#i'll support you in all of your endeavors

[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

[lilghostiequinni]

What?!

Main Masterlist Oscar Masterlist

Pairing: "Secret" Wife!female reader x Oscar Piastri

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: As his wife, you support Oscar through his endeavors, but you also have your own life. You moved from Australia to England with him, which helped because you were going to university, and now you've started your career. One thing it means is not being able to attend many races, but you can bet that you are watching. It isn't until Silverstone 2024 that people, specifically Lando, know about you and his teammate.

Requested: NO / yes

Lando prided himself on knowing almost everything about his teammate.

That is until you called the Wednesday before Silverstone and "My Wife." At first, Lando thought that Osar got a girlfriend and she was just that special, then you hung up when the call ran through, and you texted.

Saying, "Love, I know you are busy, but I just wanted to tell you I was able to get someone to cover my shifts at the hospital this weekend. Just letting you know I would be there."

When Lando was done snooping at the text, he saw Oscar's lock screen; it was one of your wedding days, him putting your shoe on.

Lando let the knowledge fester and sat for the night as he tried to work out everything he learned of his teammate, that Oscar, sweet, innocent Osc, had a girlfriend, a wife no less, and didn't tell him.

On media day the next day, Lando and Oscar were standing next to each other, and Lando just blurted out, "You have a wife?"

Oscar froze, not because he was ashamed, but rather because of the abrupt nature of Lando's statement.

"Yeah?" Oscar said, confused at the revelation that Lando seemingly just had.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lando asked.

"You didn't ask, nor did I hide it. I've mentioned her many times," Oscar told the Brit.

"Really?" Lando said, never recalling an instance of when you were mentioned.

Oscar just nodded and started to walk towards the rest of the drivers.

When the two got there, Oscar should've known that Lando wouldn't have let it go.

"Did any of you know that Oscar is married?" Lando asks the drivers they went to, of Max, Charles, Carlos, Logan, Alex, George, and Lewis.

"No."

"No."

"No."

"Yeah."

"No."

"No."

"No."

"Logan knew."

All the answers came at the same time.

"Wait, the American knew and not me?" Lando questioned.

"Yeah, he was there," Oscar said as Logan answered, "Yeah, I was at the wedding."

"Congrats," Lewis said to Oscar as silence fell over the group.

"What?" Lando all but shouted as he registered what was said.

"How long have you been married?" Alex asked, trying not to laugh at the look on Lando's face.

"Since 2019," Oscar answered with a nod.

Everything was again silent as they looked at Lando.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Lando asked, looking at his teammate.

"You didn't ask," Oscar replied as his phone went off. "I have to go. She's at the gate, and I have her pass."

When Oscar came back with you beside him, Lando basically ran to you two.

"Baby with is Lando, Lando, my wife." Oscar introduced.

You gave the Brit a wave and went to Logan after you had seen him behind Lando, going and giving him a hug.

"So...." Lando trailed off, not knowing what to call you.

"Sunny, she's like a literal ray of sunshine," Logan answered.

"Right. What do you do, Sunny?" Lando asked.

"I'm a neurosurgeon and pediatrician with a specialty in cardio," You answer him.

"You ever been to a race?" Max asked, never seen you in the paddock.

"Australia, last year, but I wasn't in the paddock."

Before more could be said, the drivers were called away for media.

Oscar kissed your cheek, "I'll wait in your driver's room."

Oscar nodded and watched as you walked toward the McLaren paddock.

When he turned around, he saw Lando watching him, "She's lovely, I'm not mad anymore that you didn't tell me."

Oscar laughed as the two went to do media.

A/N: A poll, this one tied for second/third

Tags: none

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

We Did It

Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

Hurt/Comfort

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 Masterlist

The paddock buzzed with the usual pre-race energy, fans and media crowding around their favorite drivers. Walking hand-in-hand with Lewis Hamilton, my boyfriend and a Formula 1 legend, I tried to focus on the excitement of the day. Though I was used to the limelight as a (your/age) pop star, the world of F1 was a different beast, and the media frenzy always made me a little anxious.

It had been a whirlwind few months. My Eras Tour had taken me around the globe, performing in sold-out arenas and stadiums. For four months, I had barely seen Lewis, our time together limited to hurried phone calls and stolen moments. The exhaustion from relentless travel and performances weighed heavily on me, but I had managed to carve out two weeks off, just in time for the Silverstone Grand Prix. It was a precious window of time, a chance to reconnect with Lewis and support him at one of the most important races of the season.

We navigated through the crowd, stopping occasionally for photos and autographs. Eventually, we reached the media pen. Lewis was always calm and composed in these moments, but I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as we approached a familiar interviewer known for her biting questions.

"Y/N, can I ask you a few questions?" she began, her tone laced with a sugary sweetness that felt anything but genuine.

"Of course," I replied, forcing a smile.

"First, I want to congratulate you on your tour, The Eras Tour! It’s been impossible to get tickets to!" she exclaimed, her smile not reaching her eyes.

"Thank you," I said, feeling a bit of pride seep through my anxiety. "It's been an incredible journey."

She nodded, then shifted her weight slightly, her eyes gleaming with a different kind of interest. "So, why are you guys dating? You’ve had quite the dating reputation, and you’re only (your/age). Having gone through six boyfriends, it’s probably why we all think Lewis was better off with Nicole, but oh well."

Her words hung in the air, a cruel barb meant to wound. My heart plummeted, and I felt my face flush with a mix of embarrassment and hurt. The cameras were rolling, capturing my every reaction, and I struggled to maintain my composure. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them back, trying to stay strong.

Before I could respond, Lewis’s voice cut through the tension. "That's an incredibly disrespectful question," he said, his tone icy. "Y/N is an amazing person and a phenomenal talent. She doesn't deserve to be compared to anyone, especially not in such a hurtful way."

The interviewer looked taken aback, and I noticed other drivers stepping in, voicing their support for me and their disapproval of the interviewer's conduct. Despite the solidarity, I couldn't shake the humiliation.

Later that evening, back at the hotel, I sat on the edge of the bed, replaying the moment over and over in my mind. My confidence, usually unshakeable, felt shattered. The tour had been a grueling endeavor, and this time off was supposed to be a break, a chance to feel normal and loved.

Lewis sat beside me, taking my hand in his. "Y/N, you mean the world to me. That interviewer was out of line, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. I only have eyes for you, and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

Tears welled up in my eyes. "But what if people agree with her? What if they think I'm not good enough for you?"

Lewis cupped my face gently, his gaze unwavering. "You are more than enough. You're incredible, and anyone who can't see that doesn't matter. I love you, and I want you there with me on Sunday, but only if you feel ready."

Looking into his eyes, I saw the sincerity and love reflected back at me. Slowly, I nodded. "I'll be there."

Race day dawned bright and clear. The stands at Silverstone were filled with roaring fans, the air electric with anticipation. I arrived at the paddock, still feeling a bit nervous but buoyed by Lewis's unwavering support.

As the race began, I watched from the Mercedes garage, my heart racing with every lap. Lewis drove with his usual skill and determination, and as the laps dwindled, he surged ahead, crossing the finish line in first place.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Lewis took the checkered flag. I felt a swell of pride and love, tears streaming down my face. When Lewis climbed out of his car, he immediately sought me out, pulling me into a tight embrace.

