hailie. He often mentions her in award shows, and did a whole diss track (killshot), in 13 minutes btw lmao, just because MGK made a tweet about his daughter. The other example is Travis Scott singing goosebumps for his daughter Stormi on stage and bringing her to his concerts. She has always said that her fav parent is her dad. Anyway, don’t mess with these ppl’s kids they’ll go after you to the end of the world. 

🎠 Men with mercury conjunct saturn have deeper voices, speak slowly and eloquently like they’re a 50 year old even if they’re 25. They are very grounded, have a methodical way of thinking and are wise beyond their years. Also masters at dodging questions.

🎠 I’ve seen it a lot and experienced it myself having an aries stellium. Women with a lot of aries or mars placements can often feel like they’re more cute, youthful and sexy in a cool way rather than the typical feminine way. They often have toned bodies, smaller chests and a lot of masculine qualities that trying to appear too feminine can feel fake to them. 

🎠 People with north node in capricorn can feel like they've been robbed of the success they deserve. It's giving the vibe of a musician that has worked so damn hard on their album and received public success but no official awards, then released another album and did it again and again and still haven’t gotten a grammy. I mean grammys are scams but ykwim. Along the lessons of success and accomplishment, there's also a profound lesson in patience and self-validation, a focus on recognizing one's worth from within rather than seeking external validation.

🎠 I noticed that aries, gemini, aquarius and capricorn placements or heavy mars, mercury, uranus and saturn can prefer skirts over dresses or just wear pants all the time.

🎠 Those with uranus-neptune in pisces really brought back the love for anime, manga, webtoons, cosplay, colourful cute aesthetics, dreamcore, surrealist aesthetics and art. They just got a dreamland vibe to them and it’s quite fascinating to see.

🎠 I have north node in leo and I'm starting to look like my 5 year old self, no joke, connecting to your inner child can do that. Looking at my childhood photos stirs up emotions within me. I often find myself reminiscing and yearning for that carefree time when I was simply myself, devoid of societal pressures. Plus, I can't help but notice after fixing my fucked up teeth I got my child smile back. I feel like I'm in a journey of rediscovery as I start to recognize that childlike spirit within me once again.

🎠 Those with sagittarius, libra, taurus, gemini, leo and aries placements have the most beautiful smiles omg, like it does something to your heart. Please keep smiling it really brightens up this world. I mean I can fit all the signs here I just love when others smile. 🥺

🎠 Mercury opposite pluto, these native can say exactly what would get them mocked or bullied. They keep starting the wrong fights for the wrong reasons. They could get triggered of people who communicate better than them. Their lesson lies in improving their communication skills, cultivating tactfulness and diplomacy, and learning to reclaim their power in a psychological manner rather than resorting to mindless verbal confrontations.

🎠 Mars conj/opp pluto can at times experience violence early on, in school or their neighborhood. They experience a lot of obstacles constantly, inner and outer pressures that they may feel like giving up. These challenges ultimately instill within them greater resilience and determination to pursue their goals. Many martial artists and athletes have this aspect, seeking an outlet to channel the intense anger they experience.

🎠 People with aries north node really go from one battle to another without a break. Leaving behind their need to compromise and avoid confrontations can be challenging but is the very thing that brings those battles. Eventually they will find themselves needing to defend themselves alone with no support, fighting back relentlessly no matter what and stop compromising to keep the peace. They will gain this sense of self assurance and bravery to face anything in life.

🎠 I know someone with a lot of saturn oppositions, aquarius sun and stellium opposite saturn, capricorn moon and aries nn. This person has always been underestimated by their parents and always felt like an outsider. They had controlling parents that imposed so many restrictions on them. They also were targeted in school for having a funny and likable personality. Being their aquarius mc and aries mercury bestie I saw their potential and encouraged them to fight back even if it meant making a scene. They eventually built up the courage to stand up for themselves no matter how alone they are. But they also have this wisdom to know when to pick their battles and when to ignore things and let them go, which I look up to.

