#i do support all of you in your endeavors and your efforts

[madaramee]

yeah im not gonna

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air.  Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else. 

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

-

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

-

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[theealbatross]

a habit to kick, an age old curse (s.s)

Plot | They're no longer friends unfortunately they're still soulmates.

or, you and Sebastian are now strangers but at your most vulnerable moment he picks up the pieces. Only he knows. Only he can.

Tags | angst, heartbreak, when you're too depressed to confess, sebastian and the bad bitch he pulled by being stupid, sebastian is an academic weapon if he wants to, mentions of fire torture, murder (self-defense), trauma, emotional cheating (if u squint), slight fluff as a treat, panic attack, PTSD, Anne is dead, 3k-ish of angst

[A/N: Stream 'i love you, i'm sorry' by gracie for full immersion.]

Quidditch Season was important for every student in Hogwarts but it was the after-parties that everyone was truly looking forward to, house pride aside. 

Which is what exactly Garreth had been barred from. “I can’t believe I wasn’t given an invitation just cause I’m friends with you! I’m not even a Slytherin! And I make the best punches!”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, sighing. Even he didn’t think those pesky Ravenclaws would take their competition this seriously. It all started when he had finally decided to become an auror, after a peaceful, distraction-free year and careful deliberations from each of his professors, he was given the informal encouragement that he was one of the few students who had the potential to become a trainee to such a prestigious program. With his ever-growing physique and indisputable intellect, it would simply be a question of effort.

He just needed to be at the top of all the classes required of him. This was the tragic news for all those Ravenclaw dreams – once Sebastian had his sights on it, it was as good as his.

He hadn’t expected that their ire of him extended to his friends. Even refusing to invite them to the first party of the year that the Ravenclaw had won against the Hufflepuffs. Sebastian had half the mind to join his own House’s quidditch team even with his packed schedule just so he could wipe the floor with them. It would be worth never sleeping again.

“What do you want me to do Gar –”

“Here.”

A piece of paper hung from above him, the hand it was hanging from was connected to a face he hadn’t seen this closely in a long, long time. Even the whisper of her name in his mouth felt foreign – a tragic circumstance when a lifetime ago she had been a kindred soul.

Before he could say anything else, Garreth had already snatched the paper from in-between his eyes. “Is this – Really?!”

“The password for today’s party, try to sneak in when the ‘guards’ are smashed,” she grinned at the redhead. Then, Sebastian felt a cold blade slice through his chest (a hand suspiciously touching the spot just to check) when she looked back down at him again. “For old time’s sake.”

It took him a moment too long to realize she was talking to him too. But his tongue felt heavy and stuck, the metaphorical rug under his feet getting pulled out when he least expected it.

He nodded.

“See you around.”

He stared as she waltzes gracefully from the bustling crowd, getting roped into a hug by her boyfriend, William Frey, the bloody captain of the Ravenclaws. When he had heard about it, he couldn’t quite point out why he hated his smug, pretty face but then, using his blessed brain he got his bitter answer: they were too damn perfect together.

He was everything she deserved.

Smart, popular, kind, and comes from a good family that will be able to support her in whatever endeavors she might be up to in the future.

Not an orphaned criminal who couldn’t even save her sister.

The state of their friendship – or lack thereof – was pitiful but he knew it was for the better. Without each other in the way she can be loved by all those around her – something he has never been able to offer with his murky history that left a rubble of a man. And without her he can forget about his failures and mistakes, distract himself with as much schoolwork as he can cram in his head and never remember the times he sacrificed their friendship for his own gain only to lose it all anyways.

If he doesn’t see her then he can forget – he failed and his twin sister is dead.

A brilliant witch with a brilliant future didn’t deserve to be associated with failures.

“That was tense,” William whispered in your ears as he led you towards the courtyard. “A friend of yours?”

A flash of the lives you’ve lived with the Slytherin flashed before your eyes. Friends, what a lowly name.

You faked a smile, fighting every urge in your body to look back.

“A long time ago.”

The party was loud, no doubt the quidditch players were milking any taste of victory they have before they deal with whoever wins between the Slytherins and Gryffindor’s next week.

The music was loud, nearly pounding through the silencing charms in the walls of the common room. William at the thick in all of it, celebrating with his teammates, not forgetting to wave at you in your seat with that charming smile that usually makes you swoon.

However, it was the charmed fireworks all over the ceiling that had your heart exploding out of your chest. Flashes of nightmares at every pop.

The dark forest, the ruined castle, the ropes in your stretched out hands as Rookwoods men threw all sort of fiery spells at you as target practice.

You pinched your eyes shut, shaking your head, trying to focus on breathing.

When you were starting to get dizzy you knew it wasn’t working. You tried to push through the crowd, reach your boyfriend somehow and at least let him know what was going on but it was impossible. It was the peak of the party when everyone was too drunk to do anything but drink more and dance more. With a shuddering breath, you instead skirted around the crowd and escaped narrowly through the doors of the Ravenclaw common room.

Not even bothering with a disillusionment spell, knowing damn well all the prefects would be in the party, you ran to the nearest floo to travel to your common room.

However, even the silence and comfort of the top of the common room wasn’t enough to ground you as you stumbled straight down the cold tiles, a yelp escaping your mouth from the sting of your skin.

“Someone there?”

That voice, distant but familiar. Painfully familiar. Your eyes continue to blur as your breath hastened, your limbs too weak, and the cold floor too damn comfortable for your overheating body.

“Are you alright?” He’s closer now, at the bottom of the stairs.

No, no, no.

In your desperation, you swallowed your pride. Forgetting in the moment how humiliated you will be to be seen by the last person in your house you wanted to show this side of you.

He would take care of you.

He always takes care of you.

“Sebastian,” you could barely croak out in between your gasps. Silence followed and you whimpered, crawling down to the edge of the top of the stairs when you heard fast footsteps ascending and there he was.

“Fucking hell, what happened to you?!”

Before you could try to say anything else you were already carried in his arms, Sebastian’s panic at seeing someone that was always so shiny and untouchable on a daily basis gasping and writhing in their common room floor was something he had not prepared himself to see tonight.

He thought the worst would be drunk seniors he would have to haul up their rooms not his … not you.

Carefully, he placed you on the nearest couch, your grip in his arms painful but welcome as it grounded him and prevented him from rattling when he saw your pale face covered with sweat and tears.

“Pet, you gotta help me here, what’s going on?! What do you need?!”

His eyes plotted your face, firm hands frantically running across your body to check for any stain of blood or hints of the source of your pain. It was agonizingly intimate, especially with the knowledge of how much this has happened in the past – one of you writhing in pain, the other doing their darndest to fix it.

A shot of pain pierced your chest when you suddenly breathed in, making you cry out and crawl into his arms.

Your calming medicine – it was in your bedside table. However, it was no use, like blood was not reaching your brain and all you know to do is to just hold on to Sebastian.

“Fuck!”

In a blink, your face was buried in Sebastian’s neck, the entirety of your curled up body tightly held together by him as he sat you in his lap, arms wrapped protectively around your body. “Breathe with me,” he whispers, taking deep slow puffs and caressing your hair. “That’s it, deep breathes. Follow me, darling. Enough with your crying now, listen to my voice.”

In. Out. The clean scent of the common room, faint sweet smell of his favorite tea.

In. Out. The sweat on his skin, the cologne he had worn since the first day you met him.

In. Out. Old books, fresh parchment, thick ink, and the throbbing aroma of the Amortentia you brewed last week.

“Hey,” you could feel the sweat start to cool your skin, his rough hand worked on your cheeks as he continued to cradle you in his arms. His body relaxing with yours until you could take up air on your own. “What hap –”

“What in Merlin’s … did you do this?”

You stared up in wonder, the two of you surrounded by a large bubble, the ones you usually see when you throw a Protego, except this one continued to enclose you. Now that your panic has passed you realize you can’t hear anything else but … the sound of water?

He looked shy, rubbing the back of his neck as he settled you back on the couch. It was only then you realized that you had been in his lap this entire time. You hoped the dim light of the common room hid the embarrassment in your face.  “It’s … something I’ve made. Helps me sleep at night. What you’re hearing is the sounds under the Black Lake. I’m gonna write a paper on it for Ronen, should get me a couple of points.”

Ah, his valiant academic conflict with the Ravenclaws did not escape even you. They’re going to fucking curse him in their sleep when they realize he was a lap ahead of his competition.

Now that your vision wasn’t doubling you could faintly see a golden string that connected from the bubble, straight through the tall glass window of the common room. “Sebastian, this is brilliant.”

A flare of nervousness lodged in your chest when Sebastian suddenly looked at you– the gaze that let you know that he could see right through you. He always saw right through you – you’d grown to hate it.

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

He was a gentleman – always had been. It could be the fact that he had (has? is it too soon?) a sister that he was so well-versed in the heart of a lady. But aside from that – Sebastian, at some point in time, was someone who knew the most. And the gods’ honest truth is you never could hide a secret from him.

It could be the alcohol in your system or the buried instinctive nature to tell him everything back when the two of you spent late nights in the Room of Requirement and talked about everything being unearthed but you felt like being honest. Even if the boy beside you had grown into a stranger.

“I’m … remember when I got kidnapped by … and you …”

And you saved me.

Again. Always.

He was there, charging headfirst, ignoring Professor Fig’s warnings and Ominis’ pleas to wait for the Aurors in Hogsmeade. When he arrived, he saw the burn marks, bruises, and wounds all over your body and just saw red … and left red. 

“The Rookwood incident?”

By the time back up had arrived the two of you were slumped on each other and surrounded by corpses, eyes blank and suspicious, desperately holding on to each other.

“The Rookwood incident,” you nodded. “What I didn’t tell you is that before you had arrived, they had been … they tied me and threw fire spells at me, that’s where I got my wounds. I never told you because –”

He was too angry. And you were too terrified of pushing your closest friend to the darkness he had been tethering on. Not that it mattered, he fell right to that cliff on his own.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened, hands shaking in front of you. “No, Seb, it’s not like tha –”

“I know you were trying to protect me. You always were,” he shook his head, now it was him who couldn’t look at you. “How many scars did I give you?”

“I healed just fine –”

“Then let me rephrase my question, “ This time, the look in his eyes terrified you. The intensity, the guilt – it was so palpable you almost want to cup his face the way you used to, to ease his cruel burden. “How many of these nightmares have I cursed you with?”

Your silence made his bitter smile grow. You don’t have to say it because he (always) knows – the worst nightmares were the ones with him in it.

“Does … does he know about it?”

You nodded, “He does. William tried to help, sent me to the best mind doctors last summer but … I’m just so tired. I’m tired of the tests, the probing in my brain – he means well, I know he does but there’s nothing those strangers can tell me that I don’t already know.”

With an understanding expression on his face, the two of you sat in silence, staring at the large windows hovering over the two of you as the deep quiet of the lake echoed in the fragile haven he had conjured up. If you close your eyes, if you forget about everything else, you could almost trick you mind that these was one of those good times.

That you’d turn and find him buried in between towers of books you had borrowed from the library and Ominis would be sleeping against the wall of the Undercroft. And then you’d catch his eyes and he would smile – a silent message between two people who didn’t need to speak to communicate – and the silence would stretch, just like this, but you would be together again.

“I could teach you.”

You raised an eyebrow and despite himself he chuckled. He didn’t have the best history with teaching you spells, after all. “This charm, I mean.”

How many cures has been shoved in your throat? How many disappointments you hid in lies that, yes the Calming Elixir cures me of such flaws. Did you need any more help? Would it fix you this time?

“It won’t fix anything but it might ..” he shrugged. “… make tomorrow easier.”