"You did it," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion.

"We did it," he corrected, kissing my forehead. "Thank you for being here. It means everything to me."

———————

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[d6volution]

imagine jax eaves dropping over you, his one and only fuck buddy and ragatha, something about you confessing to RAGATHA ?? spoiler alert she was helping you to practice your confession to jax !! he doesn't know about that part since he left silently fuming, now here he is waiting at your room. long story short jealous sex turns fluffy :)

yes yes a thousand times yes.

---------

tags: oral sex, rough oral sex, jealousy, misunderstandings, confessions, smut, and fluff.

minors dni.

more below the cut.

You and Jax had established a .. friends with benefits type of relationship as of late. The next best thing to keep your brain stimulated was well... sex. And boy did it work, Jax knew how to push your buttons, among other things. But... as time passed, your feelings began to change into something much stronger. Lust was becoming .. love? You felt so silly thinking it ... so how the hell were you supposed to say it?

Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to read Jax, so you couldn't even tell if he felt the same way. There was a fifty percent chance he'd deny you. And that was all too high. You'd need help on this endeavor, and you knew just the doll to ask.

A short while later, you arrived at Ragathas door. Lucky enough to have Kinger become a distract for Jax to sneak away. Once she swung the door open, the words erupted from your mouth. "Woah, woah y/n slow down ! Wanna come in?" You caught your breath and nodded, a little embarrassed.

"So, Jax, huh? He's... not my first choice for you, but I will be 100% supportive!" She said with a smile. "Thank you, Rags.. I just know how to confess to him. What if he..laughs you know?"

"Hm.. yeah, I see. He can be a jerk sometimes! heh.. But, I think if you're serious.. he'll listen. Like really listen. I have an idea! Practice on me."

"W.. What? On you? That'd be, too.." Your voice trailed off.

"Come on, y/n it's just me!" She nudged you and caused a smile to lift at the corner of your lips.

"Fine." You rolled your eyes before straightening up your back and looking the doll in the eyes as if to get into character.

"I've.. wanted to talk to you about this for a while now.." You started your 'confession.'

Unbeknownst to you, Jax finally managed to shake off Kinger and was searching for you. He checked your room first , then a few others before ending up in front of Ragatha's. "I finally get rid of that nutcase and you ditch me. Givin' me a taste of my own medicine, huh?" He spoke outloud just before he rose his fist to knock on Ragatha's door.

Before his knuckles could make contacr with the wood, he heard your voice and leaned in. That permanent smile was growing on his lips. He was evesdropping, of course, because why wouldn't he?

Unfortunately, this was the first time he regretted doing so, he heard you.. confessing!? He quickly pressed his head a bit harder to the wood. Making out the words carefully.

'I love you. I.. wanted to tell you for the longest time but I didn't think you saw me in that way.'

Love? Her? Since when?

Jax felt clenched his fist , absolutely seething. Sure, you were only friends with benefits, but maybe you should have disclosed our feelings for the rag doll before allowing him to rearrange your guts.

He stomped off to your room like that of an upset child and waited , sitting your bed and staring at the door.

Meanwhile, you were giving Ragatha a goodbye hug, squeezing the doll. "Thank you, that helped a lot. I'll .. let you know how it goes." You parted ways and headed to your room, knowing Jax would either be there or eventually show up sometime tonight. You were in a chipper mood, full of confidence as you swung the door open to your dimly lit room.

Immediately, you felt the wave of anger hit you. It was thick in the air. And Jax was sitting there, his eyes on the ground and his smile not there. "Jax..?" Your voice was small, you couldn't muster up anything more than that.

"So, you and Ragatha, huh?" He almost spat. "Y'know I knew you were a slut but, .. you really had me fooled."

"What? Jax? I can explain— it's not what you think." You said and nervously scoffed towards the end of your sentence.

He took this as you laughing at him, "C'mere, doll." His voice was flat, not playful and teasing like it usually was. Your body didn't want to move.

"Now."

You shuffled over, a familiar heat growing in between your legs. You knew this was a misunderstanding and knew you could clear it up if he let you speak.. but he was also really fucking hot right now.

"Jax just listen to me please." You begged.

"On your knees toots, ya know. I was here first, befofe her. If she's gonna have you, its not gonna be til im done with you first." He said, pointed at the ground, and you instinctively fell to your knees. "That alright with you doll?' He was still checking in, making sure he wasn't really doing something you didn't want but you nodded eagerly.

"Like I thought, a slut." He scoffed and gripped the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he pulled his semi hard cock from his pants. "Be a good girl and suck me off, I want you to go back to Ragatha with the taste of me on your lips." His words morphed into a whisper towards the end, and a breathy chuckle escaped his lips. Your stomach was in knots.

He yanked you forward again, and you whimpered, lips brushing against his tip. Your mouth opened and accepted him inside with ease. He moaned, "Mn.. yeaah.. ya think you have the luxury of takin your time? Nah." He slammed your head forward and you scrambled in between his legs , gagging on his cock as he used your throat like a flesh light.

"J.. Just like that, take it .. gonna shake that little brain up til you forget about her.." He groaned, and your eyes fluttered shut. Trying hard to keep up with his thrusts, but they were too sporadic. To harsh, yet your cunt throbbed the entire time.

He was quick to spurt ropes of cum into your mouth, pulling back— his cock slipping out of your mouth with a lewd pop. "Nh.. hhaa.. " You tried to catch your breath. "Now, what were you tryna say earlier doll?" He leaned back on his elbows, also trying to catch his breath.

"I was .. practicing my confession to.. ragatha.. it was just practice..f-for you.. Jax.."

His ears seemed to get straighter, pointing directly up upon hearing that. He immediately slid off the bed and kneeled next to you. Gathering your face in his hands and wiping your damn hair from your face, "Me? You.. were plannin' on confessing to me..? If this is some kinda joke y/n—"

You cut him off and planted your lips onto his cheek. Peppering his face in kisses. "It's.. not a joke. I love you, Jax." You were flushed, your body still so turned on yet filled with emotion as well.

"So , you wanted me to face[censor!!] you huh? Ya could've told me to stop ya airhead." He teased and stared at you with a softer grin.

"I didn't want you to, you getting all jealous was actually pretty hot."

"Was it now? C'mon toots, on the bed.. I got some makin' up to do." He said and helped you onto the soft mattress, "Oh and.. I love you too. Took ya long enough."

