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astro-rainbow777 · 7 months

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🍒⛽️Red Astrology Observations☎️👠

Mars in Astrology

💋 Passion in Astrology can be found in the Mars sign and house placement:

- Aries Mars are more passionate In nature, whatever they want, they go after, fiercely and bravely. The type to love sports, fights and competition of any kind. They thrive in a competitive environment and relationships. It possible their passion is tied to their childhood in some way (same for Mars in 1st)- so if this involves child hood toys they used to collect, eating their favorite foods growing up or playing games that they used to when times were simpler.

- Mars in 1st house can make the native very passionate about their looks, being perceived as dominate/hot/sexy, working out and having physical strength. I’ve noticed that they may like competition but generally they don’t try that hard to compete with others if they are in good health. If these natives are confident in themselves- they try so hard to boost the confidence of everyone around them.

- Taurus Mars can be passionate about their possessions, having their material needs met, connecting to their 5 senses and financial gain. “Anyone can cook” 👨🏻‍🍳 🤌🏻mentality. Passionate about rest! This may sound silly- but it’s actually quite hard to master, especially in hustle culture. As someone with no earth placements in their chart, it’s extremely hard for me to rest, slow down and enjoy my food. Be present, Taurus mars understands and values this. Not the type to gamble their money away. Needs things to make sense materially.

- Mars in 2nd house makes the individual very passionate and their financial security and safety, having their basic needs met, having an abundance of possessions. They can thrive in jobs that are considered a “competitive pay” corporation. They may love shopping, spending and saving money. They value passion and material wealth, so depending on what sign the Mars placement is in can add more context of what it surrounds. Bulk spenders, Costco/Sams Club membership holders lmao.

- Mars in Gemini is very multi faceted in what they are passionate about. They have little niches and hobbies that they love, anything that challenges them mentally while also being hands on! My mom has this and she’s really into gardening and cooking with the food she’s grown. She can get very restless about it but I think that it’s so cute how whatever she is passionate about consumes her mentally.

- Mars in 3rd is passionate about mental pursuits, they could have been picked on as a kid, which made them highly ambitious in their studies. Extremely competitive in the realm of knowledge. Their peers and siblings may see them as a threat or just see them as generally argumentative. Although I think these people just enjoy a good debate and exercising their intellectual capabilities. They could have an abundance of hobbies they indulge in and our passionate about. They may bound with their friends through their hobbies and passions. Could really enjoy competitive video games such as Smash Bros.

- Mars in Cancer natives are passionate about their family and proving themselves to their family. They could have been compared to their family members a lot growing up, or just felt an instability at home. They are passionate about cultivating a home for themselves and starting a family of their own one day. This does not have to be pertinent to kids- chosen family- fur babies 🐾 or significant other also ring true for this sign. - Mars in 4th are passionate about their loved ones, they are highly protective of themselves and others. These people are quite competitive but in a passive aggressive way. They are usually at war with their own emotions, family and security. I’ve noticed many of these individuals have had violence in childhood home or trauma surrounding family ):

- Mars in Leo they are passionate about their creativity, children and having fun! Would love to have this Mars placement honestly, because these people march to the beat of their own drum. It’s very admirable! They are passionate about their own authenticity, you will never catch them trying to steal someone else’s Swag lmao. I think they invented swag quite honestly 😂

- Mars in 5th are total party animals! They are passionate about life and all that the world has to offer. The world is their Oyster! Every sidewalk is their runway and every song they hear is the backtrack for the movie they star in! Their life is all about being confident in their own skin and romanticizing their selves, relationships and passion projects.

- Mars in Virgo are passionate about helping others and being the best version of themselves. This Mars sign is notoriously known for being able to try something once and being exceptionally good at it the first go. I hate to say it (only because I know it comes from a place of pain) but these natives are passionate about perfection. This can cause them a lot of anxiety if they are careful. Although, they are good at many things, it is advised that they lean into whatever makes them happy, serve their part in making the world a better place!

- Mars in 6th are passionate about their purpose, their health and their pets. They can spend a lot of time researching how to become better versions of themselves. They will have a very active routine and live passionately day to day. The type to wake up at sunrise, take their vitamins tend to their pets needs, cook a whole food breakfast, workout, meditate, journal, than go to work, tend to their pets needs, do their night time self care, hygiene, journal, meditate, pre sleep stretch, sleep exactly 8 hours, repeat. Function well with planners.

- Mars in Libra are passionate about harmony and balance. When I tell you their whole plan of action is strictly devoted to how not to get into conflict… it’s to the tea. They are super passionate about the relationships in their life, and are very generous in nature. They love art, certain aesthetics, good food and beautiful things. They may be called lazy from time to time because they don’t quite function the way other people do. They may make plans for 50 different things one day because they have a difficult time saying no- then end up going to none of them because they didn’t finish getting ready until everything event was finished. These people invented fashionably late.

- Mars in 7th is passionate about their partnerships. These natives are actually quite confrontational in comparison to Libra Mars. This is because they want to squash the beef before it’s even a problem. There may be a tendency to people please- but most of the time these people are just socially extroverted, kind and considerate.

- Mars in Scorpio is another sign that is just passionate in nature. It is so intense for them that it is hard for them to do anything if they not completely engulfed in passion. They psychoanalyze everyone they meet, at natural detectives and are friends with the unknown. They aren’t scared of the dark and often find so much beauty in what others cannot comprehend

- Mars in 8th are passionate about the unknown as well, it is very enticing to them. Anything involving mystery is naturally alluring to them. They love to get lost in rabbit holes of whatever they are interested in. Whatever it is they are the master of- and you question them about it, they’ve already thought of answer. Because they know their hobbies are often taboo, scary, and misunderstood- they have studied every answer to every question that someone had for them. Their passions are all encompassing. They are so much more than deep. Everything they do is intentional.

- Mars in Sagittarius are adventurous, hilarious and curious. I feel like Sagittarius more than Gemini Mars has that “Curiosity killed that cat” vibe. For Gemini mars it’s more like googling disturbing thing’s because they are curious than regretting it. For Sag tho, it’s doing things because YOLO and why tf not? Than breaking their leg or something. Although doesn’t happen often because we know how lucky Sag placements are lmao. But it’s like they jumped off a cliff, didn’t die but they broke their leg. Haha- this was a tangent

- Mars in 9th is going places! Literally they can’t sit still. Most likely passionate about travel, philosophy, and adventure. One of the most fun placements to have. Extreme sports is common here, skydiving, bungee jumping etc. They live to experience all that there is to experience. Very ambitious and passionate about education and teaching as well. They probably have things that they LlVE by

- Mars in Capricorn are passionate about success, achieving their goals which usually require them to work really hard. Where ever the mars is located in the houses can tell you a little bit more about what their goals are. They are passionate about being in control of their own lives, not takin shid from anyone lol

- Mars in 10th are passionate about being successful, being their own boss, their reputation and getting external recognition. They will put a lot of energy into their career and be very passionate about whatever they are doing. They will be a trail blazer and their career because they do it the right way the first time. Extremely hard workers- just be weary of burn out Mars in 10th folks!

- Mars in Aquarius is passionate about humanitarian pursuits, their community and friendships. They move about the world in the most unpredictable and unexpected way. They can be seen as a black sheep of their peers and then BAM they’re the ones turning heads, setting trends and on top. You will never know their next move and honestly neither do they! They get sudden bursts or urges of motivation and ideas- so never underestimate these individuals!

- Mars in 11th are passionate about their dreams, humanity and social causes. They will spend a lot of time surrounded by their friends and in their community. Although, their best friends will be fighting alongside them. They are passionate about the injustices of the world, stick up for the underdog and let their freak flag fly!

- Mars in Pisces are passionate about compassion, sacrifice, and unconditional love. Many of the times Pisces mars has their head in the clouds and put their energy into reading or writing their own book, painting the world they envisioned in their dream the night before, or staring at a the ocean, only to find God. This is if they are in a healthy nature, but many times they could escape through dr*gs, alc*h*l, s*x, or toxic relationships. This placement can get a bad rap for their changeability and confusion energy but they love harder than no other and would do anything for you if committed.

- Mars in 12th is passionate about their dreams, spiritually, many of them are religious or spiritual in nature. I haven’t met many who aren’t. They are natural introverts who need to spend as much time alone as they can to recharge. They may feel outcasted from society. A lot of people talk behind their back because of this which makes them withdraw even deeper. These natives benefit from living a spiritual, service oriented lifestyle, developing boundaries and surround themselves by people who genuinely want the best for them. It is hard but it is doable. Stay strong Mars in 12th!

🤬💢Pet Peeves🚨🚩

🚗Aries Mars- Going too slow in front of them-especially with no way around (applies to driving as well), lazy people, people who can’t keep up 💢Taurus Mars- Smacking, chewing inappropriately, weird textures….like chalk? Unpleasant senses, smells, being rushed, itchy clothes, under/over cooked food

☎️Gemini Mars- over stimulation, close minded attitude, when their friends don’t like each other, one word responses, boring people, when the Wi-Fi connection is slow

💔Cancer Mars- Inconsiderate of other people’s feelings (doesn’t have to be their own, most time it’s not), manipulation, people with anger issues, or people who take out their problems on others

🪭Leo Mars- When people try to compete with them when they are merely existing, copy cats, buzz kills, unwanted attention, seeing people in public that they don’t want to see

🤡 Virgo Mars- Know it alls, people who act like they know everything but don’t, ignorance, STAINS, people who are really loud….people lmaooo

💋Libra Mars- hypocrisy, stubbornness, arguments (especially in public), hypercritical people, slut and bullies

🧲Scorpio Mars- Lack of depth, lying for the sake of lying, slut shaming, shallow people, assuming, saying “I love you” like it’s casual, saying their friends when they know nothing about them, rumors

🚁Sagittarius Mars- People who lack independence, being late to things (not really others…they hate being late), people who try to control them, excess responsibility, and inflexibility

🩸Capricorn Mars- Doing things half-a$$ed, moochers, lack of ambition, unreliable, carelessness, immaturity, unpredictable behavior

🍄Aquarius Mars- Conformist, cry babies, stupidity, agreeing with them when they are playing devils advocate lol, when they like an unpopular artist and than it becomes trendy, attention seekers

🌹Pisces Mars- Telling them they are being unrealistic or their dreams are too big, being called sensitive or told they care too much, lmao reality…being alive hahaha- being judged for their spirituality/religion

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makeitmingi · 3 months

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Let The Heart Love Again

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader (y/n)

Characters: DanceTeacher!Reader, SingleDad!Wooyoung, Daughter (Jung Yoonseo)

Summary: When Wooyoung's daughter expressed interest in sharing his passion for dance, he immediately signed her up for the next class. However, he didn't think that he would be star struck by his daughter's teacher. Maybe, just maybe, he was ready to open his heart again.

[A/N: Thank you to my girls @songmingisthighs and @luvt0kki for being such great supporters and cheering me on <3 This story is centered around Wooyoung and Yoonseo (mostly Wooyoung and his internal feelings), slowly inviting (y/n) in.]

Word count: 10k

Wooyoung was always known as one of the better dancers in the group with his seductiveness and sharp lines. Especially after he got the chance to be Artist of the Month and perform his dance piece live with BB Trippin.

"Appa! Appa!" He emerged from the kitchen when he heard his daughter, Yoonseo, call for him.

"Oh, Yoonseo ah. You're home. How was your day?" He dried his hands on the towel hanging on his apron and went to the daughter, wrapping his arms around her.

"Good." She grinned, throwing her arms around his neck.

"I'm starving!" San declared, making Wooyoung slap his arm for yelling when the front door was still open.

"Thanks for bringing her out." Wooyoung smiled. San shook his head with a smile. He never found it a chore to help Wooyoung look after his daughter.

"No need to thank. We both had fun." San chuckled, ruffling Yoonseo's hair.

"Dinner will be done soon. Go wash your hands and face then we can sit down to eat." Wooyoung kissed his daughter's cheek and patted her back. San lifted Yoonseo up and she squealed with laughter as San brought her to the bathroom to wash up. Wooyoung laughed and shook his head at them.

"Don't make a mess in the bathroom and leave the ground wet again!" Wooyoung called out, remembering how the two were splashing water at each other the last time.

"She started it!" San complained. Wooyoung sighed and dished up what he cooked.

"You're helping me wipe the floor later." Wooyoung said, leaning against the bathroom door frame.

"Let's go, gongju nim." San lifted Yoonseo onto her boosted seat. Wooyoung placed her rice bowl in front of her, another in front of San and went to get his own.

"I want jelly." Yoonseo declared.

"Later, baby. Have dinner first." Wooyoung stroked her cheek as he sat down next to her.

"No... I want it now~ Jelly first." Yoonseo whined, frowning and even pushing her rice bowl away from her. Wooyoung sighed and placed his chopsticks down, one thing he was still trying to master as a parent was disciplining Yoonseo.

"Gongju nim, we should have dinner first. Appa cooked all this delicious food for you." San stepped in, sensing Wooyoung's internal struggle. Yoonseo pouted.

"No pouting. I promise you can have a jelly later, alright?" Wooyoung told her, gently holding her chin to make her look at him.

"Promise?" She held her pinky up.

"Promise." Wooyoung nodded and laced pinkies with her.

When it came to Yoonseo's tantrums, Wooyoung always tried to speak as calmly as he could. He was afraid of letting his stress and own emotions get to him.

It happened before. He unintentionally yelled at Yoonseo when she was throwing a tantrum, startling her. It ended with the both of them in tears while Wooyoung was apologising profusely to her.

"Thank you for the food." Yoonseo said before eating a spoonful of rice. Thankfully, Yoonseo was a good eater and not picky.

"Good girl." Wooyoung patted her head and San smiled proudly at her, already starting his dinner. Wooyoung would eat his food then cut up some food to give to Yoonseo. Having cooked for her since she was born, he already knew what she liked. And like her dad and Ateez uncles, she likes beef and noodles.

"Is it good?" San asked and Yoonseo nodded happily. Wooyoung cut up more beef into cubes and put it on her rice bowl, making sure she had plenty of white kimchi.

"Baby, soon you'll be able to eat regular kimchi like uncle Sannie." Wooyoung smiled.

"Spicy." She pouted.

"We can ask halmeoni to make it a little spicy. But it's perfectly okay to just eat white kimchi too." Wooyoung chuckled. All the kimchi in his house was made by his mother.

"Eat your carrots, baby." Wooyoung said, noticing Yoonseo not eating the carrots in her japchae.

"You usually like carrots." He tilted his head, using his chopsticks to put the small strip of carrot that she pushed away onto her spoon.

"Uncle Sannie doesn't eat carrots." She pointed out. Wooyoung looked up, raising an eyebrow at San, who was picking the carrots out of the japchae too. San froze in his spot, staring pleadingly at Wooyoung, silently begging to not eat it.

"Fine." He muttered under his breath, eating the carrot and making fake happy noises.

"It's so good! I love carrots!" San strained. Seeing that, Yoonseo copied and ate the carrot too.

"You need to stop learning the bad habits from your uncles." Wooyoung scoffed. Mingi and Hongjoong didn't like vegetables too but Wooyoung forced them to eat it around Yoonseo.

"More." Yoonseo held her empty soup bowl.

"I don't hear a magic word?" Wooyoung raised his eyebrows.

"Please?" She said in her cute voice. Wooyoung smiled immediately and stood up to get her more soup. After scooping her more, he placed it down in front of her.

"Thank you, appa." She grinned.

"You're welcome, baby." Wooyoung cooed and went back to eating. One of the things Wooyoung swore to do was to raise Yoonseo right. While she could be whatever she wanted, Wooyoung wanted to raise her to be polite, kind, caring and respectful. He made sure she had manners with whoever was around her.

Especially since he was known as one of the ATEEZ members that would call juniors out for their lack of respect towards seniors. Even when Yoonseo couldn't talk yet, he taught her to bow to elders.

"Uncle Sannie, can we show appa the pretty clothes later?" Yoonseo sat with with a beam and a sparkle in her eye. San laughed and nodded his head.

"Of course. You can show him all the dresses you chose on your own." San said.

"You picked them all by yourself?" Wooyoung feigned surprise. Yoonseo nodded proudly.

"That's great, baby. I can't wait for you to show me later." He stroked her hair. Hearing that, Yoonseo let out an excited squeal, even kicking her legs.

"Done. Thank you for cooking, appa." Yoonseo balanced herself on the table to give her dad a peck on the cheek.

"I'm glad you ate a lot." Wooyoung said, happy that Yoonseo cleared her bowl. He brought her dishes to the sink first while he and San finished up their meal. Yoonseo was colouring in the living room, waiting for them to finish.

"Did she forget about the jelly?" San leaned over to whisper to Wooyoung, the two of them looking over at the girl who was busy colouring her Pooh Bear book.

"I think so... But I'll still give it to her. A promise is a promise, whether she remembers it or not." Wooyoung shrugged.

"You're such a good dad. I would have just not reminded her." San giggled.