🎠 People with a lot of chiron conjunctions or oppositions have a heart of gold. Real angels on earth that have been through it. They have so much compassion and understanding for others because they’ve been hurt in many ways. They know what it feels like to be wounded by life and have tremendous amounts of empathy for that. They have sensitive souls and their presence alone can make others feel seen and heard. I appreciate these people a lot, like thank u for existing. 

[mintsvnoo]

CAN I BE YOURS?

PAIRING enha! ni-ki x gnreader

— in which both ni-ki and (name) have been friends since birth. one saturday night, (name) went over to have a sleepover at ni-ki's place where they end up finding ni-ki's mother old video camera memory card. and upon watching the ninth video, they both discover a cheesy love confession from ni-ki to (name)...

GENRE non-idol au, fluff, drabble

WARNING|S none

A. NOTE all writings and reactions from these idols are from MY imagination, it does not reflect their actions and reactions irl!

more under the cut !

“nishi, look at this shell! isnt it pretty? !”

“yeah! but i think you're even more pretty....” your friend, riki, said before handing you a small yet freshly picked out rose with seemingly absent thorns. “here, um, have it.. i already removed the thorns, so you wouldn't get pricked by any of them!” he said enthusiastically, not minding the small cuts on the palm of his fingers. saving you to catch the little reds seeping through the cuts and bits.

“gasp riki! your fingers, i think theres blood on it! are you okay?” quickly giving the rose that riki gave you to your mom who was alongside with his mother, giggling softly. while videoing the scene occuring in front of them. both of your mothers wanted you two to be the bestest of friends while growing up, but oh well, looks like destiny has other plans, with you both being two lovebirds already at such a young age! ehem, now grabbing the right hand of riki and swiftly swiping away the blood going out the cuts.

“im okay, those are just cuts! their nothing compared to a big boy like me! that's what momma said.” riki reassured you, earning a laughter that felt like sweet music to him and a smile which made his heart flutter like there we're butterflies flying both inside and outside of it. but riki did not know why he felt like this way, the way he would always be looking forward on waiting for you and seeing you before pre-school, the way he would always beg his mom and yours to let you both hang out, the way he would steal you away from your mother's grasp to instead get ahold of your warm and welcoming hands... and the way he wanted to just say-

“can i be yours?” silence. both mothers looked up from the camera to stare shockingly at riki, who was looking at you with those loved-filled eyes, waiting for your answer patiently. then to you, staring back at him with those confused-yet unfazed eyes, seemingly not knowing what he meant by that. looking back at your mother to eye-tell her what he meant.

as your mother whispered to your ear what he means, your eyes became a bit wide, once the meaning was out. before looking back at riki, who was still waiting patiently for an answer. “oh.. um, how about, when we are older?..” you rejected, in your well thought mind, dating was supposed to be for adults to worry about, and your not an adult, both of you are not yet adults! so it was only reasonable to say that ..right? well based on riki's reaction, simply smilling wider and giving you a thumbs up. “it's okay! i'll wait!”

quickly pausing the eight year old video that was saved on riki's mother memory card. “woah-ho-ho.. i did not remember that!” you said as you leaned back on your chair, avoiding riki's stare at you. few seconds passed by with an awkward silence before riki's simply chuckled, unpausing and replaying the video to the part where he gave you a rose. “not gonna lie, i forgot about this too..”

he said with that deep voice of his that was far from his younger and more gentle voice that was playing on the video. “can i be yours?” .... “oh.. um, maybe when we are older— riki adruptly paused that part, almost like slamming down the pause button. before rising and turning to you. “so... now that we're older, let me repeat this, um... can i be yours?”

[marlenesluv]

۵pairing: fem!albonsibling!ballerina x platonic f1 grid. slight readerxlandonorris

۵type: social media au

۵authors note: i’m super excited to continue this! i’m hoping it will be a little series :) also, the picture for the series has my main blog name but i’m too lazy to change it lolz.