[dreamisols]

｡⋆.luxiem + the things they do for love

—headcanons for how the boys show their love for you in their own little ways —fluff, gn! reader, i dumped this all in one night, update i finally proofread it!, the boys are their personas in the fic, i'm not including a certain someone out of respect :(, please remember that fiction is not equal to reality, always respect the livers! —mimi's ramble: i've always wanted to write for niji (T v T) i'll write for other fandoms too soon!

shu yamino

... entertains you with little light shows

if the people from shu's past life saw him now, he's sure that they would've had a whiplash

the sorcerer admits that he's handled his fair share of deadly curses, especially back in his prime. the delicate fingers brushing through your hair as you lay peacefully on his lap were the same fingers that conjured nightmarish realities towards those who truly deserved his wrath

does he still know all of these curses now? obviously.

can he still cast them as proficiently as before? absolutely.

shu simply chooses not to, so really, he wouldn't blame the people for whatever presumptions and thoughts they would've had about him. he's a man with a notable reputation—though good-natured, still fearful in his own right

his mind drifts along with daydreams as he continues combing through your hair, amused while imagining the terror on their faces upon seeing you so casually sprawled on his lap. no care whatsoever of the fact you're dating a sorcerer, because you trust that you can be vulnerable around your beloved shu

it was a nice change of pace. you're a nice change of pace.

your soft whine breaks shu from his daydream and he can't help but chuckle at the sound. it sounds irritated, but still playful and light. his eyes meet yours when you blink up and speak in a confused daze, "why'd you stop?"

in response, he sends you his signature cheeky grin, "you're gonna grow spoiled if i continue," he jokes, booping your nose "i also wanna show you something."

mumbling a few things under his breath, shu's hands gracefully draw shapes in the air. immediately, a humble array of beautiful sparkling lights and mythical looking creatures dance around the both of you. your mouth gapes in awe, looking at the fantastical sky

"it's a little thing i learned," the sorcerer perks up, adjusting from where he's seated so your back's leaning on his chest. a perfect view to gauge your response. "it's one of the few spells i know that doesn't hurt others. is it nice?"

you nod, still not looking away from the view, "nice? shu, this is breathtaking. i love it"

he leaves a small kiss on your temple, and you feel the smile on his lips as he murmurs a quiet thank you

shu hopes you never find out that he's spent a good chunk of his time learning that spell for you because he knew it would make you smile. and he definitely hopes you never find out that he's willing to do this over and over if it meant you two could always be like this. (that's a lie, he really wants you to know)

ike eveland

... immortalizes you in his work

to say your lover is currently inspired is an understatement

you were convinced that all nine muses had suddenly bestowed gift after gift to him, because you've never seen ike create works at such a speedy rate. he reminds you of a cat overwhelmed with the amount of treats and toys around him, because he keeps on alternating between one thing and the other

though you support your lover's endeavors and encourage him to work to his heart's content, you couldn't help the concern that washes over you when you register the amount of work he has on his plate

now you stand before his room with a mission in mind: make him take a break

maybe also grabbing an opportunity to take a little peek at the content of his works....

you march up with a tray of snacks and a drink in hand, "ike," you call out softly as you shut the door behind you, "i've got some snacks for you"

the novelist perks up at the sound of your voice and immediately turns to face you with a smile

"hello darling," he greets you softly, melodiously, while making quick steps towards you. ike kisses you as gently as he speaks to you, before he flashes an appreciative smile at the sight of your little gift "you really shouldn't have, thank you"

"you need to take a break too, you know" you're quick to comment as you trail after him while he carries the food to his desk. the novelist just hums and nods, and you get the lingering sense that what you said entered one ear and went out the other

you don't even hide the sigh upon noting all the papers scattered around his desk, "i'm serious, ike.." judging by the unfinished thoughts and abruptly cut paragraphs, it seemed like they were all unfinished drafts. "what's gotten you so worked up anyways?"

"you."

it's like he's stating an obvious fact. he replies so quickly and so casually, so unlike the deep thinker you're used to.

you stare at him shocked, while he reaches out to grab some of the said sheets of paper

"i was initially just going to write a cute romantic letter for you, but in the process of writing it, i realized i could somewhat incorporate everything that i feel for you into my actual working project. so i paused in writing the letter and went to writing my draft."

he grabs another few pages from a different pile, and dramatically continues, "but then the more i was thinking of how i felt for you, the more i thought about you in general. you and your pretty self, you'll be the death of me."

"then i realized that if i suddenly started writing about you in that draft, it wouldn't make sense, so i made a new draft just for that."

ike sighs, looking at you with a small pout, "now you can see how it became a cycle from there. really, if anything, you're..." he stops mid-thought, looking straight into your bewildered eyes. you're sure you look like a flustered mess, but you catch the way his eyes carefully map your entire face in adoration as his hand blindly reaches for his notepad

"hang on, i need to hold that thought. i'm getting an idea for yet another work."

luca kaneshiro

... has a whole folder in his notes app dedicated to you

the life of a mafia boss is no joke, you could practically imagine how hectic the day-to-day workload must be

despite your knowledge about luca's line of work, your sweet lover refuses to ever expose you to such ministries underground. he'd indulge you with scraps of information, sure; and the people under him all recognize (and adore) you, yes. but that's just as far as you're gonna get! he doesn't want to risk your safety, and you're beyond grateful for that

but imagination does wonders in filling up for whatever information you're lacking, and you pride yourself with how much your brain's able to conjure on what luca could possibly be doing (though you believe you need to tone down with the gruesome details)

one thing's for certain, there is a lot of things going on in the underworld. a lot of stressful things that leaves even your beloved sunshine of a boyfriend frustrated

his preferred method of blowing off steam? ranting to you

you really don't mind whenever he does since he'd always ask whether you're fine with him talking about it or not, and even with your consent, he really tries to keep everything to a minimum for you. still, that doesn't stop you from empathizing with the struggles and frustrations that come along with his line of work

"i'm really gonna make it up to you, okay?" luca mumbles into the crook of your shoulder, his arms securely wrapped around your frame. you just hummed and kissed his cheek, hugging him back

you regret not taking his words much more seriously

"mister luca kaneshiro, what on earth is this?"

you desperately wish the content of this clipboard was all a joke, or probably something you misread. but judging from the way he giggles like an excited child (which fits the charming grin on his face), you don't think there was a mistake at all

"i said i'm gonna make it up to you! remember?" he chirped before kissing all around your face "we're gonna start with this!"

you blink dumbly at him, "luca... this is a whole week's worth of high class things"

his grin falters and he looks at you with a quizzical stare "wait, does that mean i forgot to print out next week's cruise trip there?"

sometimes you want to take his brain and study it under a microscope.

for a good chunk of time, you scolded luca with how careless and hasty he is with spending, especially when it comes to spoiling you. he retaliates with whines of his own as he childishly pouts and points at the agenda he made for the both of you

"but you said you've always wanted to visit this pop-up cafe since the collab featured is one of your favorite shows! and since you wanna go, then i wanna go too! it even has your preferred drink on the menu, see?"

at some point you tuned out his nonstop rambling, especially when the contents on the clipboard caught your attention. you're quick to realize the entire week's plans are fit exactly to your tastes. all the places and activities are more or less suited to your preferences, and you couldn't help but inwardly applaud luca's attention to detail (he even placed the preferred time according to convenience and comfort)

you don't realize that luca's stopped his persuading rambles when he caught you studying the paper. immediately, a proud grin etches on his face at your astounded look and he puffs his chest in pride,

"i take note of aaalll the things you like and tell me about, y'know? what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn't know whether- i dunno- my lover would prefer their coffee iced or hot? or, trick question: if they even like coffee at all?"

upon seeing your poorly-concealed smile, he beams a smile of his own and kisses the corner of your lips, "just allow me to spoil you and show you my love, yeah?"

