#I appreciate how much faith they have in me even though sometimes I would like them to be a little more in tune with how

[angelfrommontgomery]

I actually for real like being single right now. I used to want what my sister has (met the love of her life at 15, no drama, great person), but the closer I get to moving and the more I start deciding what my life is going to look like in a new city it’s like. Thank god I get to build a life centered around my needs my desires and I’m surrounded by people who support that. Not that I’d get into a relationship where I had to stifle myself or my desires, but a partnership would be a different experience even if it was a great one. It’s fun to be 22 and have every possibility wide open. I wouldn’t want my life any other way than it is right now

[fishnapple]

Channelled message: The moment they fall in love with you

(lover/partner/future spouse)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. Carnelian

I have to admit that I look like a human being but sometimes I feel like an oyster. I wish I could have their shell, hiding myself behind a sturdy, protective barrier that no one can touch me. I would feel invincible in my weakness, in the darkness that my shell provided, taking a peek only now and then. You must be getting tired of this hide and seek game that I subjected you to, to be an unwilling gamer.

But even then, you excelled at that game, just like in everything you do. How did you beat the game? You ignored the rules, of course. You didn't let me hide, and what is there to be sought if there was no hiding.

You were a magician, transformed the most dire thing into the most hopeful thing. A magician with an X-ray machine, you peered into my inner most thoughts and feelings without opening my shell.

I felt scared and rage at first, who are you to dare to do that to me? I flipped out, of course, natural reaction of someone who had been in hiding for who knows how long. I got angry, I shouted, I cried, I held my breath, and I looked at you, begging you to stop seeing me, knowing me, accepting me. I must look like a clown to you back then.

But you just smiled. A triumphant smile, the smile that someone has after searching for something for so long and finally found it. I could feel you saying this to me: "I'm not an oyster and I'm not the kind to fall in love with an oyster, stop role-playing and sit with me side by side."

And that was how I turned into a proper human and learnt to love properly. Before, it felt like I was a story teller, someone looking from afar, at a safe distance, through the telescope, peered into life. I saw myself being with you, but I didn't really know the me who was being with you, how did they feel. And you reached out your hand, pulled the telescope aside, let me become the one that I had been watching all along and let me feel what they had felt.

I want to confess, sometimes I couldn't shake this dissociated feeling about everything. Sometimes, it feels like I was dangling between two worlds. But I have something new with me, a hope, a faith, that you would be there for me at that time, pull me back to you or accompany me in whatever that world I'm in.

Note: The moment your person falls in love with you would be when they feel seen by you, for all their light and darkness, the beautiful and the ugly parts of them. They're scared of this feeling, it makes them vulnerable. You unmask them, make them come out of their shell and be their real self, no more hiding. The way you do it is gentle and considerate, but the feeling they have will be devastating. They probably are someone who is more detached and isn't too involved with everything for fear of getting hurt. But after falling in love with you, even though the feeling of detachment about the world sometimes still lingers but they will also have the faith that there's someone who can see and understand them, who they can just be and come closer.

2. Aventurine

Sometimes, I feel like a bottle floating in this vast ocean of life. People around me, they seem to float right past me. If I could find a companion, then they would just stay for a fleeting moment and then ready to move on, leaving me behind to swim alone again. It never occurred to me that I might have looked at the wrong place.

Call me childish or sentimental, but whenever I looked at you, I felt like Ariel, the little mermaid, hiding behind the rocks to sneak a glance at the prince. You seemed so sure, so fine, so stable, so fixed, so opposite of me.

While I needed to hold on to something to keep me in one place and safe, you were just there, magnificent like the sun, without a care of the world. My soul was transfixed.

Many came to me with their offers, but their light paled in comparison to you, the true light. They were like the moon while you were the sun, and even though I'm a coward, I still dare to be ambitious and aim for the sun. It's like a moth to a flame.

Your smiles were and still are the warmest. They made the cold creature in me surrender and crawled out of the dark to actually stand in the light before you. Was it a kind of reverence? I dare not to use such a heavy word. And I dared not to impose my heavy feelings on you.

The moment I saw your light, I had already become speechless. I wanted to tell you many things, the good, the bad, the silly but I couldn't find the words. And that was fine, really. I found love in the silence of our existence together.

You taught me that life was not just about constantly swimming and floating but it can also be about being still and taking in all the things around us, and taking out all the things inside us. To lay them out on a table and let the other pick what they like, making a trade. You keep something of mine, and I keep something of yours.

Note: Before meeting you, falling in love with you, this person just floated through life with several superficial connections that, at the end of the day, made them feel even more lonely than before. There is a feeling of being lost in the dark, forever grasping for something. Then the moment they see you, your composure, your stillness and your stability will draw them in, probably a moment where you will display a sense of responsibility and confidence, being there for them, being their rock. They will feel a sense of finally being able to rest, to stand still and enjoy life.

Their temperament and yours are probably opposite of each other. Opposite attracts.

The moment they fall in love will also be the moment they put you on a pedestal, a fixed place for them to look up to. And at the same time, they will want to fuse with you, to possess some of your traits while you are taking in their influences. The feeling, the desire for belonging will be the spark that ignite their love for you.

3. Agate

You want me to tell you the moment that I fell in love with you? Can I be greedy and tell you many moments instead?

I don't have a love switch in me that can switch on and off suddenly. The concept of love at first sight perplexed me.

To me, loving you feels like the spread of the ink, the water that flows slowly, the trail that we keep walking on. I felt like a piece of paper with a corner touched by the tip of your pen absentmindedly. The ink just spread slowly, but everywhere, until the piece of paper turned completely into your colour. A natural progression, the inevitable.

We debated, we laughed, we played, we dreamed, we ran, we feared. All of those moments, together, made the ink soaked deeper and deeper still, forming indelible marks on me.

I had put a lot of thoughts into this subject, believe me, about why did I fall in love with you and I had no answer, to this day still don't. I'm afraid, actually, to find the answer. What if the moment I put a definition to it, the moment the answer materialise in my head, it becomes a checklist? If the things in that checklist become untrue, will I just fall out of love with you? I'm scared of my mind sometimes, it kills the magic. Yes, I believe in magic. Even if I know that the magic trick in the show is all about the sleight of hand, but in some corners of my heart, I still believe in the real magic of the act. A part of me refuses to see the logic, the reality. Let me dream a little and don't ask me to define the indefinable, that is our love. Let things stay inexplicable sometimes.

Note: This person refused to define any moment as the moment they fell in love with you. It's a gradual progress for them. Everything you guys did together is another drop of ink (their word) making the love deeper.

They couldn't tell the beginning of it, and they are afraid of thinking about it, actually. It makes them dread the possible ending.

To this person, love is a journey, stretched through the span of their life, there is no start point nor an end point. They are highly rational and in their head a lot. Notice that they used the word "think" and "head". But they are aware that a part of them, their heart, yearn for something magical, the inexplicable and they want their love to be that way, to escape the scrutiny of their head, to leave out the logic.

4. Citrine

I had a belief that life is supposed to be an endless journey. We constantly have to keep moving, never stop. Whatever we are doing, whoever we are meeting, one day, they will all go away, leaving us, alone, on our journey. And I had been living with that belief for a very long time. Until you.

Being with you made me question if it was really necessary to be always on the move, to be alone on my journey. Yes, it's necessary to be always on the move, but it's not necessary to be alone. Just like a ship, they stop, the passengers step out, new passengers step in, and the ship goes on. But the captain and the crews won't change, they are together with the ship. And I wanted you to be the captain of my ship.

Changes are good, but having someone going along with you through all of those changes is even better, or best. I moved a lot, I travelled a lot, constantly seeking, constantly reaching. It wore my soul down. Some days, I just arrived home then threw myself on the bed, exhausted, trying to sleep to save the energy for the next day. It went on and on, the motion. I had all these experiences, all these wonderful stories along my travels that I didn't know whom to share with. I didn't have someone to hold me when I felt shaken, to whisper that everything would be okay. Until you.

Maybe the path I need to travel wasn't just to some faraway places but also to you all along. For the first time, I wanted to hang on dearly to something, someone, to you and to our relationship. To have a real home, to see myself so connected to you that the thought of leaving would be immediately banished out of my mind, to imagine myself being a parent to our children. I contemplated all of these and I saw all of these in my mind, clear as day.

Note: Before being in a relationship with you, this person had been travelling alone, constantly on the move, never had concrete, long-lasting connections with anyone. Could be due to their job and environment that they had to move a lot. It made them exhausted and didn't have enough energy for anything else.

But by meeting you, being in a relationship with you, their belief has changed. They want a companion, someone whom they can commit to and build a stable life with. Even with all the travelling, they can still feel the sense of being anchored. That's when this person falls in love with you. Now they have someone whom they can offer their love, their stories to, whom they can imagine a future home life with, who can hold them close without holding them down.

5. Labradorite

I have always yearned to be a part of a romantic fairy tale since I was a kid. Keep this a secret for me, okay? I dream of the two characters meeting at the most fateful moment, going through many hardships, longing for each other, and finally, at the end of the tale, pulling each other into an eternal kiss. And guess what, I actually have that with you! Minus the ending part and eternal kiss, we don't end, and an eternal kiss will make us out of breath. But you get the gist of it.

The first time you had to go away, I thought I would be fine, it's not like you went away forever, it was just a trip. And then, with each day, I found myself growing more restless. Constantly asking in my head, "Hey, where are you now? What are you doing?" Talking with you through the phone wasn't enough, I wished we had a telepathic line constantly connected to each other. Oh wait, maybe we do, I even saw you in my dreams.

And then you came back. That moment when I saw you, I felt something bursting inside me, like a balloon kept getting bigger and bigger inside me, pressed and stretched my outside taut. It hit me like lightning, I was a tree rooted in one place and lightning just strike down. I burst open and revealed my thumping heart inside. Was I overreacting?

I wished the place that you and I met on that day were our home so that I could play the longing character and finally welcome their lover home. Your familiar face is the face I want to see whenever I open the door. Your laughter is the one I want to hear whenever I say something funny (in my mind) or ridiculous. And your embrace is the one I want to be in whenever I realise I have someone by my side.

Note: This person might develops feeling for you for a long time but won't realise it themselves. Until you have to go away someday, it won't be a true separation. Might just be a business trip or some long vacation.

Your absence will make them feel a longing for you that they can't really explain because the situation won't be dire and serious, just a normal, temporary separation.

When they finally get to see you, all those longing feelings will come bursting out, and that's when they will realise they love you. You guys will actually do many things that they fantasise about when they were a kid. It will feel like a truly magical thing for them.

6. Amethyst

Ah yes, we can always tell our children and our grandchildren how we felt in love at a party, making them jealous of our boldness. Now I'm getting ahead of myself.

What better way to celebrate than to have someone with you to share the joy with. You're always like that to me. Whatever joy I have, whatever joy you have, we've never failed to share it with each other. And I'm honoured.

My wish had finally come true. I have achieved many of my ambitions. I can confidently say that I had been working hard and I earned it.

And that's when I saw you. I can also confidently say that you looked stunning at that party. You looked happy and I could feel that somehow our happiness was on a similar wavelength.

I have to admit, the afterglow feeling of my success made me a lot more bold and optimistic than normal. If it was the past me, I would probably have swept the attraction under many layers of insecurities and nervousness. Trying to convince myself that it was just a delusion.

But here I was. I dared to look for love. I mean, I had achieved success in different areas, there's no way I couldn't be successful in love, right? Logical, you can't argue with that (of course you will)

Deep inside me, I probably had felt that love would be the biggest achievement I could get. And I was willing to set out again, to put my effort into achieving that dream, with you.

Note: This group is strangely short. This is a person that hides a lot of their thought to themselves and they find expressing what they feel through words is difficult. They are more actions oriented. Prefer to set out milestones and goals to achieve. They consider everything good in their life is their achievement.

You guys probably meet at a celebration party, maybe you won't be there to attend the party but just coincidentally in the same space, maybe a restaurant, an open space.

They will have achieved some big milestones that make them proud and more confident, they put in their effort and now they can reap the reward.

The feeling of joy will be heightened. And amidst that celebration, they will see you and fall in love, very likely a love at first sight situation. And they will believe that they can achieve happiness with you.

[thewertsearch]

TG: jakes bday is coming up really soon TG: just a few days before mine remembr […] TG: i just wanted your advice on what to get him TG: something sentimental i guess? but i mean im mostly tapped out of precious heirlooms atm so idk TG: but not like anything coming on too strong

I don't think you need to overthink things, where Jake is concerned. Just like John, he strikes me as a rather straightforward guy, and would probably appreciate the direct approach.

Seriously, just be upfront with your feelings. He'll respond with either "capital! let us begin courting, post-haste!", or "sincerest apologies, my dear compatriot, but my heart lies with my cerulean beauties!"

Either way, the issue will be resolved. Simple as that.

TG: something that says TG: this is totes platonic and everything TG: no eyebrow raising funnybiz is goin on over here TG: but still says you know TG: call me TG: if you wanna

Nah, I'm just fucking with you.

These are teenagers. They're full of big emotions that they don't know what to do with, and they're navigating the treacherous waters of romance without a map. I might have dunked on Eridan when he said it, back in our Hivebent days, but when you're a kid, growing up really is hard, and nobody does understand. Not even you.

Roxy's not going to initiate a frank discussion about her feelings with Jake - she's going to pine for at least fifty pages, and then impulsively confess everything at once, probably in the middle of a crisis. Sometimes, that's just how it goes, when you're a teenager - and it's always how it goes when you're a fictional teenager.

TG: u dont think that if i didnt say he was off limits on account of you being my best friend TG: i wouldnt be all the hell over that????

Wait, ok. So Roxy is pretending she's going to flirt with Jake - but she's really just messing with Jane, because Jane's also into him.

It's nice that there's no bad blood between the two as a result. You just know that in a lesser story, Jane and Roxy would proceed to squabble over this guy until it completely ruined their friendship. Thank you, Homestuck, very cool!

TG: you dont even let me say your dad is hot even though we both know he way the fuck is i mean come one

In every timeline, Roxy is destined to swoon over the prefect gentleman that is Dad Egbert.

GG: I don't see why you don't try to court the favor of Mr. Strider. If you ask me, he and you are perfect for each other. TG: oh jane TG: so naive TG: soooo niaev

The Bro we knew probably shouldn't have been dating anyone. Perhaps this version of him is equally unapproachable, and Roxy knows it - his little out-of-office responder would certainly suggest that that's the case.

GG: How can you be this fargone so early? […] TG: its a lot later here GG: You're three hours ahead of me! TG: youd would be amazed TG: how much can happen TG: in 3 hours GG: Tsk. What would your mother have to say if she caught you? TG: p sure she wouldnt give a shit

Rose, what the fresh fuck!

Look - guys, I know she's not exactly the maternal type, but come on. Even the adult Roxy, absent and alcoholic as she was, at least lifted a finger to keep her daughter safe, and you're telling me Rose can't even clear that bar?

Maybe Roxy's projecting a little. Rose often assumed her mother was acting in bad faith, even when that wasn't necessarily the case, and there's no reason that something similar couldn't be happening here.

...right?

[https-murdock]

Cathedrals - Matt Murdock

summary: matt would burn all the cathedrals down if that would mean he could hold you

word count: 542 (baby one!)

warnings: allusions to smut, but otherwise just matt being all loved up

note: thought i’d do a lil loved up thing for a change! been havin a hard time with love recently so why not put everything in a fic <3

Matt couldn’t help but sit next to you and wonder if his faith held the same meaning as it used to, before you.

The world always keeps moving, and yet somehow he felt as if there was a big section of his being that had become you. If it meant he would be able to hold you close to him, his being sent from heaven, for the rest of his life - he would do anything it took.

Matt had always been a religious man, a devout catholic. It meant a lot to him to have something to look to, some standards to hold himself to - with being Daredevil he needs accountability, forgiveness. This was all given by his God, the churches he sat in giving him peace he hadn’t felt, but there was always something missing, it felt like he was always waiting for something.

Then he met you.

“Don’t they like… judge you for having sex before marriage?” you’d ask him, sat in the pews, voice a mere whisper in fear of the Gods or someone above hearing you, confessing. Matt laughs to himself, “yeah, it’s a sin.” he grins, thinking of all the nights you’ve spent tangled in his sheets.

Nothing was missing anymore, everything made sense. Even though you weren’t religious, Matt felt like you were a holy being yourself. There was something about you that gave him a feeling of faith that he’d been missing in his catholicism his whole life. The missing piece that had been filled, a void that was no longer with your presence - nothing felt like a sin anymore, he felt like a good person.

“Surely, i shouldn’t be here then, they wouldn’t like me very much.” You comment, smiling to yourself.