۵warnings: slight language

۵summary: y/n albon and her partner seem to have a little fall out…how will her fans and friends react?

۵this is part 2! please read part 1 before this (it’s my work, just on my main blog)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

yourinstagram

liked by landonorris, arthur_leclerc, and 838,103 others

y/n.albon: solo practice mornings 🩰

view comments…

user9: no ben…?

↳ user2: he’s been kinda absent as of lately…

lilymhe: you look like an angel

↳ y/n.albon: i love you more than i love alex

↳ alex_albon: excuse me??

user5: the bell jar? someone cooked here

user3: solo???

landonorris: i’ll just come to your studio and keep you company!

↳ y/n.albon: yeah, you can not do that. my ballet instructor would literally kick you out

↳ landonorris: oh😟

user8: anyone else notice that ben hasn’t liked any of y/n’s recent posts?

↳ user6: yeah, i noticed that too!

↳ user8: kinda suspicious since they usually always like and comment on each others posts…

………………..

bensinstgram

liked by destinyyy and 251,007 others

bens.insta: a day with my love 💓

view comments…

destinyyy: i love you💓

↳ bens.insta: i love you more💓

user4: wait a damn minute…..

user7: y/n and ben practiced everyday together since they were 16, and he stops to go on a date??

f1updatepage: oh boy, drama is upon us, folks

↳ user2: you got that right

user9: ben ditches y/n for his gf and lando said he would come over to keep her company? idk. i wish lando was a ballet dancer fr

↳ user1: LMAO SAME. he seems much more reliable

user0: this is some crazy shit right here

user7: so..are y/n and ben partners, orrrr?

↳ user8: they didn’t say they weren’t, but here ben is, posting his gf when he should be at the studio?

………………..

yourinstagram story

seen by landonorris, danielricciardo, and 789,024 others

…………………

twitter:

F1 Updates @f1updatepage • 5hr

Y/N Albon has recently posted her solo practices on social media, leaving fans speculating. Her ballet partner of 8 years, Ben, went on a date while she was practicing. Fans believe that Ben and Y/N might have stopped being partners since Bens girlfriend, Destiny, came into the picture. What do you think?

↳ Y/N FanPage @y/n4lifeee • 5hr

I think Y/N deserves a ballet partner who she can rely on😭 If Ben actually left because of his girlfriend, that’s not only rude to Y/N, but stupid. They are amazing together, but whatever. His call I guess.

↳ Ferrari Fans @ferrariclassics • 5hr

Ben is a piece of shit. That’s what I think😙

↳ Carlando Babe @carlandocontent • 4hr

We should just wait for Y/N or Ben to speak out about whether they are partners or not. Speculating does no harm, but it’s just a never ending circle of ‘what if’s’.

↳ Albon Siblings!!! @albonsibsupdates • 4hr

As much as I like Ben and Y/N as a duo for ballet, I don’t like when Y/N has to solo practice. She deserves the best, not some half-assed guy who’s too busy with his gf.

………………….

landosinstagram

liked by y/n.albon, charles_leclerc, and 389,240 others

tagged: y/n.albon, charles_leclerc

lando.jpg: grid party🍾

view comments…

user8: y/n is at party with the grid??

↳ user2: this is suchhh a slay

flupdates: this wasn’t on my bingo card but i’m living

y/n.albon: last night was sm fun

↳ landonorris: do you remember anything?

↳ y/n.albon: ummm.. next question

alex_albon: ive never seen my sister so shit faced

↳ lilymhe: i have

↳ y/n.albon: omg lily

↳ alex_albon: wdym, lily?