"Other things maybe but a small jelly? I'd rather not hang on to that guilt. She was pretty upset." Wooyoung chuckled. When they were done, San insisted on helping Wooyoung with the dishes.

"Baby, did you forget about the jelly I promised you?" Wooyoung called from the kitchen.

"Oh!" The pattering of her feet against the floor was heard before she appeared right by Wooyoung's leg.

"Here we go. You can choose which one." He lifted her up so she could see the bag of jelly cups in the fridge. She took her time, jutting her lips out with a small frown on her face as she decided which flavour she wanted, as if this was the last jelly cup she was going to have forever. Wooyoung found her adorable.

"I want strawberry. Grape for Uncle Sannie and apple for appa." She grinned, holding Wooyoung's, San's and her own jelly cups to her chest protectively.

"My baby is so kind." Wooyoung smothered her in kisses before putting her down.

"Why don't you give this to Uncle Sannie and I'll open your jelly cup for you?" Wooyoung suggested. She nodded and ran to San.

"Uncle Sannie, for you!" She tiptoed as she held the jelly cup out to San. San turned to see her and quickly wiped his hands. Wooyoung took a picture of the two of them.

"Thank you, gongju nim." San smiled softly, patting her head.

"Appa, I did it!" She giggled as she ran back to Wooyoung. He held out the opened jelly cup to her.

While Yoonseo enjoyed her jelly cup, she sat with Wooyoung in the living room. She casually just sat in her father's lap, the two of them enjoying each other's company, not needing to have the television on or multiple toys around.

"You two are such father-daughter goals." San laughed as he walked over, his phone in his hand to record the two of them. Wooyoung scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't even make sense, San ah." Wooyoung called out.

"Gongju nim, are you ready to show appa what we bought today?" San crouched down. Yoonseo's nodded excitedly.

"Appa, sit here!" Yoonseo patted the couch. Wooyoung saluted and sat on the couch while Yoonseo grabbed San's hand and dragged him to the room.

"Close your eyes, appa!" Yoonseo yelled from the room. His daughter could be so dramatic, he doesn't know where she gets it from.

"My eyes are closed!" He replied, covering his eyes with his hands. He could hear her excited running.

"Don't run, baby. You might trip and fall." He cautioned.

"Open your eyes!" She giggled, her voice a lot closer, telling Wooyoung she was right in front of him. When Wooyoung opened his eyes, he saw her in a cute white linen dress with strawberries all over. Wooyoung's eyes practically sparkled like his daughter's did. To him, Yoonseo looked good in everything.

"You're so pretty, baby!" Wooyoung cooed. Yoonseo shyly giggled, fiddling with her fingers as she twirled for him. San came out of the room, clapping his hands.

"This is my favourite." He sat down.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you say that for all the outfits." Wooyoung scoffed. San nodded in agreement, he was a fool for Yoonseo too.

One by one, San helped Yoonseo change into the clothes that he bought her to show off to Wooyoung. Yoonseo was basking in all the compliments from her dad and uncle.

"Last one." Yoonseo ran out. Wooyoung melted, seeing Yoonseo in a ballerina outfit.

"Ask him." San leaned over to whisper encouragement to Yoonseo. Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, having heard that.

"Appa, can I do ballet?... Please?" She added the magic word at the end, not wanting to be reminded again for forgetting. Wooyoung got down from the couch, coming over to his daughter and holding her hands in his own.

"You wanna learn ballet?" He asked.

"I want to dance. Be cool like you!" She grinned, swaying her body, making the chiffon ballet skirt move too.

"You're already cool, baby. You don't need dance to be cool. But if you really want to try ballet, let's do it." Wooyoung smiled, tucking her stray hairs behind her ears.

"Yay! Thank you, appa!" She threw herself into Wooyoung's arms, wrapping her own arms around his neck.

"You're welcome. But are you sure you want to learn ballet? Not other types of dance." Wooyoung checked. Yoonseo nodded her head.

"Okay, we can start with ballet. Also, did you thank uncle Sannie for buying you all these clothes?" He pulled away to look at her. Both her and San nodded.

"That's my girl." Wooyoung smiled, stroking her hair.

That night, Wooyoung stayed by Yoonseo side a little longer, having read her a story to help her fall asleep. He couldn't help but stare at her and smile fondly at how she has grown. It wasn't easy raising a newborn on his own. He had help from Ateez and his parents but he still did a lot on his own.

Yoonseo's mother thought that having a daughter with Wooyoung would make Wooyoung quit being an idol.

When it didn't happen as intended, she left Wooyoung and Yoonseo before Yoonseo could even be discharged from the hospital. She wanted nothing to do with both of them.

Wooyoung begged her to stay, not for him. She didn't need to love him anymore. He wanted her to be there for Yoonseo.

But she refused and left. The nights Yoonseo would cry for hours and couldn't be consoled, Wooyoung silently cried along with her.

He felt so much guilt towards Yoonseo for lacking and being unprepared as a parent raising a baby. Furthermore, he had to juggle his idol life and being a present father to her.

The last thing Wooyoung wanted to do was be absent. Yoonseo's mother already abandoned her, he wasn't going to do the same. He was going to make sure that he was there for Yoonseo when she needed him. She became his priority.

It was hard and he knows it will continue to be but he'll continue to learn. And one thing's for sure, he'll never regret having Yoonseo in his life.

"Oh my gosh!"

"What happened?" Wooyoung ran out of the recording booth when he heard Mingi exclaimed loudly.

"Yoonseo just flipped on her own!" Yunho explained. Wooyoung's eyes brightened as he bent down to scoop Yoonseo up into his arms, showering her in kisses.

"There's my smart girl. You flipped on your own?" Wooyoung asked her, even if she couldn't reply.

"Put her back down!" Yeosang urged. Wooyoung rolled his eyes and put Yoonseo back down on the mat, laying her on her back. Having just learnt how to flip onto her stomach, she was obviously having fun with this new skill.

"Show appa how you flip!" Wooyoung clapped. Yoonseo grunted a little, struggling to lay on her side. She then rolled onto her stomach, letting out little happy babbles.

"My baby!" Wooyoung cheered.

"Man, I love tummy time." Jongho said, recording the whole thing. However, Wooyoung's cheer was apparently too loud, startling poor Yoonseo, making her burst into tears and wails.

"Aww, shh, shh. It's okay, darling. It's just your loud appa." San lifted Yoonseo into his arms, comforting the crying baby.

Her first steps took place in Hongjoong's studio. Until now, Hongjoong still claims that he was the 'chosen one', whatever that means.

"See? She likes me better." Hongjoong said, holding Yoonseo in his arms in a forward facing seated position.

"Just don't drop her please." Seonghwa shook his head, he didn't like that Yoonseo was in the recording booth. There were wires every where, Hongjoong could trip and fall with Yoonseo in his arms.

But as Hongjoong rapped into the mic, Yoonseo stared up at him with wide eyes, not scared or startled by Hongjoong's seemingly loud and/or powerful rap. Wooyoung laughed, taking his phone out to capture the moment of Hongjoong rapping but looking down to meet Yoonseo's gaze.

"First, you're taking your first steps here. Now, you're in here, recording with me. You like me the best right?" Hongjoong chuckled.

"Not true!" San yelled from behind.

Wooyoung felt like he had disappointed Hongjoong the most when the news of Yoonseo's conception came about but he was relieved to see the captain playing with her and helping to take care of her.

Now, they're inseparable.

That was Yoonseo's charm. Not just her natural charm but the personality that Wooyoung cultivated by teaching her manners and kindness.

"I love you." Kissing her forehead, Wooyoung left Yoonseo's room.

After Yoonseo's mother left, Wooyoung never trusted anyone new again. It was how he guarded and protected himself and Yoonseo. He wasn't going to let anyone abandon Yoonseo again.

"Are you that excited, baby?" Wooyoung chuckled, seeing Yoonseo jump up and down while giggling, still holding Wooyoung's hand as they walked down the hall of the dance studio.

Prior to this, Wooyoung did extensive research on what dance studio was recommended for kids, reading through tons of reviews and asking friends for recommendations. This studio was well reviewed and parents seemed to like the teachers.

"Hang on, baby. Before you go in, I want to talk to you." Wooyoung squatted down to be on eye level with Yoonseo.

"I'm going to be late." Yoonseo pouted.

"It's alright, baby. I just wanted to tell you, it's okay to not be the best from the start, alright? You'll learn and practice." He held her hands but Wooyoung wasn't even sure she was listening.

"Okay." She nodded.

"Jung Yoonseo, you're not even listening to me." Wooyoung scoffed, tapping her on the nose. But he knew she was just excited.

When they knocked, there was a small reply before the glass door opened. You stood there with a soft smile on your face. Wooyoung hadn't even realised he was staring.

"You must be our new friend, Yoonseo. Oh wow, your skirt is so pretty." You bent down with a kind smile. Only when you spoke, did Wooyoung break out of his trance. Yoonseo shyly giggled at your compliment, fiddling with her skirt. When you held your hand out to Yoonseo, she gladly let go of Wooyoung.

"Let's sit here and do some stretches." You sat Yoonseo down with the other students in class before walking back to Wooyoung.

"Don't worry, Mr Jung. She's in good hands." You assured, assuming he was still standing there because he was worried about Yoonseo. But honestly, he was still stunned by you.

"T-Thanks. And call me Wooyoung, Mr Jung is my dad." He smiled with a chuckle. You giggled and nodded your head.

"We'll see you after class." You bowed respectfully to him and closed the glass door.

"Jung Wooyoung, what was that?" He scolded himself softly. He peeked through the viewable gap on the glass door.

"Let's all say hello to our new friend, Yoonseo. How do we greet everyone?" You asked the class, clapping your hands as you stood on your knees beside Yoonseo.

"Hello." The other girls in the class curtsied like ballerinas would.

"Let me help you, Yoonseo. First, we're going to open our arms up, point our foot to the side. This is the starting position." You gently and patiently adjusted Yoonseo's feet, arms and posture to teach her how to curtsy.

"My name is Yoonseo." Yoonseo shyly curtsied while introducing herself to the rest of the class. She looked at you with uncertainty but you smiled at her, encouraging her.

"That was great, all of you." You clapped for everyone in class. Taking a deep breath, Wooyoung left the dance studio.

"You dropped Yoonseo off for her first day at dance?" Yeosang asked as Wooyoung entered the KQ studio.

"Yoonseo's learning dance?" Jongho's eyes sparkled.

"Yeah. She wanted to learn ballet and luckily there's a really well reviewed studio near here so why not? You guys would faint over how cute she looks in her ballet outfit." Wooyoung smiled.

"Awww, look at the little princess." Yunho cooed when Wooyoung showed them the picture.

"Then she got annoyed with me taking so many pictures, saying I was making her late." Wooyoung slid to show Yoonseo's frowning, pouty face.

"Guess she learnt to be impatient from someone..." All 7 boys turned to the captain, who blinked in confusion then realised they were talking about him and frowned at them. Hongjoong was the one that always had to yell at the boys and rush them because they were running late. He had to, he was the captain.

"I'm not impatient. You guys just have no respect for punctuality." Hongjoong scoffed.

"Okay, okay. Let's start practice before we have our other schedules." Seonghwa rounded everyone up before Hongjoong could start lecturing them on punctuality.

"Oh! Yoonseo's ending soon." Wooyoung sat up after seeing the time.

"We should go pick her together." Mingi suggested and everyone nodded excitedly.

"W-Wait, maybe we shouldn't. It may overwhelm the other kids there and stuff. It's her first day there, I don't want her to be awkward around her friends." Wooyoung said.

"You're acting weird..."

"Is the dance teacher cute or something?" San raised his eyebrow.

"No! I didn't even notice her... I just don't want Yoonseo to be nervous or uncomfortable, okay?" Wooyoung said a little too defensively, making the boys look at each other knowingly. In the end, Yeosang volunteered to go with Wooyoung, who reluctantly agreed.

"This is the studio." Wooyoung said as he and Yeosang walked down the different dance studios. There were other parents there, waiting for the class to be over.

"Oh, she is pretty..." Yeosang tilted his head, peeking into the class. Wooyoung slapped his arm.

"There are other people here. Don't make comments like that." Wooyoung hissed, bowing to the other parents respectfully.

"Can you see Yoonseo?" Wooyoung asked.

"Yeah, she's so cute." Yeosang chuckled. He moved aside to let Wooyoung see. Yoonseo was giggling as she ran around the room with the other children.

"Arms up and down, pretty like a butterfly!" You encouraged, running alongside the children.

"Alright. I'll see all of you next week. Let's say goodbye and line up." You said at the end of the class. You stood at the front of the dance studio, before the mirror to curtsy to the class. The girls did the same to you, thanking you. They lined up obediently as you walked to the door to open it.

"Oh!" You and Wooyoung jumped as you opened the door, coming face to face with him. He apologised, rubbing the back of his neck while Yeosang snickered beside him.

"No, it's alright. I should have noticed you standing there." You chuckled and Wooyoung shook his head to deny it.

"Appa! Uncle Sangie!" Yoonseo beamed and waved.

"How was class, kiddo?" Yeosang bent down to talk to Yoonseo while you and Wooyoung were still flustered from earlier. You briefly broke away to say goodbye to the other kids and greet their parents.

"It was so fun!" Yoonseo jumped happily. You smiled softly, patting her head.

"She's a natural. And I mean it. Her musicality, flexibility, ability to comprehend the steps." You said to Wooyoung.

"That's good. She must have her dad's dance genes then. Wooyoung here is one of the best dancers in our team." Yeosang cut in. Your eyebrows raised in interest.

"I'm sorry I don't really listen to a lot of kpop but Yoonseo, here, tells me that you're in a group. I assume you are in the same group too?" You respectfully gestured to Yeosang with two hands. Yeosang nodded in confirmation.

"Sorry about him. We should go, come on baby. Say goodbye to Miss..." Wooyoung blinked, realising he didn't ask your name.

"(y/n)! Her name is Miss (y/n), appa!" Yoonseo informed enthusiastically. Wooyoung nodded stiffly. Suddenly, he found himself finding your name so adorable.

"I'm Yeosang." Yeosang waved, making you laugh. Yoonseo hugged your legs, surprising you slightly. But you patted her back with a smile.

"See you next week, Yoonseo and Wooyoung sshi." You giggled.

"Thank you." Wooyoung bowed. Yoonseo followed suit, bowing at the waist respectfully.

"That's my girl." Wooyoung praised as Yoonseo grasped her dad's hand. You smiled at the two of them, it was the first time meeting them but you could tell they have a good relationship.

"Thanks again, (y/n) sshi." With a final wave, the 3 of them walked away. After strapping her into her car seat, Yoonseo couldn't stop rambling on about her first ballet class, telling her dad and uncle what she did. Yeosang glanced at how distracted Wooyoung was as he drove, a knowing smile on his face.

"I can't wait for next week!" And for some reason, Wooyoung found himself excited for Yoonseo's next dance class too.

Wooyoung's subconscious mind did want to do 'well' to make a good impression on you. However, the following week, he ended up calling the ballet school, stuck in a KQ meeting and late to pick up Yoonseo.

"Miss (y/n), Yoonseo's dad just called the front desk, saying he'll be a little late." The receptionist told you.

"No worries, I'll watch out for her." You smiled before she could even request or suggest. Yoonseo was a great kid, you didn't mind.

"Yoonseo ah, your appa will be a little late. Wanna stick with me for a bit?" You chuckled as you poked your head into the dancer's den where the students changed, kept their belongings and prepared for dance. She nodded excitedly.

"Do you know your appa's phone number?" You asked, bending down in front of her. She shook her head.

"That's okay. I'll ask. Come on." You held your hand out for her to hold as you walked to the front desk to get Wooyoung's number.

'Hello, Wooyoung sshi! This is (y/n), I hope you don't mind that I got your number from the front desk. I wanted to let you know that Yoonseo will be with me. - (y/n)'

'Oh! (y/n) sshi, thank you so much. I'm so sorry to trouble you, I'm trying to get out as soon as I can. - Wooyoung'

'No worries, I love having Yoonseo around. If it's okay with you, can we go out for some ice cream? - (y/n)'

'Of course! - Wooyoung'

"Shall we go get some ice cream? Your appa said okay." You asked. Yoonseo cheered and jumped happily. After you got changed and packed, you took her to the ice cream parlour nearby.

"Alright, you can pick what you want." Wrapping your arms around her, you lifted her up to the glass so she could see what flavours there were. Yoonseo chose cookies and cream while you chose raspberry white chocolate. The worker scooped Yoonseo's into a cup and came out to hand it to her.

"Thank you." Yoonseo said politely, receiving the cup with both hands. You smiled at her and paid for both your ice creams.

"Thank you, Miss (y/n)." Yoonseo turned to you as you both headed to a table to sit.

"You're very welcome, Yoonseo." Seeing Yoonseo at eye level with the table, you lifted her up to sit in your lap. She leaned slightly against your arm, comfortably eating her ice cream.