“In that case we should both leave.” He agrees, earning a laugh from both of you. Silence falls between you, not needing to be filled with any words. Your eyes meet the stained glass windows as you wonder how much peace this has brought him with all of his struggles.

Rather, Matt was always seeking something to alleviate the heavy feeling of guilt. Whether that was catholic guilt, regret, guilt of his nightly activities, he wasn’t too sure - he just knew that the church helped, but never completely rid him of that feeling.

But you did.

Matt has come to realise that in order for him to appreciate you, your beauty and love, he had to endure everything he had. He realises in this moment that he would do anything you asked of him, he would burn the sistine chapel to the ground if it meant making you happy.

Sometimes he can feel your fear, of him, of what he does as Daredevil - and sometimes he wonders where your mind goes when you look at him, when he tells you what happened. He’ll often keep the grim details from you in fear God would take you away. That it would be too scary for you to endure his burdens with him.

He would swallow any issue he had for you if it meant having you safe with him.

Matt would burn this whole place down if it meant he could hold you forever, close to his heart.

-

tags!

@silas-aeiou @parkermurdock @lambmurdock

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things-Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Two: Daffodils - New Beginnings

Summary: Andrew comes back to pay you, but not before spending some much-needed time at his day job.

Word count: 2439

Author's note: thank you all so much for the positivity the first chapter!!! i cannot wait to keep working on this fic, you guys make it all worth it. i'm really fond of this chapter so hopefully you all enjoy :)

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

Andrew did not take two days to come back. He took one day.

He chalked it up to him feeling guilty. What you did for him was a very unnecessary act of kindness. What was he supposed to do? Take his time? Absolutely not.

Admittedly, a small part of it was also that he wanted to see your face again. Not that it mattered, but he wondered what the smile on your face would look like when he told you his mother loved the flowers, and that she immediately put them in her nicest vase and in direct sunlight, wanting to maintain them for as long as possible. He wanted to know more about flower language, something he had done a Google search for when he arrived at home, but he had faith you knew much more than what the internet could tell him. And most importantly, it seemed very one-sided that you had his number and he didn't have yours.

Again, not that it mattered.

It was also an issue of convenience. Andrew tried to plan out his day on the commute to work, and luckily you fit right into his schedule. Your shop was only a few minutes away from where he worked. He could walk over to you during his lunch break, pay you back, and still grab a bite to eat. If he was willing to skip lunch, he could even try to talk to you for a little bit.

Anyway, he was getting sidetracked. He had a lot to do today; he should have much more important things on his mind. This is what he thought about as he pulled into the parking lot. He only had three clients, but he could already tell one of them would be a tall order. Thankfully, that was his first appointment, so he could get that over with. Then, hopefully, he’d repay you, maybe chat, and get back to work.

Right. Work. Love wouldn’t exactly describe his feelings towards his job. Appreciation, definitely. He was grateful that he wasn’t stuck behind an office desk and had a job that could actually let him express his creativity. However, the amount of effort and concentration he had to put into his job on a daily basis was something he dreaded and others (especially his customers) overlooked. He couldn’t truly complain. It was worth it for the end result, and for the happiness on the customer’s face.

Enjoyment probably described his feelings best. Andrew enjoyed being a tattoo artist. A fitting thought to have right as he entered the shop.

He greeted his coworkers with a wave and a polite smile, as always (though seeing his best friend Alex at their shared workplace constituted a high-five instead). Attempting to start working as soon as he could, he scrolled through the photos on his phone and pulled up the sketch of what he'd be inking today: two deer lying down side by side, decomposing. Sure, drawing a decaying animal on someone else’s body wasn’t how most people would choose to start their day. It was an unorthodox choice, but he understood the appeal. It was poetic, in a gruesome way, the concept of never being able to be pulled away from the one you love, not even in death. Decomposing, but still being joyous because at least your partner was still by your side. A lyric without a melody came to him.

After the insects have made their claim, I’d be home with you.

Andrew let out a deep sigh. This would happen to him sometimes; the simple act of anything from sketching a design to reading his favorite book caused couplets to sprout in his head. It gave him this guilt, like he was cheating on his career and songwriting was the other woman, but people are allowed to be multifaceted. Besides, his ability to write songs never did evolve into something substantial. If anything, it was a hobby. Just another creative outlet — and Andrew was always itching to create.

His customer walked in a few minutes afterwards, and he got ready to get to work. He had met her before: a thin, freckled young woman with a wide smile and one small tattoo on her shoulder. They exchanged pleasantries, confirmed that she approved of the design, and made small talk as he printed the stencil. He cleansed his workspace and let his client get as comfortable as possible before he began.

He took his time inking the design, meticulously needling each detail he'd crafted. The shading, the fungi surrounding the deer, the exposed, rotting ribcage. What he was most proud of was the subtle looks on the animals’ faces, purposefully made to be filled with both solemnness of their passing, but overall content. Calmness, even. The lyric he had created before played over and over in his head, despite his multiple attempts to push it away.

By the time he’d finished up, his hand was cramping so hard he was concerned it might fall off, a pain familiar to him but one that he never fully got accustomed to. All that aching for something he wasn't even done with; he’d need to have another session to fully finish the job.

Gloves were removed, payments were accepted, and follow-up sessions were scheduled. He took a photo of his work in progress, with the consent of his client. Other artists did this often, but Andrew wasn't one for so much commemoration of his art. He felt too much of an attachment to this specific work, however, and felt he'd be letting himself down if he didn't get to at least have it in his phone. He waved the client (and his artwork) goodbye. Alex walked by, drinking a coffee that had undoubtedly gone cold. He raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking Andrew what he was doing.

“I’m going on a walk. I have to go back to the florist.”

“Weren't you literally there yesterday for your mum?”

“It's to pay them back. I… technically never paid for the bouquet,” Andrew explained as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Oh, so you stole those flowers? Have fun doing tattoos in prison!”

“I didn't steal them, the woman working there said I could take them as long as I paid her back in two days.” He stuck his hands in his pockets to make sure he had his wallet this time. A perplexed look came across Alex’s face.

“What kind of shady florist are you going to?”

“She's the furthest thing from shady. It was very bright in there, actually. And welcoming.”

“I’m sure it was. Very welcoming, indeed,” Alex commented before taking a sip from his cup.

“What are you insinuating here?”

“That you already fancy this florist woman.”

“You do know it's possible for me to have a platonic conversation with the opposite gender, right?”

“You're too much of a hopeless romantic for me to believe that's what's going on here.”

As usual, Andrew’s best friend could see right through him. He ignored Alex’s theories, becoming more annoyed than impressed.

“And with that, I’m going.”

“Bye. Have fun with your yearning,” Alex joked with a wave.

He said goodbye and stepped outside. To his surprise, he was greeted by a light drizzle, which he didn't mind. It freshened him up, something he didn't know he needed until the cool droplets hit his face. He only hoped it wouldn't worsen, as with his light jacket he would be dreadfully unprepared.

It had been a relatively slow day. Unlike yesterday, no one else forgot their wallet and needed a favor. No one else actually bothered with what you had to say about the messages of the bouquets. And unlike yesterday, no customers caught your eye. For most of your day, you were zoned out, lost in your own world when you didn't have a customer. When you were more aware of your surroundings, you found yourself always checking the doorway, subconsciously waiting for a certain someone’s arrival. Still, you were living most of your day in a daze. You didn't even notice it was pouring outside until Andrew walked in, absolutely drenched. It took you a moment to fully absorb his frazzled state; not only was he soaked, he was out of breath.

“Hello. I didn't expect you to be back so soon,” you admitted. In fact, part of you didn't expect him to return at all.

“I like,” he said, panting after every other word, “to keep my promises.”

“Are you… Did you run here?”

“I started off walking, but then it began to downpour so I tried to hurry up. Weather is a fickle thing, huh?”

“I could lend you my umbrella, if you want. For the walk back.”

“You’ve done enough for me already. I couldn't take your protection from the rain as well. I’ll just constantly try to stay under awnings.”

You chuckled at his comment. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure before walking towards you.

“You’ll be happy to know my mum adores the bouquet. She liked the look of it first, but then after I explained your flower language, her face lit up. She put it in a vase and it's now on display on her windowsill.”

“That's great to hear,” you responded as a grin spread across your face. It always brightened your day to hear positive feedback from the people who actually received the arrangements you worked so hard on. It also satisfied you that Andrew was beaming the entire time, fueled by the joy you inspired in his mother.

“She's now expecting flowers for almost every occasion, so I hope you're open on holidays.”

“Oh, we're open year-round. Except for Valentine’s Day, when we close out of fear that boyfriends that need to seem romantic will form a stampede and storm through the place,” you joked.

“Good to know that you value the safety of your employees,” he said, continuing the discussion with a similar sarcastic tone.

“Employees? God no, it's for the safety of the flowers. I can always hire someone else year-round. I only get my lily-of-the-valley shipments the last week of January. Those things are expensive. I can't have a last-minute hoard of men trying to seem thoughtful destroying them.”

“I’ve got a cousin that's a chocolatier and she has a very similar policy.”

“What can I say? I take very serious precautions to protect my art.”

You couldn't keep a serious face for too long; after a pause, you cracked a smile and a small giggle escaped you. Andrew took this as an opportunity to change the subject, because as much as he could've stood there talking to you for the rest of the day, you both had jobs to get back to.

“I’ll stop talking your ear off. I came here for an actual reason. Let me pay you back,” he said.He took out his wallet and counted out a few dollars before placing them on the counter.

“Here. That's what I owe you.” He pulled out another banknote and held it out towards you. “And here's an extra fifty. To thank you for your kindness.”

Your eyebrows raised at his gesture, which you instantly declined, giving this extra money back to him.

“Goodness, um… thank you, but I can't accept this.”

“Sure you can. It’s my attempt at repaying you. Think of it as a tip.”

“I did it out of the goodness of my heart. I don't expect anything in return, I’m just happy I could bring a smile to your face. And to your mum’s.”

“Let me do something for you too, then. You deserve to have a smile on your face as well.”

You let out a sigh, but made no effort to counter his proposal. He paused for a moment, premeditating what he was going to say. He spoke again.

“You really helped me out, and I want to be able to do something for you. Let me buy you a coffee someday. Or a tea. Or even a croissant if you’re hungry,” he offered, his tone bordering on pleading.

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, one you were too nervous to say out loud, but couldn't help but wonder.

Are you asking me out on a date?

You kept quiet. He was just trying to be nice; there was no romantic intent. At least, that's what you told yourself. Your answer was the same as it would be if that was his intention.

“Alright. When and where?”

“There's a cafe about ten minutes from here. Want to meet there on Friday at 9 in the morning?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great! Great. I’ll… I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

You both stood there, frozen for a few seconds, neither of you knowing what to do. Andrew broke away first. He took a step back and walked away, glancing over his shoulder to wave goodbye before reaching for the door handle. You waved in return, a small smile breaching your lips. The minute he left, you started to count down the hours until Friday.

There was this principle in psychology that had stuck with Andrew ever since he learned of it: the more you think about something, the more likely you are to notice it in your day-to-day life. He was especially feeling this principle today because ever since he met you, he saw flowers everywhere. It was as if the cosmos had decided that he couldn't forget about you, even if he wanted to.

There were flowers on every table of the restaurant he met his mother at. When he went back to his flat that day, he noticed his landlord placed pots of marigolds on the front step of the building. They even followed him to his place of work; his next client of the day wanted line art of a daffodil on her forearm.

She had told him her reasoning was the meaning of the flower—daffodils mean new beginnings. He wondered if you could corroborate that meaning with what you knew of flower language. If this woman knew how absolutely overrun with flora the past twenty-four hours had been for him. Was she sent by the universe to tell him that what was starting with you was just blossoming? Or was she just a twenty-something that wanted a tattoo she saw on Pinterest? Andrew was okay with either option; he was a grown man, aware that not everything in life was because of fate. He was just excited that he got to start something new with you, no matter how it ended.

[cinnamostar]

01: self-fulfilling prophecy 

part two.

pairing : jisung x gn!reader

summary : han jisung, the man who is incapable of maintaining a relationship for more than a few months. han jisung, the man who is in complete denial that maybe he is the problem. han jisung, the man who has convinced himself he isn’t meant for love.

wc : 8.5k

cw : not proof read, nonidol!au, alcohol/drinking, sadness, angst, arguing, cursing, some cute stuff. plz let me know if i missed anything.

a/n : likes, reblogs, and feedback is much appreciated!! not too confident on this one because idk, i feel like the dialogue isn’t well executed, but let me know what you think. please enjoy!

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Jisung didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to romance. He never did anything exceedingly horrendous, he always remained faithful in each relationship he had, but they never lasted long. He simply didn’t know how to be a good partner, always too focused on his own needs to the point that his selfishness turned into emotional neglect for the other. 

It’s not that he didn’t like the people he dated. He genuinely adored them for who they were, yet he always found himself heartbroken and confused at the end of each relationship when they would all voice the same exact reasonings on why they were ending it. 

“I just don’t feel like you care about my feelings.”

“It feels like you don’t even like me enough to put in the effort to make this work.”

“I don’t feel like a priority in your life.”

“I swear you forget we’re even in a relationship.”

“You’re too focused on yourself and everything else to even make time for me.”

Like clockwork, a few months would pass by and his partner would sit him down for the break up talk. It was exhausting. He was clueless, not having any idea what he was doing so wrong even though he would always receive a list of reasons each time. In his eyes, he was doing the best he could, but perhaps his best was not enough. 

Of course he cared for their feelings! Of course he liked them, he could’ve sworn he was doing his damnedest. Not a priority? That was ridiculous, he always made time to spend with his partner during the week despite his busy schedule. Forget? Nonsense! Too focused on himself? Well, of course he was focused on pursuing his music career which required long hours at the studio, why would he want to be with someone who didn’t support his endeavors? They knew what they were getting into when they met him!

It made zero sense to Jisung. At some point, he had given up on love altogether. Maybe he just wasn’t meant for it, maybe relationships were just not his thing. Clearly, he was doing something wrong and he decided that maybe hook up culture was just where he belonged. 

What Jisung failed to realize was that he was forcing his own ideals of a relationship onto his partners. The idea that people had different needs and perceptions on how relationships should function never dawned on him. He never thought to consider what the other person wanted and had simply assumed they would be content with whatever he had to offer. 

He forgot that some people needed more reassurance. He forgot some people wanted to go on actual dates, not everyone considered a night in a date, especially if every date was a night in. He forgot that some people didn’t just want to sit in a room with him while he was on his phone or working on his next project. Sometimes people wanted his undivided attention. Sometimes people wanted to be able to hold a conversation with him. Sometimes people needed more communication because quite frankly, three texts a day didn’t quite cut it for most people.

Yet, Jisung was too absorbed in his own world and his passions to even begin to understand that concept. He absolutely refused to believe he was doing something wrong and that he was just dating the wrong people this whole time. He just hadn’t found the one, right?

Despite that foolish belief he stubbornly held onto, it didn’t mean each instance didn’t take a hit on his ego. After the many failed relationships he had been through, the fear of inadequacy and insecurity began to creep into his mind. Was he not worthy of love? Was he incapable of forming a healthy relationship? Was something wrong with him?

He felt that he had so much love to offer in his heart, but he had no idea what it took to be a good partner. He was too tunnel visioned on producing and music to realize that sometimes, love and relationships required a bit of sacrifice, and that was something he refused to do.

Yet, Jisung wanted to fall in love. Like any other human on earth, he craved to love and be loved, to be understood wordlessly by someone else, but it seemed like love didn’t welcome him with open arms. He desperately wanted to feel like he was needed and wanted, to feel the bubbling shyness and giddiness that only love could give him, but somehow, it seemed that he was the victim of a paradox. Love hated him.

However, Jisung had resigned and accepted defeat. He wasn’t cut out for it. Besides, it’s not like anyone would even bother to give him a chance anymore. After a few failed relationships, people were quick to label him as ‘trash’ and a terrible boyfriend, only good for fun, but definitely nothing more. It was almost as if he had a permanent warning label above his head that scared off anyone who had any remote interest in him. 

People talked. And if anyone so much expressed any interest in him, someone would leap in to rescue them from a foreseeable heartbreak, telling them he was no good and a waste of time. Oh, but if you wanted a few nights of fun and to just fool around, he was perfect for that, but never, and absolutely under no circumstances, was he someone to settle down with. 

He was the only one to blame for his infamy in the dating scene, but Jisung was suffering from a case of extreme delusion and oblivion. Maybe one day he would lose that self-centered immaturity and have a much needed epiphany, but that day seemed far off in the future.