vox akuma

... makes a promise ring

"red really does suit you, darling"

vox chuckles when he sees you visibly shiver from the sheer intimacy of his actions. he can't blame you though, not when he's looking at you so affectionately as he gently plays with your hand

one by one, he leaves trails of kisses on your fingers. his lips trailing and mapping each and every area as if he was worshiping you. it feels light and dreamy, the way he's showering you in affection, you really can't help the way your heart swells

the demon is truly a man of his word, an ironic statement you've come to realize given how long you've been dating him. where in stories demons are usually depicted as deceitful beings, the one standing before you is nothing but sincere

he had always been someone who emphasizes the importance of promises, and with his background, you've come to understand why

it's in his principle that promises are meant to be taken seriously. they require mutual trust and a deeper sense of connection between the individuals after all. for instance, when you broke down and told vox all your troubles one time, he wrapped you in his wine colored coat and held you to his chest. you can hear the silent oath he made to always be there for you like you were there for him

but some promises between you two are more silly. like the time he accidentally ate the remaining dessert in the fridge despite you clearly stating over and over again how it was yours. the poor man had to endure your glares and pouts through fits of amused laughter. he finally gave in when he realized you'd playfully dodge his kisses, and made a lighthearted promise to not touch whatever food you said is yours and even compensate by cooking for you that night (the food was divine)

other times, it would sometimes come in the form of affection. simple and direct to the point, but as effective as ever. if he ever had to run late due to some errands or because he's meeting up with his friends, he'll always let you know prior with a gentle kiss on your forehead. a silent way of saying that the moment he's done, he's rushing home to nobody but you

vox really is a man of his word

the ring fitting snuggly around your finger is yet another form of his vows

the red jewel glimmers and winks at you, a lustrous ruby shade strikingly similar to the shade of red your beloved voice demon loves to parade around in.. and the fact that the both of you are wearing similar rings is surely bound to have heads turning to your direction.

you're snapped out of your trance when you feel vox playing with the cool metal wrapped snuggly on your finger. instead of a smug smirk or a devilish grin, his lips are formed into the smallest of smiles. a soft and content smile. he looks at the ring like it's the one thing that genuinely makes him happy, and you understand why

vox gave you a ring not because he wants to own you, but because he trusts you'll never break his greatest oath

"promise you'll take care of it?" he asks, guiding your hand to rest where his heart is—his greatest and most vulnerable vow

"i promise"

likes and reblogs are appreciated, but please don’t copy or repost my work! [edited and proofread: 110623]

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Vil Schoenheit - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: Today, I take on the role as a supporter of this museum. I'll make sure to promote well the beauty and wonder of these works of art.

Summon Line: Taking in all of these beautiful things will allow me to develop my own beauty further. I'll be taking my time to appreciate as much as I can today.

Groooovy!!: I refuse to accept a happy ending brought about by someone else. I will fulfill my dreams by my own hand.

Home: Time to celebrate the 100th anniversary.

Home Idle 1: The brilliant luster of the fabric and small accessories nicely accentuates this seemingly simple monochrome attire. Not bad at all.

Home Idle 2: There is a thin line between poisons and potions. The Fairest Queen must have delved into her research to further her understanding of their differences. She truly is someone worth our respect.

Home Idle 3: Ortho says he'd like to hold a conversation with the Lord of the Underworld. Seems as though he would like to utilize his sense of humor as a base for his acting.

Home Idle - Login: You'd like me to speak on the painting of the Fairest Queen? I suppose I could, as long as you stay attentive. If you dare to yawn during my exposition... Heh, you should prepare for the consequences.

Home Idle - Groovy: Beauty cannot be achieved in a single day, and the same could be said for a physically pristine body. Jack and I are very similar in how we will constantly endeavor towards our goals without fail.

Home Tap 1: Trey saw a painting of the Queen of Hearts smiling and commented that she had lovely teeth. Only he would focus on that...

Home Tap 2: The exhibits each give a different emotional impact based on the brightness of the lights and the way the works are illuminated. I can tell this museum has put much thought into its lighting.

Home Tap 3: I'd like to improve my drawing skills. Simply because I would like to make my own proposals if I ever have the opportunity to work with one of my favorite brands.

Home Tap 4: When I approached Malleus, he elucidated on the painting of the Thorn Fairy. He spoke of tales uniquely passed down among faes, so it was quite the learning experience.

Home Tap 5:  There are so many wonderful exhibits here, and yet here you are just staring at me. I fully understand why you would, but try to focus on the paintings.

Home Tap - Groovy: You seem to be in high spirits. Were you that elated to listen to my explanations of the artwork? Yes, of course you were.

Duo: [VIL]: We'll silence them all, Jack! [JACK]: Absolutely, Vil-senpai!

Birthday Login Message: [Yuu pops party popper] Thank you for the birthday surprise. That was a rather elaborate one, too. I especially enjoyed how you tripped over your lines, despite the fact that you were lying in wait to ambush me for quite some time. That wasn't on purpose? Obviously. If that was an act, it would be something worth scouting.

Requested by Anonymous.

[nenekaru]

pure-hearted (suo x gn!reader)

wc: 617

an: honestly, i just needed to get out a quick word vomit of suo. there really isn't much going on in here. i just needed a quick destress lol 🤭

Was Suo Hayato kind?

He wasn't sure.

Kindness manifested in many ways; the definition of kindness was each to their own. To be kind would be doing things that were “morally good”, saying kind words to soothe a soul, and offering comfort and guidance to those who needed it. These were merely some examples on how to be kind.

Then, by that definition, Suo Hayato was kind. He always supported his Class 1-1 in their endeavors. He lended an ear to those who needed it, assisted Sakura in his duties as a captain, and trained Nirei to fight.

Here's another question: Was Suo Hayato pure-hearted?

Ah, he can confidently answer this one. The answer was no. He really didn't have a pure heart.

For Suo, to have a pure heart is to have an untainted soul. Then, to have an untainted soul was to hold no ulterior motives.

Quite frankly, he already failed that.

Anyone can act kind, but not everyone can be pure-hearted. Even an act of kindness, as virtuous as it was, can hold malicious intent or ulterior motives. That was the truth of the world he lived in— everyone used each other for their own gains under the guise of morality.

He was no exception to that.

There were a few times he acted out of kindness to get what he wanted. It was ridiculously simple, really. Flash a sweet smile, reach out a hand, offer assistance, ensure they owe you for your assistance, then reap the rewards later on.

Was it kindness? Yes. Was it morally correct? Debatable.

But that was just how he was. That was just how he lived.

Granted, Suo wasn't always like this. There were many times he was kind out of the goodness of his heart. Please don't mistake him for a villainous, manipulative snake, because he wasn't. At least, he'd like to think he wasn't.

Anyway, what was the point of this entire little monologue?

You. It was you.

Let him elaborate a little more, will you?

To be specific, he knew he wasn't the most pure-hearted, and his kindness was sometimes tainted by ulterior motives, but— he wanted to try being pure-hearted for you. He wanted to devote himself wholly and fully to you.

For you, he wished to hold no ulterior motives, he just simply wanted to love you.

“Let me hold that for you,” he would say with a kind smile as he outstretched his hand.

“Stay still. Let me fix your hair,” he would say as his nimble fingers threaded through the strands of your hair, brushing it back in place.

“I'll treat you today. Help yourself,” he would say as he helped you settle down in your seat at the restaurant you like.