"Appa is always busy during comeback." Yoonseo told you.

"Does that mean you're usually with your omma then?" You asked back. Yoonseo shook her head.

"I don't have an omma. I only have appa." She replied. You didn't realise how possibly insensitive you were, assuming that Yoonseo had a mother.

"And that's okay." You smiled softly, stroking her hair.

While eating your ice cream, you learnt a lot about Yoonseo, how she was raised by her dad and 7 uncles, whom you assume are the other ATEEZ members that you googled about. Wooyoung's effort paid off because he raised a great kid.

RING RING

"Hello? Wooyoung sshi?" You answered the call. Yoonseo perked up when she heard you address her dad.

"Hey, (y/n) sshi. I know I already asked a lot of you but is it okay for you to bring Yoonseo to my company? I should be ending soon. I don't want to take too much of your time."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. But I'll bring her over." You told him.

"Thank you so much! I'll let the front security know you're coming. Just go to the 5th floor."

After getting rid of your empty ice cream cups, you and Yoonseo headed over to KQ. Like what Wooyoung said, the security at the front let you in after asking your name and recognising Yoonseo.

"Do you come here often?" You asked Yoonseo.

"Yeah. Appa comes here to work and dance. Uncles too." She replied. You nodded with a hum, you've never been into an entertainment company before. Since Yoonseo seemed familiar, you let her lead the way. There was a door labelled 'Artist Lounge' that she entered. However, it was empty, only tables and chairs around.

"I wait for appa here." She informed, climbing onto the loveseat with familiarity. You sat beside her, not feeling comfortable leaving her here alone, even if she was familiar with the place.

So, you stayed with her.

"Oh my god, I have to go." Wooyoung shot out of his seat the moment the meeting concluded. They were discussing their next comeback.

"Everything okay?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yoonseo." Was all Wooyoung said. Not offering much else, the boys thought something happened to their niece and rushed alongside Wooyoung to the artist lounge.

However, Wooyoung froze, making the 7 of them crash into him like an animated cartoon. Wooyoung saw you sitting on the loveseat with Yoonseo in your lap, her front leaning against yours as you held her while the both of you slept.

"What the... Who is that?" Seonghwa whispered.

"That's Yoonseo's dance teacher. Woo's new crush." Yeosang replied. At Yeosang's words, Wooyoung broke out of his trance.

"She is not my crush. She's not." Wooyoung frowned defensively, directing the last part at Hongjoong, who stared back at Wooyoung with raised eyebrows.

"She is pretty though." Yunho smiled. Wooyoung felt oddly protective at his friend's words.

"Yoonseo~ (y/n) sshi~" You jumped a little when Wooyoung lightly shook you and Yoonseo. You blinked, realising where you were.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry." You apologised, realising Yoonseo was still asleep in your lap. Then you saw Yeosang and the other Ateez members standing behind him, looking on.

"Mmm..." Yoonseo groaned, rubbing her face against your chest.

"Yoonseo, come on." San stepped forward to lift Yoonseo up. Yoonseo comfortably leaned into her uncle's arms, pressing her cheek into his shoulder. You stood up and bowed deeply to the others, feeling your cheeks heat up. You didn't think you would be meeting an idol group, dressed in sweats.

"I'm so sorry." You apologised, bowing repeatedly.

"No need to apologise. Thank you for taking care of Yoonseo and staying with her. Sorry for taking so long." Wooyoung shook his head and you smiled sheepishly.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Yunho. You're Yoonseo's ballet teacher?" The tall male held his hand out for you to shake.

"Hello. I'm (y/n), it's a pleasure to meet all of you. Yes, I teach ballet. You're the main dancer in the group right?" You asked with a laugh.

"Yeah! How did you know?"

"When Yoonseo told me her dad and uncles are kpop idols, I went to search online. She said you're all really great dancers." You smiled, looking at the sleeping girl.

"(y/n) sshi, it's late. Let me drop you back home?" Wooyoung cut in, offering you a ride home. Before you could open your mouth to refuse.

"Please, I insist. You stayed so late with Yoonseo, it's the least I could do, make sure you get home safe." He cut you off. You closed your mouth and nodded. Wooyoung reached over to carry Yoonseo in his arms while you helped to carry her dance bag.

"Thank you, Wooyoung sshi. It was nice meeting all of you. Have a great night." You bowed to the Ateez members and left with Wooyoung. The members all waved to you as you exited.

"By the way, I went back to watch Ateez videos. You're a really good contemporary hip hop dancer." You complimented.

"Ah, I'm shy. You're so much better with how difficult ballet is." Wooyoung coughed.

"No, your artist of the month dance was amazing. Yoonseo definitely had your dance genes." You giggled.

"Thank you. I'm glad she wanted to start with ballet for the foundation. Maybe she'll progress to other genres." Wooyoung shrugged. He dreams of performing with Yoonseo one day.

"Whatever she chooses, I know she has a great teacher to guide her." You looked at him, making him all flustered.

"Anyway, I hope she wasn't too much trouble. Thanks again for looking after her." Wooyoung chuckled, changing the subject. You opened the car door for him to strap a half aleep Yoonseo into her booster seat and fastening the seat belt.

"Not at all, Wooyoung sshi. Yoonseo's a great little girl, very kind and courteous. You've raised her well." You giggled.

"... I'm guessing she told you that her mom isn't in the picture then..." Wooyoung said after a short pause, seemingly uncertain of what to say. You hummed and nodded your head.

"I'm sorry, it must not be easy." You said.

"Oh, you thought- No, she's alive... I think? She left right after Yoonseo was born." Wooyoung corrected.

"Ah, I guess I shouldn't have assumed... But you know, maybe it's for the better. Rather than have a parent that feels forced to stay... If that makes sense... Yoonseo still has a parent and uncles that love her... and want her." You said, rubbing the back of your neck. Wooyoung nodded, he knew what you meant.

"Don't worry, it does make sense. And I agree. All I want is for Yoonseo to be happy, to grow up feeling loved. As long as she is happy, I'm happy." He smiled.

"I'm sure she is. The way she talks about you and her uncles, I can tell. You've done great. My opinion doesn't matter since we just met but-"

"No, it does. It really does. Thank you for saying that, it means a lot." Wooyoung said.

"She's going to grow up to be an amazing person." You smiled softly, turning back to see the sleeping Yoonseo.

"She teaches me so much too, reminds me to enjoy the simpler things in life." He smiled. Right on time, Wooyoung's car pulled up to your apartment building.

"Thank you for the ride, Wooyoung sshi. I'll see you next week?" You bowed and unbuckled your seat belt.

"It's no problem. We'll see you next week. And please, call me Wooyoung." He said confidently and bravely, hoping to indirectly imply that you have both become friends of some sort. You weren't just his daughter's dance teacher.

"Sure but that means you call me (y/n) too. I hope I'm not overstepping but if you ever need someone to watch Yoonseo, you can always ask me." You smiled.

"Not overstepping at all. Thank you. I might just take you up on that, Yoonseo really loves your company." He chuckled.

"I love her company too. Goodnight." With a final greeting, you stepped out of Wooyoung car and headed into the building.

Watching you disappear into the building lobby, Wooyoung let out a long exhale, leaning back against the driver's seat. Many questions raced through his head.

Did he see a future with you and Yoonseo?

Furthermore, was he ready to open his heart again? Because letting you into his world would mean letting you into Yoonseo's world too.

Following that night, you didn't expect Wooyoung to text you again. But he did. It wasn't anything personal, it was Yoonseo forcing her (surprisingly inflexible) uncles to do ballet stretches with her. The pained expressions on the grown men's faces made you burst out laughing as you had a break from your ballet class.

'Poor uncles!! I hope Yoonseo goes easy on them. - (y/n)'

'If she's anything like me, she definitely will NOT go easy on them. Needless to say, she's the best in this class. And she wanted me to tell you that she reminded them to point their feet. - Wooyoung'

'As her teacher, I am proud to hear that. She has improved so much! - (y/n)'

"Who are you texting that's got you all giggly?" Your friend asked, sipping her water.

"Oh, just one of the parents from my littles class." You shrugged, playing it off as nothing special. You were hyper aware of Wooyoung's celebrity status so you were extra careful.

"A dad, I'm assuming? Is he single?" Your friend raised her eyebrows, nudging you playfully. You rolled your eyes.

"Yes, it's a dad. And I don't know why it matters but yes, he's single. Whatever you're insinuating, it's not gonna happen. He's 100% dedicated to his daughter, as he should be." You scoffed. She sent you a knowing smile.

"Give him a medal then. But don't assume anything, my dear (y/n). Anything is possible." She slung her arm around you.

"Yeah, whatever. Let's head in, I want a good barre spot." You said and headed into the studio for your dance class.

Maybe she was right. Because the conversation didn't die there. You and Wooyoung were texting almost everyday. Both of you were not dry texters and genuinely enjoyed chatting with each other.

"Baby, you can just give her the cookies after class." Wooyoung said as Yoonseo excitedly pulled him along.

"No. I want to give it to her before!" Yoonseo insisted. Yesterday, Yoonseo baked cookies and of course, she set a portion aside for her dance teacher.

"Okay, okay." Wooyoung gave in. He wasn't going to fight his daughter on this when she's been excited to give the cookies that they she worked so hard on. But (y/n) wasn't in the studio when they arrived. Wooyoung assumed she just hasn't arrived to prepare for the class yet since they did come early.

"Aww, she's not here." Yoonseo pouted.

"I think we're a little too early, baby. I'll ask the receptionist if she's here yet, okay?" Wooyoung offered, not liking to see his daughter so disappointed. Yoonseo nodded and followed him to the front.

"Excuse me, is (y/n)- I mean, Miss (y/n) here for class yet?" Wooyoung asked the lady.

"Let me check... Yes, she's here but she's in class. It'll be ending soon." The lady informed after checking the log.

"Oh, okay. Thank you." Wooyoung nodded. So you were the student in ballet classes for more advanced dancers. It should be a 'duh' moment but obviously it didn't occur to him.

"Miss (y/n) is like you, taking class with a teacher." Wooyoung informed Yoonseo.

"Oh... But she's also a teacher?" Yoonseo tilted her head.

"She's a teacher to you. But to an older teacher, she's a student." Wooyoung tried to explain it. to her. Yoonseo nodded, walking beside Wooyoung back to wait at the studio where Yoonseo usually had her classes. Until they walked past the biggest dance studio.

"Miss (y/n)!" Yoonseo pointed, now that the dance teacher had opened the door to the studio.

"Shh, Yoonseo. No shouting." Wooyoung chided but looked to where his daughter was pointing. Your hair was in a bun and you were basically wearing what Yoonseo wears as you did pointe work.

"Squeeze your ankles! Engage your core!" The instructor shouted as he clapped his hands to the melody of the music.

"And gracefully, come down. Close with arms in first position." He went around, checking.

"Psst, (y/n). I think that's one of your students." One of your friends leaned over to whisper. You blinked, turning your head to see Yoonseo and Wooyoung there.

"Oh, it is..." You gave the father and daughter a small smile. Yoonseo waved back.

"Wait, one of your kiddos is Ateez Wooyoung's daughter? And you didn't think to mention this?" Your other friend whispered harshly. You laughed and shrugged. Honestly, deep down, it was a secret that you liked to keep to yourself. Maybe you were feeling a little selfish, you had no idea.

"Class dismissed." The teacher concluded. You grabbed your bag and was about to leave when Wooyoung saw one of the males stop you. He leaned in to whisper something to you.

"Mmm, of course." You said with a laugh, nodding your head. After that, he let you go and you walked over.

"Sorry, am I late for class?" You asked Wooyoung and Yoonseo.

"N-No, we came early." Wooyoung said, snapping out of his trance. Yoonseo held a plastic pack of cookies out to you. You bent down to be on her eye level.

"For me?" You pointed to yourself. Yoonseo nodded with a proud grin.

"We made cookies yesterday! This is for you. The samchons ate everything else..." She sulked.

"Well, thank you for making sure I have some, Yoonseo." You patted her head with a giggle. Yoonseo beamed, happy to have made you happy with her cookies.

"Miss (y/n), was that your boyfriend?" Yoonseo asked as you walked with her to your class studio. Wooyoung nearly choked at his daughter's direct question but admittedly, his ears did perk up to listen to your answer.

"No, he's my dance partner. We have a performance coming up and we're doing a dance together." You explained.

"Oh." Yoonseo nodded. Wooyoung found himself subconsciously nodding too.

"I don't have a boyfriend." You said to her casually, opening the studio door for her to enter. Wooyoung stood by the door, not entering the studio.

"You can come in, Wooyoung. Just remove your shoes." You chuckled, leaning into your bag to grab some water to drink. You grabbed an overshirt to wear over your leotard and tights.

"Thank you." Wooyoung bowed as he entered. He has never felt so awkwardly, he felt like he was the kid, sticking to Yoonseo as if she was the parent, not him.

"Can I wear special shoes like you one day?" Yoonseo asked, sitting next to you as you removed your pointe shoes.

"Of course. If you work really hard, you can be an amazing ballerina." You smiled. Hearing that, Yoonseo looked up at her father with sparkling eyes. Wooyoung smiled softly, Yoonseo never really had a female figure she could look up to. And as he got to know you better, Wooyoung couldn't have asked for a better role model.

"I better go before the other students come. Have a great class, you two." Wooyoung stood up. You and Yoonseo both waved to Wooyoung as he took his leave.

He bowed to the other parents on his way out, his heart feeling fluttery after that encounter with you.

"Calm down, Jung Wooyoung." He scolded himself in the car.

Letting out a long sigh, he drove to the dorms to find Yeosang and San. Them having been friends for so long and being the closest, Wooyoung needed to speak about this with them.

"Wait, you're talking about Yoonseo's dance teacher, right?" San raised an eyebrow as he sat down.

"Mhmm." Wooyoung sighed, hugging Yeosang's pillow to his face, groaning in frustration.

"This goes without saying but are you sure you like her? In that way..." Yeosang threaded cautiously. Wooyoung took a while to reply, sitting up on the bed.

"I am in denial of whatever feelings I have for her. But I know it's something more because the last time I felt this way was with Yoonseo's mom. I can't even describe it, I'm almost scared of that feeling." He sighed.

"I'm not scared for me, I'm more scared for Yoonseo. I have to protect her, even if it means sacrificing what I want for her." He continued.

"That's where you're wrong, Woo. You are scared and it's okay to be. You have given up a lot for Yoonseo but at the same time, you didn't give yourself a chance to grieve." San stated.

"I don't need to grieve for that woman." Wooyoung scoffed.

"I think San means grieve for your relationship. At the end of the day, at some point, you saw a future with her." Yeosang said.

"A future that she didn't want." Wooyoung glared. Yeosang reached over to rub Wooyoung's back. He and San were the ones that were there the most when Yoonseo's mom left.

"It's okay to afraid, cautious, whether its for you or Yoonseo. But shouldn't close yourself in forever." San adviced.

"Don't give up on love so quickly." Yeosang smiled softly.

"A date won't hurt. If you're compatible, you're not. But you never know. And from what I see, Yoonseo does love her dance teacher a lot. I don't know her personally to judge whether she is or will be a good mother but I think she liked Yoonseo a lot too and seems to take great care of her." San said.

"She's an amazing role model to Yoonseo. And I'm not just saying that because I feel some way for her, she's great with her. And Yoonseo idolises her." Wooyoung said.

"And I know you're worried about the whole idol thing but don't assume things on her behalf. Let her honestly tell you herself."

"Okay, I'll... think about it. But Yoonseo and Ateez still come first." Wooyoung chewed on his bottom lip.

"Sure, sure." Yeosang laughed.

True to his words, Wooyoung didn't act on his feelings right away. His focus was still on Ateez schedules and Yoonseo but he did think about his feelings.

He continued to text you as per usual and you always replied happily, the both of you took turns starting the conversations.

"Appa, appa!" Yoonseo's feet padded into Wooyoung's bedroom and he watched her climb onto his bed. Wooyoung put his phone aside, blinking as he watched Yoonseo excitedly climb into his lap, his arms reaching out to support her.

"Can I help you?" Wooyoung chuckled.

"I want to go for Miss (y/n)'s concert!" Yoonseo excitedly bounced in Wooyoung's lap.

"Why do you suddenly want to go, baby? Also, is that how we ask for things around here?" He raised an eyebrow at his daughter. Yoonseo covered her mouth with her hands.

"Please? Today, Miss (y/n) wore a pretty dress! Like a princess. She said she's dancing in many many pretty dresses!" She grinned.

"No promises, baby. Let me see if I have schedule. If not, we'll buy tickets to go." Wooyoung said.

"Yay!" Yoonseo cheered. Wooyoung couldn't help but laugh, Yoonseo is generally a happy kid but he's hardly ever seen her so excited about seomthing before.

"Do you really like Miss (y/n)?" Wooyoung asked. Yoonseo nodded her head vigorously.

"Why?" Wooyoung tilted his head.