You’re terrified of him, you realize. How can someone know you so deeply without ever even realizing it? Does he know? The power he has over you? How you would’ve burned your life to the ground if he had asked for it?

Ask, you wanted to scream. Ask. Ask. Ask.

“Alright,” He seemed surprised, you smiled at the face he made. “Couldn’t hurt.”

For all his nonchalance it was a complicated charm to cast. “No, it has to be more than half a circle when you swish it –”

This was familiar. A bit more awkward and with a lot more strain but it was familiar – if all had gone well this would have been just an unremarkable day in your life. You can’t help but wonder if your burden would be lighter if he was the one helping you carry it.

You swallowed your thoughts back down, no sense in dreaming of different realities now. Because this was your life and the worst thing that could possibly happen did happen. So, you’ll take all that you can get – even if it’s just one last night pretending everything didn’t slip out of your hands.

“No, here, let me guide you,” When Sebastian was in his ‘professor mode’ as you and Ominis used to tease him for, he gets so focused on teaching that he doesn’t notice anything else, doesn’t even notice your gasp as he wrapped an arm around your back, grasping the hand with your wand and helping you trace the shape needed to cast the spell. “And the word is ‘Salus.”

Salus. Safety. Salvation.

That’s who he was. Your Sebastian. “Salus.”

On cue, a bubble surrounded the two of you once again, the white noise of the castle replaced by the deep lake’s groans. “Perfect.”

Despite the time you spend learning all sorts of complicated magic, it never takes away the quick flutter of your chest in excitement at every spell you master. “I did it!” You turned to be Sebastian but he was already looking at you.

You’ve always told him if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought Sebastian was the true heir of Slytherin. He just fits here – in the dim lights, and emerald furniture, and the coldness that emphasizes just how warm he is. “… beautiful.”

“What?” He was staring, his hooded gaze, the freckles you had always wanted to trace into constellations, the part on his lips that teases your skin with his breath.

“Your technique is beautiful.” He’s lying, you don’t catch it. Suddenly, your half-pinned hair fell apart, Sebastian having pulled away the clip holding it away from your face. “Now, lay down.”

His arms were gentle and firm as they guided you to lay across the wide couch, Sebastian having scooted down to sit on the floor, face in front of yours. He’s so close. “Sleep.”

You hope he knows, that if your sleep remains dreamless tonight and if your tomorrow is easier, it’s not because of his painfully complicated spell. Your eyes waver, the edges of your sight dimming and blurring. You feel a touch on your cheek, you try to chase it. The last thing you see is his deep brown eyes and the soft smile that had been the biggest curse he had unknowingly laid on you.

He has to know, right?

You have to tell him.

Sebastian, I’ve always – I still – I never stop –

“Hey, wake up.”

Your eyes split open, another ghost of your past in front of you. “Ominis?”

The noise slowly trickled as you became more aware, eyes shifting to you, some out of curiosity why you picked the couch as a resting place instead of your bedroom a few feet away or some that saw you in the party that held some pity, probably thinking you’re suffering the worst hangover of your life.

“William Frey is looking for you by the door,” he muttered sharply. It’s been a while since you and Ominis interacted, his tattered friendship with Sebastian extending to your own as the boy’s most loyal comrade in his pursuit of destruction. You know he lays a blame you and for that you couldn’t blame him. “Honestly, I had thought you had grown out of your foolish habit of sleeping everywhere.”

“I-I’m … sorry?”

He shook his head before turning to leave.

Had … had everything been a dream?

You looked around suspiciously, for what you weren’t quite sure. A sign? A pillow out of place that could be evidence that last night happened?

It wasn’t mere delusion, you were sure. The knowledge of the spell in your head evidence enough of the small moment you shared with an old friend last night but it would be nice to have some sort of proof. A tangible confirmation that you could keep with you as you return to your reality.

With a sigh you let your disappointment fester for a second longer, locking last night in the deepest part of your heart, one that can only be unearthed once again in your loneliest nights.

A practiced smile cements on your face, turning to the chair one last time to allow yourself one more moment of hesitation before going up the stairs.

Back to the beautiful boy who will only see the beautiful parts of you and leaving the one who gets the honor of keeping the shadows.

Inside the boy’s dormitory Sebastian stares at the stolen emerald clip on his bedside table.

[gem-de-lune]

Vibe Check

Eunseok

The Lovers + Knave of Pentacles + 3 of Pentacles

He is doing very well. He's relaxed. There's some insistent group level communication going on atm that may indicate preparation and collaboration of some sort. So preparing for a CB maybe? Just in early stages OR just in concept talks/being shown possible tracks, etc... this also has something acutely to do with the current situation of course, and I think there is some sort of group endeavor or effort to pull something off here. It's giving ragtag team but with good guidance.

Seunghan

The Wheel + 5 of Pentacles

He is doing Meh but is putting on a good face atm. What you will notice as we go through these individual reads is that he is not seeing something the others are- which leads me to believe that whatever this ragtag plan is, he has little to nothing to do with it and that is likely on purpose to protect him- but he may be feeling ostracized due to this bc he cannot contribute or be involved- likely for legal reasons. Since he is kind of just paying attention to how he feels left out, again- I love this 5 of Pentacles bc whatever cards you pull next to it tells the story. He is kind of a bit negative rn but failing to see that this is just the wheel turning its course- most likely into an upright position. Like he fails to see that everything is being set up for a good outcome and it is just taking time. Of course- he does know this deep down- but as we all have our emotional off days- he is just having that.

Anton

Knight of Wands + 3 of Chalices + King of Wands

So again- Anton has a similar vibe to Eunseok but just a lot more active and excited in a....young way. Like childlike. Very Aries coded. With the Knight there is clear intent towards moving forward to a goal, and this will be done in a gregarious group. Again- giving ragtag team. And AGAIN with the King popping up- they have good guidance (could be from the woman helping the. we speak abt often- whom I have mentioned Anton in particular looks up to a lot for support). Like Eunseok, he is in a good state atm. Very healthy and energetic.

SM current energy

The Chariot + The Hermit + 6 of Chalices

This is VERY interesting. Your girl gasped when this popped out. The consensus is there is a lot of internal fishing being done to cut out what has been holding them back to mobe forward. Ofc- this Chariot does not pop out when I am reading for this situation unless it is specifically regarding OT7 Riize. I think there is finally a big enough shift in the higher ups perception of the situation to warrant serious talks. I pulled the 6 of Chalices for clarification on if this meant something good about Seunghan's return to the group- which is a yes. This is a nostalgic card. In this context I would say it is looking back on the past fondly...because it showed up in a pull with the chariot and hermit- it is "thinking of returning to the past". It's a very positive omen and very powerful energy due to the 2 major arcana here.

Current Plan (Progress)

The Emperor + King of Pentacles + 6 of Pentacles

See this is interesting again. This confirms the earlier pulls for Eunseok and Anton. Right now someone at the forefront is running the show like crazy. This is the busiest they've ever been because things are beginning to produce results in the physical realm. I pulled 6 of pentacles to clarify about the producers and songwriters who were suddenly viewing and liking stories- to clarify is this was a part of the plan, which I would say that yes it kiiinda is but not specifically- it just ended up that way in a broad sense. It is like those people extending their support quietly.

SMTOWN Concert

9 of Pentacles + The Tower [Queen of Swords]

Some people were asking about what to expect during the SMTown concert. This is very "two sides of a coin" to me. We have the women facing each other in the 9 of Pentacles and the Tower. One is satisfied and the other is devastated. The one who is devastated may be louder or just more jarring and disruptive. This is indicative of our current situation within the fandom, I think. Either side will feel like a winner or loser. I pulled the Queen here to ask which side it would be- and I personally view this as the OT💩 side because the Queen of Swords is a card I have pulled for them before in my reading where I did "how Riize feels abt OT💩 vs OT7" and when the queen is in her negative state she is needlessly ruthless and unempathetic- causing a lot of harm to others through strategic plans and foul self serving intentions. So there is that. I think the event will bring a lot of divisiveness if anything at all, even if it isn't OT💩 vs OT7.

Bottom of the Deck

7 of Wands + 4 of Wands

This is kinda reiterating what we know from the reading. There is some kind of group effort for push through and persevere here. It's feeling like a reunification of sorts. The effort to show how successful it is has been very positively received by the intended audience (SM higher ups and C5) to the point where pushback is very minimal. It is more about laying the groundwork and coming up with a plan all can agree to in order to proceed without letting the same things happen yet again. One thing SM will not allow- is for the same thing to happen where they have to be embarrassed the same exact way. Their pride has been hurt too much for that to transpire again. So they will reatreat inward and thoroughly ensure to double down no matter which path they choose.

[apricot-blossomss]

Hi, I love your writings a lot. I have another Apollo idea don’t know if you like it but I wanna share it: So, Reader is a deeply devoted follower of Apollo; loyal, loving, kind and compassionate but very insecure, has many self-deprecating thoughts, still, very determined to learn something in his honour. So, she tries to learn the lyre but she is bad in it not talented at all. She is determined though and willing to sacrifice time and effort into practice.

I imagine this plays out in Ancient Greece, the reader is very poor but determined to learn it and then to try her best on the Pythian Games. Apollo is already so smitten with her; he follows her journey from far but doesn’t wanna bless her bc he wants her to success on her own. One night he shows up to her while she’s praying. First, she is afraid he is here to take away her lyre as she is not worthy of it but instead, he is super kind and supportive tells her this effort and hard work is far greater and more meaningful sacrifice than any of the treasures the kings offer to him.

So, he offers her to be her teacher from now on as she can’t afford a good teacher like the others. They have romantic moments, kisses as he continues to teach her. Of course she wins the Games, he has taught her things no human knows about the lyre. At the end of the Games, he shows up to the people and in front of everyone he offers her to go with him and play with the Muses.

This is long I know, so, please do with it whatever you want. Use parts of it if it is too long, I just wanted to share it with someone.

☛ apollo teaching mortal! fem! reader to play the lyre

☛ sfw; fluff; cw: self-doubt, stage fright; not proofread oops

"Just stop already!"

"Why do you keep trying?"

"You have no talent."

It wasn't like you didn't know they were right. A lack of self-awareness is wasn't the problem for you. It was, however, the unexplainable love you felt for the instrument in your hands. It washed out of the gentle wood of the olive tree- you heard that the high lords and ladies sometimes owned gilded or golden lyres, which you could hardly imagine. And it was your most prized possession.

You had given a lot to be able to afford it, since your family wasn't ready to pay for a endeavor as fruitless as your attempts to learn to play it. At night, you dreamt of being able to elicit beautiful tunes out of the instrument, but during the day, reality hit you like a hammer in the head as you awkwardly plucked the strings, sounding more like a dying cat than the musician you dreamed of becoming.

It wasn't fair, you thought, in moments were your frustration overwhelmed you. It wasn't fair that some people had such talent that they could effortlessly handle the instrument while someone as in love with the art of it as you struggled without seeing any results. Many times, you had prayed to Apollo, but the god had never blessed your attempts and by now, you figured it might be some sort of subliminal messaging.

But you didn't care. Well, you did, but none of it could deter you. No matter how many people shook their heads or laughed or told you to stop, you sat down for hours on end, trying to figure out the beautiful instrument. When you walked on the market or the town square, you would stop at street musicians demonstrating their craft, watching their fingers, trying to learn, but you never managed to replicate it.

Your family wanted you to learn some other craft to attract suitors and impress them, but you would not relent. You would practice, you would watch, you would pray. All in the hopes of getting the hang of the lyre someday. And no matter how many times you failed or screamed at your fingers to just do it right, resting them on top of the strings and running them along them always calmed you.