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For the past week, Jisung had holed himself in his studio, insistent on perfecting his latest track by some arbitrary deadline he had set for himself. This was a regular occurrence that his friends had gotten used to. They would be more surprised if this didn’t happen, but this also meant that they had to pay a visit to his studio every few days and force him to take a break for the sake of his mental and physical health. 

Today was one of those days in which Minho came knocking at his door after unlocking the door with the passcode Jisung had given him long ago, reminding him to come by his place later that night for a small party to celebrate his dance troop’s recent competition win. While Jisung was proud of this achievement, part of him felt a tad bit annoyed that he had to interrupt his work schedule for someone else, but Minho was one of his best friends, he at the very least should show up for a bit. He could stay for an hour or two, and hopefully by then everyone would be a little too drunk to notice he had escaped back to his studio.

Jisung sighed as he begrudgingly made his way to Minho’s apartment, dreading the amount of people he would have to socialize with tonight. He was relieved to know that a few familiar faces would be there, such as Hyunjin and Felix, who were also part of the troop, but the team had also gone through auditions recently, meaning there would be people he would have to meet for the first time.

He wasn’t one for befriending strangers, as oftentimes, many of them had a negative impression of him due to his dating history. He hated how every time he introduced himself, as soon as the words “Han Jisung” left his mouth, people’s faces would drop into an unreadable expression, almost as if they were disappointed to finally meet the man who was rumored to be complete and utter trash. It was anxiety-inducing and turned him off from seeking out new friendships because everyone would always say “Oh! Did you used to date my friend?” And at that moment, he knew it was over. They hated him before they even got to know him. As a result, Jisung always felt apprehensive when it came to meeting new people and he much preferred sticking with his small circle of friends. 

As Jisung arrived at the front steps of Minho’s apartment, he felt his shoulders tense up with trepidation as he subconsciously bit the inside of his cheek. The party had already started with the music blaring throughout the building, the lights dimmed with colorful LEDs visible from the window. A chorus of joyful cheers followed by the clinking of shot glasses and laughter could be heard from outside, signaling that the party was already in full swing. Jisung let out an uneasy groan, unprepared for what the night would bring, but reassured himself knowing that he only needed to stay for at least an hour before he could retreat back to the safe haven known as his studio.

After a sharp inhale, Jisung put on a fake smile as he opened the door, instantly greeted by a drunken Changbin who was double fisting two beers, wearing a toothy smile.

“Jisung! You made it!”

The last thing Jisung wanted tonight was to be put in the spotlight, which Changbin just unknowingly thrust him into with no warning. Others nearby turned their attention to the front door, some choosing to ignore Jisung’s presence to continue their conversations while others politely waved or called out a quick hello. 

Minho shortly appeared in Jisung’s vision, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled him into a one-armed hug, “Glad you showed up, I was worried you forgot!” An airy chuckle escaped Minho as Jisung gasped, feigning a look of betrayal while playfully shoving Minho’s shoulder, “How dare you think I’d forget my best friend’s party? I would never!”

Minho rolled his eyes at Jisung’s gesture before dragging him by his wrist. “Whatever you say, but c’mon! I want you to meet our new members. Plus, you look a little too stiff for my liking,so  let's get some drinks in ya first.”

Suddenly, shot glasses filled with tequila were shoved into Jisung’s hand as people egged him on to down them, chasing the two shots with lime and salt to cut through the harshness of the alcohol. A familiar buzz took over his senses, his head feeling lighter than usual as a lopsided smile appeared on his face while the nervousness he felt earlier quickly dissipated. 

The bit of liquid courage energized Jisung enough to forget all the now seemingly silly concerns he had earlier as he jumped through the bunches of people, excitedly yapping away as he caught up with friends and introduced himself to new people. Each time he noticed someone cringing at the sound of his name or giving him a dirty look, he would promptly take another shot to rid himself of the anxiety he was feeling, hoping the alcohol would make him just unaware enough of any other glares he would receive from people that night.

Eventually, Jisung made his way to the loft upstairs to take a break from the hectic party below, already feeling a headache coming on. He stumbled his way to the couch, not paying much mind to his surroundings as he plopped himself onto the couch, immediately throwing his head back while shutting his eyes.

“Oh, he definitely overdid it again,” laughed Felix from the left of him, “How many shots did you take?”

Jisung waved his hand as if he was shooing Felix away while mumbling, “Don’t even ask.”

He heard an unfamiliar giggle erupt from the right side of him, causing him to sit straight up with his eyes wide, hastily snapping his head to see who the laugh belonged to, not expecting anyone other than his friends here.

He found himself staring into your eyes that were crinkled from laughing, a lax smile adorning your face as you brought up a hand to hide behind. Your laugh was rich and decadent, almost as sweet as chocolate, and your smile was so refreshing that it instantly roused him from his drunken state the moment his eyes landed on you.

Oh, shit, they’re cute.

Jisung’s inebriated state had caused him to lose all self-awareness because all he could do was gawk at you with enamored eyes, his lips slightly parted as he struggled to find the words to introduce himself. He felt his face flush from embarrassment when you returned his gaze while wearing an expectant expression, patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“I- Oh, uhm, I…”

You had instantly captured his heart with the most saccharine smile he has ever seen and within a few seconds, Jisung was undeniably smitten, but he was also completely making a fool of himself within those same few seconds.

“Jesus christ, Jisung, how drunk are you?” howled Hyunjin, who had gotten up to lightly poke Jisung’s cheek, “Helloooo, earth to Jisung? Anyone home?”

“Dude… Close your mouth before you start drooling over there. I don’t think that’s an image you want Y/N to have during your first meeting,” Seungmin, who was sitting on the floor, mischievously sneered, quickly recognizing Jisung’s speechless state was caused by something more than just alcohol. Jisung shook his head side to side to wake himself from his lovestruck daze, clearing his throat in an attempt to cover up Seungmin’s comment. 

“Mm, sorry! I just-,” 

Oh, this is bad, he really is making this so much worse for himself. He was now regretting all the shots from earlier as he tripped over his words, his nerves not being of any help. He desperately was trying to say something sensible, but instead, all he could blurt out was,

“Jisung! I’m Jisung… yeah!”

Now it is a lot worse as Jisung cringed at how loud and annoying his voice was, everyone else also seemingly cowering from second hand embarrassment as they watched the scene unfold, but no one was able to peel their eyes away.

Like an angel sent from heaven, Felix decided to have mercy on the brown haired boy, peeking out from behind Jisung to meet your eyes at the other side of the couch. “Y/N, this is our friend Jisung! He makes music with Changbin and Chan. Jisung, this is Y/N. They’re one of our newest members on the team.” God, Jisung could kiss Felix right now from how relieved he was to have alleviated the awkward tension he had just created moments earlier.

You nodded, smiling at Jisung as your eyes lit up in realization, “Oh, Jisung? I’ve heard about you before.”

Ah, there it is. Of course! Of course you have and how stupid of him to think he’d be able to have an untarnished first impression with you and-

“Minho says so many good things about you! He even showed me some of your songs. You’re really talented at what you do, I definitely added a few to my playlist.”

Someone pinch Jisung right now because he must be dreaming, there’s absolutely no way. Is luck finally on his side? Has God finally decided to be oh-so-merciful today? He was on cloud nine as he relished in your compliments, savoring this moment because this may never happen again.

Jisung clicked his teeth as he waved both his hands in front of him with a flustered smile, “Oh, no, no, no, I am not that good! But thank you!” The alcohol was really doing a number on him as he slurred over each syllable, but thankfully he was coherent enough for everyone to understand what he said. 

You let out a breathy laugh at his antics while standing from your seat, “Well, it's nice to finally put a face to the name, but I do have to go now, I have to be up early.”

Jisung deflated as everyone wished you good night, feeling disappointed how quickly your first meeting with him ended. Hyunjin stood up, offering to walk you out and once you were out of earshot, Jisung whipped his head to Felix.

“Felix… Who was that? How long have you been hiding them from me?”

Seungmin struggled to contain his laugh, earning a confused look from Jisung, “What are you laughing at?”

“Dude, you. You looked so stupid trying to talk to them.”

Jisung threw himself back into the couch, sinking into the cushions with an embarrassed groan, “Shut up, I know.”

Felix laughed, shooting Jisung a pitiful smile, “You’ve done worse, it’s fine. And no one was hiding them from you, you just never show up when we invite you anywhere. That is your own fault, not ours!” Jisung pouted, cursing himself mentally for rejecting all those plans.

“They’re cool, they’ve been on our team for a few months. Crazy good at dancing too, we are super lucky to have them.”

“Are they dating anyone?”

The room grew quiet at Jisung’s question as Seungmin and Felix looked at each other with uneasiness, unsure how to respond. Hyunjin had come back up the stairs after walking you to your car, just in time to hear Jisung. He let out a heavy sigh, alerting everyone of his presence.

“I… I think it's best if you just leave them alone, Jisung. They’re a really sweet person and you, well…”

“Me what? What do you mean?” Jisung furrowed his eyebrows at Hyunjin as the taller boy struggled to finish his thought.

“Just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Seriously, Jisung? I know you’re wasted right now, but don’t make me say it. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

And he did, he knew that Hyunjin was referring to his dating history, but Jisung felt himself growing angry hearing his friend allude to him being a bad partner, suggesting he would hurt you. 

“No, I want to hear you say it,” Jisung spat out, a scowl painted all over his face as he stared down Hyunjin with his arms crossed, who was still standing by the stairs. He felt himself become warm in frustration as all the insecurities he held close to his heart started to bubble up. Did his own friend’s think so poorly of him too?

Felix reached out to put a reassuring hand on Jisung’s shoulder, hoping to defuse the situation, “Let’s not do this right now. You’re still drunk, Jisung.” Jisung shook Felix’s hand off his shoulders, standing up while still glaring at Hyunjin with clenched fists. 

“Say it.”

“Jisung-” warned Felix, but he was cut off by Seungmin.

“You’re a shit boyfriend, Jisung. We don’t need you hurting someone we’re friends with again.”

The room was silent as everyone now stared at Seungmin with wide eyes, startled at how blunt he was being. Jisung didn’t know what he was feeling as a flash of rage took over his body, but at the same time, he felt his heart drop hearing those words come out of his own friend’s mouth. It was now Hyunjin’s turn to butt in,

“Seungmin, stop-”

“No, he needs to hear it straight up. He fucking sucks and you all know I’m right. I’m tired of him acting like he isn’t the problem. Leave Y/N alone. They’re better off without you.”

Jisung felt hot tears well up in his eyes as he took in every one of Seungmin’s words, each casting daggers into his heart. His worst nightmares were coming true as he realized that it wasn’t just strangers and ex-lovers who viewed in such a negative light, but the people he trusted so much, his own friends, also thought the same of him. The fury laced in Seungmin’s voice cut Jisung deep as every syllable pushed him over the edge til Jisungfound himself falling into a pit of sadness and hurt, his stomach flipping onto itself on his way down.

Was he really that bad? Wait, no! How dare Seungmin say such a thing to him? What does Seungmin even know about Jisung’s past relationship? He was stepping out of line! The sadness instantly subsided, soon being replaced with a familiar feeling of denial and anger as Jisung stomped towards Seungmin, crouching down to meet him on the floor. Jisung sloppily grabbed Seungmin by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to his face.

“What the fuck did you just say? Take it back right fucking now,” growled Jisung, venom dropping down from each word.

Seungmin rolled his eyes, pushing the drunken boy off him who stumbled backwards, “See, this right here is your problem. You can’t even begin to accept that you’re in the wrong.” Seungmin stood up, now looking down at Jisung who still hadn’t regained his balance. He took in an exasperated inhale, a subdued smile replacing the vexed look he just had as he softened his tone, “Look, Jisung. I love and care for you, but I cannot turn a blind eye and let you hurt someone else. I mean it. Leave them alone.” With that, Seungmin made his way to the stairs, wanting nothing more than to get away from Jisung at that moment before he said something he’d later regret.

Jisung remained seated on the floor as he was processing the words and emotions that were rushing in all at once, his drunken brain unsure how to handle all the information he was just fed. He laid his head into his hands as his brain echoed Seungmin’s words again and again. 

Jisung felt his breath get caught in his throat as he hiccuped a quiet sob, his body starting to tremble as the tears he was holding back for so long finally fell. His body collapsed onto itself as his heart stuttered in his chest, his lungs burning from the lack of air as he continued to inconsolably weep, struggling to breathe between his cries. 

Maybe he is as bad as everyone said he was.

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A few weeks had gone by since Jisung and Seungmin’s argument at the party, but the tension between the two boys didn’t last long as Seungmin showed up to Jisung’s apartment the very next day with a bowl of soup for his hangover and an apology, which Jisung graciously accepted, neither wanting to be upset at each other any longer. 

Despite that, the words Seungmin had said never left Jisung, leaving a permanent scar on his brain as he constantly recalled the moment. The words painfully rang through his ears as a ball of shame and misery formed in his stomach while he reminisced about his past relationships, trying to figure out what he did so wrong. 

Jisung felt horrible as he carried this weight of guilt on his shoulders as he wondered how his actions had hurt others and how he had remained oblivious for so long. All the insecurities and fears he had about himself were true at the end. Everyone around him was in agreement that he was the issue and he was the one behaving so selfishly in every relationship. He could understand that and he knew if his friend’s felt that way, it had to be the truth, but he was still struggling to identify what exactly about him and his behavior was so bad. 

Sure, he could reach out and ask his friends to help see what he was missing, but he was too afraid to face the reality of the situation, not ready to take another brutal beating of words. He was terrified to hear the truth, but he knew the same conclusion he came to long ago remained true. Love was just not for him, it didn’t want him the same way he did.

Everyone had taken note of Jisung’s downtrodden mood and thought he had just needed a few days to collect himself, but once everyone realized more time had passed and that he didn’t even have the will to attend a recording session with Chan and Changbin, everyone went into crisis mode. So, over the last few weeks, someone would show up to Jisung’s house to check in on him and either spend a few hours with him at home, or forcefully drag him out the house to spend time with the group, insisting it would help him feel better.

Each time someone had forced him out, he would be huffing and sulking like a grumpy toddler throwing a tantrum, but as soon as he got there, he would be as cheery as ever and would end the day feeling a lot better. He hated how right his friends were, but he was always thankful for every time they dragged him out despite his whiny and bratty attitude.

However, there was another mental battle Jisung was fighting that everyone was unaware of, or so he thought, and he was definitely not coming out of it as a winner. Unfortunately for Jisung, since the time you joined Minho’s dance team, you had hit it off so well with the rest of the group that you were there almost every time Jisung joined you guys on an outing. And each day he spent with you, he found himself falling more and more for you. 

He was really trying to stop himself, as he took Seungmin’s words to heart and imagined that sentiment was shared with everyone else, but this task was becoming an impossible one for Jisung to tackle!

It was weird. Every time he’d get invited out, Jisung would dread seeing you because he knew he was doomed to a hopeless, unrequited love with you, but if you weren’t there, he would be so disappointed and would find himself wanting to go home sooner. He wanted to stay as far away from you as possible, but something about you drew him in and he couldn’t resist and now here he is, finding himself in a friendship with you that he could not escape. 

It’s not that he didn't want to be friends with you, if anything he loved the friendship you two had grown in such a short time and how quickly he became fond of you. You were incredibly sweet to Jisung, constantly showing your consideration for him everyday in new ways. If he ever felt anxious or out of place, you were the first to take notice and offer to get him out of whatever stuffy social situation he was in and stay with him til he was ready to join the others again. If he had decided to stay in that day, you’d send him a message letting know he was missed and hoped to see him the next time. There was even a time where he was too sick to leave the house, and much to his surprise, he found you and Minho at his front door steps with food and medicine.

Somehow, unlike everyone else before you, you had shown him a special kind of unwavering kindness and didn’t judge him for his past. For the first time in years, he finally felt safe and unconditionally loved in a friendship that wasn’t one of the boys. That was enough for Jisung to know that you were someone he wanted to keep in his life for as long as possible, even if it meant he had to confront eventual heartbreak and only stay by your side as nothing more than a friend. 

But, that was okay. That was more than enough for him because as long as you were there, he would give you his all and support you endlessly. He would do anything to see you smile, anything to ensure your happiness, and if that meant he couldn’t be your lover, then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Besides, no one has ever been happy with him in a relationship. This was how it had to be, this is how he could protect you from himself.

Regardless of how Jisung felt towards you, he had seriously doubted you had any interest in him in the first place. How could someone as angelic as you want to be with, well, trash? There was no way you hadn’t heard about his disastrous dating history, and if you were as smart as he thought you were, that alone would turn you off from him. Not only that, he was pretty sure you had heard about the fight he had with Seungmin and if that fight said anything about him, it showed that he was a mess of insecurities and arrogance. Why on Earth would you ever like someone like that? And if you heard about the fight, he was positive that Seungmin and everyone else had warned you about him and dissuaded you from even considering anything romantic with him.