These little acts of service were his way of showing how much he loved you. It was fine if you didn't pick up on his subtle hints of his feelings. What mattered more was the fact that he could see you smile brightly.

That smile of yours was enough.

“Hayato,” you called out his name, “thanks for treating me kindly. I always appreciate it. You don't really have to do all of these things but—”

“I know I don't have to,” he smoothly interjected. “But I want to. I want to treat you well.”

And he meant every word.

Suo Hayato was by no means perfect. He wasn't pure-hearted. He hoped that he did a good job at making you happy, that is.

If it meant seeing this smile again and again, then Suo will continue being kind and pure-hearted just for you.

But at this moment, seeing your soft smile, Suo's heart swelled with warmth, joy, and love.

[myhedcanonicfables]

N x gn!reader who is apathetic, but learns to warm up to him !! it can be like a oneshot or hcs idm anything! ^^ stay safe and drink water <3

-📱

thank you! ;))

N x gn! reader who is apathetic, but learns to warm up to him

At first, N sure that you, like everyone else, are just not too interested in hanging out together.

And he will communicate only when he needs to, with a somewhat awkward style and constrained, ridiculous movements.

When he understands that this is just a part of you that has nothing against him, but on the contrary; he will try to understand you. He's really interested in spending time with you, and if you give him a guarantee that you don't treat him badly, then your relationship will certainly become more open to each other.

Of course, often N has a feeling of abandonment, thoughts are laid that part of your apathy towards him is justified and is true. But he tries his best to believe you and he does it well (although, of course, there were some sad moments in this regard).

You learn, and skills never come quickly. N is trying his best to support you in this matter, as he does in all your other positive endeavors.

And a new experience in your relationship with the unaccustomed can really embrace and surprise him. However, he does not love your attitude towards him, but you. Even if he is pleased to receive more, more emotional attention from you, he does not require too much effort from you.

When you come to him in a slightly sadder mood, or you need any other comforting, he will definitely do everything possible to fix it. "Hey, if you need something, I'll really try to help and not spoil anything, you can rely on me!".

He may become more self-critical during your unemotional periods, he will try to please you more and try not to do unnecessary actions. For example, if you hugged him always as you want, then he still won't touch you without his shy question.

[etheries1015]

Hi, I hope you're well and I'm sorry to randomly pop in but I finished reading this and I just have to let my sad brain that's obsessed with Lilia go off.

You had Vil and Rook help give Mc a makeover right? What if they found out Mc got stood up. Me personally (I'm biased), I feel like they'd become subtly more protective. Not intrusive, not controlling, but they'd keep a more watchful eye on Mc because they don't want to see them get hurt again.

Okay, okay, but then my brain needs an extra layer added in with angst, so Lilia notices this change in behavior from the Pomefiore beans. At first he's glad Mc has people looking out for them, glad they have a support system. But Rook figures out it was Lilia who stood Mc up and tells Vil. The two start trying to find reasons why Mc shouldn't be around Lilia without telling them that's what they're trying to do directly, just "Oh Lilia’s in there, hey let's go hang out in the courtyard instead!" Subtle diversions.

Lilia starts becoming more aware of their behavior. He tries to convince himself that it isn't a big deal and things were awkward there anyway, maybe distance was the best for him and Mc. However, Silver starts noticing Lilia is more focused on Mc, and starts voicing that he misses their company. Silver has a general understanding of what happened that rainy day, as his father let a bit of it off his chest "Oh, Don't worry, there was just an unfortunate misunderstanding that needed to be cleared up!" Silver isn't taking any shit, he confronts his dad. When Lilia explains that he's too old for romance, much less romance with a human, Silver scolds him about how he never raised him to be that way. Why did Lilia believe so differently than he tended to in this singular instance? What did race have to do with the situation? "If Mc is undeserving of a chance with you, why did you take me in and give me a chance to be in your life?"

Kinda went on a tangent...if none of that made sense I apologize, I'm very sleep-deprived and angsty rn lmao. Anyway, take care of yourself and have a good day 😊

I absolutely love this take!!! I'll give you a little more detail below, however, you outlined it very well.

Part 2 of Lilia X reader Rejection

Time had passed agonizingly slow at ramshackle dorm. Not only had you contracted a cold during your outside endeavors of rain and heartbreak from Lilias rejection, you also couldn't bring yourself to face any other students in the state of misery you were in. This, of course, had not gone unnoticed by a few. Ace and Deuce were naturally worried for you, however Rook and Vil were also left out of the loop with what happened that day raising their worries and causing them to come to you about it.

Coming by ramshackle and seeing you in such a state of misery was truly heartbreaking for the two. You opened the door with puffy eyes and a running nose, hunched over with a blanket covering the majority of your body. Immediately Vil sprung into action, pulling the blanket off of you and preparing a bath while Rook had made soup and medicine for you. Whilst chastising you for your sudden disappearance and sickly state, you had finally broken down and had given them the rundown of all that night's events. You needed support, and luckily the two were more than happy to give it to you. After learning it had been Lilia who stood you up and then humiliate you in front of the gates of the school, by the time you had indeed returned to the school, you noticed the way Vil and Rook would try and steer you away from any places that Lilia could be. They couldn't hide this very well, I mean, you knew all of Lilias's classes and the places he often visited in the school. Who wouldn't be able to notice the way your close friends had tried to distract you from this?

They noticed how standoffish you now were, how your look off in the distance was so distracted, so empty. They were, however, not the only ones to see this change in you. Lilia would steal glances from you from across the room and the halls, and simply thinking to himself you would soon forget your silly feelings and move forward with your smile per usual. He was grateful for Vil and Rook being by your side and figured this would be for the best. Being away from Lilia for the time being while you sorted out your emotions was going to be much better for you, and perhaps you'd be able to find yourself around Lilia like you used to. The time when you stayed up late with him playing video games, how you called him at the most random of times to tell him of your day, the way you would always be surrounded by so much fun. He was excited to get back to that, to the day you forgot your romantic feelings for the fae, and he could enjoy your company once more.

however...those days did not come as he had hoped.

It can be hard to imagine Lilia regretting something he believed so strongly on initially, however, he can't stop the stinging of pain that plagued his heart after seeing you in such disarray. The way you sat in the rain alone the way the rain blended in with your tears and the way your eyes were red...from him. He caused that pain. The bitterness he had felt from your confrontation hadn't gone unnoticed, those around him had begun to realize there was a shift ever so slightly around him. The air had become thicker and his smiles seemed to be far more forced, much like this instance with his son.

"Father," Silver approached the fae, "I haven't seen (y/n) around per usual. Has something happened between the two of you?" He inquired. Silver had rather missed your company, your cooking and the kindness you had shown him. He found you almost like another parental figure, Silver was incredibly fond of you and since the moment you had confided in your feelings for Lilia he was cheering you on from the sidelines in your advances to his father. When you had vanished without as much as a letter, Silver had become anxious and decided it be best to follow up with Lilia. The red eyed fae couldn't bring himself to meet the gaze of his child , avoiding it by staring at the computer screen had had been playing games on with a forced smile painted upon his lips.

"Don't worry, Silver. (Y/n) and I had a simple misunderstanding, and they are simply processing their emotions right now. Sometimes distance is the best cure for such fallouts," he said. The room became silent for a moment that felt like an eternity, before Silver took in a deep sigh and confronted his thoughts to Lilia.

