#honestly it's probably not even that bad i think its the arm angle in the first one thts throwing me

[hinamie]

I'm always pushing you away from me / but you come back with gravity / and when I call, you come home

[lovingseventeen]

is seventeen good at taking your picture? *ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: this is kinda random but wholesome lol 

seungcheol:

✿ “ah, you’re pretty”

✿ it just sort of comes out, really. he was taking a couple pictures but he puts your phone down for a second just to look at you

✿ he giggles when you start blushing (the pictures end up being the kind thats a little blurry bc you moved when he got you blushy, but its still aesthetically pleasing)

jeonghan: 

✿ he tries to prank you by showing you that he actually took a (very cute and giggly) selfie while you were posing (this selfie becomes your lock screen eventually)

✿ when he sees you scoff he does his specific “hahaha” laugh (y’all know what i mean) 

✿ but just as you’re about to smack his arm he swipes left and he actually took a couple good pictures 

joshua: 

✿ i feel like he’s the kind to be pretty diligent with taking your picture 

✿ will direct how you pose (if you want him to help) to get the best possible picture 

✿ “mm maybe turn your chin this way just a little bit” he goes, even so far as to demonstrate with his own face

jun: 

✿ he really tries his best and they’re not totally bad 

✿ occasionally just crops your foot out weirdly or it’s not lined up the best 

✿ it may take another one or two tries but you’ll get there 

✿ will comment when you post that 1) you look pretty and 2) he took the picture (he’s proud)

hoshi: 

✿ takes a million pictures of you in rapid fashion and each of them are about 2% different from each other 

✿ may be a little bit hit or miss 

✿ will encourage a horanghae hand at some point 

✿ but even though he’s taking pictures kinda fast he will be patient and take more if you want him to 

wonwoo: 

✿ i feel like he’d take pictures of you from two angles at most and ngl, they ain’t bad 

✿ like somehow, he didn’t put that much thought into them but they’re pretty good???

woozi: 

✿ he may not take too many pictures but he puts a lot of care into the 7 he does take

✿ says little words under his breath, maybe quirks his head as he’s figuring out how to hold your phone

✿ “hmm maybe this isn’t right” *head tilt* “is it?”

dk: 

✿ may be a little bit overdramatic with the lunging to “make you look taller” 

✿ but best boy energy and he’s enthusiastic to help you !!

✿ will probably get a cute candid picture of you laughing over his antics

mingyu: 

✿ he’s probably taller than you but he will squat and/or break his back to get that good angle 

✿ also has a pretty artistic eye so i could assume that he’d get an interesting picture 

✿ he also did mention bringing his camera with him everywhere (in that one interview) so he’d probably be the kind of boyfriend that would take your picture without you knowing 

✿ honestly use his height and some funky lens to your advantage to get something editorial 

minghao: 

✿ another artsy boy hehe 

✿ very flexible will most definitely get pictures of you from so many angles 

✿ moves around you enough so you barey have to adjust 

✿ i feel like he’d help you filter your pictures too 

seungkwan: 

✿ who am i kidding, seungkwan will go to every extreme to get the perfect picture 

✿ ofc he knows all of your best angles 

✿ you may want to stop taking pictures but he will inSiSt he can do better 

✿ you think the pictures are fine already (he really did do so good) but he’s pointing to tell you to go back to pose 

vernon:

✿ the energy may not be through the roof but he’s still putting an effort trust

✿ if he doesn’t get what you want at first all you gotta do is demonstrate what you want

✿ really, just make him stand in your place and take a quick example

✿ “so i want you to take it like this, so you see this in the background too”

✿ “ah okay i see” he nods

✿ funniest part is the practice photo and he’s just standing in it like 🧍

dino: 

✿ also tries pretty hard

✿ he’s about to show you what he has so far before he grabs your phone back before you even see he screen

✿ “wait let me try again!”