↳ lilymhe: uhhhhh jk

user4: lily exposing y/n time

user7: HELP😭 who’s pouring champagne in y/n’s mouth💀

↳ user6: looks like kika LMAOOO

user1: i love how close y/n is to the grid

………………

bensinstagram

liked by destinyyy and 190,377 others

bens.insta: hi, guys! a lot of stuff has been going around on the internet and i wanna set some things straight. first of all, yes, i have officially quit ballet. but it has nothing to do with y/n and all to do with the fact that i am just not as in love with the sport as i use to be.

secondly, please keep my girlfriends name out of your mouth if you are going to bad talk her. she’s done nothing wrong.

lastly, i really do wish y/n the best with ballet. she’s very talented and i know she’ll make it far. that being said, no, we don’t have any communication as of late. things have been said that we both regret. i hope you all understand.

*comments have been disabled on this post*

………………

yourinstagram

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris, and 1,012,004 others

y/n.albon: i suppose it’s my turn to speak about this. ben posted last night about him quitting ballet, which is obviously a fact. it sucks that i’m loosing a partner i’ve been doing ballet with for 8 years, but that’s life. friendships were made, but new ones can be made. friendships were also torn down. it’s unfortunate, but the ball was not in my court. i regret not a word that i said to ben. ending these types of professional relationships sucks, but that’s what it was. professional.

view comments…

user3: QUEEN SPOKE FAX AND KEPT HER COMMENTS ONNNN👏

alex_albon: so glad you spoke your part. you’re an incredible sister. me and lily love you

↳ y/n.albon: aww, i love you both too

landonorris: sorry about ben. should i bring pizza or indian for when i come over?

↳ y/n.albon: indian pls!

↳ alex_albon: you’re going over to her house??

↳ alex_albon: why is no one answering my texts???

user7: i frankly don’t gaf about ben. i’m more invested in the fact that lando and y/n are hanging out without the grid

↳ user1: REAL. like, plsss i need content

charles_leclerc: you’re an amazing dancer, you’ll find another partner!

↳ y/n.albon: ty charles!!!

f1updates: “i regret not a word i said to ben” and ben said “things have been said that we both regret.” like ben, babe, that’s embarrassing for you

………………..

twitter:

F1 Updates @f1updatespage • 1hr

Quick update about Y/N Albon & Ben:

Both have made posts on the situation and announced Bens leaving in ballet. We wish Ben well.

Another side note that people have picked up on, is Landos comment on Y/N’s Instagram post. The comments insinuate that they are hanging out together without the grid in Y/N’s apartment.

Comments have been disabled on this Tweet in respect for privacy of Ben!

*comments have been disabled*

………………….

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[geminimoonmadness]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS 🌻

Part 2 🌻🌻

Copywrites reserved ©️GeminiMoonMadness

🌻🌻🌻

• 5th house Suns LOVE sex!! They are pleasure seekers. This can also be the case with any personal planet in the 5th house.

• Sagittarius placements (especially in the big 3) laugh alot and are loud, not surprisingly either, they also laugh loud.

• Cardinals (Aries, Libra, Capricorn, Cancer) carry their pain and don’t often share it.

• Someone with the same sun sign as your rising sign is bestie material. They are the people who will make you feel alive and confident. For example: Libra sun people will find most Libra risings to be the light of their life.

• Neptune in the 11th house people experience peer pressure and may find it hard to say no.

• People who have the same signs in their big 3 as you are quite possibly your soul friends and are here to hype you up in life and help you reach your destiny. (Check your synastry aspects with these individuals!!)

• Leo risings tend to be pimple conscious and will check their skin daily, sometimes without even realising they’re doing it.

• People with Scorpio in the 7th house are private when it comes to what goes on in their one on one relationships. They will keep secrets, like “what is said in here stays in here” vibe. (Depending on other placements in the chart, these individuals are actually quite loyal, so don’t worry too much!)

• People with Uranus conjunct their Moon have an unstable bond with their mother. She was either unstable or absent in your childhood/life.

• To get your attention a Leo Venus will be a show off, then once they’ve got you, they’ll be showing you off!