"You rejected them?" He said quietly, Lilias head perking up in slight alarm at the sudden question. The turned on his chair to face the taller human, gaze far more serious than before.

"I see you knew about the prefects growing affections for me?" Lilia asked, attempting to keep his tone at a calm and collected manor. Silver flinched at the look his father was giving him, yet cringing ever so slightly at the idea of confronting his guardian in such a way. He nodded gently and fiddled with his fingers nervously.

"...why?" Silver asked, his gaze seemingly afraid to look into his fathers eyes. He knew he had kept this from him and indeed felt a little bit guilty, however what was he to do? He was certain Lilia returned the feelings, why the sudden change of behavior?

"They're a human, and I'm an aging fae. It simply was not meant to be," Lilia tried to quickly wave off his explanation to his son in hopes the subject would be dropped, yet the words he had used stung silvers heart. With his eyebrows furrowing and the increasingly frustrated feeling bursting in his chest, Silver began to question the fae far more sternly than before.

"What do you mean?" He asked, "So what if (y/n) is a human? They obviously are very important to you. Weren't you the one to tell me that fae and humans should live together in peace despite those differences?" Silver sounded almost desperate, hoping for some sort of explanation from the contrarian that sat before him. Lilia let out a deep sigh, he could tell that his patience for this conversation was running thin.

"Silver. This is...different. Perhaps you don't fully understand seeing as you're human as well, but we live...a very long time. I am a very old age, and I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to properly handle a romantic relationship, much less with a human who has time to find someone who will grow with them instead of focusing their time on a...dying fae," Lilia hesitated the final words, quickly attempting to dismiss this with a wave of his hand as he turned away from his son, however the silver-haired boy scowled with astonishment at this with a hint of sadness in his shaking voice.

"Yet you took me in as your own, father," Silver pointed out. Before Lilia could respond to his, he continued.

"I thought you raised me to see our races as equals. You gave me the chance to grow as your son, yet you won't give (y/n) the chance to grow as your lover? They care about you very much, that is plain to see as day. I think...those feelings are far more important than the way you see age. You can't throw aside how they feel because they should find another "human" to share their lives with, we both know that is not what (y/n) wants. I'm very sad you are talking like this, Father. I'm disappointed in you, I thought you were wiser than that." Leaving Lilia stunned and wide-eyed, Silver walked out of the room. Lilia let out a shaky sigh as he shook his head and scoffed at the ridiculous situation, his head burying into his hands. A moment of silence rang before his eyes closed and head lay upon his desk, muttering beneath his breath;

"I miss them..."

--

Check out my masterlist!

[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

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

So so sorry that I continue to beat a dead horse-I was just really curious if Katsuki's continued softening toward Izuku, +say a setting in which they're dramatically recounting their story for a formal documentary, would make it fitting for K to use more BJ-like/polite language. Seems the answer is a resounding no! And with 430 suggesting it's AM's hands in 377, how appropriate would it be for AM to say these lines? eg. use kare for Izk (less a Q abt the joke narration, more abt AM&Izk's rlshp)

Dead horse or not, I appreciate you clarifying what you were trying to ask about. I stand by my statement concerning Katsuki's language and characterization, but since you opened the door to a few different topics, I'll go ahead and explain some things.

In Japanese, formal speech and polite speech are technically different things. They overlap significantly, but one can in fact use formal speech without politeness and politeness without formality.

Take a gander at this little comparison.

From Wikipedia

I conflated the two a little in the way I talked about Katsuki because he uses neither while the 348 narration uses both: plain formal structure (de aru) combined with word choices that do not denote casualness or intimacy and thus read as polite (kare rather than aitsu).

However, this distinction is worth making because Best Jeanist generally does not speak politely, he speaks in flowery language with occasional formality.

The floweriness and formality are key parts of his characterization; he is a fanciful, image-conscious dude. He is classy and chic.

Interestingly, both Best Jeanist and All Might exclusively use watashi as their first-person pronoun, which can sometimes be notable for adult men. In situations that demand politeness (speaking to your superior at work, your teacher, etc.), watashi is standard and unremarkable. In social situations among peers or when they themselves are the boss at work speaking to their employees, many men will switch to ore to casually assert their masculinity.

All Might's use of watashi is actually a bit surprising—it contrasts with Endeavor, who uses the more expected ore. This is one of my favorite details about All Might and, to me, he comes across as a lot more approachable, humble, and gentle than you would expect because of it. I see it as an expression of that deep conviction he holds to be the Symbol of Peace. He views himself as a servant to the people; the need to assert his masculinity is not even on his radar.

Best Jeanist's watashi reads similarly, but he also reflects a very specific flavor of Japanese masculinity that is rooted in delicacy, self-control, intellectualism, virtue, etc.. English-speakers pretty regularly mistake this kind of masculinity for femininity, and it tends to make a mess of discussions about gender in Japanese media. As I said in my post about Monoma's speech patterns, gender and social class are huge factors in how the issue of formal vs. casual language is perceived.

Onto your question about All Might and Izuku: All Might uses plain (informal) Japanese and the second-person pronoun kimi for Izuku, both of which are normal and expected of him as the social superior in their dynamic. He has indeed used the third-person kare for Izuku.

In his position, All Might has the "right to be rude" to Izuku, so he could easily use casual words like aitsu instead, but I think he chooses more neutral words to avoid coming across as overly harsh or derogatory.

All Might makes considerations to sound gentle and supportive of his young pupils. For his part, Izuku is a respectful young man who idolizes All Might. He consistently and without exception uses polite Japanese towards All Might.

Izuku's politeness makes moments like these really fucking funny.

Chapter 62

"I'M SO SORRY, ALL MIGHT!!" Izuku screams in polite Japanese while unleashing a massive explosion unto him.

Chapter 65

"PLEASE STEP ASIDE, ALL MIGHT," Izuku utters determinedly in polite Japanese before punching the ever-loving shit out of All Might.

I know you're not necessarily asking about 348's narrator anymore, but just for the sake of argument, I can't say for certain that All Might has never used plain formal Japanese, but I also can't think of a time I've seen it.

But admittedly, the appeal of All Might as the narrator is the same as why I thought Best Jeanist would be delightful, except it's maybe even funnier because All Might has lightly scolded Katsuki for insulting Izuku before:

Chapter 217. Katsuki calls Izuku gomi (trash) and All Might tells him not to say that.

Hilarious to imagine All Might epically recounting the tale of the final battle only to suddenly swerve, forced to concede that, yeah, okay, Young Bakugou was right: that boy is a damn nerd.

But are you really one to talk, All Might?

Anyway, I think the social dynamics of Japanese can be hard for English-speakers to understand sometimes. Compared to Japanese, English grammar doesn't have such distinctly defined systems of formality, which leaves word choice as the main distinguishing feature people tend to notice.

But these things don't exist in a vacuum, so it is important (and fun!) to step back and consider the many layers to how people express themselves. :D

[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.