It was doomed! 

And although Jisung had earnestly vowed to himself he would not engage in anything romantic with you, he was failing miserably. His affection towards you was something everyone picked up on. He always, no matter what, had his undivided attention on you as you ranted to him about whatever bothered you that day or how you were struggling to nail a part of your dance routine. It was obvious. He loved hearing you talk and could listen to you for hours as if you were his own personal podcast, always mirroring your emotion and blindly agreeing with you during your rants, always asking you questions whenever you rambled on about your own hobbies and interests. 

If someone ever talked over you, he’d make sure to ask you what you were going to say. If you were upset that day, he’d always offer to buy you ice cream and insist to the group that they all needed to stop by the local ice cream shop. If you ever showed him a video of your latest dance routine, he’d shower you with a ridiculous amount of compliments until you were a flustered mess asking him to stop. And every time he noticed you were wearing a new outfit, changed your hair, or wore different jewelry, he would be quick to notice and let you know how wonderful you looked. He was shamelessly flirting with you, and he hadn’t even realized how far he had let it go. 

On the other side of the pond, you were well aware of every horrible thing that was said about Jisung, even long before you had become a member of Minho’s team, and to be quite frank, you thought he was a complete asshole from what you’ve heard. But once you realized that he was one of Minho’s lifelong best friends, you knew you had to push your personal feelings aside, especially when you realized some of the music Minho had you perform with was Jisung’s original work. You hated to admit it, but he was an absolute genius when it came to music production and you were slowly becoming a fan of his work. 

All you could tell yourself was that he couldn’t have been that bad if everyone was still his friend and reminded yourself people change, it’s not like you were going to end up liking the guy anyway. 

Oh, but you were so wrong. 

The first time you saw him at Minho’s party, you thought he was so irresistibly adorable during his drunken babbling, and you were honestly taken aback that the cute man who sat in front of you was none other than Han Jisung. Although, it did help soften your initial thoughts of him, making you think maybe he wasn’t that bad, especially after seeing him become a blushing mess at the mere sight of you, but those thoughts were quickly pushed away while Hyunjin walked you to your car after you left.

“Y/N…”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Jisung from other people, right?”

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty, but he doesn’t seem so bad though.”

“Well, he isn’t if you’re just friends with him, but… He definitely seemed into you when he saw you and as your friend, I feel like it is my responsibility to let you know that he isn’t someone you should pursue. I love him, but you deserve someone better than that… I would hate to see him hurt another one of my friends.”

“Ah, no worries, Hyunjin. I’ve made dumb dating choices in the past, but I’m not that stupid.”

Except, you were that stupid. So, so, so incredibly stupid and you were terrified that anyone would uncover your growing crush on the boy. You could already imagine both Hyunjin and Seungmin’s disappointed looks, and you promised yourself you were taking this little secret to the grave. You had every reason in the world to not be attracted to Jisung, especially after hearing how he put his hands on Seungmin during their argument! Drunk or not, there’s no excuse for that and his denial of his actions said so much about him.

Yet, here you are, sitting next to Jisung on the couch in the living room of Minho’s place, excitedly talking to him about the latest episode of the drama you were currently watching, gossiping to him as if the actors were real people you knew in your personal life. He sat on the couch with his legs crossed, facing you while nodding along to every word you said, his eyes trained on you and you alone.

“And-, oh my god, I almost forgot, but the lead then told her to shut up! Can you believe that?!”

Jisung would then gasp, theatrically putting his hand on his chest, “No fucking way… What is his problem?”

“Right! And then-,” you paused for a moment, suddenly feeling insecure that you were forcing Jisung to listen about something he probably didn’t care for. You sighed and gave him an apologetic smile as you anxiously twiddled your fingers, “I’m sorry, I got carried away, you probably don’t wanna listen to me talk about some stupid drama.”

This time, Jisung did look genuinely surprised as his eyebrows furrowed upward with panicked eyes, “What? No, I love hearing you talk about this, you’re always so excited that it’s adorable.” He hated how fast your mood changed and started to worry if he had done something to make you feel that way. Did he look uninterested? Was he not responsive enough? 

“Did I do something to make you think I didn’t want to listen?”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at Jisung calling you adorable, and then felt your heart start beating loudly in your chest when he asked you that question with all the concern and worry in the world filling his eyes. You shot straight up in your seat, returning his gaze with astonishment, not expecting him to be so considerate. “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong… I just…” You paused for a moment, trying to find the words without revealing too much on how you were feeling, “I just got nervous for a moment, I don’t know.”

Jisung nodded as you spoke, taking your hands in his as he gave you a reassuring smile, “Y/N, I promise there’s nothing more I’d love than to hear you talk. You could be explaining the most boring thing ever, and I would still listen to you happily.”

In the kitchen stood Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Minho who were watching the scene unfold before them as they prepared food for everyone, while the others were upstairs playing whatever video game upstairs. Seungmin narrowed his eyes as he watched Jisung reach for your hands, taking note of the flustered look on your face.

“I think Y/N likes him.”

Hyunjin and Minho turned to Seungmin for a moment, then looked back at you and Jisung, unsure what exactly Seungmin saw other than Jisung’s flirtations. 

Hyunjin let out an annoyed exhale as he continued to fry the eggs on the pan, then muttering, “There’s no way that’s possible. Y/N knows better.”

“I don’t know. Just look at them, they act like there’s no one else in the room when they’re together,” whispered Seungmin.

“I guess,” murmured Hyunjin, clearly upset about Seungmin’s hunch, “This is going to end terribly, isn’t it?”

Minho silently stood as he separated the ramen noodles that were boiling in the pot, humming along as he listened to the two younger boys angrily whisper. “I think it will be okay. I think our Jisungie has learned his lessons.”

The other two looked at him with disbelief, neither believing Jisung was capable of ever growing from the immature mindset he had for as long as they’ve known him. Hyunjin scoffed, “No, you don’t really think that, do you?”

Minho kept his eyes on the stove as the other two stared down at the back of his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Well, I could be wrong, I can’t exactly predict the future, but…” He then glanced back at the couch, smiling as Jisung made you laugh, “He treats them differently. I don’t know why, but he does. Don’t you two think so?”

Seungmin and Hyunjin stayed silent, not being able to deny Minho’s statement because they fully knew he wasn’t wrong. Everyone knew something in Jisung had changed when he had met you, and everyone saw how gently he treated you, almost as if he was scared he could scare you away with one little misstep.

“Whatever, I still don’t trust him,” Hyunjin grumbled, putting the last of the eggs on a plate.

Minho chuckled at both of the boy’s protectiveness, “That’s okay, no one is forcing you to, but remember, they’re both adults. They can do what they want, no matter how stupid we all think it is.”

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈ 

Months had gone by and there was no denying the small romance that had flourished between you and Jisung. You both were hopelessly head-over-heels for the other, to the point that everyone around you two had grown sick of it and was praying for the day where one of you would finally confess your feelings to the other. 

You had long given up on hiding your feelings for the boy from your friends, especially after one day Seungmin had confronted you and told you it was the most obvious thing in the world. Part of you had prepared yourself for Seungmin to berate you for your poor taste in men, especially after the plethora of warnings you had been given about Jisung, but instead, he was very supportive and wanted you to feel comfortable enough to talk to him about it, even if he thought you could do better.

Jisung had become a part of your daily life, spending nearly everyday with each other or at the very least, you both had become accustomed to texting one another throughout the day. You’d start your day either sending or receiving a ‘good morning’ text from him and you’d end your day the same way, except it was a ‘good night’ text. 

You’d often pay him a visit at his studio on days he had lost track of time, always letting yourself in after he had given you the passcode to the door, which he had only given to you, Minho, Chan, and Changbin. It came to you as a surprise when he gave you the code to his studio, insisting that you needed it so you could drop in whenever you wanted, telling you that you were always a welcomed guest at his studio. In reality, Jisung just wanted an excuse to see you more, and you had taken the bait as you would often show up with an iced americano in hand and whatever takeout food you were in the mood for that day.

If you ever had a long day of dance practice, Jisung would make sure to stop by to drop off a snack and drink as well, often receiving complaints from Minho over his blatant favoritism, accusing him of neglecting his best friend, which would cause Jisung to grow red from embarrassment. Despite his relentless teasing, Minho was more than proud to see how much Jisung had grown and how naturally caring for you had come to him. It was a side of Jisung no one had ever seen, and it was a very much welcomed change.

Today, you were sitting on the couch at Jisung’s apartment as he washed the dishes from the dinner you both had attempted to make, humming along as he put them in the drying rack. For some reason, you and Jisung had thought it would be a great idea to recreate a steak dish you both saw online and while it did not go terribly, the steaks ended up being a little too burnt for either of your liking. You were a bit disappointed, part of you feeling embarrassed you couldn’t even cook a proper meal in front of your crush, but he had lifted your spirits up by telling you it was an ‘excellent culinary choice’ to serve the steaks charred, shushing you each time you said the word burnt. 

Soon after, he took a seat next to you on the couch, flicking through the TV as he tried to find something to watch, but soon gave up as he turned to you, “Is there anything you wanna watch?” 

You scrunch up your face as you take a few seconds to think, clapping your hands excitedly once the idea hits you, “Have you ever watched Love is Blind? It’s kinda a dumb reality show, but I still haven’t seen the new season and it’s always a fun watch!”

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows quizzically, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy, “Love is Blind? I’ve never heard of it, what's it about?”

“Never heard of it!? No way!” You gasped, a hand clasping over your mouth dramatically as he smiled adoringly at your antics, “It’s such a crazy show! Basically, a bunch of singles are trying to find the love of their lives, but they’re meeting people without ever seeing what they look like!”

“Oh, so they only get to talk to each other?”

“Yeah! And then they have to get engaged, and once that happens, they can finally meet face to face. They’re supposed to get married at the end of the series, but there’s always juicy drama going on before then!”

Jisung hummed, taking interest in the show's concept, “That’s cool, so they’re trying to see if love is truly blind?”

“Exactly!” You chirped, nodding with enthusiasm as you beamed at Jisung, waiting for his response.

“Sure, let’s watch it!” How could he ever say no to you when you’re smiling at him that way? He swore he felt his heart flutter the moment you smiled at him, the jubilation in your eyes making him become putty in your hands. “Do you really believe in that though? Like, unconditional love?”

You turned to him as you grabbed the remote from his hands, a bit taken aback from his question, “Well, I’ve already seen the other seasons and some couples have definitely proven that love can be blind, but love differs for everyone. I think that’s the beauty of this show though, loving someone despite their flaws and loving them for who they truly are.”

He leaned back on the couch, returning your gaze as he lost himself deep in thought, “Right, but do you think you could love someone unconditionally? Even if they’ve made mistakes in the past?”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to understand where Jisung was coming from, a gentle smile gracing your features as you reached a comforting hand over his wrist, “Well, as long as those past mistakes aren’t murder or something, I don’t see why not. I’d like to think people are able to grow from their past.”

Jisung smiled as he sighed in relief, his other hand resting on top of yours, “Even me?”

“Especially you.” 

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈ 

It was a quiet and cold night as you curled up into Jisung’s side, your head resting on his chest with a leg thrown over his as his arms swaddled you into a tight embrace. It was peaceful and serene, the only sounds filling the room was the light pitter patter of rain against his bedroom window and the comforting beat of his heart. You tilted your head upwards and caught Jisung’s gaze, a relaxed smile on his face as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, but you could’ve sworn you saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes.

To be quite honest, you weren’t entirely sure what you and Jisung were, as neither of you had ever officially discussed labels, but you both were very aware of each other’s feelings for one another. There was no doubt that you both were more than just friends, but the label of partners or dating was something Jisung nervously tiptoed around. 

After a few weeks of these shared tender moments, you figured Jisung would soon ask you to be his, but the question never came and it filled you with nervousness. You didn’t want to pressure him, as you could sympathize with his concerns since he was very transparent with you about his hesitance from the very start.

Jisung was irrevocably in love with you and wanted nothing more than to make you his partner, but he would be lying to you if he wasn’t also terrified of the weight of that label. For so long, Jisung had convinced himself he was incapable of loving someone the way they deserved to be and never thought anyone would have ever fallen for him, especially someone as perfect as you. Perhaps it was your sheer kindness and undying belief in him, but he felt like a complete fraud, as if you had imagined him to be this amazing man that he could never be and has never been. He wasn’t ready to fall short of your expectations, he wasn’t ready to face the disappointed and heartbroken look on your face once you realized the rumors about him were complete truth.

He felt as if he was truly undeserving of someone as pure as you, someone so selfless and caring who approached their own feelings with so much confidence, while he was just a shamefully selfish man who didn’t know how to trust himself, who didn’t believe in his own ability to make his own partner happy, a man who was painfully insecure and unsure of who he was.

He wanted you with every fiber of his being and desperately wanted to be the very reason behind your smiles, laughter, and happiness. He so greedily desired to see his own reflection in your eyes for the rest of his life, a sight that he wanted to treasure for the rest of life and the thought of you looking at someone else that way physically pained him.

Yet, his fear of hurting you and disappointing everyone else around him held him back from chasing those feelings and Seungmin’s words from months ago ruminated in his mind as a constant reminder of his past failures. He would not be able to shoulder the burden of hurting you, the guilt would completely eat him up because at the end of the day, it would be his fault for fooling you into the idea that he was capable of giving you that movie perfect love story. For crying out loud, he’s Han Jisung, the guy everyone hated and criticized for his ineptitude of romantic relations. He knew what you wanted, he knew you were growing impatient and scared over his inaction, but his anxieties held him captive in a standstill, and he was not strong enough to challenge it.

All he could tell you was that he needed more time, that he was afraid and needed the chance to grow that confidence in himself once more, but he knew time was finite and he was running out of it. 

As he kissed your forehead, he felt his heart flinch as a pang of sadness flooded his body, forcefully fighting the overwhelming adoration and affection he had for you. He was petrified at the way his body slowly began to reject the feelings of love he had for you, fear and insecurities consuming it as if everything you had to offer nothing. All rational thinking had left him in that moment as panic took over his thoughts, angrily yelling at him for being such an idiot to think anything would ever change. How stupid he was to lead on another innocent person and how he was only going to hurt them, just like all the others before him. How idiotic he was for thinking he was ever deserving of love, as love does not wish to know him. 

He just couldn’t be your love.

God, if he wasn’t such a selfish asshole, maybe then he could’ve saved you from his own carelessness. If he had only heeded the warnings of his friends, but once again, he has fallen into the trap of self-centered needs outweighing the feelings of others. If he had only stayed your friend and nothing more, if he had only not-

“Y/N, I don’t think this is going to work.”

Did he really say that out loud? He held his breath as he cursed himself for acting so quickly out of fear, his heart stopped as he watched you stiffen in his own arm. You silently sat yourself up, his arms falling to the mattress as you turned to him with tears filling your eyes, your lips trembling as you tried to contain a sob.

Oh, how Jisung just wished the world would swallow him whole in that moment, his heart completely shattering at the sight of your crestfallen face. He looked into your watery eyes to only realize that this time, the reflection of your eyes showed the source of your sorrow, an expression he had wished he never had the misfortune to witness. 

“I… I’m sorry, I just-”

You shook your head, raising a hand to signal him to stop talking, refusing to take an explanation from him, “It’s okay. I was afraid this would happen.”

You forced a tightlipped smile, taking a deep breath through your nose as you tried to keep yourself together, faintly whispering a broken “Please don’t text or call me.”

Jisung shot up as he watched you get up from his bed, trying to scramble after you as you made your way to his front door, grabbing your belongings on the way. He didn’t realize how much he was already crying until he tried to speak to you, but it all came out in a blubbering sob. “Y/N, please, listen to me…” He begged you to listen to him, pleaded for you to try to understand where this was all coming from and to understand that he still loved you so much despite how selfish his actions are, yet you never gave him a chance.

“Jisung, please. I don’t care why, I don’t want to know,” you croaked between sobs, doing your best to maintain your composure as you faced the front door, refusing to look at him. “I just feel like an idiot. I should’ve listened to what people said about you.”

There you went, leaving his apartment and shutting the door in his face with force, leaving Jisung to confront nothing, but his own cowardice. 

Once again, Jisung fell into the trap of his own self-centered thinking, getting lost in his own immaturity as he became the victim of the circumstances he created. If he had only realized that he wasn't alone in this battle of his own conscience, if he had only realized you would've fought each insecurity and fear with him.

Oh, woe is me, Han Jisung. Only a fool would be afraid of love.