✿ he gets excited when he feels like the pictures turned out well

✿ sneakily sends a couple photos to his own phone 🫶🏽

[emmyrosee]

hi Emmy! hope you're doing okay :((

thinking about miya Atsumu today and how if y'all had a dog and you get cute aggression with the dog, you know the aggressive petting, kissing, and squealing cute names, atsumu would pout go all quiet. when you ask him what's wrong he'll just cross his arms and act all childish until y'all get into bed that night. when he thinks you're asleep, he wonders aloud why you don't get cute aggression with him 🥺🥺

GOD HES SUCH A POUTY BABY I WANT TO BITE HIM SO BAD-

Like I feel like Samu went away for a few weeks for a small little vacay, and he left Totoro with you guys because he knows that the little shepherd adores you both (actually, he just adores you, but osamu doesn’t have the patience to tell his brother that).

And you. Are. Off. You’re sprinting around the house with the dog, squishing his face in your hands to kiss his nose, aggressively rubbing its tummy because he’s riled up with you, your hand never seems to leave the dog, and honestly, atsumu doesn’t like not having the attention shocker right?

“Who shit in your pants this morning?”

“You, apparently,” he snaps. When you ask him about it, he denies anything else.

Like hell he's gonna just admit he's jealous of some little rat. He's better than that!

Spoiler: he's not.

Is he proud to be glaring at this rat with four legs and a brown mane for being nothing but cute? No. But there’s not much he is proud of when it comes to his jealousy.

If you two are cuddling and Totoro interrupts, he’ll get up and leave. If you’re playing fetch, he’s pouting on the porch swing. If you’re rubbing his belly, atsumu just glares in frustration.

You finally have mercy on him when you put Totoro in his bed and crawl into your own next to Atsumu, gently kissing along his jaw. He angles his face against your lips, and you take it as a good sign.

“Why have you been such a grumpy pants?” You hum, nudging your nose against his temple. He grumbles and tosses his book to the side.

“I’m not.”

“You are,” You scoff. “Ever since osamu dropped his dog off. You haven’t wanted to be around me, and it makes me sad.”

He clicks his tongue before he cards his hair back, “of course I’ve wanted to be around you. I just…” he paused, and you can practically hear the gears in his head turning. “I don’t get along with Totoro.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “Come here, I want to watch a movie.”

You cock a brow at his sudden change of topic, but you curl into his side regardless, even if it is just to appease him.

Your eyes slowly start to droop when his calloused fingers gently rub your cheek, and if you weren’t paying attention, you’d miss the soft sigh and whisper of his voice.

“I wish you were comfortable enough with me,” he mumbles, continuing to gently stroke your cheek. “Never knew how much I wanted to play fight with you until I saw you do it. So cute.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’d love to play fight too. Because it’s more than that; it’s something he’s probably going to be shocked by, and you just haven’t found the right time to drop it on him.

“And I just… I see you with Totoro and it’s adorable, but I don’t want to get a dog. I just want to know why- OW!!”

Okay. You couldn’t wait.

Your head immediately turns to bite the side of Atsumu’s hand, not hard enough to cause damage, but still, very much, a bite. He tries to reel back instinctively, but he is laughing giddily. When your eyes peel open, he’s got his award winning smile plastered on his face, cheeks blushed red and shaking his hand as if you were a dog playing tug of war.

“Guess you heard that, huh?” He asks between snickers, and you nod before biting his fingers, which wiggle under your bites. “Don’t bite them off!”

You say nothing before spitting out his hand and shoving him onto his back, straddling him and grinning down mischievously.

“You keep me up,” You begin with a growl, your fingers latching onto his rib cage which has him howling in laughter. “Complain about my neglect. Make me feel bad for not being more playful-“

“Don’t ttttickle me!” He screams, arms tucked close to his sides. When you manage to work one hand out from between his torso and arms, you grip his cheeks in your hand, steadying his face and smooshing some of the giggles out.

“My baby,” you growl playfully. “Don’t ever doubt how much I want to bug you.” You kiss the squished lips, swallowing up some of the laughter he still has in him.

But you know your boyfriend. You know he’s absolutely eating this up, from the roughness of your words and actions, to the biting and torture and everything in between. He thrives on your attention, and clearly, this is just his favorite time to have it.

Hey. If he wants to wake the beast, there’s no going back now.