[rilakeila]

heartbeats in motion, mattheo riddle

pairing f1 driver! mattheo riddle x art student!fem(?)! reader wc: 1.8k warnings: ig partying, drinking, mentions of mattheo being toxic; incomplete

summary: part 1 of the timeline of where f1 ferrari driver dates the wealthy art student. the ups and downs of dating the superstar of the ferrari team. who knows if it actually goes well.

request yes literally three requests into one

tmz sports

may 13th, 2023

mattheo riddle, f1 ferrari superstar, is officially back on the market. he has announced his split from evelyn swann after 4 years of dating. he went onto instagram (via mattheoriddle) to say, "good morning everyone. evelyn and i have decided to part ways and stay close friends. we have shared many many amazing memories together, and she will always carry a piece of my heart with her. she deserves the very best, and i was not able to do so due to my racing career.

amidst of this, i will continue to focus on my racing career and hope to be better.

thank you, evelyn for everything."

swann (via @lynnieswann) also released a statement on her instagram: "mattheo and i decided to end our relationship and continue to stay good friends. these last four years were filled with unforgettable memories. i will continue to support his endeavors from afar. he was an amazing person. thank you for everything <3"

close insiders have said despite the good endnotes shown on their instagram stories that the relationship was far far from perfect. it was said that riddle would continuously string swann along, leaving her for long periods of time without any words said before coming back to her with extravagant gifts. it is evident through past instagram stories of swann that riddle loves to shower her with expensive gifts and nights out.

more insider comments have said that riddle's feelings for swann seemed to fizzle out around their 3rd year of dating, but he stayed due to swann's significant investment within the team from her family's technology company. though, there has not been any evidence of this.

mattheo riddle is a formula one driver for scuderia ferrari. evelyn swann is a fashion model/influencer, as well as the daughter of the multimillionaire technology company, swanntech, founders, liam and kate swann.

scrolling through the endless articles about high-class breakups, celebrity gossip, and the occasional helpful news, the objective of finishing your art piece was lost. attempting to start as soon as possible, but the energy and creativity did not want to translate on the canvas. though, the silence was interrupted with a thud of the front door closing.

"i was gone for a couple of hours and not even a sketch is on your canvas," your roommate and best friend, emilia scotts, chuckled as she hung up her coat.

"easier for you to say, the random pull of the prompt, 'fast life,' seems so hard. like, where do i even start?" you huffed, tossing your phone to the side.

she shrugged before plopping herself next to you on the couch, "you've been going at this for like the past two days. i'm pretty sure the prompt doesn't even matter, the rubric just wanted you to capture a moment in oil paint."

"the problem is i can't think of anything," you pursed your lips, dropping your head into her shoulder.

"what about this? i'll help you with your project next week if you come with me in monaco. an hour flight away in my private jet," the idea of leaving your art project behind at current was all it took for her to convince you.

emilia was a monegasque socialite. her high class of being the daughter of the chief financial officer of a multimillionaire technology company led to being an eligible resident of country. though, her parents had sent her off to boarding school, lenox academy, which led you both to meeting. not as prestige as being an offspring of a chief financial officer of a global technology company, but your parents stayed afloat through their success in health care management.

despite a long term friendship, you had not a clue of emilia's friends and acquaintances in monaco. assuming that the experience would be similar to what you see in her stories of the parties in monaco: calm, refined, and classy, you would be able to bask in relaxation, but it is the exact opposite.

the party of an unnamed host in a penthouse. the first ten minutes upon entering the event was emilia hauling you around the floor, introducing you to her acquaintances. some were familiar from your family, some were only familiar due to how much emilia loves to gossip with the amount of receipts on her phone. though, the more you looked around, the more faces you recognized from being headlined on news article from actors, musicians, athletes.

"she has a way with talking to people, that's for sure," lisette commented. according to emilia, she was a friend of the person hosting, but the amount of names that she had mentioned fell through your ears.

"it's a double edged sword of her friendliness, one day she'll be buddy-buddy with them but gets the career-ending dirt on them. i don't know how she does it," you sipped on the alcohol, slightly gagging at the potentness of it. a reminder to not get that the blue bottle.

"tell me about it..." lisette chuckled before nodding her head to some other random people that entered the party. she chugged her cup empty before tossing it into the trash, " i see some people that i need to say hi to. i'll be back hopefully, you gonna be alright?"

"don't worry about it. there are some people here that i know that'll let me hang around if i just walk up to them," you waved her off.

there were truth in your words, but they were not in your line of sight anymore from where you were standing. emilia was absolutely no where to be found. tossing away the half-filled cup, the penthouse looked large enough to explore around. the paintings and art near the entrance seemed to be more interesting than the thumping bass of mediocre music.

your shoulders dropped, letting out a tired sigh. never doing this again. exploring the hallway of small sculptures and large paintings drowned the tones and lightened the slightly dim lights. fast life. you pulled your phone out, snapping pictures of the art pieces and its details. though even from a distance, you captured a couple of pictures of the party, figured it might be useful.

murmurs were heard as you leaned closely to the painting, figuring out the brush strokes and the fine details. though, a call of your name was heard. looking to the direction, you found your lost friend handing a phone back to a man, allowing you to smile in relief of your savior.

"emilia, guess what. i think i have a gist of what i could do for my art project," you called out to her. though, you accidentally brushed into the male that she was just talking to, in which you paid not much mind to, muttering out a small apology in french.

"really, that sounds great. since we're here, i got us passes to the monaco f1 race. i know someone in one of the teams that can help with the photography aspect. i think that could help with your project, y'know fast life."

"actually? sounds great, to be honest."

"do you know this girl?"

mattheo was skimming through the pictures that enzo had shared with him from the party. there was a female in the background, admiring the art gallery on the wall. though, he admired more of the way she lit up talking about the details of the paintings from when he had turned around.

"no, mate, she looks familiar though. i do know the girl that she was talking to, emilia scotts, the girl who took the pictures of us," enzo looked up briefly before returning to his digital camera.

he hummed in response. a small smile on his lips as he remembered the way she accidentally bumped into him. the smell of a fresh and clean yet sweet scent distinct from the musky scent of the party. "do you think you can find her on instagram, somehow?"

"already did. her name is y/n l/n, if i recall, i think her parents own or manage within the healthcare field. the last name sounded too familiar," enzo muttered in concentration, trying to remember anything related to this girl.

mattheo's phone vibrated in his hand, seeing the instagram notification from enzo. pulling down to see what was sent, it was a link to your profile. he immediately clicked on it, there were not many followers, assuming that you opted for a much quieter lifestyle. though, you intently looking at the art in the background of the pictures made more sense seeing that you added that you were an art major. upon stalking more, he found your art-based instagram and found that you were an exchange university student studying in france for a year.

"i reckon that you aren't planning to go after her, mattheo. i thought you were focusing on your racing career," enzo said, mischief laced in his tone.

"''m not, just curious," he tossed his phone to the side, head perking up to the bathroom door closing to see theodore drying his hair from his shower.

"what did i miss?" theodore questioned the silence, as well as enzo's smirk, knowing that someone's mind was either up to no good or he had something to share.

"nothing, just seeing how long mattheo's eligible bachelor streak lasts," enzo chuckled, causing theodore to look at mattheo with an amused face.

mattheo scoffs at this, "you both think lowly of me, i swear."

"why shouldn't we? you broke up with evelynn because she couldn't handle you being toxic, and you also say you want to focus on your racing career," theodore put air quotations around toxic after tossing his hair towel on the wooden chair. he leaned back with his hands behind his head, "is she cute, at least?"