[yamujiburo]

1. You are INCREDIBLY patient when replying to asks. You always politely link them to your FAQ or to your master post. For the bad faith asks, you always are kind in your responses. I wanted to give you kudos. Even though you are well within your right to ignore/skip these asks, you still put thought into your responses. I'm giving you some kind words because I just KNOW it would be draining getting the same messages all the time.

2. I'm a fat person, and I've got a whole host of body issues, but your Jessie really helps with my self confidence. She still sees herself as sexy, and Delia still sees her as sexy (probably sexier lol). I also loved your logic behind the character design: sometimes healing and stability bring weight gain. That in itself has made me feel a bit better about myself. Not trying to treat you as a therapist. I just want you to know the impact your Jessie can have. It's so rare that we see fat characters in a positive light! I do hate how many people have a problem with your design though. :(

3. Aroace James also makes me feel seen. I am coming to terms with the fact I may be aroace myself, and it's been hard. I've always loved James, and I'm grateful you've spun him into a character I can relate to. I'm always all over your blog looking for more James crumbs lol.

I appreciate it! I like to assume the best in people and always answer in good faith. While I wasn’t super vocal at the time, I’ve had my fair share of bad takes on the internet and I feel like those who responded to me with patience and understanding had a longer lasting impression on me and led me to change my mind later. Gave me much to think about. Not everyone’s entitled to that patience but I think there is merit to handling things with kindness sometimes. You never know who’s on the other side of the screen and what they’re saying could just be out of genuine ignorance. Sometimes someone putting it in a gentle way is just the push you need. A lot of the time, I think people just want to be heard and are also willing to listen if they don’t feel immediately shut down.

I’m glad you think so! I love seeing fat characters and I love seeing fat characters who love themselves. Fat is beautiful, fat is cute, fat is hot

Hahaha I should do more with him! Aroace James makes a lot of sense to me given his background. I try not to write ABOUT the experiences of identities outside of my own but I think it’s important to at least show it!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pugnacious 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, arranged marriage, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: the day has come to do your duty as a noble daughter.

This is part of the Three Sisters for Three Misters AU (this reader is know as Wren)

Characters: James Conrad

Note: We've rounded out the trifecta.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stare at the empty stable and growl. White hot rage ripples through then subsides as you let out a long breath. The days of letting your mother rile you are behind you. You rescinded her power over you at your sweet sixteen when she made you wear that ridiculous clown suit. No longer will her victories needle deeper than the twitch of a cheek. 

You flick your lashes up and twist on your heel. Suzanna gives you a guilty look as you pass. It isn’t the groomer’s fault. Your mother does as she wishes, so much so that she can’t help make others align with whatever those wishes may be. Well, you’ve agreed to do your duty, she’ll have nothing else out of you. 

The furrow in your brow eases and you put on a smile. The one you’ve trained since you were a girl. It’s rather convincing. Even she buys it sometimes. Though, since you’ve grown into adulthood, your mother does seem rather wary of you. Good. 

You roll your shoulders to free yourself of the last of the tension and breeze inside. The furor of the evening’s preparations greets you in a cacophony. You see Nancy frantically pulling lacy table mats from the closet and Annalise thunders demands in the kitchen. 

Before you can reach the stairs, your mother appears like a witch in one of those childhood movies she forbade you to watch. Well, all your friends had them and no matter what she thinks, she cannot command all. You keep your lips curved and bat your eyes innocently. 

“There you are,” she proclaims and gives a sniff, “and you don’t smell like a barn.” 

“Mother,” you retort, “I am on my best behaviour. Do you need to rub the salt in?” 

“I am only making sure you are on schedule. Tonight is very important.” 

“Oh, wow, I had no idea it was,” you say dryly. 

“Get it out now,” she snaps. “Our guest will not appreciate that lip, nor will I stand to be embarrassed.” 

“Motherrrr,” you draw out the word, “you needn’t worry for me. I gave my word and despite my lineage, I do know how to keep it.” You tilt your head wryly, “but you will have Lottie back in the stable tomorrow or you might question my integrity.” 

She frowns, “I only sent her out to be shoed. Don’t be so paranoid.” 

“I know what you’ve done, mother. She’s my horse.” 

“You are not a girl anymore,” she girds. 

“Don’t I know it,” you sidestep her and proceed upstairs. 

To describe your mother cannot be done in a single word. You have more than a dictionary’s worth for her; overbearing, conniving, heartless, soulless... Yes, well, you have faith that whoever she’d bartered you to cannot be worse. You don’t know that there’s any in existence who could even match her. 

“Wait,” she calls after you, “have you seen your sister?” 

You don’t ask which one. Either of them are prone to disappearing. Better they do than you. You would be certain not to be found. 

As you come down the hall, your name wrenches you back like a leash. Your father keeps his voice low as he waves you closer. You turn and stride toward his office door. He can be as stubborn as your mother but he has his moments of softness. At least, for you. You think it’s only his natural obliviousness that makes him seem unkind. 

“Eh, how’s the Queen of Darkness then? Has she sacrificed a maid yet?” He whispers. 

“Father, really? Even if she heard you, she can’t be bothered,” you shake your head. “She has horse-napped Lottie so that I can have no joy on this special day.” 

“Oh, lovie, don’t be so pessimistic. It is about time. You need a husband. Eh, I need you to have a husband. You and the others. I count myself a lucky man that I’ve found you such fine suitors and you should measure your own fortune the same,” he tuts. “There aren’t many true gentlemen left.” 

You hold back a sigh. He can be amiable but he still rules over you all with the same iron. As you are to your mother, you are still merely a title bearer. Your duty comes before anything else. Yes, well, your husband will have his duty too, won’t he? 

“Right, well, I don’t need another lecture. So if you want me to thank you on my knees for a stranger, I will not do so. I am already marrying him, that should be enough gratitude,” you insist. 

“Oh, daughter, don’t be so hard. Sometimes...” he hesitates, “yes, sometimes you do remind me of your mother.” 

“Rude,” you snip back. “Father, I shall see you at supper.” 

You turn and storm down the hall. You slam your door. You’re already over today. But you can’t be. This isn’t just about you, it’s about your sisters. Chicky, your youngest, will be fine. She has her way of just getting by, but Wren... she’s another matter. You’re more nervous about them than yourself. 

You get out of your riding clothes. It’s as if your mother is setting you up. As if she wants you to act out. She does love drama. Even when you’re going along with her machinations, she does her best to ruin them.  

You pull on your red robe and go to your en suite bathroom to start your routine. Cleanse, moisturise, tone, makeup, hair... You leave your lips bare, not trusting yourself not to lick it off. At least your mother can be thankful that you enjoy getting all prettied up. As you set away your makeup, you hear a door in the hallway. 

It’s safe to assume it’s your missing sister. It’s closer than Wren’s door, it must be Chicky. You peek out before you emerge and go to knock on her door. You enter and give her wry look. She has paint behind her ear. You won’t mention it. 

“There you are. Mother’s been squawking all day.” You intone. 

She glances at you in the mirror and shrugs. You give her a pointed look. Playful, not serious. You laugh and frame your hips with your hands. 

“Please, let me do your hair so she doesn’t tear it out.” You insist. It’s as much a favour to her as yourself. You need to keep busy. 

“If you want to,” she gives another shrug. She’s not as particular as you about her hair. 

You near her and eye the dress hanging from the vanity drawer. Pink, short, and fluttery. “Oh, that dress is so you.” 

You touch the neckline and play with one of the facsimile petals. She takes her blush stick and blots her cheeks.  

“What about Wren? She’s usually much more elusive than me,” Chicky asks. 

“Oh, yes. She took her nose out of her book for five seconds to get the witch off her back.” You recall your other sister’s dull stare as she faced your mother at her bedroom door. You take a comb and start at the ends of Chicky’s hair. “Even after a lifetime, she can’t really accept that this is what we were born for. I worry for her but she locked her door.” 

“And probably climbed out the window,” your sister chortles. She’s probably right. 

“Always the most clever of us.” You agree and focus on your task before you find your voice again, “are you nervous?” 

She looks at you in the mirror. Her shoulders rise once more. She tries to act like she doesn’t care but you know she does. You do too. 

“Strangers, aren’t they? But mother and father were too,” she says. 

“Mm, and look how well that turned out. I don’t think they’ve been alone together since right before you were born,” you hiss. 

“Likely not... but mother says the men are well-bred. Polite.” 

“Frigid,” you smirk. You know exactly how gentlemen are. And you’ve gathered that these men are older and established. Will they even have the energy? They are looking for status, not lovers. “You must read between the lines. That is how society talks. They never say the truth, the toe around it until it kicks you in the teeth.” You slide a pin into her hair, “I’ve asked around but people never talk about interesting things, do they?” 

“No, not really,” she pouts then stretches her lips in a goofy smile. “Am I pretty, sister? Will mother approve of me?” 

You laugh and shake your head, “oh, it will be quite the night, won’t it?” 

“Don’t act as if I will be the only menace. And I’m not so worried about mother, as she shouldn’t be of us. We have to impress these men, not her, right?” She argues. 

“Impress? Well, I shouldn’t need to try for that. He can win me over. Tradition and all,” you retort. You aren’t looking to endear a husband, he’s already been snared. You will be what he needs. A wife in title, not in your heart. You won’t delude yourself to think society has any room for love. 

You give a start as the door clicks. You look back as Wren enters and pushes herself to the door. Her eyes are wide and her hair is just as manic. She never has been able to rein in her strands. Her mane seems to reflect the stubbornness she carries so quietly. 

“I saw one,” she says. 

“Saw one?” Chicky drones. 

Wren hushes you and scurries closer. There’s a leaf in her hair and you can smell the oak on her. She’s been in her tree again. He glasses stick of her tresses crookedly and her book threatens to slip from under her elbow. 

“He’s tall. Blond. Look!” She gestures to the window. 

You look to your other sister and she stands. You both approach the window and peer through. Wren hovers behind. 

“Oh, wow, isn’t that typical? Aan antique car. Well, Wren, you should hope he’s yours then. By the looks of it, he’ll spend more time with that beast than you.” You scoffs dryly. 

Wren whimpers as you hear her fussing. You can’t imagine tonight will be easy for her. She doesn’t do well with strangers. And by her expression, they might assume she’s annoyed rather than anxious. If only they knew how lovely your sister truly is. 

“Mm, he has manners. He is chatting rather intently with Reginald.” You remark. 

“Yes, Reginald can be rather chatty,” Wren grumbles. Well, she may be a bit grumpy. 

“Well, Kes,” Chicky faces you, “you said you asked around. What did you hear?” 

“Like I said, gossip is rarely useful,” you sigh. Marcianna offered you crumbs and you don’t have the patience for all those other gabbers. “Mine, Conrad... he’s not much history in ‘society’,” you nearly spit the last word. “From what I’ve gathered, he comes from a well to do family. I heard more of his brother than him. Frustratingly mysterious.”  

You cross your arms and sit, “then there’s Laufeyson, Wren’s match. He does have quite the reputation. A tricky man. I’m not entirely sure why mother and father chose him but no offense, Wrenny, you are a middle child.”  

You don’t mention all that you heard of him. To think your mother chose him for her. Well, it isn’t a match you would have made but if need be, you can set more than your own betrothed straight. 

“Mm, I’d say better than no one but no one sounds rather nice,” Wren bemoans.  

Chicky laughs, amused by the comment. You can’t help by empathise. Wren is right; no one does sound lovely.  

“And me?” Chicky asks.  

 “Pine. Proper gentleman by my measure. Never a toe out of line. No mystery, no scandal. He sounds like he was created in a factory.”  

“Boring?” She sniffs.  

“I wouldn’t expect any of them to be more than,” you check your nails. “But we should try to pretend they are interesting.”  

“Forever,” Chicky adds.  

“Forever...” You echo. “So is our lot, yes? We must make the best of it. Get through tonight, then the wedding, and when all is said and done, we can still be us.” You hook one leg over the other and lean on your hands. “I’ll take Lottie with me. She’s a loyal stead and I’ll need something fun to ride.”   

You wink and Chicky giggles as your implication. Wren whines and sways at the very thought. Oh, how will she ever face her wedding night?  

“Wren, you can take all your books and add a thousand more to your shelves. You could build yourself a castle and lock yourself away to read forever,” you try to comfort her, “and Chicky,” you turn to your other sister, “you can just be you. Go out shooting or dancing or shopping. As long as our duty is met, we will be free. Truly. No more mother, no more father. We will laugh in their faces and say ‘no’.”  

“I hope you’re right,” Chicky refocuses through the window. You haven’t the heart to tell her that the man below is hers. She’ll find out in due course.   

“I do too,” You say. “Think of it this way, we want out of this house. This is how we get out. Then we have our own titles, our own rights, and our husbands, well, they can have their own hobbies.”  

Chicky turns back completely and nods. She returns to the vanity. She’s in a rare state of apprehension. You don’t dare mention it. 

You put your attention to your other sister and lighten your tone, “So, Wren, you look ready to meet your beloved.” 

She winces and you almost feel bad for the joke. No, you have to be strong. For both of them. And you will get through this together. Husbands be damned. 

[adventuringblind]

Two Things to Celebrate

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: fluffyyyyyyy

Summary: Reader gets sick during the race weekend. When she comes to congratulate Oscar on his race the next day, he finds out there is more to celebrate than just a good result.

Warnings: talks of sickness and pregnancy. Mentions of sex. Not proofread... *Snape impression* obviously.

Request: Yes, I'm here for it, I didn't know I needed this in my life until now. Also, requests are open. Specifically for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, and possibly Danny Ricc.

Notes: written in second. This is out of my comfort zone.... much better at writing angsty things me thinks XD

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Oscar is the gentleman that everyone expects him to be. He opens the door for you. Buys you flowers on random occasions. He had pratically given you the role of passenger princess (not that you protested).

You, on the other hand, got the privilege of knowing that he is not always a gentleman. The side of Oscar that was only for those close to him.

He doesn't like showing his more vulnerable emotions to everyone. Lando, who had recently gotten close to Oscar, was shocked when he started yelling in frustration.

You knew there needed to be some reprive for him. The season had started off terribly. Often leaving Oscar in shambles after races.

He'd be calm for that camera. Always trying to find the positives of the weekend. Then found himself breaking down at home.

You hated seeing him like that.

Depending on the mood, you would simply listen and run your fingers through his hair. Other times, you distracted him with a nice meal and a movie of some sort.

When he was angry, though, you found yourself letting him use your body for reprieve. Letting out his pent up frustration and adrenaline from frustrating weekends became part of the routine during the season. Sometimes getting so frustrated with his results that you let him have his way with you for hours.

You two didn't think much of it. The sex was great, and the aftercare care even better. The thought of a second form of contraception not crossing either of your minds. You were on the pill and thought it would be enough.

That's probably the reason you got yourself here.

You were in Silverstone with Oscar. Both of you keep your fingers crossed that the car upgrades work as well for him as they did for Lando. It was killing you waiting for Q3 to start.

Maybe it was anxiety for Oscar, but you hadn’t been feeling the best for a few weeks now. You’d assumed it was just because of everything going on. Today seemed to worse then any other. The nausea becoming increasingly overwhelming.

Drinking water was only helping the pain so much. You needed it though. You are determined to watch Oscar finish. It was his first time getting into Q3 and you wanted to be ready and cheering with him when he came back. Whether he was tenth or not didn’t matter, he’s driving brilliantly which is always something to be excited about.

Then the feeling caught up to you. Quickly having to excuse yourself and find the nearest restroom. Only to to feel the water you had been drinking burning up your throat.

The feeling didn’t stop either. Your body deciding to continue ridding itself of whatever was in your stomach. Meaning that you spent the rest of Q3 locked in the restroom. Forced to watch from your phone.

You burst into tears when Oscar qualified third. Sobbing like a maniac over how proud of him you are. The suddenness of it making you keel over again.

Oscar got back to the garage as fast as possible. He couldn’t wait to find you thank you for having so match faith in him. Maybe he would take for a nice dinner to celebrate.

When he got there, however, you were nowhere to be seen. He knows you wouldn’t just leave without saying something, but where would you have gone?

He finally started asking anyone who would have been with in the garage with you. Eventually getting his answer.

He approached the bathroom door and knocked gently.

“Are you alright, love” Oscar wasn’t sure what had happened so he tried to keep his voice calm.

“It’s not locked I don’t thing.” He heard you rasp from the other side. Immediately he tried the handle to find that it is indeed not locked. He pushes the door open revealing your body barely able to hold itself up agains the wall. You were trying to stand on shaky legs but smiling excitedly and him nonetheless less.

You were grateful when Oscar came to help up upright. “I’m so proud of you.” You sobbed.