Carefully, you let your hands run up and down, simply tugging one string after the other. And somehow, you still managed to mess it up. It sounded stale and squeaky, no matter how much you tried to soften your movements. Not willing to let that deter you, you tried to play a melody you had heard one off the street musicians play yesterday on the market.

Unbeknownst to you, you had an audience you couldn't have dreamed of. Way above, golden eyes followed the movement of your fingers, listening intently, intrigued. Forearms leaned on the railing of his balcony, he had been watching you practice frequently over the course of the last months. In the beginning , it had been for his amusement. Now, it had become a part of his routine to see how you were doing.

"Brother!"

Apollo looked up from the sight of you practicing in your room to find Hermes sitting on the railing. After a short, distracted greeting, his eyes wandered down once more, as if they were attracted by a magnetic force. And, truly, you were magnetizing. Your unrelenting determination, your love for his holy instrument, the fact that you had set yourself a goal and were working so hard towards it: competing in his Pythian games.

"So, what's got you this distracted lately?" Hermes asked, letting his legs dangle. When he was denied an answer, his attentive eyes followed Apollo's gaze and found you. "Oh, so that's-"

Apollo hushed him to listen to your best efforts, a small smile gracing his lips when he realized with what care you had listened to the mysterious lyre player on the street yesterday that had conveniently played a song more fit for beginners to pick up on.

"Wow, that sounds bad," Hermes exclaimed, whistling under his breath. Curling over in laughter, he missed the pointed stare by his brother. "Planning on punishing her or why are you enduring this?"

"Shut your mouth, brother," Apollo shot back and the sharpness of his tone surprised Hermes. As he looked down once more, he watched Apollos face soften visibly as you stubbornly plucked at your strings. A small smile graced his lips and he propped his head up on his arms as he watched you intently. "She can do it, she just needs a little bit of help."

☀️

Taking a deep breath, your knees met the hard stone floor and you kneeled before Apollo's altar, bowing your head until your hair formed a curtain around your face. After all the unanswered prayers and fruitless attempts, you were still filled with admiration and wonder looking at his statue. Closing your eyes, your lips formed a hushed prayer, as every afternoon in his temple. One that always went unanswered, but if you were one thing, it was persistent.

But today, something was different. Your mind couldn't help but wonder to the humiliating exchange you had had with your mother this morning. Scoffing over your clumsy playing, she had laughed at you, telling you to the face to no longer make her and the world suffer the sound of your lyre play, that you were dishonoring Apollo himself by eliciting such horrid sounds from his holy instrument.

You couldn't help the tremble of your lip, nor the traitorous stinging of your eyes and took a long breath to calm yourself. "Great lord Apollo," you whispered into the ground, your voice laced with shame and doubt, "Please, if you wish for me to stop my attempts, if I am dishonoring you, if I am angering you, give me a sign!"

"Well, hello there."

You shot around, finding yourself face to face with a blond man in a simple but fine tunic and piercing eyes. Eyes that you knew, because you knew this man, and you had spent a full hour watching his fingers handle the lyre so gracefully. It was one of the street artists you had seen on the market, more specifically, the one you had spent your forenoon studying. Was this a divine sign or a simple coincidence?

Realizing that you still hadn't answered the greeting, you scrambled to your feet clumsily and bowed lightly, since you saw first-glance he was of higher social rank than you. Granted, the majority of people was of higher rank than you, but your eyes had picked up on the gold laced into his tunic, his jewelry and most importantly, the intricate craftsmanship of his lyre. Hidden give-aways of a wealthy pocket. "Excuse me," you said softly, smiling while bowing once more, "I'll be leaving." A musician as skilled as him was far more deserving of this temple's glory.

Hurrying past him, the sound of his voice had you stop dead in your tracks. "Do you know what talent is, m'lady?"

Several things in that sentence made you pause and turn around once more, finding the man already looking at you with those magnetic eyes. "I'm not a lady, m'lord," you said abashedly, but his smile only widened. "Sure you are. And you know the answer to my question, don't you?"

"Yes," you answered, wondering what he could possibly want out of this conversation. "It's a gift by the gods that they give to the deserving." The young man hummed with a smile on his lips. "I couldn't help but notice you look a little troubled. What did you entrust your god with, sweet lady?"

If it had been any other man, you would have retreated, excused yourself, exited the temple as fast as possible. But he radiated a feeling of safety and grace that you couldn't help but feel attracted to him, and not just in the physical sense. Even though you had no idea why a man like that would spare a girl like you just a glance. Maybe he was one of those men who took advantage of poor girls like you, but somehow, your gut told you that you could trust him.

"I-," you hesitated, but then, the words broke out of you like a waterfall as you told him about your troubles. Maybe it was because no one listened to you, ever, but you trusted this man with everything. "It sounds horrible," you ended your ramblings, trying to conceal your damp eyes. "Everyone keeps telling me to stop trying, but I want to learn. But, what if I'm disgracing god Apollo himself with how horrible I am?"

"You aren't," the man said with an enigmatic smile and you wrung your hands. "You haven't heard me play, I'm atrocious!"

"Hey," he answered soothingly, taking a step towards you. "You aren't. You just need a teacher. I could teach you," he offered kindly, but you shook your head in protest. "No, m'lord, I have no means to afford it. See, I am a poor woman, I don't have any money of my own and my family would never come up for it. I don't have the financial means to compensate you."

His smile only widened and looking up at him, it left you quite breathless. You couldn't explain it, but there was something about it that made you feel as if warmed up by the sun itself. This man had to be blessed by Apollo. "I don't ask for compensation. I'd give you lessons for free."

Now, that was really suspicious. You weren't stupid, there was a good chance this was a ploy to take advantage of you in some way, because the offer sounded too good to be true. Such a talented artist simply stumbling over you in a temple and offering free lessons? At the same time, you were also desperate. And this man was really talented. If he was being genuine, were you throwing out the opportunity of your life? After a short silence, you looked back up at him. "Why would you do that? Offer to teach me for free, I mean."

A sudden breeze disheveled the man's golden locks, his charming smile unwavering. "Ah, you see... It's because I'm Apollo." Because you had any chance to register the words, the light seemed to explode before your eyes and a reflex brought your hand up to shield them. When you removed it, the man had changed. His robes were of pure gold, as were his shoes, equally golden marks extended over his body like tattoos and his hair was crowned by a shining halo. You were looking at divinity, and it was nearly scorching your eyes.

Shit.

Thankfully, your body showed an above average response time as you dropped to your knees so fast they met the stone floor in a way that had a sharp pain shoot up your legs. The thrumming of your racing heart was louder than any thought you might have had. Bowing down so far you were covering before the god, you pressed your forehead into the marble and raised your hands in a pleading fashion. "Forgive me, great lord Apollo, for dishonoring you by attempting so many times to learn your holy instrument when you had clearly not blessed my endeavors. Please, punish me to any extent you see fit but have mercy on-"

The god interrupted your terrified rambling by placing a hand on your shoulder, rendering you speechless just as effectively as a slap in the face might have. When he spoke your name, you looked up at him tentatively. Looking at Apollo was like looking at the sun itself, and if the man had been handsome before, in this form, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your mortal eyes on.

"Loving the lyre as much as you do is not dishonoring me," the god said and his voice was so smooth and beautiful it wiped your head clean of thought. "Quite the opposite, actually. Your dedication to my instrument is admirable. Hence the reason my offer is still awaiting an answer."

"But-" you squeaked in response and tried suppress the trembling of your nervously wringing hands. "Why would you do that? Why would you teach me?"

You wouldn't get an answer to that question for some time, but it didn't need a lot of convincing for you to agree to let him be your tutor. To avoid your parent's suspicion, you let him in a grove just outside the city gates where he first taught you the basics, gave you theoretical lessons on the functioning of the lyre and showed you the best way to handle it, which you continuously had problems with. But Apollo was incredibly patient, and your nervousness around him subsided quickly.

Over the course of the next weeks and months, he would show you how to approach the instrument, give you practice and help you improve your lyre play. And after some time, you found yourself looking forward to the lessons not only because of the lessons themselves but for the pleasure of his company. You couldn't deny that Apollo's charming wits had done a number on you, and the way you were ogling his hands as he so masterfully demonstrated it in his instrument would have been shameless if it hadn't been for educational purposes (along others).

There were moments when you yourself wondered if the god may reciprocate your romantic interest, as silly as that thought was. The way he lightened up seeing you approach him, the way he was always waiting for you and the way you caught him glancing at you instead of your lyre from time to time. But you stocked it up to your silly mortal delusions. Why would a god be interested in you?

At the same time, said god found himself falling head over heels for you. He had been smitten with you before meeting you, but being around you, seeing you come out of your shell and starting to feel comfortable around him, showing him your true colors- he was so done for. If he hadn't been his fathers favorite son (he was still working on that favorite child title but Athena was hard to beat) he would have earned a few stern talks by now for slaking off, as he procrastinated or full on ignored divine duties in favor of your lessons.

Your humor and laugh pulled him in, your dedication was unmatched and seeing your eyes light up when you succeeded in something did something to him. A blooming feeling in his chest that consumed his thoughts, sending him into the sweetest daydreams. And it was only fueled every time he got to be with you, be around you, enjoy your company. He tended to get caught up in it, and sometimes you caught him staring at you and he always wondered wether you knew what you did to him with those little glances and witty comments of yours.

Nothing excited you more than the progress you were starting to make. The strings were no longer squeaky and you had even managed to play some easy melodies that got more complex as time went on. You were astonished by your own progress, which was of course thanks to the fact that you had the best teacher anyone could dream of, but also hours upon hours of sleepless nights, practicing diligently.

When Apollo found out about those, he was surprisingly worried and you couldn't help but be giddy that he cared. But you listened and got your sleep that he insisted on, if only fleckig praise, seeing the showdowns under your eyes disappear. Also, you were convinced his presence in your life was some sort of good-luck-charm, because there had been no fourth year old suitors asking for your hand in marriage ever since you were a few weeks into your lessons.

But your strumming technique still wasn't as smooth as could be. "You need to feel the music flow through your fingers," Apollo told you, making it look criminally easy as he demonstrated it. "They need to move with the music, as smooth as the music. You are tugging, but you need to caress." His eyes met yours in a silent request to try it for yourselves.

Touched stuck in between your teeth, you tried to imagine the music flowing into your body down to your fingertips, trying to move them naturally along the strings. But still, it didn't sound quite right. To your surprise, Apollo smiled empathetically and leaned over, covering your small hand with his larger one and mimicking the correct movement.

You tried to concentrate, you really did, but it was hard when Apollo sat closer to you on the grass, settling behind you so that his arms almost caged you in, his breath fanning over your neck. Luckily, he couldn't see the redness on your cheeks like this. "Relax," he told you and a light chuckle left his lips. "Are you still scared of me, sunshine?"

Sunshine. It was his nickname for you, and the way he said it made it sound like a melody in itself. "I'm not," you answered truthfully, letting him gently guide your movements. "But I don't think you realize what divine proximity does to a mortal."

Because of your proximity, you felt his head shift as his gaze wandered to you. You didn't return it, because you knew you would get lost in it if you did. "What does it do to you?" the god asked in a hushed voice, and the teasing undertone had your lips twitch. "It feels weird when you touch me," you explained, your fingers taking a little more initiative in running over the strings. "Like you're too real and not at all at the same time. I can't really explain it, but it's like touching raw might. That would feel weird, right?"

"You always manage to surprise me, sunshine," Apollo said and you could hear the smile in his voice. "It looks like there is a poet in you." He let go of you, letting your fingers act on their own and it sounded much better than before. Nothing the difference, you smiled triumphantly. "Don't flatter me, I might get too much of the hubris, m'lord."