"remember the girl that bumped into me at the party earlier?"

"you didn't even see her face. there's no way you're breaking your week and a half of being single with a half of an interaction. not even," theodore appalled at the confession while enzo broke out into a fit of laughter. "you're on some joke things, absolutely not."

mattheo eyed both in a deadpan expression. wow, hilarious, even.

a coughing fit emerged from enzo as he tried to calm down, taking in breathing exercises in between coughs, "if it helps, not saying i would condone you for immediately rebounding after a 4 year relationship. i requested passes for emilia, so they'll mainly be in the mclaren paddock, but i can assume since her dad is a sponsor, she can probably request to walk around past mclaren. a chance to maybe or maybe not talk to your bump in the park."

"okay, enzo, not your finest joke." theodore commented.

mattheo sought pass the backhanded comment, but it was too soon. that he could agree on, but introducing himself and leaving an impression was not too soon. not when he feels the strings of his heart tug thinking about the small details of you, even if it was just for a moment.

y/n's notification center

mriddle16 followed you! a sec ago 5tnott4 followed you! a sec ago berkedzo followed you! a sec ago

wrote this on a whim. mattheo is delulu fs. was supposed to turn into a series but i cannot hold myself accountable to finish it LMFAO, masterlist

[sapphic-agent]

One last autistic rant from me and I'll be quiet, but the way Horikoshi treated Mic? My god! Brace yourself, because this will be long.

He's one of the few competent adults in the series but his opinions are always dismissed. Over and over again. And he used to be a prominent character in the series before being shoved into the background. I feel that was intentional because Mic was one of the characters that debunked some of Horikoshi's plot points.

"Bakugou is being a bit aggressive towards a girl I know is sweet and doing her best." Don't care. Get smacked in the face by Horikoshi's self insert, even though you were thoughtful enough to watch over him while he was in A FULL BODY CAST!!!

"Hey, this guy might be abusing his son. Shouldn't we do something?" No one asked. Just keep on commentating, commentator. So nosy.

"There might be a traitor in UA." That’s stupid. We will start losing trust in each other if we start pointing fingers, says the guy who is supposed to be a sharpshooter.

"You're obviously favoring this kid because of Oboro." Shut up, Mic. No one asked you. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to neglect my actual students in favor of this self-victimizing kid.

"Our friend is a nomu and we found out who the culprit is." I'll only go if you do, but don't really want anything to do with it.

"Our other close friend died." Shut up, Mic, and tell me about the students that I've neglected up until this arc.

"I was right! There was a traitor!" Yeah, but he still can be a hero. See, even your friend who was negatively by the traitor is siding with him. You're just a jerk, Mic.

"I went to the hospital to save Oboro, who I've known longer than Aizawa, and he isn't there anymore." Shut up, Mic! You're just being negative.

"I'm sorry for crying. I'm supposed to be a man." I wasn't asking you, Mic. I was talking to our friend who is more so your friend because I only ever use him as an excuse for how I treat my students.

It's so frustrating that everyone, even his own 'friends', doesn't listen to Mic. And don’t get me started with how he's written in fanon most of the time. This is another thing that I rewrote for my AU. Sunny Day (Mic's counterpart) is based on Fanon!Mic, but I expanded more on her character and have her be more than just a blonde ditz. I gave her the support that Mic never really gets in canon, but she still supports others in turn. Sunny's arc even plays into Shoto's arc in my AU, where she helps him escape Endeavor's grasp.

Alrighty. That's all from me. I'll leave you be now. I just wanted share my one final tidbit.

It's funny because Fanon Dadzawa is actually Canon Mic. He's intelligent, attentive, and actually shows concern for the students. It's sad that he's just support for Aizawa's character, he really has potential as a standalone character.

Your asks have been great, please feel free to send more whenever!

[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

[fluff-n-cookies]

Endeavor - Intro/Headcanons

Endeavor is a very underrated character.

yes he was an abuser, but he is trying to be a better father. and even though hen still gets mad and doesn't really know how to show his emotions he's still trying. As someone who doesn't have the best relationship with her father, and also as some one who is trying to be a better person I can appreciate that.

I feel like if somebody were to give him a chance, somebody that has little to no knowledge of his past or status he could actually have a stable and healthy relationship with such a person.

but that on it's own is boring so make it a reader who was just recently put in an orphanage as she was saved from her neglectful parents and has no other family. we'll keep her around the age of 4-15 as those were the years that endeavor missed the most with his kids.

now, how would these two meet? I have a couple ideas and I'll write a fanfic (or fanfics) for the most popular one. (there's a poll below for y'all to decide.)

option 1 : Bus stop

reader is around 5,6,7 years old and quirkless.

so you and Endeavor have a similar morning commute at the same bus stop, at the same time, every morning. you go to school, and him to his agency. and while Endeavor never really cared for this, one morning you happen to forget your coat at the orphanage. (not that it kept you warm anyway.) the sight of a child in winter, cold and alone, practically pulled at his heart strings. a feeling overcame him I suppose, a need to protect and provide perhaps. and begrudgingly he got out a sweater, all warm and fluffy and lent it to you, grumbling something about giving it back to him later. now all snuggled up within the oversized cotton fibers of the sweater, warm and happy, all you could really do is mumble out a little thank you. Imma bout' to pull a grinch but Endeavor's heart grew 3 times that day.

Option 2 : support hero

reader is 15 and quirkless but uses support items to help her if she needs anything.

you are the apprentice of his main support hero, a wild, spunky woman who spends her days drinking, drunk, or hungover. ( I mean... good for her.) and yes while she does teach you, she usaully leaves all the real work to you. at this point she's your apprentice. so when Endeavor comes it's not her that really helps it's you! you repair, you improve, you operate the rest of the support heroes, honestly he should give you a raise. and it's nice, having you around I mean, you just always seem to make his day better, either by showing him cat memes, or explaining your latest obsession to him, or just being your self. it's a talkative and optimistic x furious monster that will fight to the death for them dynamic or a brings instant noodles to share for lunch x uses his fire quirk to actually cook the instant noodles with his fire quirk dynamic.

Option 3 : Dabi

more of a Endeavor-Dabi mix for the drama. reader is 4 and gets her quirk in the story. her quirk is a heightened version of shoto's quirk which I'll expand on if this is the fan favorite.

you are the product of Dabi and a fling he had when he was 19 or 20, and while he may not have the most money or have the money, he still tires to protect you and and make you feel as cherished and loved as one can. growing up he never really showed you what a hero was. all you need to know is that they are not good people but don't tell anyone that lots of people don't know that and might get angry. now this is fine and all, Dabi protects your innocence while also protecting you from the world that hurt him. but one thing he negelcted to teach you is who is a hero. because the description he gave you "people attempting to 'save' people and fight 'bad guys' using their quirks often with swarms of people around them." only applies to heros in action and/or heros that the public actually like. so when Endeavor is placed to patrol in a relatively bad neighbourhood (it's the best one dabi could afford HE"S TRYING C"MON) around the time kids go and comeback from school to make sure they get home safe is when he meets you. a little girl with white hair like snow and sapphire blue eyes that glisten with joy.

POLLS!!!

thx for reading!!! byyeee.