Oscars mix of emotions overwhelmed him. He had questions and concern for your well being but was smiling and embracing with joy.

Finally coming down from the high, he is able to address the current situation. His eyes scanned over you body and face. Particularly noting how your eyes are puffy and your cheeks shiny from tears. “Are you ok.” He finally managed to get out.

“Yes, I’m just not feeling the greatest. I think I might of picked something up.” Your throat still hurt from dry heaving leaving your voice broken.

Oscar move you to the side of him so he could help you walk out. “Lets get you home then.”

“But don’t you want to celebrate?”

“We can do that at home, in bed with tea to help you get well.”

Oscar bid farewell to the team. Telling Zak that it was urgent he get you home.

Being the gentleman he is, Oscar got you changed and into bed. He then decided soft foods were necessary incase you got sick again.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll get sick also?” You ask.

Oscar just smiles and crawls into bed with you. “And give up a cozy movie night? Never.”

You wonder for a moment how you got so lucky. Almost crying again at the thought. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate with you.”

Oscar whips his head around to look at you. An exaggerated look of shock plastered on his face. “Don’t you dare apologize for getting sick because you know it’s out of your control.” He pulls you into him and threads his fingers through your hair. “I do think you should go to the doctors in the morning though.” He admits.

Night came and went to quickly. Hating that you and Oscar had to say goodbye and go your separate ways. You’d taken his advice and decided to see a doctor just in case it was something more serious since you’d not been feeling well for a long while now.

A month ago you’d contracted an infection and had to be put on antibiotics. It was miserable but you thought you were on the mend. Seems you were mistaken.

The waiting was killing you. It had taken so long that you had to call Oscar to wish him luck then watching the race from your phone. It hurt you because you have a feeling it’s going to go amazing for him.

Finally after some tests, the doctor came in with the results.

“Congratulations,” she smiled. “You’re pregnant!”

Your fall falls open in shock. How did this happen? We’re you ready for this? You and Oscar had mentioned kids in the future but would he be ok with now? Your mind reels with emotion. Tears again in the verge of spilling. “How?” Was the only question you managed to get out.

“Well birth control doesn’t always work, and you had an infection recently correct?” She asks. You nod your head in response, slightly confused at the correlation. “Antibiotics negate the effects of birth control.” She explains.

Realization settles into your stomach. How could you not have know that? You mentally smack yourself for being stupid.

You thank the doctor and quickly get into your car. There is still time before the race ends and you’re determined to be there.

The drive goes by in a blur, listening to the race going as you drove. Getting slightly frustrated with the unlucky safety car but happy that Oscar was still up in fourth.

You finally got parked and practically sprinted to the McLaren garage. Just in time for the last few minutes. Everyone cheering wildly at the boys placing second and fourth.

When Oscar was finally able to get back to the garage after doing some interviews, he was not expecting to have you jumping into his arms.

He spins you in the air as you two embrace each other. “I’m so proud of you.” You smile at him. He only hugs you tighter and mumbles like ‘thank you’s into your skin.

When he sets you down, he looks relived. “Good news from the doctor then?” His eyebrows lift in curiosity.

“More like interesting news.” You immediately find that it’s much harder to tell him then you thought. Playing with the sleeves on your shirt instead of looking at him.

Oscar is immediately filled with concern again at your sudden change of emotion. “Whatever it is love, we’ll get through it.” He cradles you face in his hands. Gently coaxing you into communicating with him.

You inhale deeply, steeling yourself for whatever reaction he might have. “I’m pregnant.”

You find his eyes and search for any sign of anger or disappointment. Only to be met with an ear to ear grin. “I’m gonna be a dad?!”

Oscar picks you up and spins you again. “I guess we have more then one thing to celebrate tonight!” He shouts. The rest of the garage now staring at the two lovebirds. “I have to tell Lando. He’s going to be thrilled.”

You giggle at the relationship between the two boys. They’d gotten so close through all the struggles this season. Thankfully it didn’t take you long to find him. Not like it was that hard considering he is wearing neon yellow.

Oscar almost tackles him into a hug. Lando laughing at him, not having see this side of the Australian yet. “What’s going on with you.” He laughs. “The adrenaline getting to your head?”

Oscar makes a quick recovery and catches his breath. “I have to tell you something.” His smile so large it might come off his face. “We’re expecting.”

Lando stares between you two for a moment. Processing what he just heard. Before finally he shouts in happiness for you. “Oh my gosh this is amazing!” He smiles and throws his hand up. “I call being the godfather. I called it first so you can’t say no.”

You laugh at his antics. Both boys now coming back to you with cheery words.

As you and Oscar went home that night, you realize just how much you love each other. It might not have been what either of you planned, but neither of you would have it any other way.

[suzukiblu]

I just wanted to say I think you're really cool in the way you defend your own boundaries while also trying to see the best in people (e.g. off-topic Wednesday asks / etc.). Like you make your ask box feel like it's okay to ask questions or not worry too much about how something might come off wierdly if it's read a certain way but also you don't let people walk over you, and that balance is a fucking skill which takes effort and work.

Thank you. 🧡 I definitely do go to a lot of effort to be clear about certain things I'm cool/not cool with while also assuming the best of people's intentions if I ever get comments or questions that are phrased poorly or seem . . . well, questionable, to make an unintentional pun there, haha. I just don't wanna start shit that doesn't need started or slather bad vibes all over some poor well-intentioned random soul who just doesn't have the most immediately up-to-date/informed language or certain experiences to inform their perspective, AND all over all of your dashes on top of that. Like, we were all confused about shit and awkwardly attempting to figure out what the magic question that would explain that shit to us was at SOME point in our lives, if nothing else. You gotta remember your internal stupid kid and how bad they wanted to figure shit out without having the tools for it!! You just gotta!!!!

Like, I literally did not realize gay and bi people were a thing until I was FOURTEEN, man, I just did NOT have that context/experience as a kid. And then, like, four months later I was . . . uhhhhh I'm pretty sure literally the first kid who was publicly out in my entire very tiny "quaint lil' small town full of well-off retirees with gorgeous lawns and literally nothing for a teenager to do outside of school" high school, and at least as far as I ever knew there wasn't another one until my friggin' senior year. And I didn't figure out what asexuality was OR my gender identity until I was in my thirties, despite actively TRYING to figure those out! I just didn't know! I didn't have the word for it for so long I didn't even GET it was a thing that should have a word!

Though to be honest, I really do get way, WAY more people worrying that they're overstepping and preemptively apologizing about it than I ever do people who are actually doing anything I'd personally consider to be overstepping, and I get even fewer people who are INTENTIONALLY overstepping on top of that. Like, I've been very lucky in the audience I've managed to snare/cultivate in my internet times, I very rarely encounter anyone coming into my inbox in bad faith. "Don't like/don't read" seems to be generally respected and I appreciate it, basically, hah.

Also, like, not to get too extra or serious here, but a lot of the reason I write fanfic is because it can contain a lot of things that standard publishing is less immediately open to releasing--like, especially back when I started, it was just NOT a thing to have explicitly queer kids in mega-popular mainstream YA series or all that much gender/racial/neuro diversity past, like, token presences that were at MOST only diversity-CODED half the time anyway and "didn't like labels". And like, that bugged me a LOT as a kid and as a young adult, and still kinda bugs me sometimes these days. I wanted, you know, that SEEN feeling, and I didn't want to only get it from hyper-niche genres/authors that were only writing about being queer and sad about it. I wanted that shit in my dang sci-fi and fantasy and all the FUN stuff, not just, you know, the tragedy-porn cautionary tales. So I want people who are reading my stuff to feel that way, even and ESPECIALLY when they're some totally different flavor of whatever we are from me, and so I REALLY try to be inclusive and welcoming and assume the best of people, at least to the best of my ability.

. . . okay I got kinda carried away with this answer, maybe, haha, but tl;dr: literally everyone has got enough bullshit going on in their lives, I can at least be nice about weird kinks and random gender/mental/physical/???? issues that I don't always necessarily understand the full nuances of on the internet.

[lynnlovesspidahman]

this is me trying.

peter parker x reader

part 2. || part 1.

masterlist.

warnings : angst, mentions of violence, swearing, lots of self-doubt (peter im sorry)

word count : 2.7k

summary : There’s always two sides to a story. An apology is put into place.

Peter felt like he was living three different lives at once.

Each taking so, so much energy every single day.

His job, an assistant for Dr. Octavius at Octavius Industries. He felt guilty for arriving late every day, and still somehow having a job.

Peter was smarter than Doc, they both knew that. So that meant he would be called to office very, very often.

Usually because of some mistake Doc had made while working on the new prototypes of prosthetic limbs.

But the pressure it brought could get to be too much sometimes. One small mistake could cost millions of lives — or dollars — if not noticed early enough.

But he knew it would help the world someday, in so many ways. The exhaustion was totally worth it.

Spider-Man. Peter had loved and genuinely enjoyed playing his alter-ego.

Constantly, day and night, he was out. Out saving people everywhere. Sure, his work wasn’t appreciated by everyone but it was 100% worth it — to him.

But Spider-Man came with considerable costs. His everlasting lack of sleep. Peter can’t remember the last time he really got his 8 hours. The bags under his eyes made that apparent enough.

The physicality of the job, how many times had he stopped a car with his bare hands? He lost count years ago.

The bruises, cuts, broken limbs, brought immense pain, even to Spider-Man. Sure, he can heal faster — a nights rest, a heating pad, and your some soup is more than enough — But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

And the emotional weight it brought.

The crimes haven’t slowed, if anything they’ve gotten much more prominent all around the city.

The overwhelming amount of times he has to swing across New York to fight off large groups of thugs has become too much.

And honestly, he’s so sick of it.

And so, Peter stopped pulling his punches as much.

The guilt didn’t come until later.

He climbed through your apartment’s window after a long, long night of patrol.

You were sitting there — unaware of his presence— watching TV, all cuddled up on the corner of the couch with your mini Spidey plush.

“Hey, beautiful.” He called out to you.

“Holy shit-” You jumped and turned around to look at him. “You can’t just pop out of nowhere like that, you scared the hell out of me.”

You got up and walked towards him, “Was patrol okay?”

“Uh, yeah it was alright, kicked my ass tonight though. I’m worn out,” He stretched his arms above his head.

“Hm. Why?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Uhm, I mean I fought bad guys all night?” He scoffed, a stupid question, he thought.

“Or was it because you practically killed someone tonight?” You bluntly said.

You had taken a step away from him, like he was a danger to you too.

“They were a criminal!” He shrugged.

“Why does that matter? You can’t just completely take someone’s life away. That’s not who you are. Before you say you didn’t, you came real close to.” You stood your position.

It felt like you shot him straight in the heart.

He should’ve listened to you. But instead, he took a shot right back at you, a shot to kill.

“Again, they’re criminals. I’m sorry I had to calm things down somehow. I’m sorry I needed to do something to catch a break for once in my damn life. And you’re not exactly helping that.” He looked away from you. He felt ashamed.

You were right, he knew that, even then. But his pride couldn’t let him admit it.

“What is wrong with you? You love Spider-Man. And you always talk about how killing sickens you. You’ve changed, Peter.” You spat back at him.

He should’ve just ended it there, stopped the excessive violence, stopped the fight. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been in your kitchen on that faithful Tuesday.

It had been two days since that argument.

His almost perfect rep was officially ruined (Jameson had a field trip that day, too). The stress was at an all-time high.

He almost couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want to anymore.

He was still so angry at you for being right. Because you always were.

You were the one who kept him balanced, who took care of him no matter the time of day or night.

He hadn’t been back to your apartment since the fight, either.

But he would return to it after a tough night the day after. And the next.

And you forgave him, so fast (He took you to see the Barbie movie, paid for every snack and drink you could’ve wanted. It was indisputable on your end). The guilt from what Peter’s put you through has just stacked on and on.

Now he really couldn’t handle it anymore. 

And so, there he was. Sat atop a random rooftop rethinking everything.

He debated his life. His three lives, more like. Which parts were worth it, and which weren’t. (It was really fucked up, who measures parts of their life in worth and just decides which to throw away?)

He couldn’t lose his job, how would he make money?

He couldn’t stop being Spider-Man, he knew that.

And there was you. The biggest and undoubtedly the most important part.

But you were also easy to throw away, he thought.

So much stress and time would be lifted off of his shoulders.

(Little did he know, it would be the complete opposite. His injuries didn’t heal all the way like they did when you took care of him. Every time he was hurt, it would linger for days at a time. He missed how much you’d worried for him. He really took you for granted.)

And so, he decided in the next couple of weeks, he would break it off.

And he did. On the Tuesday the following week.

He looks back on it — to this day — and realized everything he had said to you that evening, wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at himself.

Of course he enjoyed loving you. He didn’t enjoy being himself was what.

He needed to be his best for you because he couldn’t be with anything else. He failed at being the friendly and reliable Spider-man. Him and Doc didn’t get the grant they’d been needing for so long.

And when he did try to improve when you called him out that night, it just wasn’t enough.

He didn’t deserve you.

He took everything out on you, he didn’t mean a word he said. But you didn’t know that.

Peter never had an outlet to take anything out. He couldn’t leave you with every burden of his life, Doc and him weren’t that close, and May couldn’t know he was Spider-Man.

He snapped that Tuesday.

And there’s nothing more that he regrets in his entire life.

But he couldn’t burden you anymore. He wouldn’t.

He did nothing but keep you up late at night, hurt your feelings, and make you do everything for him.

Peter loved you. And he couldn’t let himself torture you like this.

So he forced himself to let you go. You would move on, anyways. He couldn’t.

He listened to every single one of the voicemails you sent.

Every. Single. One. He’s never heard you sound so down (Because of him, nonetheless).

It took so much out of him to not respond. More than what he had to give.

And after five weeks, he finally caved.

He texted you.

9:52 PM

Hey, beautiful.

You wouldn’t forgive him quick this time, he knew that. This time wasn’t just some fight. He tore your heart apart.

But he would work for your forgiveness, he swore to himself, God as his witness.

You read the message immediately. He knew you had gotten off of work, so it wasn’t completely abnormal.

But you didn’t respond. He checked his phone all night and the next morning (He was desperate for something, even if it was an angry text. He hated nothing more than you ignoring him).

So he texted you again. He just went straight for it this time, no holding back anymore.

1:16 PM

Can we meet up?? I think we can agree there’s still some loose ends we need to revisit, together.

Read 1:18 PM

He was patient this time. He tried stepping in your shoes, and it broke his heart. He couldn’t imagine you snapping on him like he had.

He couldn’t live if you were angry at him like he was at you. And if you weren’t going to respond again he was debating on just showing up to your apartment. Can’t ignore him that way.

2:12 PM

Y/N 💞 : “Loose ends” is a funny term. You mean when you randomly showed up to my apartment and broke up with me for the stupidest reason?

He cringed. This was a dumb decision.

2:12 PM

I know, trust me. I just want to talk. And explain myself.

Explain my biggest mistake. I’ve never regretted anything more than leaving you and taking the anger at myself onto you.

He debated on sending the message, but he didn’t.

You would just see it as him trying kiss your ass into forgiving him. It worked before.

2:14 PM

Y/N 💞 : Peter, why? Why are you only just know texting me? Why are you trying to meet up when you tore my heart into pieces? Why are you seeking forgiveness randomly?

Why are you asking such hard questions, he wanted to ask.

2:14 PM

Idk, I miss you?

I miss you and still love you. I regret that night so much.

Can you just hear me out? Please?

Nothing sounded right. But he just went for it, again. At this point, he was pacing across his rooftop, anxious for your response (If you even gave him one).

2:15 PM

Y/N 💞 : Peter, I swear. If you make me regret this, I’ll come for you. Worse than any enemy you’ve ever faced and ever will.

He laughed at that one. You wouldn’t —right?—

2:15 PM

I won’t, Y/N. I promise. Tomorrow, Micks at 3?

Read 2:16 PM

You left him on read, but he counted that as a success — you didn’t refuse his offer so.. —

He would come back from this. He has to.

Peter was late. Fuck him.

Why did you even give him your time of day anymore? This man could tear you apart and you still gave into his words.

3:13 PM

Peter 🕸️ : Babt, I’mso sotry. I got caugjt up with worl, I’m bloxks away I sqaer.

You could barely understand him, but you were used to his usually proper grammar slipping while he was swinging.

How dare he? How dare he beg you to come out here and he gets to show up late??

He practically busted the restaurant’s door open. He rushed to your table.

“Baby I-”

“No,” You interrupted. “You don’t get to call me that. Fuck you, asshole. You ask me to meet you and you show up late? Are you kidding me?” You crossed your arms and stood up from the booth you were sitting at.