[melissa-titanium]

the ask game stuff..001 for N nd doll (giggles

GO FUCK YOURSELF . but thank uou... anime berdly emoji . ill answer...FOR NOW

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it if I did: VERY RECENTLY ACTUALLY id say within the last like two weeks. ive always loved doll and always loved n but then i realized like. oh huh i connect alot with n and want to make out with doll . boom. its like borderline selfship at this point its cringe as fuck but let me do whatever i want.

my thoughts: surprisingly i don't have as many thoughts on them as i did but i feel like. because of how much of a foil doll is to uzi i think thats the word it would be like. IDK i feel like for doll it'd help to understand the 'humanity' of the dds. if she witnesses a disassembly drone killing war machine trip over his own tail or bump his head into a doorframe and wince and laugh and talk and hug with gentle arms and do things that she specifically reprogrammed herself NOT to do so she'd have a better chance to kill her worst enemy and avenge her parents... she would short circuit. to actually get to the point of not killing him on sight would take a while or lots of coercing via ... lizzy? or hell maybe even uzi im not sure. unless they had an individual encounter (which, you know, could totally happen! doll out in the wastes and n is on a solo hunt, you know her ass was following them.) that lead to a stalemate, i'm not sure how they'd even meet. HM OK NOW IM THINKING ABOUT THIS. either way tho n has a habit of befriending insane drones (or like... smoochin depending on how you see enzi tho i see them as platonic) and i think he could. Not fix her but he could be there for her bless. and again i think she could help him be not a doormat 💛 also stupid hc i had aboit them i hv always thought doll to have like... a freakishly good memory. which, works perfectly paired with n because like .you know. his memory prahblems . dolls ass can remember the angle of your arm when you were like fucking sitting on a chair on the 13th of april last year or some shit like she PAYS ATTENTION even if she doesn't often share her input... which is also a good thing bcos n is super inclusive always. n voice DOLLLL LOOK WE ARE DOING A THING!!!! :D & shes just like. sighs okay (comes ova 2 him) and eventually.. i think itd get to the point where she can go do shit on her own without being explicitly invited YAY

What makes me happy about them: gotta bring up the Me & My Wife shit again bcos its borderline selfship at this point. i just think its interesting and awesome I REALLY HOPE THEY HAVE AN INTERACTION... tho i doubt it; i think they might fight or smt in ep 7 WHICH HONESTLY I WOULDNT BE SAD ABOUT my goil needs moe screenrtime

What makes me sad about them: doll probably hasnt experienced like. affection in fucking ages & frankly n really hasnt either. i think they'd hold hands and talk about their kill counts. also i just realized they both kind of went thru a period of time tht was little socialization only KILL. doll had school & lizzy, sure, but also living in an apartment with ur parents' & dozens of others' corpses its like. tht fucks w u. but the interesting thing about them is… n and doll don't experience guilt over Killing And Eating People the same way i think. like. just for example v and uzi do (atleast in my perception). like v couldnt cope with the knowledge she had so she fell extra EXTRA hard into her role (atleast using her maid self as an accurate portrayal of her old self) and uzi has never ever experiuenced anything like that before so its fucking terrifying to her. however, with doll and n… they dont percieve it the same way. we understand that both of them are capable of guilt but it takes a very strong connection for them to experience it. ep one; n feels bad for making uzi argue with khan & ruining the card game. does he say a single thing about killing and eating half a dozen workers? No! because it's natural to him. there's nothing out of the ordinary in that situation except for the fact that he was "rude" by interrupting someone & "rude" by causing an argument. yes, he's very sweet and patient and all of the above but he doesn't see killing as really a BAD THING… he sees it as a necessity; as him being useful, higher numbers means hes doing a good job. but, really, that's all he's known. he doesn't remember being a worker. after meeting uzi he's capable of realizing… oh, these are living creatures! i feel a little bad now. but the guilt doesn't come crashing down onto him and leave him utterly devastated at his kill count, it just sits there. it festers. similarly, in my opinion, to how doll reacts to guilt. we see her as this unstoppable force at every point until the end of promening. she knows her goals, she knows what she has to do to get to them, and has shaped herself into the perfect killing machine to do what she needs, removing all forms of guilt from her person to make sure it doesn't get in the way. though, again, it comes bubbling to the surface back from where she buried it so deeply under all her anger when uzi pops her emo little head in. she isnt instantly all "oh my god, what have i done?" but it eats away at her all of this fucking time, she has been killing and hurting her kind, believing she was the only one who could possibly shoulder this burden and deal justice to those who deserved it. but now that she knows she isn't alone… it festers.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: i've seen like three n/doll fics literally EVER but i'd honestly say. major mischaracterization of doll... i feel like doll gets mischaracterized more than n? n's behaviours are easy to understand and read with a surface level understanding because he has more screentime and again ON THE SURFACE looks relatively simple. i think a huge thing in some fanfics that bugs me is that. imitation of speech patterns = perfect characterization WHICH IS NOT TRUE... but also understandably makes it difficult to do with doll because she doesn't talk alot, while N talks a LOT so it leads to a heavy imbalance in mischaracterization. just because the characters would fucking say that, doesnt mean they would Fucking Do That