"She's pretty! And... and... she's nice! She takes care of me like you and samchons. I want to make her a lot of cookies." She listed out, tapping her chin. There was a lot more that she wanted to express to Wooyoung and he knew that, but this was the best that she could with her limited vocabulary.

"Wow, you really do like her..." Wooyoung said with amusement. Yoonseo nodded in confirmation, shyly leaning down onto her father's chest.

"But I love appa most!" She added.

"I'm happy to hear that, baby." He chuckled and stroked her hair, kissing the crown of her head.

"What about you, appa? Do you like Miss (y/n)?" Yoonseo blinked innocently. Wooyoung opened his mouth but closed it, unsure of what he 'should' be answering. Instead, he shrugged.

After that, Wooyoung broke his own rule and let Yoonseo sleep in his bed with him. He just wanted her close.

"I'll always protect you." He whispered.

"Umm, excuse me. I was wondering if there are still tickets for the senior company showcase?" Wooyoung hesitantly asked the receptionist of the ballet school.

"Wooyoung?" You entered the school, seeing the father and daughter there. Yoonseo squealed and hugged your legs.

"Hello, Yoonseo. It's nice to see you too." You giggled and bent down to her height so you could hug her back. Even after you stood back up, Yoonseo still glued herself to you. You put your hand on her back, holding her.

"We're hoping it's not too late to buy tickets to the senior showcase. Princess, here, wants to go." Wooyoung explained. You looked down at Yoonseo, who grinned back at you.

"Oh... Y-You both wanna come for the showcase?" You asked.

"Yes! To watch Miss (y/n)!" Yoonseo cheered. You looked to Wooyoung, who nodded in confirmation.

"You don't have to buy tickets. I have two free tickets, you can take them." You chuckled, nodding over to the hallway for you and Wooyoung to walk towards the studio.

"No way, I can't take them for free. You should save them for your family or something." Wooyoung shook his head.

"If I had people to give it to, I would have. My parents are out of town, as usual. So who better to give the tickets to? Rather than let them go to waste." You explained. Yoonseo looked to you then her dad.

"Plus I think they're actually sold out." You added with a laugh.

"Well, I guess there's no other option. Alright then, we'll take them. Thanks." Wooyoung rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thank you for coming to support us. I have the tickets in my locker, I'll give them to you at the end of class?" You asked. Wooyoung nodded with a hum. He would have corrected that he and Yoonseo were going to support you, not the entire senior company. They were solely going to watch you.

After class, Wooyoung didn't come to pick Yoonseo up alone. Yunho and San wanted to tag along. They stayed back until almost all the children and their parents were gone.

"Samchon!" Yoonseo excitedly ran to her uncles.

"Oh, hello." You bowed to San and Yunho. They waved before bowing back with kind smiles.

"Here are your tickets, Wooyoung. Thanks again." You handed the envelop to Wooyoung with two hands. Yunho and San leaned over to peek at it.

"What are the tickets for?" San asked.

"We're going to watch Miss (y/n) dance!" Yoonseo informed. You laughed and nodded your head.

"Are we invited too?" Yunho tilted his head. You were stunned by his question while Wooyoung's eyes widened before he punched the taller male's arm.

"No, none of you are going except me and Yoonseo." He glared.

"I'm sorry, Yunho sshi. I only have 2 free tickets and the rest are sold out... But I do appreciate you wanting to support the senior company. If there are future showcases and performances, I'll definitely let you know." You bowed in apology.

"I look forward to that." Yunho winked, making you choke slightly and look away shyly.

"Tsk, stop that. And don't apologise to him." Wooyoung interjected. You nodded your head slowly, unsure of how to react.

"Alright then. Let's go." San bowed to you and you bowed back. Yoonseo waved as San dragged Yunho and Wooyoung out of there. You just stood there and waved to all of them.

"Yun, cut it out." Wooyoung said once they were in the car. He didn't need to explain further, Yunho should know what he was referring to.

"Just being nice and making more friends in the dance world. Why are you all bothered?" Yunho asked back.

"I am not. Just stop with whatever it is you're doing." Wooyoung frowned. Yunho shrugged, he wasn't too affected by Wooyoung's pissy attitude towards him.

"Okay, both of you stop. Kid in the car." San cut in, reminding them that Yoonseo was there. Luckily Yoonseo was distracted by something out the window, not really paying attention to whatever conversation her dad and uncle were having. Wooyoung sighed and just continued driving.

Honestly, he didn't know why he got all bothered too. That's how Yunho usually is with new people, very friendly, which Wooyoung should be used to.

When he pulled up to the dorms where they were going to have dinner together, Yunho walked with Yoonseo.

"Hey, man. You gotta tone it down a little." San said as he and Wooyoung walked behind the two.

"I know. I don't know what came over me. It really looked like he was flirting with her and I just... I felt possessive almost." Wooyoung sighed with a shake of his head.

"There's my baby girl!" Hongjoong yelled as Yoonseo jumped into his arms.

"How was dance class, my little ballerina?" The captain walked in with Yoonseo while the 3 members removed their shoes and went to greet the others. Hongjoong sat down on the couch with Yoonseo in his lap. Seonghwa came out of the kitchen and scoffed.

"That's it, he's just going to stay there the entire night and not help." Seonghwa glared.

"Be honest though, hyung. Do you actually want him in the kitchen?" Jongho asked. Seeing that the maknae had a point, Seonghwa went back to the kitchen.

"Let me help, hyung." Wooyoung came in, washing his hands. He and Seonghwa were usually the ones in the kitchen.

"So, Yeosang told me about your little... dilemma." Seonghwa said as he cooked the chicken.

"Tattletale." Wooyoung muttered under his breath.

"Don't blame him, he's just concerned for you and not sure on how to help. I think it's great, by the way. That you're slowly allowing yourself to trust and accept new people into your life." Seonghwa said.

"You think so? Because I'm terrified. I feel like I'm being selfish if I act on my feelings, not putting Yoonseo and Ateez first. I already made that mistake once."

"A mistake, maybe. But we all make mistakes. Don't be afraid of making mistakes, Woo. It's part of life. You got a really great kid out of it. And sometimes, you have to put yourself and your feelings first. If not, you'll always be missing out or losing out on great opportunities. We won't blame you." Seonghwa smiled.

"Thanks, hyung." Wooyoung gave a small smile.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Let yourself love again. Just don't bring home another kid yet." Seonghwa chuckled.

"Tickets, please." The usher held his hand out. Wooyoung handed the guy his and Yoonseo's tickets. He led them to their seats, which was quite near the stage.

'Friends and Family'

That was when Wooyoung realised the tickets the dancers had were better seats, closer to the stage.

"Are you excited, baby?" Wooyoung asked. Yoonseo nodded her head, kicking her legs excitedly. More than excited, Wooyoung felt nervous, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

"Why are you hiding your face?" Yoonseo asked, pointing to the black mask Wooyoung had on.

"I think I have a stuffy nose." Wooyoung lied. He wore his mask in case any fans recognise him. He wanted to the attention to be on the performance, not on him. The plan was to remove the mask when the lights were dimmed.

"Appa, where is Miss (y/n)?" Yoonseo questioned as she held the programme book. Wooyoung held the booklet and flipped through it.

"Let me see... There. She is in 4 dances." Wooyoung said, pointing each time your name appeared. He hoped that Yoonseo was tall enough to see you on stage.

"When is it going to start?" Yoonseo stood up.

"Sit back down, please. It'll start soon, baby." Wooyoung patted the seat and Yoonseo pouted, climbing back on.

And as Wooyoung said, the lights dimmed a little later, signalling the start of the showcase. Yoonseo let out a little excited squeal and Wooyoung softly hushed her.

When it was your first item, Wooyoung felt his heart race a little. The moment the curtain opened, he saw you.

You looked absolutely beautiful, mesmerizing even. The costume fitted you perfectly, flowing along with your movements. To Wooyoung, you were like the main dancer with a glow around you, as if the spotlight was on you the entire time you performed. And no, he wasn't being biased, so he says.

"Do you see her?" Wooyoung leaned over to ask Yoonseo softly. She nodded and pointed to you with a big grin on her face.

"Can she see us?" Yoonseo whispered.

"Maybe." He chuckled, patting her head. They continued watching through the rest of the performance. Wooyoung loved each one more than the last.

Except when you performed a duet with a male partner. If looks could kill, your partner would be 10 feet underground.

He eyed the way your partner held your waist to support you during your turns and he hated the part where you stared into each other's eyes before he dipped you down.

"Appa? Are you okay? Do you need to pee?" Yoonseo asked softly, placing her hand over Wooyoung's when she saw his expression.

"No, baby. I'm fine. I don't need to pee." Wooyoung smiled.

At the final curtain call, everyone stood up to applaud the dancers. Wooyoung supported Yoonseo to stand on her seat to wave to you. You definitely saw them and waved back. Your eyes met Wooyoung and you smiled softly. He waved back to you and clapped.

"Miss (y/n)!" Yoonseo let go of her father's hand and ran straight to you when she saw you come out backstage.

"Yoonseo!" You dropped your bag and bent down. Opening your arms, you let her run to hug you tightly. You hummed, swaying from side to side.

"You were amazing!" Yoonseo excitedly squealed.

"Thank you. I'm really happy you came. I saw you right from the start." You softly pinched her cheek.

"For you." She held out the rose that she was carrying with her.

"It's beautiful." You patted her head. Wooyoung broke through the crowd, panting as he was looking for where Yoonseo ran off to. You straightened up and smiled at him.

"Yoonseo, you know you're not supposed to run like that! There are so many people here." Wooyoung frowned.

"But I saw Miss (y/n)." She pouted, hugging your leg.

"Thank you for coming, Wooyoung." You bowed. The both of you walked away from the main crowd to have some more privacy. Wooyoung handed you the bouquet of flowers that he was holding. You blinked at it, feeling your cheeks heat up. This wasn't the first time you got flowers but from Wooyoung, you felt flustered.

"You were great, by the way. Thank you for the tickets. We enjoyed the show a lot." Wooyoung complimented and Yoonseo nodded in agreement, holding her father's hand.

"Thanks, I'm glad you had a good time. These are beautiful." You smiled shyly, holding the bouquet and Yoonseo's flower in your arms.

"Are you hungry? Want some burgers?" Wooyoung chuckled.

"Starving, actually." You giggled. Yoonseo walked between you and Wooyoung as the 3 of you headed back to the car. Wooyoung went to a drive thru so you ate in the car.

"This hits the spot. Barely had time to eat today." You sighed happily as you took a bite of the burger.

"I'm glad. You deserve it after working so hard all day." Wooyoung laughed.

"You alright, baby?" He turned to see Yoonseo happily eating her nuggets. She grinned at him, happy to get nuggets to eat. The two of you looked so similar, blissfully happy with your food.

With how hungry you both were, the food was demolished quickly. But being past her usual bedtime, Yoonseo did fall asleep in the backseat, leaving you and Wooyoung to have hushed conversations. You talked about the most random things.

"Thanks again for coming tonight, Wooyoung." You said.

"Ah, stop thanking me. It was a great show, I really enjoyed it. It was great watching you. You'll have to come for our next concert, okay?" Wooyoung laughed.

"If you'd have me. I would love to see you perform on stage." You said honestly. Wooyoung felt himself get shy now.

"Our concerts are always fun. You'll have a great time there." He promised.

"Thanks for the burgers and for dropping me off. I guess I'll see you next week when Yoonseo has class?" You tilted your head as Wooyoung pulled up to your place.

"Actually, (y/n). Can I take you out for a proper meal some time? As a date." Wooyoung couragiously asked.

"I'd like that. And Wooyoung, even if you wanted to do drive thru in the car again, I'd be more than happy to do that." You giggled.

"As much as I appreciate that and enjoyed it too, we have to go to a proper restaurant. A first date always has to be special. I'll text you and we'll fix a date." Wooyoung smiled. It warmed your heart how seriously Wooyoung took this but you were serious too, you felt happy as long as you were with him.

"Alright. Goodnight, Wooyoung." You got out of the car.

"Goodnight, (y/n). Sleep well." He waved. He watched you disappear into your building and turned back to check on the sleeping Yoonseo before driving back home.

It'll take a while but Wooyoung knew there was no other person he would rather reopen his heart to than you.

Masterlist

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wandanatrules · 3 months

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Hi there!! I saw that you were taking request so I thought I’d put one in! I’m obsessed with a rich/Silver fox Nat x innocent reader. Silver fox Nat is definitely manipulative and possessive and is obsessed with R. Maybe for the fic nat just had a really stressful day and gets home late and needs to take her anger out on R? Maybe g!p too? Up to you! definitely super kinky

Try To Keep Me

hey idk if this does your request justice, but I hope you enjoy!! not proofread

word count: 1.5k

pairing: CEO silver fox beefy g!p Nat x housewife fem reader

warnings: smut, nat has a penis, cnc, angst, cursing, slapping, arguing, name calling, breeding kink, lactation kink, (let me know if I miss any )

You were done waiting on her. She told you that she was done with the broken promises, and the worst part was that you believed her. When you agreed to be her housewife you thought it would be less cooking, cleaning, housework and more wife.

It seems as though all you do is cook the meals that she demands, yet she never actually eats, do her laundry, clean her house, and be used as her personal fucktoy. She was never like this when you guys were dating. You used to have fun together, she used to look at you with that special twinkle in her eyes, while she held your hands and showered you with praises. You couldn’t remember the last time she even complimented you on something other than your body.

Yet you stayed, it’s not like she didn’t love you, I mean she paid the bills, you never wanted for anything. And the sex. The sex was incredible. She would take you whenever she wanted and it was always hot and passionate. You just wished she would bring romance back into the relationship and make you feel wanted.

You figured Natasha didn’t try anymore because she got too confident that you would never leave. She’s every woman’s dream being a millionaire CEO, who is exceptionally sexy, with her long red hair and the muscular body that she spends hours upholding everyday in the gym. But that didn’t matter to you, you missed the Natasha she was when you were dating, your gentle Natty who would pursue you each and every day, take you on thoughtful dates and cuddle you to sleep every night. You were going to teach her that she needs to put in effort in order to keep you.

”Babe, i’m home.” she says, walking through the front door throwing her stuff to the side, expecting you to pick it up later. “Where are you?” she wondered why you weren’t in the kitchen cooking or cleaning up like you normally were.

Walking through the house to look for you, she noticed the light was on in the closet of the master bedroom. “What are you doing, babe?” She asked with a furrowed brow as she saw you haphazardly throwing clothes into bags.

”Packing!” You said with a tight lip, pacing around the room trying to get your stuff together.

”Baby, stop! What’s going on? Where do you think you are going?” She said with an amused smirk.

“What the hell do you think is so funny! Everyday you come in here and treat me like i’m your fucking sex slave that’s just here to please you and be your maid! I am packing my bags and staying with my sister.”, You said while trying to push past her before she grabbed you by your wrist to stop you and turn you to face her.

“You’re not gonna leave me baby, you know I love you. Daddy is just so stressed out from work, that it’s hard for me to do all the romantic things you love to do.” She says while holding you by the waist.

“It’s just that I want you to try, there are tons of women that would beg to take me out and buy me flowers, so I think I am going to go find one of them.” You said trying to break away before feeling a harsh sting on your cheek.

“You are such a slut, any excuse to whore yourself out to everyone. I bet this bag is filled with skimpy thongs and tight dresses for you to escapade around the town in.” She says as she rips the bag out of your hands and grabs both of your hands behind your back and leads you to the bed.

Pushing you face down on the bed, she rips your house dress down as you try to wriggle from her hold and smiles when she sees that you are without underwear.

“Look at how pretty you are baby, I can’t believe you thought you were gonna leave me. You are mine, all the panties in that bag are only for me to see. Do you understand!” She says as she harshly slaps your ass. “You know maybe if I fill you up and make you pregnant you’ll be happier with my long hours, having someone to keep you company.

“Come here.”, She says pulling you up into all fours, before swiping her fingers through your pussy. “You’re so wet for me baby. Is the thought of me getting you pregnant turning you on?”

“Yes daddy. Please fuck me, i’m sorry.”, You said while humping back into her trying to reach back and unbutton her dress slacks.

She swats your hands and moves to unbutton her pants and pull them along with her underwear down and tosses them across the room. Her 9 inch length pops out and hits your cunt and starts to harden, she then begins to jerk herself off in order to fully harden.

Before slipping in she spreads your ass with hands on both cheeks and licks all throughout your cunt, up and down taking your clit between her teeth. “My goodness baby, I can never get over how good you taste.”, She says after pulling away and planting kisses all over your ass and cunt, licking and sucking on the skin of your cheeks in order to leave bruises.

“God baby you make me so hard I just have to fuck you.”, She says after pulling away from your ass and lining her cock up with your entrance. With one strong thrust she bottoms out causing you to yelp. Picking up the pace, she grips your hips and with a steady speed she continues to ram into you from behind.