“Y/N, I’m so, so sorry. I got caught up with Doc at work. Huuge internal wiring problem. I don’t even understand how he could’ve messed it up so badly,” He talked with his hands, he was so cute when he did that.

You took a step towards him, and slapped the shit out of his stupidly attractive face.

“You don’t get to break me and show up late when you wanted me here.” The tears were back. You were livid. You shoved your finger into his face as you scolded him.

“I know, I know. I keep fucking up and I’m sorry. Lets just sit down and let me explain everything. I promise you, it’s worth it.” He put his hands on both of your shoulders to keep you from leaving and tried to calm you down.

“Hands off,” You pulled his hands away from your shoulder and slumped back into the booth.

You wanted to go home.

“Okay, okay.” He sat down and stared at you.

“Well?” You waited, “Let’s hear this explanation,” You rolled your eyes.

“Well, uh-” He paused for a moment, “I don’t know how to start.”

You waited for him to continue, arms still crossed. You really didn’t want to hear him out.

“Do you remember when I almost beat the life outta that guy? Like a month ago or something?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You rolled your eyes again, not exactly a good moment to bring up.

“I feel like that’s where it started,”

“Mhm..” You nodded for him to keep going.

“I started slipping. I stopped pulling my punches and I was so stressed out every moment of my life. A-and one day I just got so sick of it,” He started choking up, you almost felt bad for him.

“So I sat down and tried to organize my life. I wanted to rid myself of stress and try to free up time for myself in order to y’know, rejuvenate.”

You sat there, you were expecting plain excuses. But it seemed he had something real going here.

“I couldn’t rid myself of my job — how else would I be able to live? — and obviously Spider-Man isn’t a choice. And there came you. The best and biggest part of my life.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“I was stupid, I thought that by taking a break, I’d feel more free. And feel more.. well less stressed out. If I had something to myself then I would be better and feel okay? I don’t know.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, please. I was so overwhelmed with everything. I’ve been so behind on rent, and crime just never stops around here. Its like it raises more and more every week.”

“I thought-” He took a deep breath, “I thought that if I had one less chore — trust me you are not a chore to me — life would get easier.”

You’re guessing he tried to rephrase his words he said before, he’s almost repeating himself.

“But it didn’t. At all. I was in pain all the time — emotionally and physically — it didn’t help at all. I said I didn’t enjoy loving you. I lied. I didn’t enjoy loving myself- or being me.”

Your heart clenched for him. He hurt you so bad, but hearing how he truly felt made you slightly reconsider things.

“I didn’t enjoy the stress of my life, and I don’t have any outlet for my anger. And you forgave me so easily the last time we fought. And I guess I took advantage of that. I took all of the hate I had for myself onto you. I think that will forever be my biggest mistake.”

Your eyebrows scrunched.

“I love you. So much, Y/N. More than words can describe. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life and I can’t ever be away from you, again.”

“I broke it off thinking it would cause me less stress, but I understand now that it was you who took the pressure away. Being away from you, Y/N,” He laughed (At his own pain, seemingly). “I’ve never felt shittier in my life.”

Your tears flowed. Your expectations were well exceeded. He’s fucked up so much, but he makes up for it every time. And this time, it wasn’t done by kissing your ass and spoiling you, you recognized that.

“I can’t explain how sorry I am. I regret what I did to you that night so much. More than anything in the world. I just hope you can understand that.”

“I hope you can understand me.” He kept eye contact, his eyes were watery. “I know how complicated I can get,” He let out a breathy laugh.

“Pete.” You just about whispered his name.

“Yeah..?” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve before answering you.

“I forgive you.” You smiled, still crying from his well thought out (you had to give him credit) apology.

“Wait- Really?”

“Yeah. I do.”

He stood up and hugged you from across the table.

“But..”

“But..?” He repeated you, curiously. He let go of the hug to look you in the eyes.

“You’re gonna have to pay for the meal if you really want me back.”

He laughed.

“I love you.”

He grabbed your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. He’s never kissed you so hard.

Stunned, but pleasantly surprised, you sat there for a moment. Unsure of whether you should kiss him or not.

But you grabbed his collar and melted into the kiss.

No matter how hard he had broken you, his words brought you back to him.

And you wouldn’t regret it, you knew that.

part 2 is finished 🥹

just wanna explain a few things just in case:

peter is a lil ooc w the excessive violence and it’s not him to be like that but i feel like every body gets to that point where everything can be just too much. even spider-man.

i also feel like he needs a healthy outlet for his feelings, being spiderman, he’s constantly busy. not exactly easy to make friends. but also being spiderman, he doesn’t wanna leave y/n with all of his problems, he’s supposed to be the hero. so he bottles it all up. to the point where he just burst one day and took it out on her. (not good!!)

also i felt like him being a man, he’s going to feel insecure if y/n’s the one taking care of him all the time. he’s the man, it’s supposed to be the other way around, but it’s not. and that’s okay!! often times, old traditions still lies deep within all of us. men’s mental health matters too!! men can still feel insecure!! EVERYONE DOES. but that doesn’t mean we (as people) can take out our insecurities or anger at ourselves onto other people. most times, they don’t deserve the hate we bring onto ourselves.

that being said, not everyone can be perfect. (peter is a great example) we’re all going through something in life and are constantly being tested. but, the biggest thing is to always persevere no matter what. you’re never going to have more on your plate than you can handle. if you’re struggling, always remember to reach out to someone. a loved one, a professional, or even me. my dms are always open. i love you all. 🩷

anyways,

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated!!

i hope you all enjoyed this story as much as i liked writing it 💗💗

[hiraethblues]

Sangmin Dinneaw Episode 3 Thoughts

Sangmin Dinneaw or as my autocorrect likes to call it: Sanguine Dinnerware

Is this show good? No. Would i go as far to say that it's bad? Well.... yes, yes I would.

At first it was like WTF is going on in a curious way but now it's like WTF is happening?!? like who made these choices? and why? It's throwing me cos the production isn't low quality (well not for Thailand) but the plot is kinda non existent which isn't always the be all end all, I can happily watch a show for ~vibes~ alone, but the more I watch of this the worse it gets? But d'you know what's mad, I'm still enjoying (I mean just look how cute they are 🥰) the mc alot. There's something about them that's keeping me here even though everything else is bat shit crazy (dw I am still skipping ALOT of this nonsense). Think the writers took the day off for this ep tbh.

The more I see the more concerned I am for where this is going even for the mc, like I didn't have much faith in the script but this ep has DEFO lowered my expectations for anything that's to come (which is fine, sometimes you just have to watch a bad bl to appreciate the goods ones right? 😂 and I haven't saw a series that makes me cringe this much in a while haha although I couldn't even cringe watch whatever the fuck was happening with those hotel trainees!!

oh, welp, I just wrote this before That other scene of them.... honestly there are no words..

Wow, "one look give em whiplash", now we've jumped into some sweet dreamy scenes for the mc, which is how I feel about them too, sadly every other scene is like a sleep paralysis demon hovering over my bed.

There's potential in the mc story but the rest of this show is just flaming hot rubbish, let it 🔥

[nightscythe]

ii. reverie

→ fulgrim x ysevena [oc, she/her] → 4k, nsfw 18+, tw; knife play & choking → pre-heresy, oh my fulgrim loves ysevena so much he would literally hold a knife to her..good thing she likes it

The blade’s very tip touched her skin, causing her to body to freeze under his touch. Curious, Fulgrim was, as he tilted his head to the side and stopped his actions. “Are you afraid, darling?”

She shakes her head, though he doesn’t appear satisfied without words. Noticing her hasn’t continued, Ysevena speaks softly, “I have nothing to be afraid of.”

“Good,” he answers. The joining of the line in her dress is split open swiftly, the sharp edge of the blade not needing much effort to break it. As her dress is ripped, he lets it fall down naturally, exposing her body for all it has to offer. “Tell me what else you’ve thought about me.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Somewhere along the line, Ysevena had fucked up wonderfully. 

So wonderfully, in fact, that she’d ended up in the same bed as a man she’d admired for years. Though, perhaps admired is too strong of a word; she’d found everything about him fascinating, and since the first time she laid eyes on him, she’d been tantalised by the prospect of him belonging to her. 

Though truthfully again, belonging to her was also too strong. He was a god to his people, he was the son of a god to the galaxy, and to her… Well, he could give her the powers of a god, too. 

“Sometimes, it’s best to just not think,” she says softly, watching over the white haired prince with lustful eyes. He dare not look away from her, be it her eyes or the curves of her silhouette. “Other times, thinking is the best part about it.”

“How so?” Fulgrim asks in return. 

“When I’m with you, for example. Would I really wish to be so deep in thought that I missed a moment spent with the one I adore the most?” 

He only hums in agreement. 

“But when I’m without you, I find my thoughts wandering to you more often than perhaps they should.”

“In what way?” he questions, interest piqued ever so slightly more. 

Ysevena had expected a question like such; he always wanted to know everything she had to think, feel, and say about him. He’d not leave a thought open to chance. Yet still, her prepared answer somehow feels inadequate. She’d tell him of how good a leader he was, how he was the most faithful of his brothers, the strongest, the smartest, the most beautiful. It was always the same. 

Perhaps it was the fact that no matter what Ysevena did, she only seemed to grow closer to the primarch, that spurred her to admit something she wasn’t sure he would appreciate fully. 

“What we could do together,” she answers, “what you do… to me.”

His silent stare does cause her worry at first. She notices how still he is, not a word to say, and she wonders why he’d not reacted. Though her thoughts are spared when he leans closer to her, drawing his fingers across her exposed arm, to her collar bones, then up neck and pulling away finally at her chin. 

“Are you going to tell me more?”

“How much would you like to hear?”

“All of it,” he tells her, “don’t leave out any details.”

It wasn’t as though this was new. He’d seen her naked body hundreds of times, he’s ravaged her in ways she had only dreamed of before, yet somehow she feels as shy as the first time she’d seen a man. Yet still curious, wondering what may have been in store for her. 

Some of her thoughts were simple. She found comfort in his presence, so when she felt lonely, she’d think of him there with her. She saw him as a protector, and when she felt danger, he was what guided her through. 

She saw him as the only one who could pleasure her, too. So in the dead of night when she was lost in her own thoughts, it was always him there with her. 

Those are what she’d never shared; today was different, though.

“My thoughts end up drifting back to the times we’re together. When you would have me here with you and fuck me senseless. When I can’t even talk anymore and all I know is you. Or, when you bury your beautiful face between my legs and make me beg. It’s hard to not think about that, and when it will happen again.”

Fulgrim hums. He runs his fingers through her hair, pushing it back over her shoulders. “That’s so mundane, though, don’t you think?”

“Mundane?” she repeats, questioning his words. 

He raises his brows, shrugging casually. “Have you not considered what else I could do?”

A yes would not be a substantial answer. She had, many times, though Ysevena’s thoughts again were her own as she was unsure of how far he wanted to delve. 

She’d test the waters, so to speak. 

“You could have me at your mercy.” Ysevena had never failed to interest Fulgrim with her words. It seemed that this was no different. His stare is so intense, concentration fully on her words, so much that his breathing was all that filled the room. “You could hold that blade of yours to me and tell me what to do.”

“Yes. I could.” 

She watches as he pulls himself away from her, off the bed and hurriedly to the other side of the room. She sits up, watching his actions, though remaining still now. He’s looking for something, and as the she notices the purple and gold hilt that he holds in his hand when he turns back to her, she realises that he’d understood everything she wanted, even with so little information. 

“I can do that,” he states, his earlier words changed to watch his actions. He stands at the end of the bed, wicked smile inviting her to both her dreams and torment. “Stand here. Those clothes are distracting.”

She nods once, moving herself quickly from the bed, to her feet, then to the spot he’d reserved for her. She stands opposite to him, hands down at her side, hair falling across her body without any care. She reaches to push it back over her shoulders but he stops her, instead doing it himself. Each little strand is moved, creating a completely blank canvas for him to do his work on. 

And so delicately, he starts to paint his picture.

Just one tiny stroke across the split in her dress at the thigh. The blade, sharper than anything she’d owned, first is held on its side and run down her skin, then is turned so the razored edge meets her skin. At first she flinches, not expecting the sensation. Cold at first, then a burn, then nothing. It was as if he’d never touched her, but as she feels a small trickle roll down her thigh, she’s reminded that he very much was going to have her at his mercy. 

Ysevena’s eyes fall down to where his hands hold her dress, and though her body doesn’t move, she feels pulled to him like he was the very gravity which held her down. The silver blade he holds glitters in the lights from all the candles around them, though before she can fully appreciate what he was holding to her, one of his hands moves to her chin and holds her head up towards his. 

“Don’t look away from me,” he tells her, a flame burning ever so deep in his eyes. She dares not struggle against his force, instead obeying his command and staring right into his burning fire. 

After a few seconds, he’s satisfied that she’s not going to move against his wishes. The hand on her chin is replaced back with the other, tightly pulling the white of her dress so the fabric is taut. He doesn’t look away from her for even a moment, trusting his movements wouldn’t affect her. Even if they did, Ysevena would be the first to thank her, for he’d blessed her in some way that only they could understand. To have her blood drawn by him was an offering, a show of how much faith she had for him. 

The sound of her dress being ripped open by the blade echoes through the otherwise silent room, and for a moment, her blood runs cold in her body. This was different. It wasn’t another of their cherished times where she would spend as long as she could worshipping him in every way, revering his whole being. 

No, this was for him. 

He could do anything he wanted to her. She felt so little compared to him, not just with size, but his aura, his entire being; she was inadequate next to him, powerless to everything he wanted. So it was only natural for her to let him continue, still not breaking their eye contact. It was only as the blade reached further up her chest, coming to the point where the fabric met in a sharp ‘v’ shape, that her body betrayed her. 

The blade’s very tip touched her skin, causing her to body to freeze under his touch. Curious, Fulgrim was, as he tilted his head to the side and stopped his actions. “Are you afraid, darling?”

She shakes her head, though he doesn’t appear satisfied without words. Noticing her hasn’t continued, Ysevena speaks softly, “I have nothing to be afraid of.”

“Good,” he answers. The joining of the line in her dress is split open swiftly, the sharp edge of the blade not needing much effort to break it. As her dress is ripped, he lets it fall down naturally, exposing her body for all it has to offer. “Tell me what else you’ve thought about me.”

Ysevena swallows her immediate thoughts. It would be too needy to tell him exactly what she thought of, and though Fulgrim may have revelled in how much she truly thought about him, this time she speaks carefully. Still trained to his eyes, she tries to regain any confidence that lay dormant. “When I’m alone, I start to think about where I’d like your hands on me.”

“Only my hands?”

“No,” she tells him, truthfully. He narrows his gaze on her, brows pulled together ever so slightly. As the confidence she wished for starts to appear, she places one of her hands around her own neck. His amusement is apparent from the chuckle he eludes during her actions, though as Ysevena begins to tighten her grasp, he’s brought to silence once more, only wishing to step closer. “I think about you wrapping your hand around my throat and tightening your fingers until I’m barely able to breathe.”

“And what else would I do?” he asks, so close that she can feel his breath on her face now. 

Ysevena waits a moment to find the right words. To have him so close has her mind spiralling, as it always did for her, but he’d never asked before what she fantasised about. She worried that how she viewed him would be wrong in his eyes, but all she’d realised is that every one of her darkest desires was music to his ears. 

So she ignores what little humility she had left, and uses her other hand to show him exactly what she meant. She gives him a commentary too, though her words are broken by her own touch. “You’d be fucking me with your fingers and… and using your thumb to rub my clit until I cum all over your hand, and you’d… tell me when I need to cum… if I don’t, you’d squeeze my neck and tell me to cum for you like you wanted me to.”

And she would do exactly that. 

She’d barely even considered blinking, not wanting to miss a second of his blissful face, though as she’s rubbing her own clit in the way she imagined he would, she finds her eyes falling shut to the thought. He must have noticed, she tried so little to hide her enjoyment, though he left her there to pleasure herself in his company for far longer than she wanted. 

Though that was exactly what he would do, and she knew it. 

And by god, it had her almost whimpering then and there, knowing he was watching her get off just to the thought of him. 

Eventually, he does step in though, choosing not to stop her fingers circling her overstimulated nerves, and instead peeling the fingers from her neck so he can replace them with her own. His hands are so soft, almost the exact same as hers, yet he covers her entire neck with ease. Though his grip at first isn’t as tight as hers was, with each second that passes he presses the tips of his fingers into her delicate skin even more. 

“More,” he whispers, so close to her now that their bodies almost touch. She’s sure he would be able to feel from where he is how wet she was, ready and waiting for his touch. Just a word has her legs shaking. “That surely isn’t all you thinking about, is it?”