🌻🌻🌻

I really enjoyed making this!

Let me know if you have any of these or know anyone with these placements!

I appreciate all interactions and feedback. 🫶🏼

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Love Flames

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female OC

summary: Daemon Targaryen simply loves his wife.

Word count: 2,8K

Warnings: Smut, Cunnilingus, movement restrain, slight body worship

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

The morning sun bathed the chambers of the Red Keep in a warm, golden light. Marleina Harroway moved gracefully through the opulent halls, her footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble floors. The Red Keep, home to the Targaryen dynasty for generations, was a place steeped in history and power.

As she made her way toward the private chambers where her sons were receiving their lessons, Marleina couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the ancient fortress. The Red Keep had seen the rise and fall of kings and queens, and now it was her family's home.

Entering the room where Maester Elyas was instructing her three sons, Marleina's presence commanded attention. Aenys, Maegon, and Baelon, the Targaryen princes, looked up from their studies, their eyes brightening at the sight of their mother.

"Good morning, my lords," Marleina greeted them with a warm smile. Aenys, the eldest and the spitting image of his father Daemon, nodded respectfully. Maegon, with his dark hair and keen intellect, acknowledged her with a nod as well. Baelon, the youngest and most spirited of the three, practically bounced in his seat.

Maester Elyas bowed respectfully. "Lady Marleina, a pleasure, as always."

Marleina returned the gesture before focusing on her sons. "How are your studies progressing, my loves?"

Aenys spoke first, his voice steady and assured. "We are delving into the history of the Red Keep, Mother, and learning about the responsibilities that come with our lineage."

Marleina's violet eyes gleamed with pride. "A worthy subject, Aenys. The Red Keep is a symbol of our house's enduring strength and legacy."

Maegon chimed in, his analytical mind at work. "I find the intricacies of court politics intriguing, Mother. It's like a never-ending game of strategy."

She nodded approvingly. "Indeed, Maegon. Understanding the game is essential in the world we live in."

Finally, her gaze turned to Baelon, who was practically bursting with enthusiasm. "And you, Baelon?"

Baelon's eyes shone with excitement. "I want to ride dragons like Father one day!"

Marleina's heart warmed at her youngest son's dream. "One day, my sweet Baelon. But for now, remember that knowledge and wisdom are the true sources of power."

As Marleina watched her sons absorb the lessons imparted by Maester Elyas, she knew that their upbringing within the Red Keep would shape them into formidable leaders of House Targaryen. In the heart of the Red Keep, surrounded by history and tradition, her family's destiny was being forged.

Daemon Targaryen, her husband and their father, was a man of ambition and charisma, but it was the love and guidance they received from their mother that would prepare them for the challenges that lay ahead.

Marleina was determined to ensure that the Targaryen legacy endured, even within the formidable walls of the Red Keep.

After ensuring that her sons were settled into their lessons, Marleina decided to check on her husband, Daemon Targaryen. It was unusual for him to be absent from his morning training sessions with the sword. Daemon was known for his unwavering dedication to honing his combat skills, even in times of peace. His absence from their shared chamber was a rare occurrence.

As she approached the door to their private quarters within the Red Keep, Marleina's steps grew cautious. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. With a gentle push, she entered their chamber, her eyes immediately falling upon Daemon.

He sat by the window, bathed in the soft morning light, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city of King's Landing below. His usual armor and weapons were nowhere in sight. Instead, he wore a simple robe, and his long silver hair cascaded down his back in disarray.

"Daemon?" Marleina's voice was filled with concern as she approached him.

Daemon turned his head slowly, as if pulled from deep contemplation. His violet eyes, so like those of their sons, met hers, and there was a weariness in them that Marleina had rarely seen.

"Marleina," he said softly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he rose to his feet. "I didn't expect you back so soon."

She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek. "Is something troubling you, my love? You've missed your training this morning."