“Oh Natty, please it feels so good. You fuck me so well, I can’t take it i’m gonna cum.”, You say humping back onto her trying to match her pace.

“Oh not yet baby, you better hold it until I fill you up with my kids.” She husked into your ear, while reaching down to play with your clit. That combined with the unmatched stamina she has from her daily workouts, is making it impossible to hold out.

”Please, please, please, Nat please I’m gonna cum!”

“Okay baby, don’t worry I got you. I’m right there with you, so cum when you’re ready.” She grunts out in your ear while violently ramming into you trying to catch her high. “Uhh, there you go. Take it all, baby take all my cum.” She releases her load into your cunt, causing you to come right after her. Pulling out she flips you over and pushes you onto your back, fingering the oozing cum back into you to make sure it sticks.

Pulling her fingers out of your cunt, she licks them and then kisses up your body. Starting between your thighs, she kisses a trail up your stomach, stopping when reaching your chest. “You’re gonna look so sexy as the mother of my children.”, She says while pulling your nipple into her hot mouth, sucking and taking the other one between her skilled fingers, pulling and twisting. “I can’t wait for these tits to be filled with your sweet milk, for me to drink.”

“You know you can’t just fuck me and expect me to forget what i’m upset about!”, You say in between moans as she continues her assault on your boobs.

”Okay, yeah you’re right baby. Tell me, what were you upset about?”, She says, lifting her head from your breasts, looking face to face, with a smirk.

“No, i’m being serious. Of course I want us to have kids, but I don’t want to feel like a single mother. I want a wife that cares about her kids and spends family time with them and her wife. Please, Nat, I hate that I have to beg you to romance me and make me feel like I mean something to you!” You sit up and cover yourself with the blanket, while you wait for her to reply.

“Yes I understand baby, come here.” She says while pulling you into her lap. “I know i’m not the most present with you, and it seems like I only care about your body when I am stressed out from work, but I don’t. You are the love of my life, and I couldn’t live without you. I am so sorry that I have been so lousy at showing you that. I promise that I will try everyday to show you how much you mean to me and how much I need you. I don’t even know what I was thinking, not treating you like the goddess you are.” She said, grabbing you by the face and placing a kiss on your mouth.

You move to straddle her hips and grind down on her length, “Okay, baby if that’s how you feel I think we should keep going if we are gonna start trying to have a family.”, You say, leaning in to kiss her again.

#natasha romanoff smut #beefy!nat #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #g!p natasha #wlw smut #wlw #lesbian

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khaire-traveler · 6 months

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🪄 Subtle Hekate Worship🕯️

Donate clothes, food, hygiene products, and the like to homeless shelters

Support food banks and homeless or animal shelters

Visit cemeteries; if allowed (please ask permission first), leave flowers on graves

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have a stuffed animal polecat, dog, or toad

Have imagery of torches, crossroads, or magic around

Honor your ancestors; honor any spirits in your life

Volunteer at an animal or homeless shelter

Cook a warm meal for someone in need

Take care of yourself physically

Take a self-care bath/shower, especially those with herbs or candles

Visit a crossroads; walk/hike on paths that have a crossroads and pick the direction that calls to you

Take a walk during the new, half, or full moon (only if it is safe to do so in your area)

Take time to notice the phases of the moon; meditate under each one, and learn their meanings

Start a garden; tend to plants, especially herbs

Study herbalism; study the history of witchcraft

Ground yourself regularly

Include her within spell work, if you do any; practice discreet methods of spell-casting

Learn non-obvious divination methods; cartomancy, pyromancy, carromancy, etc.

Burn incense, if able; frankincense is great

Drink herbal teas; cook with herbs

Practice mindfulness and emotional regulation

Honor your home/space; keep it clean, and make it feel like your own

At the end of each month, cook a good meal and make drinks with added honey

Baking raisin and currant cakes

Practice patience and understanding

Work on your decision-making skills; what do YOU want? What do YOU need? What are YOUR goals/passions?

Making a bonfire; gathering around it, alone or with loved ones

Learning to have more confidence in your decisions and actions; you know what's best for you more than anyone else

I hope this helps someone! I may add to it later on. For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Hekate. Take care, y'all, and have a good day/night. 💜

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#hecate deity #hecate worship #hekate #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #pagan tips #paganblr #deity worship

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crystaleclipse10 · 2 months

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A look into the Ninja's powers

Welcome to my analysis of the powers of each of the 6 main Ninja. How each power feels and its source for each Elemental Master, and how it reflects in their personalities. This has headcanons and canon explanation. Hopefully it all makes sense

Cole: Cole’s power comes from deep within the ground. He can feel the power of the earth in his guts, strong and steady. It’s grounding. It’s constant. The earth is always somewhere below him. No matter where he is, somewhere there’s earth—whether it’s deep within a mountain, everywhere; or leagues under the sea; or so far beneath the sky it is practically invisible—it will never not be there. It’s reliable. Yet it takes different forms: dirt, rocks, magma, sand; it’s all part of the ground, versatile. It’s protective; it encases and preserves ancient ruins and fossils, it gives shelter to those seeking refuge. It connects all living things—it reaches every part of the world. It cannot be forced to move, but it can be guided. It is the foundation of everything.

“You've never been farther underground. Never been more surrounded by the very thing that powers you. The Skull Sorcerer thought he was burying you, but what if he was actually bringing you closer to the earth? To the source of your elemental power?” “So what do I do? Try to connect with the earth?” “Perhaps. Or perhaps you just have to stop worrying so much and let the earth connect with you.”

Zane: Zane can sense his ice powers in his mind. It can exist in the coldest of climates, and when it melts, turns into something just as powerful; it is not wasted. It carves its way through anything—glaciers. The rivers of ice creep forward slowly but surely, taking everything in its path. It’s steady and cold, but its bite can be unrelenting. Frostbite, hypothermia—just as cold as ice is. And icicles, especially when shot as a projectile, are like daggers; sharp and dangerous. But it can numb pain. It tames something burning hot into something pleasantly warm. It is hard and strong, but it can crack—and if that happens, it can be made whole again with a little time. It is reliable and quiet. It can create a protective barrier. It’s there when it needs to be.

“This isn’t about numbers…it’s about family.” “He’s protecting us.” “I am a Nindroid, and Ninja never quit. Go Ninja, go!”

Jay: Lightning. He can feel it buzzing on his skin and nerves, able to be condensed and controlled. Pure energy, electricity. It’s volatile and dangerous. But it can be essential to life. It’s everywhere—thunderstorms, static, neurons firing in the brain. If it wasn’t for electricity, the brain would cease to function and life couldn’t exist. It’s quick—blink and it’s gone, just a thread of light that comes and goes. But its impact is remembered. A thunderous boom, a scar of soot, sometimes even a blaze set in its wake. Its glow is practically too bright to look at; a source of light for even the darkest of caves. Just one spark can start a fire or illuminate a building. It’s a source of power—for vehicles, technology, buildings. Even though it is not always visible, lightning and electricity are all around, ready to be called upon.

“Control the power inside you. When you feel a surge welling up, harness it.”

Kai: Kai’s power over fire comes from the breath—air is fuel for fire, and controlled breathing can control the blaze. It is not a matter of force—though hot anger can stoke fire—but harnessing the buzzing potential in the air. Fire can be destructive; a wildfire is chaotic, unyielding, and intense, burning everything in its path. But it can be life-giving, too. It’s cozy. It provides warmth on the coldest of nights. It can cook food, boil water, ward off frost. It is the essence of the sun—the largest blaze that allows life to exist. It burns with passion and ferocity, but if it loses strength, there will always be an ember remaining. Almost nothing can beat back a big, hot fire. It can be a weapon or a defense; it hurts to touch, and no one without immunity would dare go near. Without fire, life could not be sustained.

“I just wish I still had my powers. I was Master of Fire. I could've made a new fire like—like...like this.” “Oh, do not worry, Kai. Elemental Power comes from within, like courage. Sometimes it wanes, sometimes it waxes, but it cannot be stolen.”

Nya: The power of water flows through her veins. Water is ever-changing and powerful. Even the strongest rocks erode under the power of water. It’s relentless. It can defeat ghosts because it is always changing and shifting, while ghosts are stuck trying to be one thing and refuse to change. It cleanses and heals. The first thing to do for something dirty is to wash it with water. And it’s part of blood, something vital for people to live. It’s restless. The ocean never stays still; it does not like to be contained. The tides are as constant as they are powerful. The entire ocean moves with the tides; the constant in and out of so much water shapes the coasts. Rivers bend and flow around obstacles; no matter what is in the way, it will eventually reach the ocean—the largest body of water filled with plants and animals. Water supports life and creates ecosystems. It’s the heart of the wild.

“Jay, the ocean's good for much more than food. As we go deeper, I can feel its elemental power growing. It's almost overwhelming.”

Lloyd: Perhaps the most vague but also the most powerful element is Lloyd’s. Is it Power? Creation? Energy? Life? Lloyd is connected to the Source Dragon of Life, not Energy. Whatever the case, it comes from his heart. If it is Life, that is where it is strongest—the beating of a heart shows life in a living being; it is impossible to live without a heart. It’s everywhere—inside Lloyd, in his comrades, his students, his masters, nature around him. His love for the world is his true self and makes his heart powerful. His goodness gives him strength. His drive to save the world fuels his passion. Life is inside of him, but it can also be taken away. It can heal, but also hurt. When it is taken away, overused, or corrupted, it leaves him weakened and sick. But it can save his life in a fight—and it has. It is a combination of the core elements of Creation: Lightning, Ice, Fire, and Earth—LIFE (thank you @secretlyharumi for helping me realize this!). They can be utilized individually, but also combined into something potent and beautiful. Without life, nothing would exist. It is the thread of the universe, stitching together things similar and different; big and small.

“I’m already the Golden Ninja. How much more power do I need?” “You’ve only scratched the surface! You have the potential to move mountains. Power of the First Spinjitzu Master!”

I like the idea the Ninja's personalities and powers are mixed

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

#i couldn't find a better quote for zane 😭#lloyd's power is What #ninjago #elemental powers #ninjago cole #ninjago zane #ninjago jay #ninjago kai #ninjago nya #ninjago lloyd #lego ninjago #powers #headcanons

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slowcatsworld · 2 months

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Blue Lock Master Striker Headcanons

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France’s PXG: Julian Loki

My sweet

Julian definitely is an older sibling (literally made a 3 post long argument on how he is one so TRUST he is). His favorite memory of his little sibling is when they first said his name. The small ‘Julian’ mumbled in multiple breaths (ju..julian yk) made him pause his homework and look them straight in the eye. They stared back with a big, innocent smile. Julian broke out into a smile of his own and grabbed the little guy for a hug.

Julian has such a carefree relationship with his mom, he gives off such mama’s boy vibes. They are a duo that would stay up late watching tv shows even though he has school in the morning and his mom has work. When his mother would cook something Julian was always her taste tester. He lost count the amount of times he would go back for seconds just to “get a better taste” and receive a wooden spoon to the hand. Julian’s mother would adore his girlfriend, especially since she can tell what a good impact you have on her son.

Julian would work well with someone who has a lot of energy but doesn’t need to be monitored or babysat. For example, say he is out at an amusement park with his friends and significant other. His girlfriend sees a game stand that piques her interest and hurls away from the group to investigate with determined steps. Julian isn’t worried about her getting lost or in an altercation with someone. he knows she’ll be back soon and give everyone a detailed report of the stand, the game set up, and the prizes offered. Whether or not she will ask him to spot her some cash to play the game is a whole other story. (Brother is loaded just from playing football)

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England’s Manshine City: Chris Prince

I hate him

Pathetic man baby vibes

Chris is very aware of his personal hygiene and is ridiculously active in taking care of his body. He has a personal massager, esthetician, chiropractor, waxer, the works. He loves his physicality too much to let himself rust in any capacity. He almost never skips brushing his teeth or washing his face. If he isn’t fueled with a type of passion or desperate enough, he won’t kiss you in the morning until you both at least have some mouth wash. He carries two different deodorant scents in his practice bag. This is nice because you know he won’t ever smell bad, but sometimes he becomes cologne nose blind (especially on high end dates).

He has a beef with Americans. (I don’t know if he’s confirmed English but he is today) He doesn’t mock them or become outwardly rude to them, but he’s thankful to be in the European League and not the North American League (is that a real league? Google isn’t helping and I don’t know shit abt professional soccer leagues-) Chris goes bonkers when someone jokingly calls him an American; as he will be whining and waving his arms about how he’s so much better than them and how it insults his legacy to be compared to an American and not be acknowledged as an English man.

When his hair isn’t cooperating with him he cries out of frustration.

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Spain’s FC Barcha: Lavinho

Lavinho loves the feeling of dancing with his partner. It’s intimate and free, no matter what style nor if there was music or not. Lavinho is so fond of holding your hips and gently swaying the two of you in the silent hours of the night that he has a pep in his step when he walks home from practice. Your scent filling his nostrils, the heat he can feel coming from your neck and shoulder as he rests his head there, it’s all too perfect as he begins to hum a song to himself.

Lavinho would want to get a tattoo reminiscent of you. If yall ever were that serious. At first he was thinking of your name, but you shot that down quickly. Something more primal and colorful was more his style. He wants something that represents you, though. Y’all compromise on a couple things that fit both of your wishes. Your favorite flower, a kiss mark, and a woman dancing with a pair of wings emerging from her back. (Picture this omg. The woman could be bowing, in the middle of a dance move or smth and the wings are halfway out of her back. Or something like the woman looking up and outstretched and welcoming to the feeling around her. With the wings spread out powerful and graceful. Okay I’m done I’m done)

Lavinho loves being barefoot. If he can’t be barefoot, Lavinho is wearing open toed shoes. Chanclas, flip flops, Birkenstocks, doesn’t matter. He grew up like this, and doesn’t quite want to conform his freedom and customs to the world of Europe yet. Even if he has been living there for years. He gets so happy at feeling sand under his feet as well, it reminds him of his younger childhood days in the best way. (This is prolly canon bc the first time we see him he’s barefoot right?)

Am I becoming a Lavinho girl..?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Italy’s Ubers: Marc Snuffy

I don’t like him but I don’t hate him-

He says ‘shitty brats’ too much in the same breath at the end of the Ubers vs BM match I think he unlocked his previous degradation kink or smth idek maybe that’s why

Okay focus

Mick Moon’s death still haunts Snuffy. He hasn’t truly let it go, and even though he seems to make progress during the Ubers vs BM match, he has a long way to go to fully come to peace with his best friend’s death. Most times Snuffy can’t drink alcohol without thinking of Mick and becoming guilty. All the thoughts of how he could have saved Mick from his fate, how he did try but it wasn’t enough, how he allowed for his best friend to ruin his own life- even though that meant Mick stayed true to his philosophy. It hurts Snuffy. It’s the main reason why Snuffy cares so deeply for his teammates now, and why he goes out of his way to make sure they are okay mentally in his own way.

Snuffy wasn’t that interested in the luxury of lust that came from women when he first started out on his dream to being a professional footballer. It wasn’t until Mick that he started indulging in being a lady’s man. While it was almost always lustful and physical, the women that tugged at his heartstrings were the ones that would compliment Snuffy’s nose. The ones that would hold his face to their chest and give him slow, loving kisses to his nose while their hands moved further up into his hair. The ones that knew his eyes were actually orange and not brown and how those women looked into his sharp, big eyes like he was the reason for all their happiness was surreal. Those instances it would become all too real for Snuffy. The lines between lust and something more would get blurred and blurred until he got scared and backed away and moved to the next lady in the next club with a smaller smile than before.

Snuffy is very proud of his black belt in Jujitsu. Especially with the way it helps him on the football field. His understanding of his own body and abilities mean more to him than the average person too. Also because of Mick and how Mick ignored his body both before and after getting let go as a footballer.

Okay, Snuffy isn’t that bad I guess-

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Germany’s Bastard Munchen: Noel Noa

My man my man my man

Let me give you a big smooch

Noel sunburns so easily. He never tans, he always burns a hot pink. He has but an ounce of melanin in his skin that prevents him from being totally albino. Because of this, he is very serious and methodical about applying sunscreen. He applies daily, especially when he knows he’ll be outside for practice or a game. He also isn’t that fond of costal activities because of the sun exposure, even more so because he can’t swim that well. (OMG I read a little blurb about Noel not being able to swim but his wife loved to I don’t know who wrote it but it was so cute I’ll try to find the writer)

He does interviews for football, but finds them rather bland and not that important. He likes to discuss football strategies and profile analysis he’s done of other players, but most of the time reporters aren’t that interested in his words. They always want to know more intimate details about him, it feels like to Noel. Just not his exact cup of tea, but he knows other players are always willing to talk in an interview so he leaves the chitter to them if he can. He likes for his actions on the field to speak for him.