"It isn't hubris when it's true," his voice spoke softly as you started to play the tune from before. It sounded much more graceful now and Apollo's adoring gaze, hidden from your view, traced the movement of your fingers, up your arms to your face. When your fingers had become more sure, you turned to him, no doubt with a smart reply on the tip of your tongue, but you fell silent when you found yourself mere breaths away from the god, who seemed just as taken aback by the sudden proximity.

But he didn't pull away, and neither did you. Fingers slowing down, you couldn't rip your eyes away from the mesmerizing gold of his eyes. Apollo smelled of honey and flowers, a smell so sweet it made sense paired with his smile. Though he wasn't smiling now. His lips were parted lightly as he stared at you just as intensely as you watched him.

Slowly but steadily, the tension in the tight little space between you two got too much for you. Your breathing picked up and you had to avert your eyes when his fell down onto your heaving chest and snapped back up at yours with a new hunger. Coughing under your breath, you moved away from him by a few inches, trying to hide how flustered you were. But if you had turned around, you would have caught a rare sight: the god of music looking at you with heart eyes, his cheeks painted by a pink hue.

Little moments like these only pulled you in deeper. Embarrassingly, you had begun dreaming of Apollo, about his smile, his lyre-play, his voice. It was the most prevalent in your dreams, as if he was singing you a lullaby every night. You found yourself thinking about him every time of the day, getting caught up in vivid daydreams as you completed your chores, feeling as though he was with you every time you practiced.

Though that may have not been an entirely unfounded feeling. Sometimes, Apollo would say things during your lessons that had you suspect he was listening in on you practicing- at least sometimes. Why he occupied himself with something he could have so often, you didn't know. But you did feel honored.

Progress was coming, you were getting better, though there were also setbacks. As before, you didn't have natural talent, and sometimes you struggled to a point of frustration that had your movements grow sloppy and disjointed, gnawing on your bottom lip in dissatisfaction. "Hey." You looked up at Apollo who had picked up on your growing annoyance and sighed. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," he answered, gently prying the instrument from your hands. "I think you could use a break." And before you could protest, he added: "How about I play something just for you for a change?" Now, that shut you up real quick and you let him put your lyre aside. Apollo would demonstrate bits of songs or movements for you, but never whole songs, and the prospect of witnessing the god perform one made you giddy with excitement.

Under your curious gaze, Apollo propped up his instrument with great flair and began playing. The melody was unlike anything you had heard before. It was so interacted and beautiful, so masterfully crafted it brought tears to your eyes as you sat there and listened. But none of it could have prepared you for when Apollo started to sing. You had to close your eyes, because looking at him and listening to his singing at the same time was simply too much. You were pretty sure you could get addicted to the sound of his singing.

Apollo sing of pine trees, of secret meetings, of soft lyre tunes, the sounds of two instruments mingling. It was that last part that had you perk up. Could it be? Your grove who dusted of pine trees, you met him in secret- was he singing a sound about your lessons? Or were you just being delusional, thinking the god apollo would write a song- about you. Because now, he was singing about a girl under the pine trees with a lyre. Your heart was thrumming loudly in your chest, and it was the only sound resonating in your ears when Apollo ended the song.

You had to work up the strength to open your eyes, and when you did, he was watching you already, his eyes boring themselves into yours. With the melody still filling your head, you reached for your lyre, but Apollo didn't even register your movement. All he could see was you, as he desperately tried to gauge your reaction. Did you like the song? You had to, he had poured his heart into it. But he would write more. His heart was overflowing with memories as he watched the concentrated furrow of your brows.

And then, you started playing the song.

At once, Apollo snapped out of his trance as his insides roared with another form of adoration. You were playing his song, your song, the song he had written just for you. As if you were answering him. Sure, it sounded a little hesitant, but he was surprised about how masterful it sounded. You had become an expert player, in spite of your setbacks. And it looked like you had the same realization, because you looked up from the instrument and up at him with a glowing expression that said 'I did it!' and he could only nod in astonishment.

As the date of the Pythian games grew closer, so did Apollo and you, developing your inside jokes and becoming more comfortable with physical affection. It was safe to say you were friends with a god, which was something you could have never dreamed about. But as the date approached, your nerves were a little- tense, so to speak.

You cursed when suddenly, something snapped and a string of the lyre broke off, flinging your hand and marking it with a long red line. "Ow," you exclaimed and immediately, Apollo was all over you, taking your hurting hand into his. "Can you fix the string?" you asked nervously and earned a raised eyebrow from Apollo. "What do you think? And your hand is the priority here, sunshine."

"Right," you nodded, nibbling on your lip. "I need it to perform well." A long sigh left the gods lips as they ghosted over the palm of your hand. You jumped when they pressed down on your sore skin and an unfamiliar sensation, a warm prickling, emerged from the spot where he had bestowed a kiss upon you, rushing to your tummy where it exploded into a million golden butterflies, rummaging against your ribcage.

"Sunshine?"

"Huh?" you said, startled, and he showed you your hand, completely untouched, not a trace of the injury. You turned it around as if you were to find the mark, but it had vanished completely. "Thank you!" you smiled, picking up the lyre and holding it to his chest. "Now the string!"

Apollo sighed once more. Youn knew he could have easily fixed it, but for some reason, he opted to do it manually, pulling a spare string out of his tunic and getting to work removing the broken one. "Why are you doing it like this?" you found yourself asking, watching his graceful fingers as the expertly worked on the lyre.

"If you don't struggle from time to time, what's the point to life?" Apollo asked in a light-hearted tone, though you detected something heavier in the statement.

You hummed, thinking about that. "If you don't struggle, you can't succeed." Apollo looked up at you and nodded before returning his attention to the lyre. "That makes sense," you lamented, watching him intently. "But you don't seem like that kind of god to me." When he raised his brows, you attempted to explain yourself. "Of course, I don't know many gods, I only know you, but you don't seem very... human. You seem very content with being larger than life and divine."

The god hummed, inserting the new string. "You made me realize some things, sunshine. You have struggled so much, and have still persistent. Believe it or not, I think you're much stronger than I am. If I were you, I'd have given up a long time ago, because of what you said precisely: I don't need to struggle as much as you do."

Laughing to yourself, you shook your head in disbelief. "You're right, I don't believe you, but still, thank you. And I didn't know being untouchable could get to you like that."

"Oh, I'm far from untouchable," Apollo reassured you as he handed you back your lyre. "I have been touched and I am touched right now. Do you know why I take so many mortal lovers?" You shook your head and Apollo flopped down on his back, resting his head on his arm as he looked up at the sky above. "I love being touched by you mortals. It's an unimaginable thrill. To be a part of a life that is so fragile and so hardened at the same time is a privilege. Humanity is not a weakness but an unimaginable strength."

When he closed his eyes, yours were free to roam his resting body undetected, running over his golden marks and getting caught up on his face, as always. "I always thought... the fact that I had to struggle so much was because I was weak."

Apollo opened his eyes to look at you, and they were so heavy with emotion you had to avert yours. "Weak? Sunshine, you are so strong."

☀️

Delphi was an unsurprisingly beautiful city. As your travel companion, Apollo had disguised himself as a mortal once more and escorted you safely there, even arranging for your stay. During the religious ceremonies in his honor, he had been giggling in your ear in a way that had some priests give him pointed stares for interrupting the process and you jabbing your elbow into his side, making him whine at you being mean.

Then came the actual contest. The other performances flew by you as you had a hard time concealing your nerves, but Apollos calling presence helped. His hand squeezed you every once in a while, and when it was nearly your turn, he guided you to a spot next to the arena from which the performers entered the stage. His bigger hands engulfed your shaking once as he pressed them to his chest. You were surprised to find his heart drumming in a high frequency and widened your eyes at him.

"I can't help it, I'm nervous, too," he smiled cheekily and you bit down on your bottom lip. "Well, it's not you who is about to perform in front of hundreds of people. What if I mess up? What if I'm bad? I don't even have any real talent."

"Do you remember our first conversation?" the god interrupted your ramblings, pulling you closer to him. When you shook your head, he smiled softly and stuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "You said that you mortals get your talents from us gods. Well, it's true. I didn't bless you with talent. Do you know why?" You shook your head and he continued.

"Because you tried anyway, and you would not give up. Because of the devotion and love you hold for the lyre. You fought and you struggled, and you made great progress, without any advantages. I never answered your prayers I didn't want you to lose that. You are greater than any of the other artists assembled because of it. I have rarely seen such determination. And I knew you could do it." The god took a long breath. "And it was what made me start to fall in love with you."

Your head snapped up once you processed the words. "You... what?" Apollo delayed the answer by bringing your hands up to his lips and kissing each of your fingertips, making a warmth flood through them that ended their shaking. "I love you. So much. If that song wasn't enough to tell you."

"So it was for me?" you asked, mesmerized, deaf to the announcement of your name. Apollo smiled down at you, leaning in to kiss your temple, your cheek, and finally, his lips met yours. As if they had been waiting for it all along, your arms flew up to wrap themselves around his neck, pulling him closer as his hands dug into your sides.

Suddenly, you felt something on the top of your head and broke from the kiss to feel it. It was a laurel wreath. It was Apollo's laurel wreath. Your eyes were as wide as plates, you were sure, and Apollo chuckled, pointing to it with his chin. "You have my favor, sunshine. Now go and show them what real prowess is."

When you stepped onto the stage, you were overwhelmed by the cheers of the audience. As it was tradition, you recounted a prayer to Apollo, who you spotted in the front row, holding onto your lyre like your lifeline. Then, the crowd fell silence and it was your turn to play.

☀️

In retrospect, you could have anticipated it, as you knew things about the lyre no other mortal could know, thanks to Apollo. But it still blew you away when the pronounced winner of the Pythian games was you. As if in a trance, your ears drowned out the cheers of the audience as you kneeled before the priest who placed the winner's laurel wreath- you had taken off Apollo's, of course - on your head, congratulating you on your outstanding performance.

But even as you barely registered the noise of the crowd, it did catch your attention when it suddenly subsided at once, giving away to a deadly silence. The priest gasped, he was the first one to fall to his knees. Because at the top of the arena's stairs stood Apollo in all his glory, emitting pure power and might. When he met your eye, he winked at you.

As Apollo walked down the stairs, all of the spectators covered, falling to their knees and throwing themselves at his feet. But Apollo didn't take notice of them, his eyes were locked on you as he approached you. A tugging at your skirt made you look down, where the priest made a motion, urging you to kneel as well. When Apollo spoke, his voice filled the whole arena.

"This woman will kneel for no one." His smile was so radiant it took your breath away. So magnetizing you almost missed the hand he was stretching out, waiting for you to take it. Apollo called your name. "I shall invite you to put your skill to good use. Take my hand and play with me and the muses, sunshine."

Gasped echoed all around you, but all you could see and hear and feel was him. Without hesitation, you placed your hand in his and it closed firmly around your hand. Urging you closer softly, the god put his free arm around your waist. "Ready to go home, sunshine?"

Your nod was all he needed before he raised you up into the clouds, leaving all bystanders speechless- but not for long. Soon, your story would spread through all of Greece, your name immortalized next to the muses, and held in prayers because it was realized how much more benevolent Apollo was to those who praised your name alongside his.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[laneywrld]

warm, buttery, and soft | Lewis Hamilton

request: I have a LH44 request! So, I’m a BCBA, I work with children who have autism and my dream is have my own clinic one day. I have a request where maybe Lewis is with a BCBA, who has her own practice, maybe with a back story of how they met at a charity event for her grand opening? Maybe he decided to venture out his charitable contributions and became interested in what she does? Romance, all the feels :)

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none

Lewis had more money than he knew what to do with.