Daemon's shoulders slumped slightly, and he sighed. "I needed some time alone, to think."

Marleina studied her husband's face, her concern deepening. "About what?"

He hesitated, then took her hand in his. "About the future, Marleina. About the burden of our name and what it means for our sons."

Marleina knew that the weight of the Targaryen legacy was a heavy one. The realm was always watching, and the expectations placed upon their family were immense. But she had never seen Daemon so affected by it.

"Daemon," she said softly, "we will face whatever challenges come our way together. Our sons are strong and capable, and they have a mother and father who love them dearly."

Daemon nodded, his grip on her hand tightening. "You're right, Marleina. I mustn't let my worries consume me. We have a duty to our house and our people."

Marleina leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "And we will fulfill that duty, my love, as we always have."

As they held each other close, Marleina couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of determination. The challenges of ruling the Seven Kingdoms as House Targaryen were formidable, but they had faced adversity before and emerged stronger.

Daemon being himself couldn't keep up the intimate image. His arms tightened around her waist pulling her closer to his body. Their marriage may have not been one of love in the beginning but now it surely was.

"Daemon" Marleina warned. Her words went straight over his head and captured her lips silencing her. His kisses were always rough and passionate.

"Shhh, dārilaros" Princess. Daemon shushed her. His calloused fingers slowly began undoing the bodice of her dress. Marleina ceased complaining, she never truly hated the idea of bedding him, even from their first night he showed her nothing but pleasure.

"I'll take good care of you, dārilaros" Daemon whispered against her ear. Marleina basically melted in between his arms at that point.

In minutes Daemon had her fully naked on their bed. His eyes wide and pupil blown with lust. Marleina guided his head closer to her, kissing him straight on the lips. Daemon moved his head down needing more than the taste of her lips.

Marleina's head fell back with pleasure when he took one of her nipples in his mouth. Daemon was anything but gentle, he was a monster in bed. His teeth sank into the flesh earning a cry of both pain and pleasure from Marleina. She enjoyed the pain he inflicted on her way too much.

Daemon pulled away from Marleina to watch her reaction. She had her eyes closed merely enjoying his touches. Daemon smirked and moved off the bed completely. Marleina whined disappointed with the lack of his touch.

Her eyes flew open when she felt him grab her wrist and tie something around it. She looked down to find a silk like rope in his hand. He raised his eyebrow when their eyes met. He held open his palm for her other hand.

"What are you doing?" She asked confused. Daemon wiggled his fingers asking silently for her other hand. She hesitantly gave him her other hand. He tied her wrist with the other one before raising them above her head.

She squealed in surprise. He tied the rope to the head board of the bed chuckling darkly at her reaction.

"Shhh sweet dārilaros" Daemon placed a finger on her lips. He pushed it into her mouth. Marleina sucked on his sole finger in her mouth. Daemon groaned at the feeling.

"Dirty girl, probably imagining my cock" Daemon smirked when she nodded her head. His cock twitched in his trouser. This woman was everything to him, she was his wife, she was the mother of his children, children he intend to have more of from her.

He moved to climb on top of her, slowly pressing kisses to her neck, teasing her. His lips trailed down, completely ignoring her breast much to her annoyance, she was just too sensitive there ever since she had their first child.

His lips continued their way down her navel, pushing her legs open Daemon wanted to dive right into her soaking cunt but held himself back. His lips littered the inside of her thighs with kisses, sucking and marking them, He wanted to devour her if possible.

"Daemon" Marleina cried, growing even more annoyed with his neglect.

"Patience sweet dārilaros, let me love you, let me love your body" Daemon placed a hand on her belly and pushed down when she attempted to push her hips in his face.

Daemon trailed kisses up from her knee to the corner of her lower lips. Marleina's breath got caught in her throat, heart beating faster with anticipation.

Daemon finally placed his lips on the area that was crying for his touch. A loud moan escaped Marleina's lips when his lips placed a small kiss to her pearl. He took it between his lips sucking gently, her whole body shook at the feeling.