Noel makes an effort to acknowledge stray animals if he can. The cat sitting on the restaurant sill? He gave it some head scratches before continuing his walk. The dog that always lays in the same sunny spot of concrete on the sidewalk? Noel has given him some water just yesterday. It feels as though he’s paying homage to their sacrifices by giving them small acts of domesticity as he was once a stray too. He still feels like one sometimes. At night when he’s awake in his bed thinking, he ponders the possibility of taking one of the many strays home with him. He won’t allow himself to though. He can’t stoop so low as to take an animal into a home that he knows he’ll be absent enough from them (his football commitment sigh) to not properly take care of them, his head reasons, even if his heart wants him to act so unrationally.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

8.6.24

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iovmegumi · 1 year

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sims 4 crystal legacy challenge

hello! here is a legacy challenge i created while playing the Garden Legacy challenge. i didn’t want to finish on my tenth gen and decided to create my own challenge, based on crystals. this challenge can be continued from a previous save or started in a new one! i also tried to implement base game options for those who don’t own all the packs! some gens do need packs but if you don’t have them, they may be skipped.

if you play this please tag me! or post your sims with #iovmegumi crystal legacy challenge

general rules ❥ you do not have to live on the same lot for all 10 generations if you wish. ❥ mods and cc are allowed! ❥ no money cheats ! ❥ i’ve assigned a colour to each gen so you may play with berry sims if you wish! ❥ i’ve decided that in each generation you may roll for offspring (rolling a dice or using a random number generator to decide how many children) unless stated otherwise in the rules.

gen one - rose quartz (pink)

a stone of unconditional love.

growing up, all you ever wanted was a family. leaving home young to start your life, you work on your career while trying to find the one, dedicated to cultivating the perfect life. you work hard to support your family and love your children so much, opening your heart and home to those in need of families as well. you cherish your partner and frequently find yourself going on date nights.

traits: family-oriented, romantic, perfectionist aspiration: super parent (PH) or big happy family rules:

❥ level 10 cooking ❥ level 5 gourmet cooking ❥ level 10 parenting (PH) ❥ master arts critic career or reach level 10 of painting while freelancing ❥ have four kids, one adopted ❥ marry your soulmate and stay together until death do you part

gen two - orange calcite (orange)

a stone for energy and creativity.

you had everything as a child, lots of siblings and loving parents. you took an interest in your house, specifically the furniture and decided that you’d love to create your own items. when you are old enough you begin learning how to make furniture and take an interest in repairing objects. though you grew such a passion for this, you found that you hadn’t really had time to make friends.

traits: loner, self-assured, maker (EL) or creative aspiration: master maker (EL) or curator rules:

❥ level 10 fabrication (EL) or complete crystal collection or both! ❥level 10 handiness ❥ level 5 gardening ❥ level 10 civil designer career - green technician branch (EL) or live off making creations ❥ have only one friend ❥ marry that friend ❥ complete aspiration ❥ roll for offspring ❥ fill house with furniture or items you’ve made

gen three - moonstone (white)

a symbol of light and hope and also encourages us to embrace new beginnings.

your parents were so focused on the world around you that you began wondering what else was out there. you grew a fascination for space and found the urge to explore outside your planet. you meet some different people, and even find yourself falling in love with one of them. how do you tell your parents that you’re marrying an alien?

traits: genius, family-oriented, clumsy aspiration: nerd brain rules:

❥ level 10 logic ❥ level 10 fitness ❥ level 10 rocket science ❥ level 5 parenting ❥ level 10 astronaut career ❥ complete aspiration ❥ have 4-5 kids ❥ marry an alien (if you have GTW) ❥ build & fully upgrade a rocket ship ❥ travel to sixam

gen four - sodalite (blue)

enhances communication and builds confidence.

having an alien background, you have never felt like you fit in. you dream of having lots of friends and living a normal life. you focus on trying to blend into society and try to be as social as possible, throwing parties and meeting new sims, even seeming to gain some attention on the internet too.

traits: outgoing, unflirty, party animal or bro and loyal aspiration: friend of the world rules:

❥ level 10 charisma ❥ level 7 comedy or mischief ❥ level 7 video gaming ❥ level 10 social media career - internet personality branch (CL) or entertainer - comedy branch ❥ complete aspiration ❥ roll for offspring ❥ throw 5 parties over the course of your life

gen five - pyrite (grey)

used for abundance, confidence & protection.

note: this gen requires Get Famous and may be skipped if you do not own the pack!

having a well-known parent thrust you into the spotlight from a young age and as you grew older, you found yourself loving it, wanting more. you dream of being on the big screen, your face plastered on billboards, your name nominated for awards. you’ll do anything to gain fame, even if it means use others.

traits: ambitious, snob, self-absorbed (GF) aspiration: world famous celebrity rules:

❥ level 10 acting ❥ level 10 piano ❥ level 5 violin ❥ level 5 guitar ❥ level 10 acting career ❥ complete aspiration ❥ become a 5 star celebrity ❥ have two failed marriages ❥ have only one child ❥ have a butler (VG)

gen six - amethyst (purple)

a powerful protective stone.

your parent was obsessed with fame, wanting you to follow in their footsteps. after seeing how little they cared about you, you decided to go in a different direction. your butler was your best friend and basically raised you, talking to you of how they used to love their family garden. you decide a quiet life is suited to you and put all your focus into working on a lovely garden dedicated to your butler.

traits: loves the outdoors, neat, vegetarian aspiration: freelance botanist rules:

❥ level 10 gardening ❥ level 10 cooking ❥ level 6 logic ❥ level 10 gardening career (seasons) or complete basegame plants collection or both ❥ have at least 3 kids ❥ lose one child to death ❥ be best friends with your childhood butler

gen seven - tourmaline (black)

promotes happiness and offers protection, inspires creativity.

losing a sibling was the hardest time of your life, and you found that your family never recovered from this loss. you hear a myth of a book that can bring people back to life and vow to return your sibling back to you and your family.

traits: gloomy, creative, paranoid or erratic aspiration: bestselling author rules:

❥ level 10 writing skill ❥ level 5 photography skill (GTW) ❥ level 10 writing career ❥ complete aspiration ❥ write book of life & bring back deceased sibling ❥ marry a bookworm ❥ roll for offspring ❥ adopt a cat (C&D)

gen eight - bloodstone (red)

for courage & justice, strengthens immune system & family bonds.

your parents had been stressed a lot of their life, working hard to bring your family member back. you were frustrated that they had to go through so much and decided to take it out on others. you grew to despise most people, working on creating enemies rather than friends, feeling a sense of justice for your parent. yet you still made sure to love your children, even if you may have not loved your spouse as much.

traits: mean, noncommittal, bro aspiration: bodybuilder rules:

❥ level 10 programming ❥ level 10 mischief ❥ level 10 criminal career (oracle branch) ❥ roll for offspring ❥ cheat on your spouse once all children are born ❥ get divorced as an adult ❥ get engaged again & leave new spouse at the altar

gen nine - amazonite (green)

a stone of peace, harmony, truth & communication.

the trauma of your parents rough marriage led you to pursue finding harmony and inner peace. you find this through yoga and painting, refusing to get a job so you can keep an eye on your spouse and make sure all your children feel loved.

traits: jealous, erratic, art lover aspiration: painter extraordinaire rules:

❥ level 10 painting ❥ level 10 wellness (SD) or level 10 violin ❥ level 5 knitting (NK) ❥ complete aspiration ❥ never get a job ❥ fill your household with children ❥ always celebrate the holidays (seasons) ❥ go to the spa once a week (SD)

gen ten - citrine (yellow)

attracts wealth, prosperity & success.

note: this gen requires discover university! but i have included a basegame option too!

your whole life has revolved around your siblings. you had nothing that was your own and desperately wanted to remove yourself from them, wanting your own success and your own name. you study and get a degree, priding yourself on your intelligence and work ethic.

traits: hot-headed, materialistic, overachiever or ambitious aspiration: fabulously wealthy rules:

❥ level 10 robotics or level 10 logic & charisma ❥ level 7 programming ❥ level 7 handiness ❥ level 10 engineer career or level 10 business career ❥ complete aspiration ❥ get a university degree (DU) ❥ own a dog & a cat (C&D)

#sims 4 challenge #sims 4 #ts4 #iovmegumi crystal legacy challenge #crystal legacy challenge #legacy #sims 4 legacy challenge #legacy challenge #10 gen legacy #the sims 4 #the sims 4 challenges #sims 4 challenges #basegame legacy #discover university #get famous #sims 4 seasons #berry sims #sims 4 berry challenge #sims 4 berry sims

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oozedninjas · 3 months

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Hey, Tim! If it's cool, could I please request what it would be like dating the 2012 boys? If you don't do 2012, then Bayverse please?

By the way, keep up the amazing work 💜

Got some free time today! Hope to post the others soon too. Ily thanks for staying in tune!

2012 / sfw / kissing/ninja guys are late 20's

Leo

Prepare to be protected. At all costs? You can bet so. Against your will? Probably sometimes.

He'd value your safety above anything else.

He would probably plan all your dates, which would always be incredibly thoughtful and romantic. Like rooftop picnics overlooking the city.

Leo always keeps his promises.

He might introduce you to martial arts, meditation, or his favorite shows. It's exciting to share his hobbies with you!

10/10 Leo is respectful and courteous. You will always be treated with kindness, care, and consideration.

The type of boyfriend who carries you bridal style.

His kisses might start hesitant, like testing if you're willing, but quickly overflow with passion if he's reciprocated.

Raph

He's very intense in the way he communicates his feelings. Deeply committed and fiercely loyal.

While he's always there to protect you, he loves that you can fend for yourself and adores seeing you kick ass.

Dates with Raph would be thrilling, often entangling action-coded activities.

His brutal honesty always keeps you leveled on where you stand with him.

Raph loves banter and teasing, so be prepared to keep up with him.

He probably shared with you the story of Spike, and honestly, wtf.

He's the type of boyfriend who carries you like a potato bag. You can't change my mind.

His kisses are always deep and passionate right from the start, biting and sucking at your lips, a bit of growling against your mouth if it gets too steamy.

Donatello

Your personal problem solver: He’d build or fix things for you, always using his skills to make your life easier!

He'd equip you with several tech tools designed only for you, and they're always incredibly mindful: Oh, your charger isn't working? Here! A whole-ass sun-fed battery resistant to water, dust, and hackers.

Donnie would be super supportive of your interests, always eager to learn more about them.

Dates always have a hint of science: aquariums, planetariums, museums, and the best part is the thrill of breaking in the middle of the night. Good thing he has a device to fool security cameras.

He carries you on his back, piggybacking or bridal style when he feels a bit more romantic.

His kisses are sweet and shy at first, eager and needy right after.

He cups your face softly and sighs when you pull apart.

Mikey

Mikey holds your heart in his hands with such heart-warming love and adoration it's almost too sweet.

He would always make his best effort to make you feel loved in the exact way you'd appreciate the most.

He learns your love language by heart and tries to complement the others. He's best at words of affirmation and acts of service.

Always there for you when you need him.

Also incredibly protective!!

Dates with Mikey are always fun and creative! You follow each other into your current hyperfixations or hobbies like painting, skateboarding, and graffiti… we don't talk about this one in front of Leo, tho.

You subscribed him to a cooking master class and everyone in the lair thanked you for it.

He carries you like a potato bag sometimes, and other times he lifts you up so that you embrace him with your legs by the front.

He loves to brush his nose with yours.

His kisses are playful and steamy, with lots of smooches in between. He nibbles at your lips, tasting every corner of them.

#tmnt x reader #tmnt #twenty something ninja turtles #I will finish the tags later bye!

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shittybundaskenyer · 1 year

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✹ ▬ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒, 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒

rating: Explicit pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader summary: it’s been half a year since you’ve last seen Arthur, and as you finish the last empty page of the journal he gifted you, a lone rider shows up down in the valley on a familiar, silver-dappled mare. warnings: high honor Arthur, reader is an artist herself, and very lonely, touch-starved, porn with feelings (and minimal plot), i’m not gonna lie 5k of this is just pure smut, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, love confessions, Arthur being a sweetheart, a little angst and emotional hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending word count: 8457

a/n: i finally finished that wip i started cooking up during uni crunch time, but i’m proud to announce that i finished my master’s in graphic design and i’m finally fucking free of uni. it was a very depressive part of my life, i got completely burnt out in mind and soul too, so writing and drawing was more like a burden than something i enjoy. but now, now i’m so full of new passions, especially towards writing that i couldn’t wait to finish up this piece. i also want to thank everyone who came by to read my stuff even though i haven’t posted anything since like last october or something, love you all! (also special thanks to @wintersongstress bc you kept me going whenever you said a few kind words) <3

MASTERLIST | ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

In the spring Big Valley blooms.

Fireweed and balsamroot and irises, blue and purple and the prettiest shades of yellow and pink, dotting the landscape like careful brushstrokes of a painter’s handiwork. The earth is alive here, black and red from the fallen fir and pine needles, with mushrooms and bugs hiding under the rotting, fallen logs.

It’s a beautiful morning—pink from the rising mist and the early sunlight.

You sit on the porch of your small cabin, its wood creaking as a gentle breeze sweeps over the surrounding forest. Songbirds confess their love above, chirping a sweet melody that sings to your heart just the same. You finish your coffee and place the worn tin cup on the windowsill behind you, leaning back in your chair to pick up your journal.

It’s almost full now; barely a few empty yellowed paper is left. You turn another page, sketch the shape of an eagle with the last chunk of your pencil, so small you can barely hold it right. It’s been many months since Arthur gifted it to you.

It’s been months you’ve seen him the last time too.

Your heart aches a little when the orioles begin another love-song in your small garden. A sweet smell reaches you, a late-blooming wild cherry tree, its honey lulling in bees and birds and flies and the first butterflies of the year. You draw them too, detail their wings and hair and the tiny spikes covering their legs. With shaky, unladylike handwriting you write their names there too.

WESTERN TIGER SWALLOWTAIL

MONARCH

WILD DOVE

As you write the last word, your hand lingers over the drawing, then on the freshly pressed forget-me-not on the other page, it’s blue seeped into the paper around it like a watered up, inky halo.

Little dove. Arthur's name for you.

Christ, you miss him.

Worry clawed under your ribs for so long you no longer feel the ache. You know what kinda life he lives, what he does in the name of survival, the largest devil. You still like him. You still feel anxious every time you go into the town post office and realize that there’s no letter nor telegram from him. He’s been… kind to you. Real kind, even though no one else was.

You draw in a slow breath and flip the pages back right to the first one. It’s crumpled a little from all the time you’ve returned to it before. A simple sketch faces you, the lines and shading so different from your own, patches of light and shadows adding together a face that stares at you every time you look in a mirror. All the imperfections, all the ugliness and beauty your likeness wears, all the messy hair and sparkling eyes he’s grown to know.

Little dove, says a handwritten line under the portrait. Draw me all the other beauties of this land.

You did. Christ, you did it all and he’s still away.

You sigh, fold the journal and wipe your hand in your skirt. It’s still muddy from all the work you’ve done in the garden after you've awoken, so you don’t mind a bit of graphite there too.

The journal returns to its palace on the windowsill, beside the coffee cup and a pack of cigarettes.

Big Valley turns into shades of gold as the sun rises above the treeline, illuminating the wet dirt roads that twist below like giant snakes. You take a deep breath and rise to meet the day. There's a prickling warmth on the line of your spine, a trail of goosebumps that make your breaths come out shaky. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe it's fate.

You stop, halfway turned to the door already, and a rider appears on the winding paths in the distance.

You stand and you watch, frozen in place as the familiar silver-dappled mare canters closer and closer, its rider swaying in her saddle, one hand grasping the reins and the other dangling lazily beside his body. Black hat, a worn leather coat, sky blue shirt and shining spurs. You don’t have to see his eyes to recognize the sun on horseback.

After a few moments he halts the mare before your cabin, her breath puffing against his hand as he pets her forehead after swinging himself down from the saddle. “Good girl.”

You grow weak in the knees, lip trembling as you suck in a hasty breath. Do all wishes come to fruition if one draws it enough times? Do paper, words and shaky lines have this much power?

He walks up the first two steps of your porch, taking off his hat to reveal golden brown locks, long and messy now, wet with sweat and yesterday's rain still dripping from the trees.

There’s a moment of silence when your eyes meet.

A moment of truth when he says your name.

You open your mouth, then close it. There’s so much you want to say, so much you feel, yet the only sentence that leaves your lips is, “You've come just in time for breakfast.”

The silence is awkward at first when you pour him the remaining lukewarm coffee, and even more when you prepare breakfast and lay out everything on your small dining table. Your bed is unmade, there’s mud stuck on the doormat, your laundry stacked in a high pile in the corner and all the dried herbs from last autumn hang low from the ceiling of the single room cabin.

Your home is as much a mess as you are, but it’s well lived-in, like a body. A shell housing a soul.

Arthur doesn’t mind. Never did.

“Is this the wrong time?” he asks when you cut fresh onion leaves on a plate, still dewy from the morning mist that rolled over the valley. The knife stops in your hand. You can hear him breathing, calm, even exhales, yet it feels like he’s not even real.