His grip pauses, still tight around her neck, though not too much that she’s unable to breath. She can feel her heartbeat around his touch though, and she’s sure there’s a wheeze behind her words. “Then you’d put me on the bed and… hold me down as you fuck me, until I’m… I’m begging you to… to…”

Her words aren’t formulating. Her knees are becoming weak as she feels the heat in her stomach begin to overflow. She wanted, so badly, for him to be doing this to her that she’d forgotten what he even asked. He wouldn’t forget, though. 

“To what, darling?”

“To let me see you,” she says, words falling from her lips between heavy breaths. 

She knows that if she continues any longer she will be making herself cum, though she wouldn’t dare stop without him telling her to do so. So instead, she pleads silently, wide eyes meeting his own as her soft moans fall from open lips. Always so obedient to him, ready to serve his every need and want, yet today all she could think about was him giving her what she wanted. 

He was merciful, afterall. Though he’d never tell her directly, he was grateful for the honesty, and he was thankful for her, for finally admitting her desires to him. He couldn’t punish her for that. It would be wrong, to not give her exactly what she wanted, when Fulgrim wanted the exact same thing. 

“Stop,” he tells her, hand still gripped around her neck. 

She does as she says, on the very edge of coming undone right before him, breaths heavy and skin blushed. This time she notices his glance down over her body, as he always seemed to do, admiring her for her perfection too. He looks back to her seconds later and, much to her surprise, presses his lips to her own. Though she’s still at first, Ysevena finds herself sinking into his touch as he holds her in a display of the softer side of his affection. 

He pulls away, scent lingering on her as he does so. Still she watches his every move, waiting on his command. He takes his hand away from her neck, leaving her to be free for a second, though replaces it on her shoulder to turn her around. She lets him do so easily, following his guide, so she now is facing away from him and at his mercy once again. 

He pushes the silver straps of her dress off her shoulders, allowing the broken fabric to fall to the floor. The soft breeze from outside brushes over her skin, her nerves going into a flurry as she anticipated his next move. She’s not sure what to expect, but certain a hand moving across her back to collect all her loose strands of white hair is not it. Though she stands still, allowing him to gather her hair into a twist at the nape of her neck. He holds it together with what she assumes to be a pin, perhaps one he used for his own hair. 

When he’s satisfied with his doings, she feels another of his hands directly on the small of her back, pushing her forward. Again, she follows his command, stepping forward as he moves her; though she knows where she’s to go, their approach to the bed was little of a clue to that. At first she considers falling straight onto the bed, but wanting to present herself better for him, she places her knees on the bed first, kneeling on the edge and then lowering herself afterwards. She knew it would give him what he wanted. 

She’s left at the mercy of the silk sheets she rests upon until she feels his touch again, the sounds the filled the air seeming as though he was getting rid of his clothes too. From where she lays, head turned to the left, she can just about see the outline of his figure approaching the bed, confirmed as she feels his fingers on the back of her thighs. He spreads her legs as he desires, and just as she thinks that she’d finally feel his cock buried within her, its his fingers that are back on her clit as a distraction once again. 

All of her muscles in her lower half tense at his touch. Hearing him titter, she knows it was his way of teasing her, playing with her desires to make him want her more. Oh, if only he could read her thoughts. Nothing could make Ysevena desire him any more than she already did. Luckily he doesn’t wait any longer, and before she has time to think of him again, the head of his cock is at her entrance, easily slipping in her like every time before. 

She tries to hide her moan as he pushes himself in, though really, her attempt was very limited. She wanted him to hear everything, know all of her feelings, understand that every fibre of her being lived for him in this moment. He reaches for her hips, fingers splayed over each of her curves, though before he makes another move, he moves his hands up her body, to her waist and to her shoulder. Given his strength, he easily moves her, holding her up so her back pressed against his chest. 

Now, he really was fully in control of her. She’s truly powerless in his arms; he had control of her movement, he had her exactly in the position he needed her to be in still still fuck her from behind like he always chose to do. But this time there was more to it. He used his strength in both his hips and his arms to bounce her on his cock, pleasuring himself as he needed with her. At some point, his hand ended up on one of her breasts, fingers squeezing into the soft flesh, tips leaving imprints and possibly bruises. 

This wasn’t all that he wanted, though, and just as she was getting used to how he held her, she was back on the bed with an emptiness inside her, waiting for him to return. This time she was less obedient, peeking over her own shoulder to see where he had gone. As she looked back, she finds him stand over her, watching her with the darkest eyes, ready to continue. She notices the smirk he gets from having her look back, and though she doesn’t fully understand his thoughts, she hopes that he realises how badly her body was aching for him. 

“Do you love me, Ysevena?” he asks her, approaching again. He’s kneeling as well now behind her, ready to take her again. He pulls her hips back against his so she can feel his throbbing cock against her, though his movements cease as he awaits an answer. 

No doubt his question confuses her. For all the time they had done this, it had been a mutual understanding between each other. Admiration between the pair; their desire for perfection, their desire for each other. It had never been about feelings. “You don’t believe in love.” 

“But you do,” he states. She feels his fingers running across the skin of her back, sending a shiver down her spine, her heat still burning for more. “So be truthful, darling. Do you love me?”

It was not an answer she had prepared, nor expected to ever give. 

“Yes.”

He doesn’t react for a few seconds, leaving Ysevena to worry her answer was wrong. It’s not long enough for her to have any fear, not that she had any around him anyway. It's long enough for him to realise the consequences of her answer though. Just as she thinks she should look back to him again, his fingers are back on her hips, and he’s guiding himself into her once more. 

She hears, through whatever echoes of reality are left, his words slip through. “Good.”

Somehow this was different to every other time he fucked her. There was a new feeling, a connection she couldn’t explain. This was more than pleasure, whether she meant it to be or not; she wanted this because it was him. 

And as her eyes fall shut, cheek buried into the silk of the sheets he holds her on, she starts to feel everything again. 

She was close before, but now it’s even harder to hold on. Fulgrim always had a way of hitting everything he needed to, every part of him made to pleasure those around him, and each time he thrusts into her she feels all of her nerves being set on fire. Long gone are the whimpers, she’s moaning each time their bodies touch, and it doesn’t take too long for him to follow suit. He’d never been quiet, but usually reserved, though as time went on he wasn’t afraid to show all sides of himself too. He matches her, though his are more of a groan now, breathing matched as each of them chases their high. 

Somehow, Ysevena had sparked something in Fulgrim that he couldn’t explain, nor fully comprehend, but nothing had made him feel like this before; no one could match what she did for him. 

And for that, she wouldn’t need to do any begging today. 

He stops again, much to her dismay, earning a whine as she came so close again. In a way it does serve him some gratification, though he hopes he can make it up to her. He uses his hands to guide he once again, and as she always does, she follows his instruction without fail, turning onto her front. He’d have taken more of an opportunity to appreciate her beauty, had he not been so close already. 

His desperation is known, too, as he barely moves her body, instead focusing on driving his cock into her to get to where he needed to be. She’s still at his mercy, though she’d never been so grateful as she was to finally see her beloved in this state, sweat brushed over his skin, loose hair stuck to forehead and his neck, his muscles tensed as he used all his force. He really was magnificent, even so vulnerable, his excellence shone through like the sun at midday. 

“Cum for me,” he says between his breaths, barely able to get the words out. He looks to her, eyes pleading with her to give her what he finally needed to have his own climax. It needed little more than that, all she was waiting for was him. Not even a second after she feels her release, he falls above her, arms planted beside her to hold himself up, his breathing caught in his throat as his hips stutter and he feels his warmth inside of her.   

Whether it was that final look, Ysevena would never know, but feeling the heat of Fulgrim all around her, their noses touching as their faces were merely centimetres apart, brings a feeling that was previously unknown. 

Their shaken bodies, tired and needing rest, still manage to stay where they are as the two look into each other’s eyes once more. Though she knew from the moment they met that she’d have done anything he wanted her to do, that she’d follow him through everything and support him as he needed, she didn’t know that it would be as anything other than bedfellows, perhaps sympathisers, but most definitely allies. 

Yet she had just admitted she loved him, and perhaps there was a chance that he could learn to love her, too.

✧.✧

a/n: thank you very much for reading! again, this is another from my ao3.

[crusherthedoctor]

As an IDW fan believe it or not, I do know how you feel, because I sometimes can’t even post funny quirky memes about my favorite idw characters without being told I’m a fake Sonic fan, there is nothing wrong with liking anything from Sonic that isn’t necessarily faithful to the games! If your friends are giving you a hard time for liking a movie they are not your friends! I’m sorry you have to deal with that.

Don't take this the wrong way, but I never thought the day would come where an IDW fan approached me with more consideration and basic decency than game fans. :P First time for everything, I guess.

For what it's worth, whenever someone's followed me and they have an IDW character as their avatar, I always feel bad because "yeah, you're probably not going to be following me for long lmao". Despite my endless layers of beef with the comic - which I should note is doubled by the fact that much like Prime, IDW is bizarrely treated as though it's canon to the game universe despite not actually being the case, which is very much not the situation with the movies and their fans, so that's an additional reason for why the changes in the movies bother me less by comparison - I don't go out of my way to take a piss on the fans who simply like it in their own space. It's always been the Flynn cultists (I don't use that word loosely: I held off on it for a long time because I didn't want to sound like a drama clickbait YouTuber, but with all their growing hijinks, I really struggle to think of a more accurate term for them now) that I have an legitimate issue with.

I already believed that the Sonic fandom (and Tumblr in general TBH) had a bad habit of jumping from one extreme to the other, never learning any valuable lessons all the while. Needless to say, this hasn't done much to dissuade that belief. It's actually one of the reasons why I had my 10 minute retirement period not so long ago: I didn't like how the fandom was shaping me, and I didn't like the way it was changing us. It's not a coincidence that during all this time, I've refused to advocate for intense gatekeeping, because while fandom tourists can certainly create undesirable and persistent complications, just look at Ian Flynn and the Encyclospeedia, that so-called solution is just way too disproportionate and overreaching for my personal comfort. I'm not going to say that I handle fandom affairs perfectly, I know I've made a mistake on occasion, but... I feel like nowadays, I'm being backed into a corner a lot more frequently between both sides of the equation. I don't know what I'm expected to do. I can be respectful, I can be sympathetic, but the one thing I can't do is mindlessly change how I feel about something artificially just so my stance is convenient enough for approval. And when you're always being talked down to like an idiot, no matter how many times you explain yourself, no matter how much leeway you give to them... well, maybe people were onto something about the hivemind accusations...

The worst part in the movie's case is that I knew going in that it was going to be a lose-lose scenario. Either I didn't like it, and thus I wouldn't be able to join in on other people's enjoyment, or I did like it, and thus I would become an enemy on sight for SA2 diehards, regardless of any nuance to my thoughts on it. I knew not everyone would like it, which is fine, but it seems the other way around is non-existent.

I don't know where I'm going with all of this, but tl;dr, I appreciate your understanding. :) I stand by my thoughts on influential adaptations that grind my gears, but outside of the aforementioned cultists and the obnoxious influence and behaviour of the Archie leftovers themselves (shout out to the Shadow scat edit), I'm trying to relax more otherwise, and I've been wondering if more folk could benefit from the same. If the guy who has to keep seeing headache-inducing Eggdad fanart everywhere can do it, anyone can.

[happilylovingchaos]

911 Lone Star Music Monday

If it’s good with the tag members here, I hope y’all don’t mind me breaking the Tarlos streak with some character rep? This one’s dedicated to Judd Ryder. In hindsight, I’m realizing I relate a lot to him— if Jim Parrack sees this, or anything, I’m grateful he portrayed Judd. A lot of his character, and the songs I selected that pertain to his arcs throughout the show…there’s so much I realize I see in him in hindsight.

Outside of “The Haunting of Hill House”, I definitely count this song as part of a “Saving Grace” (2x09) playlist. Like, it plays each time Judd helps someone throughout the show, both in canon and fanon, and is helped in return in big ways, even when he doesn’t believe he’s deserving.

“Honey you don’t have to figure it out,

Honey all you got is gold…”

This. This song finally clicked with me after I saw “All Who Wander” (5x10). It’s even all in the lyrics:

“It’s a quarter after one,

I’m all alone and I need you now.

And I said I wouldn’t call

But I’m a little drunk and I need you now…

And I don’t know how I can do without,

I just need you now…”

No spoilers if you haven’t seen/ heard before, but this song played at the end of NCIS’s season 8 episode “Recruited”. It’s a very touching scene, and when I listened to the song again, I could see this playing as Judd and Grace reunite— or, if they end up at odds with Judd revealing his disillusionment in God actually kinda festered since seasons 1-2, and Grace grappling with how much things changed in her absence. Grace will have undoubtedly seen her share of good and bad things during her trip, where her faith would have been tested again and again; and Judd has always been his own harshest role model (which could have played into his alcohol abuse in season 5)… but I definitely imagined Judd and his own family as the family described in this song, even though the way they came together was kinda unorthodox.

“Sometimes I forget what living’s for,

And I hear my life through my front door.

And I’ll breathe it in

Oh I’m home again.

I see my wife, little boy, little girl,

Hello world, hello world…”

Different Southern USA state origin? Yes. I’m aware. Am I still taking creative and imaginative liberties? Yes. And it’s a good Christmas song! I would definitely headcanon the Ryder family singing this song at least once during the holidays, whether they’re at Uncle Cash’s ranch, Judd’s house, or Marlene’s barn. Eventually, they teach Charlie the song, too, and it’s adorable.

Perhaps TK hears it at least once as he’s adjusting to living in Texas, too. And sometimes, he banters with Carlos about country music semantics because of this song but appreciates the USA state reps. Paul remains a skeptic-ish even after hearing Chicago representation, but likes it okay (he and Carlos like this cover version by the YT group the Cotton Pickin’ Kids, link below).

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

hi mara, the anon who liked Haunted House again, sorry i took a bit to get back to you, i wanted to find the time to re-read it and send you my favorite parts (apologies, i'll try not to make this ask a wall of sorts.) and to clarify-- yes! my favorite is the first one, it was the first piece of writing in a while that i have read and thought "wow, i really want to write like this myself." and i'll be sure to check out alice munro! im heading to a bookstore later this week so i'll pick up too much happiness.

"Lighter fluid from the outdoors-aisle were brought and doused up-on [...] I stared at him with a [...] I couldn't help but smile suddenly.

I don't think that I'd make it back [...] I had a nice time, today." and "Maybe a little silly, but sometimes I view those curses as making me an empowered necromancer-type, [...] thank you, I pray." just love your control of tone in writing :) anyways, do keep going! it's beautiful work, and i'd love to see more.

hey anonymous;

appreciate writing me back--appreciate the time, too, in re-reading that thing! I usually write this in the form of sappy letters to whomstever subs to me on substack but I really do appreciate any-one who bothers reading the stuff I write, mostly because reading is time consuming and time is valuable and every reader is a reward;

but now anonymous, I have to admit: I dislike all these quotes! I hate how I wrote here; I don't like re-reading the stuff I've written much and it always makes me fall into rewrites (one of my biggest 'issues' with editing and re-writing is wanting to make every paragraph consist of four sentences exactly and to have the sentences themselves be contained completely only multiples of four words--whenever I get to that point the project is dead, I've become the neurotic); still I'll take the compliment ^^, the necromancer one is silly to me because I've never really shaken-off something I've had since a child of being fascinated with edgy things, in-particular MTG cabal-faction mono-black necromancy--and, in a more dumb and grown version of that: all the warped expressions of 'faith' that come in dark souls 3: the cathedral of the deep, the dumb carcass arch deacon, the devourer, the sable church, even the little grave keepers that bubbled up from 2; one thing though: when writing the second haunted house I skimmed through the first one as a refresher and realized how better I wrote my own 'mindcontrol' fantasy--because it is a fantasy; it was a part of me that lately I'd been numb to ever since writing that I am not a person of integrity article and doing my dumb 'wilderness' disconnection etiquette: much ceased to bother me; back when the first was written something that I had always wished is that I could make the heat and noise and texture of people completely go flat, like corpses but instead of reeking death a constant clean 'plastic' that did not smell, rattle, rot, or think, and only move passively to my thoughts; no one would bother me, no one would touch me, no one would bleed awful skinny warmth on me, there would be no mucus, and it would just be perfectly unbothered of a world and perfectly unliving.

I think that's what I love about Boogiepop, is to me Boogiepop is the outfit and spirit, and not the person wearing; it's a shadow of a consciousness that sweeps into a person and overrides them and has with it no blood or mucus or warmth and is as mildewed as old laundry or as fresh as clean; take care anonymous.