"Taste so good" Daemon prasied. His tongue ran through her foold, maoning at the taste of her on his tongue. Marleina's back arched when his tongue pushed.

The feeling of his wet muscle teasing her inner walls sent shock waves through her body. She wanted to claw at her own flesh, she wanted to claw his flesh but she couldn't her hands were tied.

She tried to fight against the restrains, she wanted to escape. Her wrists began to hurt with each tug but to no use they wouldn't come out. He was a soldier, he knew how to make a good knot, one that would never unravel, he know how to restrain movement.

"Bad girl" Daemon delivered a quick slap to her pearl when she tried pushing her cunt closer to his face. Daemon's demeanour changed and he dived in with all he god.

"Fuck, your body is perfect" he whispered. Hand running up her side, feeling every curve, every extra layer of skin from each pregnancy. She was an angel, she was just perfect for him.

"Daemon, please" She pleaded, hips trying to rock into him. He climbed back up to lay on top of her.

"Shhh" Daemon nuzzled his nose against hers. She didn't notice him reaching down to grab himself. She didn't see him place his tip against her entrance, too deeply concentrated on the kisses he was placing on her neck.

Her shocked gasp tickled Daemon's lips from their closeness, the way her eyes widened was comical to Daemon who chuckled. The second he pushed his cock in, he pushed the entire thing, he just shoved it inside of her.

It was painful, painful as hell even with preparation, but Marleina loved pain, loved his pain. The mere move of him shoving himself inside of her sent her spireling down a hole of shakiness, her orgasm moving through her body along with her blood.

"So tight" Daemon's head fell back at the feeling of her walls contracting around him. Her legs rose to wrap around his hips, locking above his bottom pulling him even closer.

"So perfect, Daemon, so full" Marleina whimpered in his ear. Daemon with his face buried in the crook of her neck, hand trailing up to hold the knot he made around her wrists, the other hand holding her thigh in a bruising grip, began moving his hips.

No rocking, no gentle movement, straight to slamming into her. Her screams of his name echoed around the room bouncing against the walls in a race with his own groans and moans of pleasure.

"Daemon! Please please please, more" She cried. Daemon's finger hooked around the knot pulling at it releasing her wrists free. He wanted to feel pain, he wanted her to scratching, hold him and scream in his ear.

Hands free went straight to wrap around him, scratching down his back, definitely drawing blood. Daemon groaned in her ear at the feeling, he loved so much. His hips moving in a pace no one could imagine, she just felt so good around his cock.

"I'm coming" She warned. Daemon pulled away from her neck leaving behind bruises that she will surely be mad about once her head was clear again. He looked down at her face, eyes tightly closed hiding eyes rolled back, mouth open letting through screams of his name and warnings of her coming soon. Tears rolling down her cheeks he leaned down to kiss away loving the salty tang in his mouth from them.

"Come for me, come on my cock, let your perfect cunt come around me" Daemon sat up on his knees, hand on her hips raising them to the same level as his cock letting it reach new depth inside of her.

"Daemon!" She screamed, whole body going into another dimension, shaking and spasming in his arms.

"Fuck" Daemon groaned, her orgasm made her walls the tightest they could ever be. He felt his whole body going numb at the feeling, falling on top of her, balls deep inside letting his cum shoot deep inside of her painting her walls white.

"Fucking hell" She cried too oversensitive. Her hips squirming under him trying to get away from him but all the movement did was make her feel even more pleasure, pulling a quick second orgasm for herself without even meaning too.

Daemon chuckled pulling out of her gently and rolling to lay by her side, cock softening. She immediately rolled into his arms, head on his chest and arms circled around him, one leg draped around his waist. Daemon wrapped his arm around her, finger trailing down to her bottom giving it a quick squeeze before continuing down to her cunt, touching it from behind, feeling his spend leaking out of her and gathering some. She whimpered at the feeling of his fingers on her wiggling a little. Daemon pulled his fingers back up and shoved them in front of her face, she didn't waste a second to take them into her mouth sucking them like the good girl she was.