“No,” you press out, uncertain in your own thoughts, and you keep cutting the leaves until they’re nothing more than a fleck of green pulp on the white porcelain. You don't even realize when he stops you. You just feel the unusual warmth, radiating from around the back of your palm, through your whole arm, until something wild and ancient flickers alive in your ribcage.

“Are ya alright?” The calloused hand retreats and the knife falls from between your fingers.

“I—” you swallow, throat suddenly dry and choked with tears at the same time, “half a year is a long time.”

He closes his eyes and hangs his head. ‘Course it is. You thought he was dead. You thought he got taken to prison and they hanged him like a dog.

The food remains untouched as he swipes a hand over his jaw and takes a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. You watch him, still cautious, taking a mental note of every little change. A small scar freshly healed on his cheek. His beard longer, a bit messy. His eyes oh so tired, like he hasn't slept in days.

“You want me to go? I get it if ya have a husband now an’ I don’t want to cause tr—”

“No!” you almost shout, panicked, and his gaze searches your face. Why do you behave so goddamn strange? You wanted him here for months! You wanted him, wanted— “Jesus, there’s no husband, okay?”

The corner of his lips curl upwards a little at that. Crow's feet crinkle in the corners of his eyes. Those tiny laughing-lines around his nose move.

“I guess I just… I’ve been alone for a long time,” you sigh and force down a bite of cheese-topped bread. Your stomach protests loudly, it wants to escape the hunger or the nerves, you can’t decide yet.

Arthur takes that as a sign to take a bite from his food too, and you know he's hungry. As you watch you realize how tired he is. How worn—like a saddle neglected in care and used until the leather cracked, then split. He eats up the whole slice of bread before you manage to take your second bite.

The awkward quiet persists, gets stronger even, but there's so much to say and so little courage you can muster.

He’s the one who finally runs a bloody knife through the silence.

“Did ya draw for me?”

There’s a distant longing in his voice that’s almost crystal clear. You nod, the nerves tangled in your belly easing. He remembers, he knows. He wants to see.

You bring in the small book from the porch while he finishes his food, and he’s already lighting a cigarette when you arrive and lay the leather-bound pages in front of him. He smiles at how worn it looks, how much fingerprint-stained page edges are littered throughout the journal. It’s well-loved, and well lived-in too.

You silently watch as he flips through a few pages, tracing a finger over bucks and birds and butterflies, over the scratchy sketch lines you immortalized nature with. The Grizzlies covered in snow. Clovers and mushrooms. Your home with opened windows and flowers hanging in pots from the roof of the porch.

“I’m sorry I missed all this,” he says softly, looking up at you like you’re the sun and the moon and the whole world. So fond, so tender it makes you ache for something that never can be yours. “I’m sure this place is pretty in the winter.”

You nod. You don’t tell him about almost freezing to death when the storms rolled in from the mountains in the spring. You don’t tell him about the roaming gangs either, about the bastards camped at the Hanging Dog ranch or the man who got eaten by a bear in his own home. This is a dream world. A valley that can be as easily a good dream as it can be a nightmare. You want it to be a good dream for him. An escape. You know what life he lives. What he runs from.

“It’s even prettier now,” you finally answer, watching him reading your messy handwriting beside the drawings. Forget-me-not. White clover. Blue iris. “Spring came very late, everything is still blooming.” You bite into your lip and after a few seconds you ask, “wanna see?”

Arthur looks up at you and something flickers in his eyes. Maybe hope. He nods, puts out his cigarette, dusts off his hat and puts it back on his messy hair.

“Only if you let me draw ya again.”

Everything around you buzzes and dances and it’s full of life, the valley, the word ‘spring’ written by the hand of Mother Earth in flowing rivers of wildflowers and overgrown grass. Orioles chirp not far away, singing another lulling love-song, matching the rhythm a creek makes above, crystal clear meltwater digging its course from stone and black earth towards south.

Arthur stands a bit farther away from you, with his journal and a piece of charcoal in hand, putting the scenery to paper in blacks and greys and negative spaces. Or you think he’s drawing the Grizzlies and forests and farms littered down in the valley like mushrooms popping from the ground after a lukewarm summer rain.

But instead, he draws you.

The crown of flowers sitting atop your head—the girls at camp taught him how to make one, he said, smiling. The arch of your lips. The shadow of your lashes. The tangles in your hair, the dirt on your skirt, the sun glinting in your eyes.

When he’s done he walks back to you, flops down into the grass beside you to show you his work. The scenery really is just the background. Hasty, faint lines of mountain-spines and plants that curl towards the sun. But you, you’re detailed like an oil painting, from the wrinkles in your dress to the imperfections of your face.

“You wanted to draw the land, ain't ya?” you ask him, knowing, smiling at him as he slips his charcoal into the cord on his hat. He gives you a lopsided smirk, then wipes his hands on the rough fabric of his jeans.

“I just found something so much more pretty,” he looks into your eyes when he says that and it burns like how maybe the sun’s surface would burn. You know there’s a blush rising through your neck, up to your cheeks, and you hope he thinks it’s from the warmth of the day. But he would be a fool to believe that.

“Are ya tryin’ to flirt with me?” you feel like a child. A giddy girl getting her first carved wood pony to play with. You never believed him when he told you you were beautiful. You couldn’t. Yet here, now, in the all-revealing sunlight he seems like his words are genuine. Much more pretty.

He leans back on his hands, the sun caressing his face when he finally takes off his hat. His laughing-lines crinkle.

"Do ya remember last year, when you gave me a kiss?"

If you haven't been burning up, you certainly are now. Something wild and primal stirs in your belly, something that’s very close to want and need. Of course you remember. Of course you can’t forget the way you leaned in and gave him a little peck on the lips, a bare press just because his plump lips looked so goddamn kissable and because you were so goddamn drunk. It doesn’t mean you didn’t want to do it sober. You just didn’t have the courage. But with amber whiskey in your stomach and his hand on your knee you couldn't be stopped. It was the day he left. The last day you’ve seen him alive until now.

You nod and look away. You don’t want to think about a dark future when Arthur wants to talk about kissing you. Jesus Christ.

“I wanted to draw your lips ever since then. Sometimes I did when I dreamt about you. Always smiling, always with flowers in your hair. But I never got it right.”

“I never thought you was a romantic, Mr. Morgan,” you’re truly blushing now, breaking the eye-contact, and picking at your nails instead because hearing this is a lot. The man you were waiting for months, the man you thought you loved and was dead, now sits here beside you, making poetry bubble in your chest. An oriole sings there too, trapped by ribs and muscle, red like the rising sun.

“I— I’m never good with words,” he shrugs, picking on a blade of grass between his fingers. “Ya know I never was.”

You smile at him, still flushed.

“But I thought about the time we spent together in the past and I… I realized I was happy with ya.”

What is this if not a confession?

You reach for him. Slowly, like one would comfort a spooked horse, sliding your palm over his scarred knuckles until the grass he was twirling falls to the ground. He watches your hands on each other, yours so small and mostly soft compared to his large, battle-worn fingers.

"I was happy with ya too," you whisper, so damn afraid yet you know he said it first, it must mean something—

He looks at you, looks right through you, gazes into the deepest depths of your soul where you already carved a space for him months ago. He looks at you and he knows this is not some sick joke, that your mutual attraction was not some mirage you chased for so long.

He leans in and the world falls dead quiet. His breathing, shaky and unsure and deep, the only sound you can concentrate on as he nudges your nose with his own. Right where you left off half a year ago. Right where you imagined this in every dream.

You nuzzle him, brush your lips against the corner of his mouth, his beard prickling and coarse, but his parting lips are soft, gently cupping your own between them, slow and careful and so goddamn sweet. He moves, hands reaching for you as you try to deepen this embrace, reciprocating the kiss, turning your body towards his. His fingers land in your hair, getting caught on the tangles like trouts on a net, and he cups your cheek with his other hand, so warm, it's like the sun is cradled in his palm.

Maybe you're his sun. Maybe he's yours.

The kiss turns needy after a while, tongues dart out and teeth nip gently on plump, rosy lips. He keeps you close, closer, until your noses are squished together and his hair falls into your eyes and you can feel your lashes tickling his skin. He kisses you like no one ever did. He kisses you like it means something.

Need awakens inside you with the force of a hundred galloping horses as his hands find your waist, the line of your spine, the collar of your dress, the outwards curve of one breast. They doesn't move further. It doesn't mean you don't want them to.

Arthur pants against your mouth as you move away, the taste of tobacco and wild cherries still intense on your tongue.

"Will ya draw me one more time?" you ask quietly, against the side of his face, your words tangling into the wild mess of his beard.

"How?" you look him in the eye and he already knows, yet you make a show of it as you pull on your dress and slowly bare yourself to him. There's not a soul for miles, no one to disturb this bubble of peace and strawberry champagne haze you made for yourselves so you're not ashamed. And when you discover that wild flame burning in his eyes—

Your body becomes alive with a meadow consumed by fire, overgrowing and rotting and oozing honey from every pretty flower. You shed your chemise. The shoes. Bloomers come last, already stained with grass and bright yellow pollen.

You sit nude in front of him, a feast for his hungry eyes, yet he doesn't stare at you for long. He wants to commit this to paper. He wants to see this every day from now on—the curve of your breasts, the wide of your hips, the hair nestled between your legs, the smile you can't keep off of your lips.

"For the road," you chuckle with a wink, watching how he scribbles away in his journal. "For lonely nights."

"I could put this up in a gallery and take ya to Paris," he answers with a piece of charcoal in his mouth, smudging the powder on the paper. "Wanna see the world little dove?"

You know it's just gentle banter, but your heart aches the same. You both know it would be impossible. Him leaving this country, his family—a woman is not enough for that.

"I think I have everythin' I wanna see right in front of me," you smirk, then move, not caring about the drawing anymore, and he doesn't care either, gripping your bare thighs as you rise to settle in his lap.

It's spring and you're a flower, and you bloom too, unfolding your body like petals, legs and arms slowly sliding away to reveal soft flesh. There's no shame when Arthur looks up at you like you're the goddamn sun and the stars and the wind caressing his face. Maybe you are when you reach down and slide a thumb over his brow, the downwards arch of his eyelid when he closes his eyes. Two gorgeous pools of blue-green look up at you when your finger slides lower, over his lips, to dig in and make them part, wet tongue darting out around a small kiss.

You watch him. His eyes, his mouth.

His long, golden lashes lower, a dark kind of fire ignited in his gaze, doin’ the only sin he does not regret committing— wanting you.

He grabs onto your side, the flesh on your hip and stomach, leaves heat in his wake there, large palm-shaped sunspots that ooze light into your bloodstream. Christ, you want him to touch you more. To make you burn, to make you into a flame that needs his tending.

"You're so damn pretty, little dove" he murmurs in that low voice, watching how a single flower of forget-me-not falls from your hair and lands on the top of your breast, trapped in a bead of sweat like a fly in amber honey.

The back of his head hits the ground, like it's a pillow woven from freshly sprouted grass and wild flowers and wet earth, and he moves you in his lap, lower, where you can feel him, hard and oh so ready but still waiting for your move.

The spark is ignited. Your sun burns inside your ribcage for this man, a heart shaped from light, and you reach between the two of you to get him rid of his pants. Arthur doesn't move, but he lets you pull up his shirt, over a strong stomach and golden brown hair, over old scars that faded into silvery lines, to a ribcage housing a kind heart.

"Will ya have me, Arthur?" you lean close to him, your bellies touching, your hand still restless at the buckle of his gun-belt, and he sighs into your hair, hips twitching at your eager request as he leans in to lay a gentle kiss on your temple, then the arch of your eyebrow.

"'Course, sweetheart," he reaches up, cradles your nape as he curls his other arm around your waist, turning you until the soft earth cradles you like another lover.

Your bare legs fall open as he settles, with his hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing the spot where the broken grass stained it green. You should be shy. Ashamed. Vulnerable. You should clench your thighs tight, feel the need to be modest, yet your body betrays you even further when Arthur places his other hand on your side, making space for himself in the cradle of your hips.

His shirt is gone.

You watch him for a few eternal seconds, the way his eyelashes cast starlike shadows over his ruddy cheeks as he gets an eyeful of your flushed cunt.

"Gonna have to work ya a little," he says, voice low and husky, thumbs drawing circles into your flesh, as if he's soothing a spooked creature.

There's not enough time to get your fill of his body; the hair-dusted muscles of his chest and arms, the stubble-peppered neck that leads into a strong jawline, the strand of honey brown hair that carefully curls around his ear. You subconsciously nod instead, rapidly, sliding your hand over his own, tugging on his worn knuckles until he's blanketing you with his body.

Arthur smiles into your hair for a second when his free hand trails up your side, up through the valley of your breasts and the bend of your neck until he can cradle your head, his fingers caressing, thumb parting your lips so when he arrives with his own you're already panting a shivering exhale into his mouth. Yes, kiss me. Conquer my lips. Conquer this monster that is my body.

He kisses you, softly at first, cupping your upper lip between his, then the bottom one, and then, just then he lets a hot breath mingle with your own before his tongue finds its way around yours. He kisses you with all the need a starving man can feel, suckling on your lips until they are flushed, swollen, his worn thumb sliding over them once more, between gentling pecks of affection and softly opening eyes. He's mesmerized by the sight of you like this, oh so close, oh so pretty in the sunlight.

You get bold under his stare, curling your fingers into the hair on his nape, into the coarse tangles of his beard before you give him the same treatment he gave you, mapping the plush, hot rise of his bottom lip with your thumb. He kisses the tip of it, then leans in to lay gentle presses on your forehead, your temple, the corner of your mouth. You want to chase him, coax him into another kiss, but he murmurs something against your skin instead, hefting your leg higher at his side, and your belly aches with the burning sun that grows inside it, pressed flush to his.

"Lemme show ya somethin'," he almost whispers, and he descends downwards, draws a curling vine of blooming ivy in the shape of kisses, at the hollow of your throat, at the top of one breast, then the other. He takes your nipples between the same lips you've kissed mere moments ago, still wet, and he almost makes a show of it when a surprised moan slips out from your chest.

Arthur commits the shape of you into his memory, counting each rib, each valley and hill your body has, the soft of your stomach when he arrives there, a star-circle of hot lip-presses, and then lower, at the edges of a gentle trail of wiry hair that leads between your wide-open legs, and then just shy of your cunt, a place so sensitive the kiss wrecks your whole body with a shiver.

He looks up at you for a second, lifting your legs over two strong shoulders, soothing you again with circling caresses on your thigh, even though his eyes are ravenous, chest heaving as he sucks in panting breaths . The want inside you blooms alive. If you could be a forest, you would burn gladly under his hands.

The idea is no stranger to you, you've read your fair share of off-shelved romance novels, but experiencing such an act transcends every sweet worded description you've ever seen when Arthur makes his intention clear with a look full of promises.

Not letting you suffer longer, he leans in and softly nuzzles his way between the folds of your cunt; kisses you there.

Your body grows weak, open, and you helplessly grab into the earth beside you, clawing up dirt and fresh grass, sinking your fingers deep, like you could plant your roots here. A noise escapes you, surprised and breathless, and Arthur mutters encouragement against your mound, " beautiful… ", then strokes his tongue over a spot where nerves meet in a most sensitive bundle.

He sucks and licks there, kissing your flesh like he had been kissing your mouth, with his eyes almost closed, cheeks flushed and beard scraping your skin. It tickles, it scratches, it makes a flock of burning butterflies flick alive inside your belly, it makes want trickle from your cunt when he arrives there. You feel like you're already unraveling, the foreign pleasure spreading through your body like fungi webbing a forest floor, and at every spot his skin touches you, you bloom.

Like a meadow. Like a sun.

He hums encouragement, holds your thighs firmer, pushes his tongue against you harder. You try to squirm, hands scrambling, his mouth curling into a smile at your folds, and you moan, freely, maybe the first time in your whole life, just for him.

He pleasures you so effortlessly, so gladly, and in all the tenderness he offers you feel like you could drown. His mouth is relentless. His kisses even more are. You can't help but wretch open your eyes to look down and find him buried there, in the cradle of your hips, face flushed red and eyes sparkling so pretty when they meet your own. You don't have control over your body anymore.

You blindly reach for his hair, your head thumping back against the earth, spine arching, shoulders rolling into the dirt. "That's it," he murmurs between suckling kisses, and you grind your cunt up, up into his mouth because Christ, you're almost there.

Your eyes flicker open, like candle flames, neck curved back, and you can see the Grizzlies like this, snow-capped, glinting like crystals, between blades of green and sky blue iris flowers. Your whole world turns upside-down.

It's too good—his lips, his tongue, his hot breath fanning against your weeping opening, yet you can't get there, not really, not before Arthur lifts away and the world tries to right itself but turns out all wrong. He is panting, hair messy from all the torture your fingers did on his strands, glinting golden in the sun.