apparently there is a word limit on tumblr. pleasantly surprised this will be two posts instead

[shameboree]

ATTIC GOBLIN ?

YEAH SO when we moved in there was like this wadded up pair of pink panties in the basement that hadnt been there a few days before when we did our final walkthrough or whatever right. and then my fuzzy socks would go missing and some leggings and then our fucking FORKS which were DISCONTINUED so we cant even replace them!!!!! also the toilet paper would run out like super fast and i drink A Lot of diet dr pepper so i DO pee a lot but this was just fucken ridiculous!!!!! anyway so our one old roommate suggested ghost but me n polks were like fuck off this is OUR house!!

anyway so one day im slumped down on the couch w earbuds in having a good time and my friend kos comes downstairs to brew his sleepy ass some fresh shit tier coffee at like 5pm on a weekday. tbh i was talking about one of my homebrew blorbos being harassed and having just a great time with it so i didnt want to speak to anyone and just EXTREMELY avoided eye contact n sank as deep as i could into the bigass pillows of our honestly very nice goodwill upper middle class grandma couch. the point of that is when you walk downstairs and turn into the kitchen you cant really see me at this angle and i am DEAD SILENT bc my keyboard was apparently made of marshmallows or smth AND im metal gear box stealth mode trying to not be noticed here so i can talk about my barbies being menaced uninterrupted.

SO because of all that when kos came back downstairs for his coffee which had been brewing for probably not very long but i was in the Blorbo Zone where time is fake so i couldnt in good faith give an estimate he did NOT see me. well while hes in the kitchen puttering around i just start losing my shit on account of my blorbarbies in agonies brings me Such Joys and i think this startled him so bad he has to take a stress shower because i heard the bathroom door SLAM and the water start running. at some point after this polks comes home from work and starts pissed off nagging us over WHO MADE THIS COFFEE MESS IN MY KITCHEN!! kos comes downstairs for the Commotions and apparently the coffee pot was sitting on the counter with some fresh coffees while the rest of it fresh waterfalled all into our silverware and pots n pans spaces HOWEVER!! MYSTERY TIME!! he has not been downstairs since he started brewing his trash sludge.

INTERMISSION: THINGS TO NOTE ABOUT OUR HOUSE: the back door is literally INCHES from the downstairs bathroom. the attic is not a panel or ceiling access its just a door right by all our bedroom doors and it wont latch which was So Annoying bc the cats were UNREASONABLE THIRSTY to get up there so we had to install a loop n hook latch to keep it shut but whichever one of us did that goofed it up pretty bad bc the door is still perpetually cracked open like probably a full inch and a half. id love to take the credit for this but i think it was polks who is absolutely phenomenal at fucking up installations of things. OTHER NOTABLE THINGS ABOUT POLKS: her single biggest fear on this planet is shit like Crawlspace Man. just Some Guy living in your home without you knowing. also we have a dark little crawlspace down in the basement, for ambience

MOVING ON at this point i still dont give a shit about anything happening around me because i am inflicting sufferings upon my from scratch blorbo BUT my brain is putting the pieces together which i then immediately do a toddler vs 1000 piece puzzle it took you a year to assemble and just totally waste that shit from my thinkspace bc i wanna play DOLLS instead. polks and kos are also putting their little pieces together but they are Not braindead dipstick idiots like yours truly so they decide to check the whole haus bottom up, starting with the crawlspace. great news! the crawlspace is empty!! other older news: i def heard the cabinet ruining coffee fuckuper come down from upstairs.