He'd still accept it graciously, but he couldn't help but feel that he could be doing more with the funds he'd earned. He always felt as if he could offer his many resources to many different causes.

He had started mission 44, and still, he felt like he wasn't doing enough.

Lewis had always been driven by a deep desire to make a meaningful impact in the world. After years of dedication to his passion projects, he felt it was time to expand the reach of Mission 44, his organization dedicated to empowering underserved communities. He wanted to invest in something truly transformative, and it was a conversation with an old friend that set him on the right path.

One evening, over a cup of coffee, his friend Michael shared a heartfelt story about his autistic son, Josiah. "There's this incredible clinic," Michael said, his eyes lighting up. "It's run by Y/N, a BCBA. Her work with autistic children has been nothing short of miraculous for us. Jojo has made so much progress thanks to her."

Intrigued, Lewis asked for more details. Michael explained how Y/N's clinic provided personalized therapy and support, creating a nurturing environment where children like Josiah could thrive. It was a place of hope and transformation, and it resonated deeply with Lewis's vision for Mission 44.

Determined to learn more, Lewis arranged a visit to the clinic. When he arrived, he was immediately struck by the warm and welcoming atmosphere. The walls were adorned with colorful artwork created by the children, and the air was filled with laughter and a sense of purpose.

Sadly, you weren't there when he arrived. Lewis really wanted to connect with you. But you were certain to make sure he was taken care of in your absence.

As Lewis toured the facility, he saw firsthand the incredible progress the children were making. Therapists and staff members were deeply engaged, using innovative techniques to support the children's development. It was clear that this was more than just a clinic—it was a community of care and compassion.

Inspired by what he had seen, Lewis knew he had found the perfect partner for Mission 44. He decided to invest in your clinic, providing the resources needed to expand your reach and impact. Together, you two envisioned opening new branches in underserved areas, ensuring that more children and families could benefit from the transformative care you and your team provided.

With this partnership, Mission 44 took a significant step forward, amplifying its mission to empower and uplift. Lewis was filled with a sense of purpose and fulfillment, knowing that your combined efforts would create a brighter future for countless children and families.

And so, with a shared vision and unwavering dedication, Lewis and you embarked on a journey to bring hope, healing, and empowerment to the world, one child at a time.

And this was all without ever meeting each other.

You were a busy woman, and when you did have free time, it was spent with your kids. Your kids being the children you work with of course. So tonight was meant to be special. An ordeal that certainly meant a lot to you.

You would be meeting Sir Lewis Hamilton for the very first time in person. The two of you had communicated over the phone and through emails, but you had not had the chance to sit with him face-to-face, until tonight.

It'd been a year since this endeavor started, and already, the funding Lewis provided had shown its hand and made your mission all the more achievable.

Tonight, you were having a gala.

You were against the idea initially, telling your assistant to reconvene with Lewis' team. You wanted funds to help autistic children, you wanted an event that reflected that.

But Lewis came up with a good point, you wanted to ask a bunch of rich people to invest in you and your goals, to do that, you had to speak to them in a language that they understood, money.

So here you were, a beautiful gown adorning your frame, that was much too elegant and flashy than what you were used to.

You were standing off to the side, watching as the team organized the smaller details. Your hands are placed in front of you, fingers fidgeting with the others as you will your nerves away.

This was not your scene. You weren't used to the flashy life nor did you care for it, so the fact that you would be surrounded by millionaires and a select few billionaires and people with status simply because of your business ties with such a prominent figure in the world of money and fame, well it made you nervous.

Lewis arrived at the clinic a few minutes early, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He had seen pictures of you online and read about your remarkable work, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment he saw you in person.

From across the hallway, he saw you before you noticed him. The pictures did you no justice. You were more beautiful than any photograph could capture. Your presence was radiant, your smile warm and genuine. Lewis couldn't help but be captivated by your grace and the effortless way you carried herself. He was about to approach you when the door to your left swung open.

In poured a group of children, dressed in colorful gowns and suits, their faces beaming with excitement. Lewis watched as your eyes widened with delight and your lips spread into a grin wider than the universe. The children, your clients, rushed to surround you, their joy palpable. Some stayed a little further back, shy but eager to be close to you.

Lewis stood back, observing the scene. He saw the way you interacted with each child, your demeanor filled with kindness and understanding. You bent down to their level, speaking softly to those who needed it, and laughed with those who were more exuberant. You were careful and considerate, aware of each child's unique needs and sensitivities due to their autism.

One little girl tugged at your sleeve, and you responded with a gentle touch and a few whispered words that brought a smile to the girl's face. A boy who had been standing off to the side finally mustered the courage to step forward, and you greeted him with the same warmth and attention, making him feel just as special as the rest.

Lewis was moved by the sight. It wasn't just your beauty that struck him now, but the depth of your compassion and the genuine love you had for these children. He realized that your work was more than a profession; it was a calling, a true testament to your character.

As the children slowly dispersed, you stood up and finally noticed Lewis. Your eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. You approached him with that same radiant smile, extending your hand in greeting.

"Hi, you must be Lewis," you said, your voice as warm as your smile.

Lewis took your hand, feeling a spark of connection. "Yes, that's me. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. Your work here is incredible."

Your eyes twinkled with gratitude. "Thank you, Lewis. I'm glad you're here. This wouldn't have been possible without your support. Can I show you what we have so far?"

Lewis accepts, walking with you as you point out the many attractions for your guest. As you walk, you speak more to Lewis about your work, your passion for your work evident in your every word. You explained how you had started the clinic with the goal of providing comprehensive, individualized care for autistic children. "Each child is unique," you said, "and we tailor our approach to meet their specific needs. It's about helping them reach their full potential. Most of all, showing them unconditional love and acceptance."

"I think you're doing an amazing job." Lewis compliments, "Can I ask, why autistic children? What made this your dream?"

You let out a chuckle, "You ever read those books about the pig, Mercy Watson? She goes crazy over buttered toast?"

Lewis laughs and shakes his head, "Can't say I have."

"Well, in these books, there's a talking pig who does a lot of crazy stuff really for buttery toast. I used to read these books to my brother. He was obsessed with them. I used to just read them to him over and over every night, thinking, you know, of course, a story about a pig causing absolute destruction for food would entertain a boy." As you talk, you're waving your hands around, describing the elaborate storyline of the children's book.

"Anyways, my brother was autistic, high functioning, but you know there were still things that made him different than others, ways that he couldn't fit in no matter what, and I grew to realize okay, this book has to be his hyper fixation, like he doodled Mercy Watson everywhere. Or like cute little toast, and for a while, all he ate was toast for weeks." You chuckle, and Lewis laughs with you.

"Then one day, I'm a freshman in high school, and my brother has started his first day of middle school, and he just, it was bad for him, so bad. And I wanted to help, so I tried to read the books for him and he just got angry and said it wasn't true, and I was left trying to figure out what he meant. It bothered me for so long, I spent weeks rereading those books, you hear me, weeks."

You look distressed as you recant the memory and Lewis can only imagine how frantic you were when it actually happened.

"And then it just clicked for me. The buttery toast isn't fucking toast. The damn toast is a feeling. Warm, soft, and buttery. Mercy Watson is a pig. She feels buttery with her family and warm, cozy, and accepted. It's a feeling she's chasing. And maybe I'm wrong, but to him, the book highlighted his need to be accepted, to feel community. My brother deserved to be loved for who he was, unconditionally."

"Is that why you have so many piglet paintings in your clinic?"

You let out a laugh that starts from a snort. "Yeah. My little piggies."

"You've got a beautiful heart, you know that?"

"Thank you." You drop your head as if to hide your shyness from the man.

As they walked through the clinic, Lewis couldn't shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something extraordinary.

"You should let me take you out to dinner, discuss more on how to get the toast to all of the little piglets in the world, and maybe discuss another dinner, too?"

"I'd love that."

Three years had passed since that charity gala for your clinic, the night you first met Lewis. You remember how he approached you with a warm smile, expressing his admiration for your work. He had insisted on taking you out for dinner, and that evening turned into many more, each one deepening the connection between you.

Now, you stand in the nursery, a gentle smile on your lips as you admire the freshly painted walls. Small, cute little piglets dance across the pale yellow background, a whimsical design that Lewis insisted on because he remembered how you loved piggies, a love sparked by your brother's fondness for the book that changed your outlook on life.

The room is filled with the promise of new life, a testament to the love that has blossomed between you.

You gently place a hand on your growing belly, feeling the fluttering movements of your baby. The thought of becoming parents fills you with a mixture of excitement and wonder. Lewis walks into the room, his eyes lighting up as they meet yours. He crosses the room in a few strides and places a tender kiss on your forehead, his hand joining yours on your belly.

"You’re going to be the best mom," he says, his voice filled with admiration. "I can’t wait to meet our little one."

Lewis has always seen you as the sweetest soul in the world. Your compassion, kindness, and unwavering dedication to your work and family have captured his heart completely. He often tells you that being with you feels like coming home—warm, soft, and buttery, just like toast. It's the only feeling you've ever had when it comes to Lewis: a deep, comforting love that fills every corner of your life.

Your relationship with Lewis is a harmonious blend of mutual admiration and profound affection. He has not only embraced you but also formed a close bond with your brother. Lewis took the time to understand your brother’s world, it was a connection that brought you immense joy and deepened your love for Lewis.

As you and Lewis stand in the nursery, imagining the future with your child, you feel a profound sense of contentment. Engaged and set to be married in a year, your journey together has been nothing short of extraordinary.

"I love you," you whisper to Lewis, feeling the baby move beneath your hands.

"I love you too," he replies, his eyes shining with emotion. "And I love our little family, more than words can say."

At that moment, surrounded by the playful piglets on the walls and the warmth of Lewis's embrace, you feel a sense of completeness. Your love story is like toast—warm, soft, and buttery—filling your life with sweetness and comfort. It's a love that grows even stronger with each passing day and a warmth that spreads just the same.

oh my god, i loved this request, and a huge thank you for you and the work you do, this hit very close to home, and I loved writing every word of it!! also, I'm not really good at writing anything that's not angsty I don't think. so I apologize in advance for the cringe omg. I tried to make it romantic I really did. 😭

[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!

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈ 

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.

[mysticalserenity-tarot]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚General messages for the collective for the year 2025*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[vision boards not mine, credits to the respective owners]

My Paid Readings Services. My Kofi (for further guidance or if you enjoyed this reading and want to tip me, not manadatory!)

Let's dive in!

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading I picked up on multiple energies, so please only take what resonates and leave the rest.

(7 of Cups Rx, Knight of Wands, The Hierophant, 2 of Swords, The Magician Rx, Strength, 3 of Cups, 8 of Pentacles, 6 of Wands, King of Pentacles.)

✨ I keep hearing 'regaining your power.' You are about to enter your boss b*tch era! I sense a powerful dark feminine energy at work (no matter the gender) some of you may have even consciously manifested this change. Transformation is the main theme for most of you in 2025.

✨ "Finally, it's my time" - I sense feelings of joy and relief. Your hard work will pay off, and you may wonder if the Universe/your guides see how hard you've been working. Rest assured, they do, and there will be rewards for your efforts. The cards I drew emphasize triumph, and you, my dear, are the star!"

✨ You may face a difficult decision or choice, which could be related to your career, love life, or some other aspect of your life. Even though it may feel challenging, you'll ultimately find peace with your decision. For some of you, it's about letting go of something or someone, and I can feel the weight in your stomach already. But please don't worry, everything will be alright. Just remember: it's not your fault.

✨ Some of you will find the strength to break free from toxic and karmic situations. You will let go of people who have manipulated you and hindered your personal growth, especially.