Your thighs slip away, off his shoulders as he returns to you, hastily wiping his face in the back of his hand, lips already seeking your own, soothing you. He tastes tangy, more salt than sweet, like you, and the forest of emotions threatens to split your ribcage open when he presses his mouth to your temple.

"What's wrong?" you ask quietly, whisper the question into his opened lips between two tender kisses, and he answers with a breathless "nothin'."

"Have to open ya up," his fingers squeeze you, harder on your side, and he brings his free hand up to his lips, licking his fingers. That same sinful hand returns to your belly, then lower, cupping your whole cunt in his palm before you feel it, the thick finger teasing at your opening, spreading the wetness, and then gently, slowly slipping inside without any resistance.

Arthur nudges your nose with his own when your eyes flutter closed, lashes tickling his cheek, and he kisses you again, moving his finger inside you, a slow, purposeful stroke.

"Look at me, little dove," he whisper-commands, curling that finger in, making you gasp into his mouth. "Look at me. Yeah, that's it." He almost smiles when your eyes meet his own, and your belly aches as he pulls out his finger and adds a second. They glide in so easy, you can feel his palm growing sticky against your cunt. You want to be embarrassed, but he just stifles a groan against your neck when your pussy squelches, your pleasure steadily rising with the clever thrusting of his fingers.

Shit, if his fingers feel like this inside you, you can't even imagine how his cock will.

He builds you up steadily, like a castle, like a temple, like a stairway right to the sun, and he doesn't give you a warning when he crams in another finger, three now, stretching you truly and good, shushing you with his lips, kissing you breathless until your legs yield and shake.

"That's it," he murmurs, kisses you thoroughly, panting against your lips as your cunt squeezes tight around his fingers. "That's good."

His name escapes your throat, a plea, and you're barely hanging on by a thread now. Arthur is tender in his movements, but not too gentle, making space for himself inside you, making your poor heart flicker and trash under your ribcage like a trapped bird. He kisses you again, with opened lips, tongue clashing with yours, your teeth catching on the side of his face, a right mess, and his fingers slow, then gingerly slide out to lay drenched in your slick on the burning skin of your thigh.

You whine at the loss. Truly, desperately. Such an unladylike sound, yet it rings sweet against Arthur's neck.

You feel so empty.

"Shh," he quiets you, then gently grabs your hand, caressing a thumb over your knuckles, and guides it down, over the still buttoned waist of his pants, where his achingly hard cock strains against the fabric. You gasp a surprised "oh" between his lips, but follow his hand eagerly, helping him with the buttons. "Touch me, darlin'."

You do. Jesus, you do.

You worm your hand between the fabric and his feverish skin, mapping out the shape of him with curious touches. Even though you're inexperienced, Arthur's body teaches you what feels good for him without a guiding word. You grasp him, gently at first, and then firmer, and stroke your hand over his cock until your palm curls around the flushed head of him, finding a bead of wetness there. His stomach jumps, muscles tensing against you, his breath hitching sweetly beside your ear when he kisses you there too.

Did he feel a similar curious excitement like you do now, when he stuffed you full of his fingers?

"You're a natural, sweetheart," he smiles at you, cheeks blooming a pretty red, and you feel his hand returning between your legs, thick fingers pushing inside you again. "Ya think you can take me?"

You can't answer, not at first, too distracted by the stretch, by the burning want that blooms in your belly, by the idea of taking Arthur. You kiss him instead, stroke him faster until he has to break away from you to collect himself.

"Fuck me," you whisper to him, sweet as wild strawberries, your lips brushing the side of his face and he smiles, truly, teeth and crow's feet and wrinkles and all, and Christ, you want him so much it almost hurts.

"Now, you really want me to fuck ya?"

You don't know if he wants to tease, or he's truly concerned about your decision, but you give him a very pointed look, releasing his cock and reaching for his hand that is still pleasuring you, slowly pulling it away until you're empty once more.

"Arthur," you kiss him again, almost pleading and he can't deny you longer. He worries at your bottom lip for a second, then presses his mouth to your chin.

"Spread 'em pretty thighs for me then," he murmurs as he comes closer, bracketing the backs of your thighs with his own, and then hefting your legs around his hips. You open yourself willingly, freely, feeling the heat of him oh so close, and you help him a little, push on his jeans until his cock is free, thick and heavy and hard against the inside of your thigh.

It's the first time you see it. It's the first time your cunt clenches on nothing and it makes you desperate.

"If I hurt ya, say so and I'll stop, alright?" he says as he gives you one last kiss before leaning back and taking a hold of his cock. Christ, you want to watch. To know how he will fit inside you, but the strong bulk of his body blocks your view, sea-colored eyes going half-lidded as he watches your every reaction, sliding against your folds once, twice, and for the third time his fat cock catches on your slick opening.

You gasp and pull him into a kiss with renewed hunger, and it's perfect to muffle your sounds as he slowly, carefully pushes into you.

He has maybe an inch or two inside, but you're already feeling like you could burst, like you could rip apart at the seams and bloom into a bed of wildflowers oozing honey over black earth.

It's—

It's everything.

You can feel his heartbeat race against your breast, and you can feel it inside you, lighting you up, making the unfamiliar stretch good, making it divine. You pant into his mouth, let him nuzzle your cheek as he murmurs praise, his free hand coming up to cradle your jaw and caress your lips.

"That's it, good girl," he whispers, as breathless as you, and you feel him move, deeper, making way for himself when there's barely any. It hurts and it doesn't. Aches like a good day of riding in the sun. Warm. Stretched. A funny sway in your head when it's over. A pleasure-pain so perfect you never want him to stop. "Ya fit me like you was made for me."

"Christ," you hiss, hands curling into his neck and shoulder, digging into the meat of them, almost drawing blood as Arthur's hips meet yours, his hot length fully settling inside you. "Arthur, Jesus I—,"

"Shhh," he quiets you softly, one hand cupping the back of your palm on his shoulder, massaging it until your fingers yield, no longer digging into his flesh, and he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. A distraction. A gesture so sweet your body warms even more.

"S-sorry," you manage to say, out of breath and tingling all over. He's so deep inside you you can feel it. All the space he fills, all the ways pressure makes you twitchy and sensitive and ready to burst. He kisses your fingertips next, the inside of your wrist, all the while his other hand smooths over your trembling thigh.

"Watchu sayin' sorry for?" his question is a mere whisper against you, a soothing rumble at the side of your face. He waits for you to settle, to let you calm like a rapid summer storm, keeps himself still until the way he holds you open becomes from an unfamiliar intrusion into a shivering spark of something. Can pleasure feel like this too? Can the joy of joining coat your bodies like crushed candy that melts in the sun?

You can't focus on his question, not until he caresses your brow with a finger, and even then you don't know the answer. You just close your eyes and tremble, too lost in the closeness of him, too distracted by the spark of pleasure bubbling hotly inside your belly.

"Tell me when I should move," he brushes your hair back, wipes the sweat that started beading at your temple. "Or tell me to stop."

"N-no. Don't stop, please Arthur. Jus'... just be slow," you murmur against him, your words slurred into his beard, lips brushing a scar there.

He nods then, reassures you with a small kiss that says "I've got you, don't worry," and it's enough for you. Enough to brace for the inevitable outwards pull.

You have to dig your fingers into his arm, have to cling to him for dear life, because even though his movement is careful, you still want to rip apart from the seams, just from his cock gently grinding into your cunt.

You groan, dear Christ, and you clench on him, the pleasure-pain so intense it rushes you towards the edge with the speed of lightning striking a lonely tree out in the prairie.

"Yes, sweetheart, open up for me," he praises you, licking the same fingers he stuffed inside you earlier and returning them between your legs, feeling where he holds you open, and then drawing a gentle circle on your clit, another sharp sparkle of pleasure, and you whine. "Can you come like this?"

You can't answer with words, your throat locks up and tears well in the corners of your eyes as you nod eagerly, racing towards an edge that ends in pure free fall. So he keeps his slow torture sweet, a purposeful grind of his hips and knowing touches with his fingers and you pant, into his neck and then into the soft grass, your head lolling to the side, and even though you're outside, up in the mountains, there's barely enough air to fill your lungs. The only thing you breathe is Arthur. He trickles into your every vein, every muscle and fat and bone, blankets you in honey and dew and the warmth of the sun.

"Look at ya, little darlin'," he says, fond, as he reaches for your face to give your flaming cheek a gentle caress. Your back arches as he pushes in again, his movement turning into longer, truer thrusts. "Look how good you take me."

"Shit, Arthur I—"

"Gonna take care of ya," he murmurs and leans back, settling on his haunches with his cock still rooted deep and your thighs wide open around his hips.

He looks down at your body, at all the imperfections you hate, at all the unique curves of your form, at all the unevenly smooth skin and marks and scars. Then, at your face that is softened by a deep frown of pleasure.

Your eyes meet.

You can see the want flickering in his eyes like blue flames in a marsh, alive and hot, and maybe your own burns the same, because he can't control a hard thrust then. You almost yelp, but your joining is slick now, you can feel wetness collect on your cunt every time he pulls out, so the pain is nonexistent.

"That—" you pant, sucking in a hasty breath, "that felt so good."

"Christ, darlin," he exhales on a smile, and digs the meat of his fingers into the bend of your knee and the puffy flesh of your cunt and you almost scream, the good kind of scream, as he thrusts in again, hard and deep. "You're so goddamn beautiful."

It's your turn to tense up, to clench on him, hot and full and barely hanging on by a thread. He makes you run down the hill of pleasure until you trip, until you're falling, until the pressure becomes too much and not enough all at once. Like graphite grinded into dust and swept by the wind, that's how you float too, towards his calloused hands and sun-worn cheeks and you're a parchment laid out flat, your body the same, bare and vulnerable until his fingerprints stain you, in forms of lilac bruises on your hips, in never ending paths of grey sunlight.

He lets go of your leg, puts a palm on the soft of your belly, just above your cunt, and he feels himself there, moving, filling you so full, so good, so whole, until there's no more air to breathe and no more hill to tumble down on, only the vacuum of a night sky littered with stars, the inside of his irises, watching you as you come. Sudden, violent.

Your body shakes as it sweeps you away, a fire eating you alive like candlelight makes a moth catch aflame, and Arthur leans down to kiss you through it, still fucking you, still not stopping when the too much hits, but oh, he's a great distraction, the way his soft lips apologize, the way his tongue reassures you sweetly that you're doing good. He hums into the kiss, nips on your upper lip as your hands rise and dig into his neck, keeping him close, trapped in your body like a butterfly in sticky honey.

"Ya okay?" he asks softly, whispering the question onto the corner of your mouth, his hands curling around your shoulders, the back of your head. An embrace. Butterflies growing in the same cocoon.

"Feels so good," you whimper, clinging to him, feeling his cock hit deep again, resuming a lost rhythm like one replays a song on a guitar. The same chords flowing for a dance practiced by lovers. "Ar-Arthur."

He keeps on going and you keep taking him, the grass crushing under you bodies and you’re sure your whole backside is gonna be green, just like his knees and palms are. It’s blurry from that, your mind so fogged by pleasure that the world swims, a sea of light and wildflowers and clouds, pools of piercing blue-green eyes and crooked teeth that snarl into a smile.

“Do ya have one more for me?” his forehead knocks against yours, his rhythm slowing.

You don’t understand the question, not at first, but his fingers return between your legs, rough on the sensitive flesh of your clit, circling oh so carefully, and you know, Jesus, you know you want to give him everything you can.

"Arthur," you pant, your lips buried in his hair as he plants a humming kiss into the crook of your neck.

"Hm?"

"Don't hold back. Please. Wanna feel you even when you're gone," your tighten your legs around his hips, answer his thrust with the rise of your own, meeting him halfway, like how the sun meets the horizon when pink dusk falls over the valley.

"Don't ask me that I—" he chokes on his words at your interruption, a soft kiss, placed right on the plump of his bottom lip.

"Please,” you encourage him, plead him. You want this so much it almost hurts. Not where he splits you open. Not where he hits deep as he picks up his pace. No, it’s the chest where you ache, the rapidly beating organ that pumps and beats and jumps and flickers, a mass of red, a cluster of muscle that somehow houses all the feelings you have for this man. A heart full of adoration. A heart full of love.

He kisses you so hard it makes you dizzy. Makes the doves caged in your ribs escape and tear you open, leaving only a wide wound in their wake, a door that leads straight down to the pocket-universe you handcrafted in the shape of a golden-haired, glacier-eyed man.

You can feel him getting close, his hard thrusts falling out of rhythm, his fingers urgent on your abused clit. It sits there, the pleasure in your belly, bubbling, spilling over as he desperately chases your own orgasm, fucking you into the ground almost, planting you like a flower, to bloom just for him, just so you can weave your roots together.

Arthur’s arms tremble as he groans into your neck, pulls back to leave a kiss on the side of your mouth, not focused enough for a proper one and you can’t help yourself. That choking feeling you felt rising from the start overspills, makes a landslide, an avalanche. You swallow and look up at him, mesmerized by his half-lidded eyes, glinting in the sun like twin-lakes, his hands holding you tight to him, his cheeks ruddy from all the loving you did to each other.

You slip, and the world tilts.

"Love you," you murmur, breathless, and there's a sudden shudder against you, Arthur's hands going bruising on your flesh, and he's coming, halfway on his way of pulling out. The warmth startles you, and then his grunt too, when he pushes back inside, because it doesn't really matter anymore, with his seed spilling out beside his cock, and some sick, possessive part of him enjoys how you whimper when he stuffs you full again, everything too wet and too hot. You tremble in his hold, terrified and riled up all at once, because feeling him like this makes you a little stupid and so sick with love it aches.

You come again from it, softly this time.

"I'm so goddamn sorry," he groans, trying to play the gentleman, trying to erase memories surfacing. This is not like it was then. He can still do right by you.

"'S okay," you murmur, almost feeling drunk, out of your mind with the way his cock twitches inside you, spurting one last time. "'S okay, Arthur."

You pull him closer, with your fingers in his hair, in his beard. He sags against you, body weak from both his climax and emotions, and he presses his forehead to yours. It's a thing almost more intimate than a kiss. A thing full of the unspeakable truth, but you're not ready for it, and he isn't either.

He watches you for a few seconds, his eyes flickering, a candle flame in a storm, but finally, finally he gives you a small smile. It's just in his eyes, a secret thing, a treasure so little and so precious it needs to be protected from the ugly cold reality.

"I don't wanna awaken false hopes inside ya," he starts, gently, like calming a wild horse, "but I can't leave ya here thinkin' I don't love you the same."

That's it. That's the time for a tear that sneakily bubbles from the corner of your eye and slides down to the calloused pad of his finger still caressing your face.

"I ain't a good man," he continues, voice impossibly soft, "but I always wanted to do right by ya."

"Arthur," you tremble as you whisper, your hands on his nape, in his hair. Your mouth brushes his brow as you lean in. "Just come back to me. I don't care when. Jus' come back alive."

He nods, then buries his head into your neck, kissing your heated skin, writing a promise there with his lips.

The sun moves and the surrounding mountains start to paint blue shadows over the blooming meadows so you move, first from the embrace, then from the flattened patch of grass and flowers you’ve tangled into each other on. You only put on your dress, no bloomers or shoes, his come still sticky on the inside of your thigh, and he leaves his shirt on the ground too, not ready to let go of this moment.

He looks up at you, eyes sparkling, taking in the sight that is so pretty he wants to never leave. With flowers in your hair, a crown braided from daisies and forget-me-nots and marigolds, with dirt and grass on your skin, with a content smile in the corner of your mouth—you look radiant.

Arthur sits with you in the grass, picking on wild-green blades and chewing on the end of one while he searches for the prettiest little flower blooming right next to your bare feet, nestled close to his.

A perfect bud of white clover. Faith, love, good fortune.

He takes your hand in his, kisses your knuckles, and ties a ring around your finger from the stem, makes the flower sit pretty in the middle, like a chiseled, shiny rock of moonstone.

What is this if not a vow?

What is this if not a promise?

In the morning, after loving each other once more in the flickering moonlight, you wake up sore between the legs and dizzy from an intelligible emotion clawing deep inside your chest. The bed is empty next to you, the coffee that Arthur made still steaming on the table. You don't dress up, just pull the quilt over your body and run outside, onto your small porch to gaze down the valley bathing in golden light. A silver dapple mare gallops down there, on the spine of a mud-snake road.

Arthur rides away.

You stumble back to the chair on the porch, full with something bittersweet. Overripe cherries rotting on a tree. A black heart dripping honey. Your ribcage squeezing your lungs like a fist. You take a shaky breath and when he completely disappears from your view you lean back, almost sit down on a leather-covered book. It's a journal. Another one, smelling like fresh paper and horse hair and him.

You open it as you settle, the quilt drawn tight around your barely covered body.

There's a drawing on the first page, two wild doves huddled together, and a flower of white clover tied into a ring, pressed down into the page.

Under it, scrawled hastily with Arthur's flowing handwriting:

I promise.

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