i forgot to mention that for this househunt polks armed herself with our fucking broom and was wielding it handle side out because It Has Reach and a knife would Escalate The Situation. anyway they make their way upstairs and i am doing absolute jackshit nothing to help because, again, i am fucking brain poisoned to prioritize oc cummies over every single thing on this planet. its in my fucking genetic code. so while im fuckin useless theyre up there talking about how fucking weird this is and scuffling around or whatever but the second they go into the attic its dead silent and NOT because they go silent but because the attic is some fucked up sound void and past the first 3 steps you can hear total fuck all from outside. at this point my little toddler brain realizes this puzzle is actually indestructible so when kos and polkie are out of the void audible again i Already Knew i had to start being a fucking adult instead of playing barbies which DID feel like a personal affront.

tbh i dont even remember how polks reacted bc i was so CMON MAN!! at our attic dweller for cucking me bc now i gotta call the fuckin cops AND change the locks AND i still gotta get up at 420 in the mother blessed am for work, so basically this entire stunt was a hate crime against me specifically.

we dont really go in our attic much and never even bothered fetching the cats when they went up there but we HAD been up there before so when i went up there and saw fuckin blankets and takeout containers and also some clothes stuffed into drafty holes it was like, kind of Obvious that yeah some bitch was stealing my forks and not paying rent and eating all my toilet paper and FOR SOME REASON had the audacity to ALSO go ahead and pour out a cup of coffee in BROAD DAYLIGHT while we were OBVIOUSLY HOME. the fucking NERVE!!

so!! thats our Event that i honestly forget happened most of the time. we actually refer to them as Attic Dobby i think on account of my THIEVED socks but then of course attic dobby became sexy dobby as is the natural progression of things. we have many big tity dobbie drawings around the house and we love to show them to guests. i may have lost some forks i cant fucking replace so ill never have a matching set again BUT now my house has so many slutty big tit thong and louboutin adorned dobbys that kos and i have bonded so much over drawing that it all evens out in the end and i definitely dont get mad about the forks ever. less important than dobbys big naturals but still notable: exposure therapy works as polks no longer has the Crawlspace Man Terrors!

[gunkreads]

Just had to ask my girlfriend "Can we finish wheel of time tomorrow? Cuz I kinda have to. For my blogger job." and she said no. Maybe jokingly.

But! We watched episode 5 tonight.

Why is Perrin the main character? I'm not complaining, I'm just confused. Aviendha very good. Reintroduced in a vastly different context and consequently given a pretty starkly different initial characterization, but no more than anyone else in the show, so it's just fun.

Having a good time watching the "Egwene Has a Bad Time" season. Absolutely fucking stellar. No notes. Nynaeve and Elayne, same deal by extension.

Rand's plotline is finally accelerating to the point where its pace matches the rest of the story--but definitely too late.

I finally care about Moiraine! Definitely too late.

Mat, my boy--perfect.

But! I still think the writing in this show is fucking stupid. It's paced like someone having a seizure on the gas pedal. Also... man, yeah, I'm seeing the angle some of you have. What is with the colossal amounts of violence committed against women of color in this show? Ach. I'm not going to say anything productive here.

Actually, fuck it. You know why it's like that? The show cast up a huge portion of its female roles with women of color and heavily emphasized the power and agency of those characters. Then, they fucked up by being Wheel of Time, which is a story that absolutely fucking loves taking agency away from its powerful characters. Do I appreciate the diverse casting? You bet! Do I think it looks a little sour when you look at the acts of violence on their own? You bet!

Anyway, I really think the show armed itself with a double-edged sword on this front. However!!!!! The prominence of violence against women is still worth talking about. I just probably shouldn't monologue about it, because I'd be talking even more out my ass than usual.

Another fun thing is that Lanfear's violent insanity makes Ishamael's smoldering insanity much scarier. That little context makes his character stronger, and honestly? Miraculously, it doesn't seem to diminish Lanfear's character at all, which is weird, because this show seems to be really eager to diminish the character arcs of a lot of its women.

I actually have a whole ass separate post to make about the way the show is sort of dropping the ball when it comes to exploring the agency of a lot of its characters, but... that's for later.

Episode 5 was yet another "Fun episode, still not a well-written show".