✨ I see you meeting new people and an upcoming connection with your soul tribe, and it may be at work or in a situation where you collaborate with them, leading to newfound opportunities and abundance in your life.

✨ 2025 will be your King of Pentacles year: expect abundance, financial security, and success in your endeavors. Patience and hard work will be the keys to unlocking your destiny. I foresee your business expanding, and your efforts will be acknowledged and respected.

✨ With the 2 of Cups appearing frequently, I sense a strong possibility of unions with a future spouse or a twin flame/karmic partner entering your life, all of which are meant to serve your highest good. They may also be wise guides or teachers, and you will learn a lot from each other both consciously and unconsciously.

✨ You are going to prioritize yourselves and develop a stronger connection with your higher selves and spirit guides. Your psychic abilities may awaken or become even more acute. This newfound awareness will open up a world of growth, insight, and intuition in your life.

✨ Many of you are currently seeking employment, and I see you obtaining a job in 2025 that may not be exactly what you'd ideally prefer to do. However, this job will serve as a stepping stone, opening doors for you to ultimately reach your dreams and aspirations.

✨ One of your big manifestations will come to fruition in the 3D (physical world) in 2025, and I sense that it could be something related to the collective message I've shared.

✨ The dominant colors of your 2025 will be red and yellow, representing power, determination, vitality, and strength, as well as passion and positivity, intellect, and enlightenment. I foresee healing taking place in your root and solar plexus chakras, where your personal power originates. The number theme for 2025 will be the number 8, representing accomplishment, power, success, and overall abundance. Confirmation.

Here are some affirmations for a special 2025 for everyone:

🌠 "2025 is going to be my year." 🌠 "I am attracting prosperity and abundance into my life." 🌠 "I am surrounding myself with positive and supportive people." 🌠 "I am taking care of my physical, mental, and emotional health." 🌠 "I am letting go of the past and embracing the future with optimism and excitement." 🌠 "I am grateful for all the blessings and joy that will come to me in the new year."

_______________________________________

ANY LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT IS APPRECIATED, ALSO IF YOU LET ME KNOW IF IT RESONATED.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EACH ONE OF YOU'S SUPPORT, I'M GRATEFUL 🤗🤍~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note that I used AI language bot to help improve grammar and spelling in my readings, as English is not my first language. However, the interpretations and insights provided in my readings are all my work, based on my intuition and the cards' symbolism.

Disclaimer: Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only and are not meant to predict or dictate your future. The cards provide insights and guidance, but the ultimate power of choice lies with you.

[lick-me-lennon22]

Beatles X ADHD!Reader Headcanons

(Hello, everyone!! I apologize for the short hiatus, I've been going through a lot following my 21st birthday as well as some family/work troubles. I also want to give a happy, happy 84th birthday full of peace and love to the one and only Richard Starkey!!! ☮️💞☮️💞☮️💞 As always, please let me know if anything in this post comes across as offensive or insensitive, and take what resonates with you :) I'm glad to be back and hope you all enjoy this post!!)

John

John is intrigued by your unique perspective and view of the world

He admires your creativity and often finds inspiration in your spontaneous ideas

He encourages you to channel your energy into your passions - whether it's music, art, or any other creative pursuit

John understands that you may struggle with focus at times and offers gentle reminders or helps you create strategies to stay organized

He'll support you through restless nights by staying up and chatting with you, plagued by his own insomnia, and helps you get your energy out

He also understands that you may thrive in an environment that may seem chaotic to others, but embraces the unpredictability and encourages you to express yourself freely without fear of judgement

John greatly values your honesty and openness about your challenges

He shares his own vulnerabilities and struggles with you, creating a bond built on mutual understanding and support

He enjoys engaging in deep conversations with you, exploring different topics and learning from your point of view

You two often have late-night chats that range from philosophical discussions to whimsical flights of fancy

He appreciates your ability to jump from topic to topic, finding it refreshing and inspiring

John absolutely loves to collaborate with you on creative projects, whether it's writing songs together or brainstorming ideas for new ventures

Your spontaneous and unique ideas often lead to innovative and unexpected song lyrics or artistic projects

During times when you feel overwhelmed or distracted, John offers a supportive presence

Whether it's through gentle reminders, offering reassurance, or simply listening as you ramble about your latest hyperfixation, he provides unwavering comfort and understanding

Paul

Paul is naturally a very supportive and nurturing partner

He is exceptionally patient and understanding during times when you become distracted or overwhelmed

He also thrives on creating structure and routine, which helps you manage your symptoms effectively

He'll collaborate with you to create adaptive routines and to-do lists that accommodate you, designing schedules that provide flexibility while ensuring important tasks are completed without stress

Paul helps you channel your creative energy into organized projects

He enjoys planning songwriting sessions or artistic endeavors that allow you to streamline your enthusiasm and ideas

Paul listens attentively when you ramble and infodump about your hyperfixations

His optimism and positivity uplift you, helping you feel more confident and capable in managing your ADHD

He always makes it a point to celebrate your achievements, big and small, recognizing the effort and determination it takes to accomplish tasks despite your ADHD-related challenges

Paul is very attuned to your emotional needs, offering comfort and support during moments of frustration or overwhelm

During periods of self-doubt, Paul makes sure to emphasize his belief in your abilities and resilience

He will also take the liberty of decluttering your work and living spaces, as well as locating items you may have misplaced, wanting to keep you from experiencing additional stress

He will often pick up your medication for you (if applicable), and always reminds you to take your meds

Paul helps you set clear goals and prioritize your tasks

He suggests therapies and coping mechanisms, helping you to make informed decisions to improve your daily life

George

George appreciates your spontaneity and creativity, and feels it aligns well with his laid-back personality

He encourages you to explore different hobbies and interests, recognizing your potential to excel in various creative endeavors

He values your insight and often seeks your perspective on music, philosophy, and art

George appreciates your ability to share your experiences openly with him, even when your thoughts are racing or your emotions are intense

You bond over using music as a form of therapy, playing acoustic guitars together or listening to soothing melodies that help calm your mind and enhance your focus

George enjoys spending quiet moments with you - whether it's meditating, enjoying nature, or simply existing and decompressing together

He loves to escape with you to peaceful, natural settings where you can both unwind, connect with one another, and find inspiration in the beauty of your surroundings

He provides a calming presence for you, helping you feel grounded and supported in moments of overwhelm or distraction

George notices small details about your behavior and mood, which helps him recognize when you need gentle reminders or space to recharge

He always respects your need for personal space and quiet moments

George, of course, introduces you to and walks you through mindfulness practices and meditation techniques that help you center yourself and manage your ADHD symptoms more effectively

He supports you in setting boundaries and encourages you to prioritize self-care

George shares his passion for health and wellbeing with you, encouraging activities like yoga, journaling, and nutritious cooking, which promote physical and mental balance

Ringo

Ringo embraces your spontaneity, finding joy and solace in your playful and creative nature

He values your unique talents and perspectives, always taking genuine interest in your hyperfixations

Ringo encourages you to express yourself freely and to always embrace your quirks and unique strengths

His humor and warmth create a positive atmosphere where you feel accepted and cherished for who you are

His lighthearted approach helps alleviate day-to-day stress and pressure

Ringo finds great pleasure in making you laugh, and appreciates your own playful sense of humor and view of things

Ringo is naturally flexible and adaptable, which helps him to navigate your changing moods and interests with ease

He recognizes that your ADHD may lead to shifts in your interests or priorities and remains supportive and understanding in these moments

Ringo enjoys planning outings and activities that cater to your interests, making sure you're both engaged and having fun

He savors moments of comfortable silence and parallel play with you, where you can simply be together without constant need for stimulation or conversation

He deeply appreciates the peace and connection found in these quiet moments

Ringo creates a safe space for you to express yourself creatively however you see fit - whether it be through doodling, writing, or other forms of artistic expression

Empathy is a huge aspect of his support, as he also struggles with ADHD symptoms and navigates his challenges alongside yours

He provides a comforting and understanding presence during times where you feel frustrated or overstimulated

Ringo offers a calming and positive demeanor, as well as unconditional support, reassuring you that you are not alone in managing your ADHD

[bitchy-craft]

How August Will Go For You | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out how August will go for you. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterlist > Questions

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

For you, August will be a month of new beginnings and exciting opportunities for you. As the sun rises on a fresh chapter of your life, you'll find yourself drawn to unexplored paths and uncharted territories. This is the time to take bold steps forward and embrace change with confidence and enthusiasm. Your curiosity and openness will lead you to discover new facets of yourself and unlock hidden potentials. Don't hesitate to pursue your passions and dreams, for this month holds the promise of personal growth and achievement.

However, be mindful of the challenges that may arise during this period. Change can bring its share of uncertainties and obstacles. Trust in your abilities to overcome any hurdles that come your way. Seek advice and support from trusted friends and mentors, for they will offer valuable insights and encouragement to guide you through rough patches.

Keep your focus on the bigger picture and stay positive. As you sow the seeds of your aspirations, remember that patience and perseverance are essential virtues. Rome wasn't built in a day, and your efforts will require time to flourish. Stay committed to your goals, and you'll witness the fruits of your labor.

Pile 2:

August is going to be a month of deep introspection and self-discovery for you. As the summer days begin to wane, you'll feel an innate desire to turn inward and reflect on your journey thus far. This period calls for you to pause and take a closer look at your values, beliefs, and the direction you've been heading.

Embrace this time of soul-searching with an open heart, as it holds the potential for profound healing and growth. Let go of any emotional baggage that has weighed you down, for now is the time to release old wounds and embrace forgiveness—both for yourself and others. This process of inner cleansing will pave the way for new opportunities and fresh perspectives.

August offers a chance to reconnect with your passions and reignite the fire within. Rediscover what truly brings you joy and fulfillment. This introspective journey may also lead you to realign your goals and set new intentions for the future.

Be patient and compassionate with yourself during this period of introspection. The insights you gain will shape your path ahead, so take the time to understand your emotions and aspirations fully. This deep self-awareness will empower you to make choices that align with your authentic self and propel you towards a more purposeful and fulfilling life.

Pile 3:

August will be a month of vibrant social connections and opportunities for expansion. The summer sun shines brightly on your social life, bringing with it a wave of interactions and gatherings. You'll find yourself drawn to various events, group activities, and networking opportunities.

Embrace these moments of social engagement with an open heart and an open mind. New friendships may blossom, and existing relationships will deepen as you strengthen your bonds with others. Collaboration and teamwork will be key themes during this period. Be receptive to ideas and contributions from those around you, for their insights may prove instrumental in your endeavors.

August offers a fertile ground for community involvement and making a positive impact. Engage in causes close to your heart, and you'll find fulfillment in contributing to the well-being of others. As you expand your network and connect with like-minded individuals, be open to exploring shared passions and projects.

However, amid all the social activities, remember to find moments of solitude and introspection. It's essential to strike a balance between your external interactions and inner well-being. Take time for self-care, reflection, and rejuvenation. These moments of quietude will recharge your energy and keep you grounded amidst the social whirlwind.

Embrace the richness of August's social landscape, and you'll discover that the connections you forge during this period can bring lasting benefits and set the stage for exciting opportunities in the future.

[insomniactic-daydream]

Princess- Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader (Pt.3)

<- Previous Pt.2

Summary: Time has passed, and Bakugo gauntlets are almost done. However, due to a Todoroki family argument, Y/n decides she needs a break from her family by focusing on completing the gauntlets sooner.

"The USJ? Like Universal Studios USJ?" your older sister Fuyumi questions you're twin brother.

"No, it's a training facility we're going to. Apparently, All might and another pro are coming to see us and how we perform, " Shoto says calmly. Your older sister has made a habit of forcing both of you to talk about your day.