"Perfect wife" He praised, kissing her forehead gently. She giggled snuggling deeper into his embrace.

Nine months after that fateful night, the Red Keep was filled with the joyous cries of a newborn. Marleina had given birth to a daughter, and the entire Targaryen household celebrated the arrival of little Visenya. The baby girl was a bundle of energy and happiness from the moment she entered the world, her cries echoing through the castle like a song of hope.

In the chamber where Marleina held her daughter for the first time, Daemon stood by her side, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness. Aenys, Maegon, and Baelon gathered around, their faces filled with awe as they beheld their little sister.

"Her name suits her," Marleina whispered, her voice filled with affection as she gazed at the tiny girl in her arms. "Visenya, the princess of our hearts."

Aenys, being the eldest, was the first to reach out and gently stroke his sister's cheek. "She's beautiful, Mother."

Maegon nodded in agreement, his analytical mind already considering the implications of a sister in their lives. "What does this mean for our family, Mother?"

Marleina smiled at her sons, realizing that this new addition would indeed bring changes. "It means that you now have a sister to protect and cherish, just as you have each other."

Baelon, who had been eagerly waiting his turn, finally got a chance to hold Visenya. His eyes sparkled with delight as he cradled the baby in his arms. "I'll protect her with my sword when I'm older, just like Father."

Daemon knelt beside Baelon and ruffled his hair affectionately. "That's the spirit, my boy. But for now, you must protect her with your love."

Visenya, oblivious to the discussions about her future, continued to gurgle and coo, her tiny fingers reaching out to grasp at the world around her. In her presence, the worries and responsibilities of the realm faded away, leaving only the pure and unbridled love of a family united by a new life.

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, Visenya became the heart of the Red Keep. Her laughter echoed through the halls, and her siblings doted on her endlessly. Marleina and Daemon, despite the challenges of their position, found solace and joy in the innocence of their youngest child.

With Visenya's arrival, the Targaryen family was more complete than ever before. The boys, once an army of brothers, now had a little sister to protect and guide. The Red Keep, filled with history and tradition, had a new princess to grace its ancient halls.

[writingwithfolklore]

The Role of Parents in YA

                YA is typically characterized by characters who are… well, young adults. Some would consider characters being 18+ as its own genre of New Adult, I may argue that but nevertheless, young people typically live with or are at least frequently interacting with their parents. So here’s what to do with them:

1. Antagonists

I don’t mean your protagonist’s parents have to be bad people, or even dislikable at all, but often times parents have the ability to limit or discourage a character’s actions (for better or for worse). They won’t let their kid out past midnight so your protagonist has to sneak out, they tell them not to see Character B anymore, they encourage them to focus on their studies rather than go on the adventure they’re on.

Parents can act as minor antagonists who provide some conflict and adversity to your protagonists.

2. Backstory

Okay this is basically true whether the parents are in the picture or not, but family life is a huge part of backstory for your YA characters as they probably don’t have 30 years of work and life experience. How the character’s parents shaped their childhood is a big part of their backstory.

If the parents are absent in the story, consider why they aren’t fully in the picture, and how that impacts your character.

3. Goal

Parents are often a good place to look for internal goals in characters. Many can relate to wanting to make their parents proud, or prove them wrong, or rebel, or support them, or follow in their footsteps. Parents can be the object of character goals that drive your protagonist through their journey.

4. Allies

Like they can provide adversity, parents can also provide support. Think of Moana’s parents in the Disney movie… Moana. Her dad is an antagonist and tries to keep her on the island, her mom is an ally and supports her in leaving for her quest. Often parents can be that extra boost that protagonists need to get out of the house and get going on their destiny.

Good luck!