[rindecision]

Chapter 6 - Give Me Fuel, Give Me Fire - Steddie Mechanic AU Fic

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

The action movie Eddie had put on became nothing more than background ambiance while he and Steve talked. Eddie laid his head on Steve’s lap and gently caressed the back of his arm as Steve toyed with his hair, asking about his tattoos. Eddie had long since taken off his shirt so Steve could get a better look at his ink.

“What about this one?” Steve ran his fingers over a faded zombie-like face on his left pec.

“That was actually my first tattoo.”

“Any meaning to it?”

“Not really, I was sixteen and just got my license, so I wanted to celebrate by getting a tat. I didn’t have anything in mind, so I just picked something cool from the selection they had. Actually, most of them are just from the catalog of whatever parlor I went to. I try to get one at every out-of-town gig, but it’s typically just something that catches my eye. Sometimes I’ll base it off the theme of the movie.” He pointed to a tribal band on his left bicep. “I got that one after I’d finished shooting a movie based around Native Americans.”

“So, no custom ones?” Steve traced his fingers over a black widow under his collarbone.

“One.” He lifted his right arm from his stomach and turned it, so his inner forearm was visible, revealing a devil hand puppeteering a demon.

“I swear I’ve seen that image before.”

“Probably, it’s from Metallica’s Master of Puppets.” Eddie sighed and lowered his arm. “It was my band’s most popular cover so we each got it tattooed somewhere.”

“Any reason you don’t do custom ones? I figured they’d have a lot more meaning to them.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t.” He glanced at the Puppet Master tattoo. “There’s a reason why this is my only custom one. It made me realize that even the happiest moments can sour. When I got this, our band was at its peak.” He chuckled weakly and dropped his arm back onto his stomach. “Not like it was that big of a peak, we were still lucky to get anywhere near a hundred people in our venue, but it felt promising.”

Steve pet Eddie’s hair back as he got a distant look in his eyes and a sad expression on his face. He felt a little bad for bringing it up.

“It didn’t last long. We were able to roughly maintain for about six months after high school before we had to break up and get ‘real’ jobs. Jeff and Grant decided to go to trade school together to become mechanics. Me and Gareth had no idea what to do, but one thing led to another, and we ended up looking into being stunt doubles.”

“Wait,” Steve interrupted,” so you’re not just a stunt driver?”

Eddie smirked and briefly looked up at Steve’s face. “I’m mainly a driver, but I have been hired as a double a couple of times.”

“Sorry if I made you recall bad memories,” Steve said sincerely.

Eddie shook his head. “That damn tattoo does it every day, I’ve honestly considered getting it removed or altering it, but I feel like it would make it worse.” Eddie closed his eyes and rested the side of his face on Steve’s lower stomach. He chuckled and nuzzled against him. “Honestly, I think you’re the first person I’ve ever told that to.”

“What about the others in Hellfire?” Steve ran his thumb over Eddie’s jawline as he gazed at him in his lap.

“What about them? We never talk about real shit.” He tilted his head, so his jaw was resting in Steve’s hand. Smiling when Steve’s thumb wandered onto the closest lip ring, gently nudging it back and forth. “Our conversations consist of the show, gigs, D&D, music, and movies.”

“Not even your past boyfriends?”

Eddie snorted a loud scoff. “I don’t think you understand my dating history, Steve.” He glanced up at him, from his angle he had a clear view of the freckles under his chin.

“Then enlighten me.”

“And here I thought you weren’t supposed to talk about your exes.”

Steve raised his eyebrow. “And since when are you one to follow ‘supposed tos’”

Eddie grinned. “You make a good fucking point.” He turned his face just enough to kiss Steve’s thumb. “If I think back, most of them were just friends with benefits mislabeled as boyfriends.” His face fell. “I-” He sighed. “I hope this doesn’t make you think less of me, but-”

“I doubt that,” Steve said quickly.

A smile twitched onto Eddie’s face. “I wasn’t exactly the best boyfriend either.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

Eddie huffed a weak laugh. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d met me even two years ago.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Just say it wasn’t uncommon for me to be unfaithful.” He closed his eyes.

Steve chuckled. “Would you think less of me if I said the same?”