You lazily eat your food, hoping Fuyumi can squeeze more out of Shoto rather than pestering you. You're day always seemed uneventful compared to you brother. Unfortunately for you, Shoto didn't have anymore words to spare; giving you the spotlight.

"How about you Y/n, does you're class have anything planned? Anything exciting." Fuyumi smiles warmly.

"Not really. I'm almost done with those gauntlets I've been working on. So I might get graded on that soon."

"That's great, I'm sure that student is excited for thier new gear. You're going to definitely pass" Fuyumi says trying to make do with all the silence.

"Oh, they definitely won't stop nagging me, that's for sure." You remember all the texts and in-person conversations you've had with Bakugo that always started with "Wheres my shit at?".

If he's not pestering you at the cafeteria, then he's found you hiding away in the support classroom to eat.

You almost feel bad for not having anything to say but you can't get past the old Fuyumi that has side against you for simply loving the only parent that'll look at you, to the one trying to make amends now.

"Listen... I think the both of you should visit mom some time soon. Her recovery is doing really well, and it might help her if she saw the two of you more." Fuyumi says hesitantly; causing you to drop your utensil down.

"I'll think about it" "No thank you" come out of the two of you simultaneously.

"Y/n come on please, can you try and make the effort." Fuyumi pleads.

"Why would I make the effort for someone who could barely stand me. Hell, I'm pretty sure I learned to crawl faster than  Shoto cause she couldn't bear picking me up." You spat.

"That's not her fault and you know it." Shoto defends his mother. "You know the reason why she struggled." He says in his dull tone.

You scoff. "Well, it isn't my fault I was born identical to Dad. But hey, at least my quirk allows me to fix that, huh? I'm doing all of you a favor, I guess." You say standing up, grabbing your plate to put away.

"Y/n that's not what-"

"Thank you for the food Fuyumi it was delicious. Sorry I soured the mood." You interrupt her. Not wanting to cause any more issues, you headed to your room.

Forgiving never came easy to you. I mean, how could it. Everything little remark or digust they have for actually giving thier dad the time of day really did a number on your mental health and how you act today.

It hards to accept how Fuyumi cares now all of a sudden to include dad, while she made you feel horrible for loving him in the past.

Don't get it wrong, Enjj Todoroki is no saint and Y/n understands that her mother is not a monster. But, her father at least tried to make up for the lack of attention your mother gave to you while focusing on Shoto.

Endeavor was also the blame for the dynamic, but your mother never opposed it. They had agreed that he would take care of the one she couldn't bear looking at, and she'd make sure the boy is healthy.

Shoto was the focus for Endeavor; he pushed your mother's priorities towards him. After all, a boy with split hair had more quirk potential than you with just red. That was until your quirks came

Endeavor had ended up training both of you till exhaustion. However, only Shoto was consoled by their mother at the end of the day. Only Shoto was defended to take a break.

Just a child wanting to be loved by her parents. But she still had to be appreciative cause it was more than what her older siblings get to have. But still.

Guess the death of Touya, and your mother being put away, really made it easy for your father to accept that you didn't want to be a hero and you found it more enjoyable to make gadgets.

After all, you remind him so much of his first son that saying no to your passion would be doing Touya a dishonor. At least Shoto was still interested in being a hero, not for your father but to show him he doesn't need his fire quirk. Maybe that's why Shoto gave you a hard time with you using yours.

You sigh into your pillow, contemplating Fuyumi suggestion. You wanted to try. So bad. But then again, if your mother really wanted to make amends, then wouldn't she try and contact you.

You toss in your bed, groaning in frustration. You inevitably grab your phone before typing.

'You busy tomorrow? I heard you're going to a training facility soon. I can get your gauntlets done this weekend, but only if you have a place I can use my quirk safely.'

Maybe you shouldn't have texted the aggravating blonde, but you could use his nagging as a distraction for at least the weekend.

You wait a little before you hear a notification go off.

'The old hag said we can use the metal shed in the back. Or is that not up to your standards, princess?' You read out. The nickname catching you off guard with pink cheeks, but you know he's only mocking your social status. (As if he didn't mention his parents are wealthy designers in an attempt to not feel inferior by you.)

'You're lucky I spent too much time on your gauntlets to melt them to a metal sheet just for that comment asshole.'

(Next Part 4) ->

Little family angst 💜☺️

I'll admit that I haven't really fully caught up on the series yet. I'm only where dabi reveals his identity. So, sorry if the storyline is a little off or completely wrong.😅

Tags: @queenriki7

[todorokistheories]

Why I'll Never Forgive Endeavor - An Analysis

tw: abuse, domestic violence, dehumanization, and everything you expect to come with talking about the todorokis

Endeavor was right in calling Shouto a masterpiece, because that's all he ever was to him. Just a canvas to imprint whatever beliefs he had onto. Shouto was never made to be a person. He was made to be an object, an immovable force, something Endeavor can sculpt to his desire.

We see this through Shouto's demeanor. His inability to show emotions the way others do to that extreme of a level is usually a trauma response. He's purposefully blank, lest he face the wrath of Endeavor noticing the stain on his perfect painting.

Dabi even mentions this.

Endeavor wasn't the only one who saw Shouto as a means to an end. Dabi did too. He calls Shouto a puppet and trophy son throughout the series genuinely does not seem to consider that he has feelings at all. He wants to break him, because Shouto was given the life he was promised, but he can't see past what Endeavor told him to be like class 1a did.

Dabi's plotline was never about reconciling with Shouto, it was about destroying everything Endeavor thought made him great.

Endeavor controlled every moment of Shouto's life from the day he was born. Training, probably diet, every single second of every day was planned to expect max power and effort. He wanted a machine that he could show off, like fucking Tony Stark or some shit.

This is why when Midoriya says "it's your power," it's so impactful. He essentially told Shouto "you don't have to be what he made you to be." He was finally given permission to choose, something no one in his life (not even his mother) gave him. When you're a kid like that, you don't have the perspective that you can change. Midoriya believed that he could, so Shouto did.

Shouto wanted his father to see him as valuable outside of what he could do for him. But he never gets that. That is why the ending is so important for Shouto.

Shouto's arc is, at a base level, finding purpose outside of what his father expected.

You know who was given the freedom to do that from the get go?

Touya.

Let's get into the meat of the issue. Endeavor genuinely cared about Touya. He gave him permission to be great. He told him that there is more to his life than being Endeavor's 'mini me' and that Endeavor would support him in what he'd pursue.

He didn't do this with Fuyumi or Natsuo, but I think at this point he would've been willing to care about them if they offered something he thought was valuable. Because at the end of the day, even if Touya wasn't going to be a hero, Endeavor believed he'd still do great things. That he would bring honor to their name.

Endeavor only started caring about how he treated his family once he saw what it did to Dabi. His wife's mental breakdown didn't do it. The disfiguration of his youngest didn't do it. Breaking his child down until all he was was just another puddle of vomit on the floor at the age of five didn't do it. Not even the death of his beloved child did it.

But seeing how he ruined Touya's potential did.

Endeavor's change only came from the knowledge that he was his own ruin. His apologies come from a place of selfishness and it destroyed his family.

The thing that both Shouto and Dabi had in common is that they both just wanted to be enough for Endeavor. And at the end of the day, and the manga, I truly don't think that was ever achieved.

And that is why I can never forgive Endeavor.

[littleplantfreak]

Valentine's and White Day with (some) Wind Breaker boys

Starring: Sakura, Suzuri, and Kaji!

(Don't read Suzuri's if ya haven't read him from the manga unless ya don't care about spoilers though there's no actual serious detail in there)

I wasn't into wind breaker in februrary or march which is a bummer because I loveeee doing headcanons about that but I do recall getting some really good discount stuff the week after Valentine's day.

Sakura Haruka

Receiving chocolates from the person he likes has him tomato red and sputtering but he makes sure to thank you regardless of how long it takes to get the words out. (Did you guys see the official art of him getting chocolate from someone? He was so smug/pleased he just was staring at it smiling) Sakura doesn't care what kind of chocolate it is, he's eating it no matter what and if someone comments on it even if it's not teasing he holds it away from them like they're gonna take it away.

---

He's unsure of what exactly to do for White Day since he's never had to reciprocate before. Nirei is hellbent on helping Sakura in his romantic endeavors and Suo is there for funsies and (not so) moral support. It gets out in the groupchat that he's having trouble picking what to get and EVERYONE wants to help him out and give advice. He's quite literally running away when someone mentions it at this point. Tsubaki tackles him and drags him, Nirei, and Suo to a few places that are known for their good quality candy and gifts.

By the end, really this has turned into a group gift because it has a little bit of everyone in it. Nirei found out their favorite candy, Tsubaki found the best place to buy it, Suo helps with presentation and Sakura spends two hours figuring out which stuffed animal he thinks you'd like best to go with it. He ends up getting two because he found one that reminds him of you and one Nirei said looks like him but Sakura just doesn't see it (it does look like him though.) He makes it seem like it was no big deal but you can tell just how much effort he put into it.

Suzuri Shuhei

(I don't see enough Suzuri stuff and I know it's because he's further in the manga but he's so cute to me yknow after all the other stuff happens)

He's received some obligatory chocolates from the girls at the restaurant but was surprised you gave him an actual homemade dessert. Asks if you wanna eat it with him because it just feels right to share it with you. He'll also kinda grill you on what your recipe is because he'd definitely like to try making desserts himself. Suzuri'll ask if you can bake some stuff together which has you wondering if that's considered a date. If you ask him he takes a sec to think and confirms that yeah as long as you're comfortable with it, he'd very much like to consider it one.

---

When it comes time for him to get you something for White Day, he's already sure of your likes and dislikes for most foods. He watches a few youtube videos and the chocolates he made turn out so well you'd think they were made by a professional. He makes them in the shape of little cats and has given them the names of the ones he feeds in the alley which is not only cute but makes you ask if he'll take you to see the real ones.

Kaji Ren

You give him a bouquet of lollipops because it just makes sense ig? Kaji ends up saying something like "You really didn't have to get me anything" which makes it sound like he doesn't care but if you try and take it back he's like No???? They're mine you gave them to me what are you even thinking. No one other than Hiragi or his vice captains can tell but when he has one of the ones you gave him, he's in a better mood than normal. If he sees you in passing he'll use one to wave at you to show you he's still got them.

---

On White day he'll drag you to the arcade and tells you to pick whichever stuffed animal from the machines you want. Doesn't matter the game, he's so good at them he gets it after the first few tries. You end up spending the rest of the time playing games with him (he won't go easy on you even if you pout, and actually he thinks it's cute when you do) He also gives you a bag of your favorite candies while he's walking you home after.

[blakeswritingimagines]

How They Show You They Care

Iron-Man: When he cares about someone, he goes big - and I mean big. Imagine a luxury dinner on his private jet, overlooking the city at sunset. And that's just the starter. He'd also arrange a surprise romantic getaway to the world's most expensive vacation spot, just the two of you. Plus, he'd commission a custom piece of jewelry, the most expensive and exclusive. It's all about the over-the-top gestures for him.

Spider-Man: He makes it a point to spend quality time together, whether it's engaging in shared activities or simply enjoying each other's company. Surprise gestures, like bringing you your favorite food or planning a thoughtful outing, are also important to him. And, of course, expressing his love through words of affirmation is crucial.

Hulk: Well, for him, it's not just through the grand gestures, but the small, thoughtful ones that really make the difference. It's the surprise flowers on an ordinary day, the late-night conversations that go on for hours, or just the simple act of being there, listening without judgment when you need it. And of course, a well-timed compliment or a cheeky joke never hurts, right?

Captain America: For him, expressing his care and affection for you involves a combination of actions and gestures. He prioritizes open communication and making an effort to understand your needs, feelings, and perspectives. This means actively listening when you speak, being responsive to your emotions, and showing empathy and understanding.

Winter Soldier: He shows you he cares in every way possible. Whether it's by being there for you through thick and thin, holding you close during hard times, or taking you on a surprise vacation just to see your smile. He tries his hardest to make sure you know you're loved and appreciated, and your happiness is his number one priority. Just seeing you happy, safe, and content is enough for him.

Black Panther: Showing you he cares involves more than just saying the words. It means being there for you through the ups and downs, listening when you need to talk, supporting your goals, making an effort to spend quality time together, and doing things that make you happy.

Doctor Strange: He will show you that he cares by listening intently, responding to your every thought, and treating you with the same respect you treat him. He'll express his admiration for you, both verbally and physically by hugging you, holding your hand, and kissing you whenever possible. I'll take their feelings and opinions seriously, and always be there for them through thick and thin.

Thor: What he does specifically, but rather finding ways to make you feel loved. Everyone has their own love language, and it can be different for each person. For him, it was never an issue. I mean, who wouldn't appreciate a bit of extra attention and luxury? He is always showering you with gifts, whether it be flowers, jewelry, or a spontaneous weekend getaway to a private island.

Ant-Man: He tries to show you that he cares through actions rather than words. For instance, he goes out of his way to ensure your safety and well-being, even if it means putting himself in harm's way. He also tries to spend quality time with you, engaging in activities you enjoy, and listening intently to your thoughts and feelings. Additionally, he makes an effort to be understanding and supportive of your endeavors, even if they don't align perfectly with his own.

[ingravinoveritas]

Long time reader/lurker, first time writer. Have you seen the article Michael wrote for the mirror published on 15/8/2024? it won’t let me link it here, but it’s titled “Theatre changed my life“ and it’s a wonderful piece - I felt very sad to hear him speak of his father’s struggle with Alzheimer’s, but it always warms my heart to see all the good he’s doing with his charity work. It reminded me of hearing him speak so passionately about his charitable works on the Table Manners podcast

anyway- thanks for all you do in the fandom- I always enjoy your thoughtful and (sometimes racy) posts!

Hi there! Oh, it's so lovely to hear from a longtime reader/lurker. I appreciate you writing in! I did indeed see the article Michael wrote for The Mirror this past week. I'll post the link below, for folks who haven't gotten a chance to see it:

I didn't know that Michael's dad has Alzheimer's, and was so saddened to read about this and to imagine the pain his family must be feeling. One of the things that made me first fall in love with Michael is that he is such a brilliant storyteller, but in particular when he talks about people he really loves. He brings those people so completely to life because he wants you to know who they are. Meyrick has always seemed like such an almost larger-than-life character, and it felt like we knew him, in a way, from Michael's stories--especially the ones about his work as a Jack Nicholson lookalike. So it breaks my heart to know that Michael is having to see the threads of who his father is slowly slipping away.

I agree with you as well that it was lovely to read about Michael talking about his charity work. None of it felt braggadocios in the slightest--rather, it seemed like it was Michael saying, "I've done all these things, but there is still so much more to do, so many more people who need help." It seems like he doesn't even necessarily think of it as "charity work," but as essential efforts to create change. Things that should already be happening, but that for one reason or another aren't.

Michael never seems content, in that way, to rest on his laurels, and that may be why he is always keeping himself busy with film work, charity work, and so on. I love as well that he started Mab Gwalia to fund endeavors that he himself is unable to personally helm, but still supports and champions (ASD Rainbows and A Writing Chance are particularly close to my heart as a writer who also happens to be an autistic woman). I just hope he isn't overextending himself by trying to do too much, especially after spending the first half of this year playing Nye Bevan, which was so physically and mentally demanding on its own.

I also wanted to thank you for the kind words you said at the close of your message. There are times where it's difficult for me to tell what sort of presence I have in the fandom, or if I'm just shouting into the void (though I suppose we all are, in a way). So I am very glad to know that you are enjoying my posts (even if I do tend to overthink everything). My heartfelt gratitude to you for writing in! x

[tinytinyblogs]

Your trusty sidekick!

Stray kids as your brother!

hyung line, maknae line

💬Finally back with a new story! This post idea is thanks to this lovely person @kayleefriedchicken I'm so happy to receive requests and new ideas. Please don't hesitate to reach out, but I apologize if it takes time as I have many things to handle in real life.

Stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Brother Chan loves to annoy you, but he does it in the most endearing and adorable way. It’s just part of his nature to be playful and affectionate. Chan has a unique way of expressing his love, pouring it generously on all his family members, including you. His antics are always lighthearted and never cross the line; they’re meant to keep the interaction lively and engaging. He has a habit of pinching your cheeks and treating you like a little kid, even though you’ve grown up. It’s his way of showing affection, a playful reminder that he’ll always see you as his beloved sibling. Chan’s tendency to text you random things throughout the day is another one of his quirks. Though the messages might seem designed to annoy you, they’re actually his way of checking in and making sure you’re alright. Chan’s actions, whether it’s teasing you or sending you unexpected texts, are rooted in his deep care for you. He understands the importance of staying connected, and his playful behavior is his way of maintaining a close bond. His efforts to annoy you are always coupled with a genuine concern for your well-being, a balance that makes his love both unique and heartwarming.

He possessed an innate ability to discern when your spirits were low, attuned to the subtle shifts in your demeanor even when you endeavored to conceal your emotions. There was no need for you to articulate your feelings; he understood the weight of the world, having borne its burdens himself countless times. Despite his own hectic schedule, he unfailingly set aside time for you, a steadfast pillar of support in your life. On those particularly trying days when tears flowed freely, he would return home after a strenuous day, arms laden with an array of your most cherished comfort foods. His hands, laden with care packages, would forego the formality of knocking, instead, they'd assertively push open your door. Placing the assortment of treats within your reach, he'd tenderly stroke your hair, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "You seem rather like a baby now, don't you think?" he'd jest softly, his voice a soothing melody amidst the storm of emotions. "But it's alright, my dear. Let the tears fall, and indulge in your favorite comforts. Trust me when I say, everything will be alright. Remember, I'm here for you—your unwavering ally and the best brother you could ever ask for."

Minho

Brother Minho isn’t the type to take over your responsibilities; he believes in letting you handle them because he knows it's what you should do. Despite often seeming indifferent, Minho, in his own way, truly cares deeply, even if he isn’t great at showing it. His demeanor might suggest a lack of concern, but that’s far from the truth. Minho understands the importance of personal growth and responsibility, which is why he stands back, allowing you to fulfill your duties. However, he is always silently watching over you, ensuring that you are not alone. Minho is not one for sweet words or overt displays of affection. He has a quiet strength and a subtle way of showing his support. There have been countless times when you needed someone by your side, and even though he might not have said much, his presence was always felt. He understands that sometimes words aren’t necessary; sometimes, just being there is enough. His support often comes in the form of silent solidarity, a quiet assurance that he’s there for you, even if he doesn’t vocalize it. There was a day when you were at your absolute lowest, struggling to find the energy to face the world. Walking out of the house, every step felt like a monumental effort, and deep down, you wished you could escape the day altogether. You felt utterly drained, as if life had sapped all the strength from your body.

What you didn’t know was that Minho was there, following you from a distance. He didn’t announce his presence or try to comfort you with words, but he was there, quietly making sure you were safe. His silent support provided a safety net, a quiet reassurance that someone cared, even if it wasn’t immediately obvious. Minho’s way of showing care might be unconventional, but it is deeply meaningful. He respects your autonomy and your need to face your own challenges, but he never truly leaves you to face them alone. His quiet presence is a constant reminder that you are supported, and his silent strength gives you the courage to keep going, even on your hardest days. Though he might not always express it openly, Minho’s actions speak volumes about his deep care and commitment to you. When the rain starts to fall and you realize you forgot your umbrella, you look up at the sky, which is covered in grey clouds. As the raindrops begin to hit your skin, an umbrella suddenly covers you. Turning to the side, you see Minho standing there with his usual expressionless face. “Do you think the weather forecast airs for nothing? If you can watch it, then bring this with you too. I’m not going to take care of you if you get sick,” he says. Despite his words, his face softens slightly.

Changbin

Brother Changbin loves spending time with you, whether you're in the mood for it or not. His love for his family is unwavering, and he consistently makes time to engage with you, no matter how busy his schedule might be. Changbin is the epitome of a supportive brother. He takes joy in all your accomplishments, no matter how small they may seem. To him, every little victory, like winning a doll from a claw machine, is worth celebrating. He treats these moments as if you’ve achieved something monumental, always cheering you on with genuine happiness and pride. His constant presence and encouragement make you feel valued and loved, reinforcing the strong bond you share. He lowkey spoils you whenever he goes somewhere, always bringing back something he knows you'll love. It's not just about the gifts for him; he genuinely delights in seeing your happiness and the joy you get from the things he buys. One night, just as you were about to fall asleep, he burst into your room with a wide grin on his face.

"No sleeping yet, lazy ass. We're going out," he announced. You groaned and pulled the blanket over your head, trying to ignore him, but Changbin wasn’t taking no for an answer. With his usual determination, he managed to pull you out of bed for a spontaneous night walk. As you trudged sleepily beside him, he laughed, "You look like a zombie." He then squatted down in front of you, offering a piggyback ride. You reluctantly climbed on, and he carried you through the quiet night streets, the world hushed around you. The two of you talked about anything and everything, enjoying the rare tranquility of the night. Throughout the walk, Changbin shared stories about his day, his thoughts, and his dreams. He listened intently as you told him about your day, making sure you felt heard and valued. His concern for your well-being was evident in every word and gesture, ensuring that you knew he was always there for you, no matter how busy his life got. This impromptu adventure, like many others before it, became a cherished memory, a testament to the bond you shared and his unwavering support.

Hyunjin

Brother Hyunjin loves to share everything with you. He reveals his entire life and true self without any filters because he trusts you completely. To him, sharing is caring, and he lives by this motto. He's always eager to learn about your likes and interests, paying close attention to what excites you and makes you happy. He wants to know you as deeply and intimately as you know him, believing that this mutual understanding strengthens your bond. Hyunjin never really gets mad at you, no matter what mistakes you make. He sees these mistakes as a natural part of life and growth, and his patience with you is boundless. Although he might tease you playfully, it's always done with a loving heart and a gentle spirit. His light-hearted teasing is his way of showing affection, making sure you know that even your imperfections are loved and accepted. Hyunjin is always there to listen and to share his experiences with you, whether it's a triumph or a struggle. He believes that sharing his life openly helps build a deeper connection, and he cherishes the moments when you do the same. His supportive nature makes him a comforting presence, always ready to lend an ear or offer advice.

His goal is to ensure that you feel understood, valued, and loved, just as much as he does. He would take you anywhere he found interesting. "Let's go to this art gallery I've been dying to see," he'd say, pulling you out of bed with a gleam in his eye. With his impeccable fashion sense, he'd help you get dressed, rummaging through your wardrobe until he found the perfect outfit. "Wear this" he'd suggest, handing you his hat. "Perfect! We look like a cool sibling duo. Make sure to take a good picture of me there," he'd add with a wink, dragging you out of the house. As you walked, he'd excitedly share his carefully crafted plan for the day. Every detail was thought out, from the art gallery visit to a cozy café he wanted to try afterward. "This is going to be fun. You should be proud to have a brother like me," he'd say with a playful grin. Throughout the day, his enthusiasm was contagious. At the art gallery, he’d eagerly point out his favorite pieces, discussing their intricacies and why they captivated him. His passion for the art made the experience richer, and he made sure to include you in every moment, asking for your thoughts and reactions.