“What?” Eddie furrowed his brow and looked up at Steve.

“I’ve done the same, man.”

“Seriously?”

Steve nodded. “You heard Dustin.”

Eddie thought back to Dustin calling him a womanizer. “I guess we both have checkered pasts when it comes to relationships.”

Steve shrugged. “It just makes us more interesting.”

Eddie smirked. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“If you could go back, would you change it?”

“No,” Eddie replied quickly.

Steve looked down at him confused. “Why’s that? I know I’d change a shit ton.”

“I’d be terrified to change a goddamn thing because all of it has led me to this moment.”

Steve chuckled and cringed into a smile. “God, you’re sappy.”

“I’m serious though.” He lifted himself onto one arm, so he was face to face with Steve. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

Steve rolled his eyes and ran his hands through Eddie’s hair before pushing on the back of his head and briefly kissing him. He couldn’t believe a part of him enjoyed how cheesy Eddie was being. It was cute and sweet, even if it felt stupidly embarrassing. He pressed their foreheads together and laughed through his nose. “You’re right, I wouldn’t change this either.”

Eddie smiled and leaned into another kiss. He found a guilty pleasure in indulging in mushy moments, but he’d never had anyone he was comfortable enough with to let it out. Not until now anyway. He was still a little weary about entirely letting his true self out, but he’d already gotten closer to Steve than he had with anyone in over a decade.

[shangtusianheroes]

With Carol being the big star, getting a seat wasn't as hard as she thought it might be. Guess they had a section just for her friends and family. Lilac wasn't much in the mood for food though rapping her fingers on her arm as she watched the battle below. In all truth she was looking for Spades Angle in all of it. What was he after? What was he REALLY after! It couldn't just be the title could it? Perhaps he was trying to punish Carol for leaving by taking her title? But she had a feeling that he forgave them for that awhile ago. Probably after she pummeled Brevon and left him for dead. Knowing Lilac did what he couldn't had put his mind at ease on some level. Not that she gave a damn she still couldn't forgive him for his crime.

Still It bothered her, he never did anything without an angle involved, without something in it for him. While Battle Sphere Prize was certainly sizable it really didn't have his MO on it. She grit her teeth the more she thought about it. This whole thing stank, and the fact Zao even considered hiring the guy for Battle Sphere knowing the sort of dirty shit he was involved in? She was going to have a long talk with that little punk before it was over! She still had such a sore spot for what the Scarves did to her.

Still watching Carol's first match, had her grab the bridged of her nose. It was a pretty obvious ploy, but either Carol knew and still played along. Or---who was she kidding she'd have made that same move in some vain hope of getting through to her. Still it bothered her that they'd use such underhanded techniques. Still a valid one she guessed.

A Loud jeer seemed to knock her out of her thoughts as the person next to her was screaming at the top of her lungs!

" KICK HER ASS CAROL! CHOKE HER WITH THAT SCARF! YEA! BEAT HER ASS! WOOOO! "

Boy was she loud, and kind of super into the match she wondered who she was? Though she was super enthusiastic which lightened her mood. She couldn't help but giggle softly and shake her head, while the smaller boy next to her was hiding his face, either from embarrassment or maybe the crowd was getting to him.

" You alright? its pretty loud huh? You want my ear muffs? Might dull the sound a bit if its to loud..."

" n...n. no i'm ok... j..just embarassed... My sister is making a scene... "

" i ain't makin' a scene!?! i'm rootin' fer my friend! showin' my support--- BEAT HER ASS CAROL!?! NINJA KICK HER IN HER STUPID COS-PLAYING ASS! "

" I see... Friends of Carols huh? what interesting characters..."

She guessed she'd missed alot since she'd been gone. These were Mobians by the look of them. The green one was really into the moment, and the Fox seemed soft but enjoying himself. She wondered about them, but honestly she was oblivious to who they were. She'd have to ask Carol more about them later.

" Well any friend of Carol's is a friend of mine--- I'm Lilac! "

" Oh--- I'm Surge, this is my shit stain of a brother Kit. What's up with the horns? You dun look like goat... or a cow... or deer or..."

" SURGE! "

He covered his face

" Th...t...that's rude... we....we. shouldn't me...mention her horns..."

" What i think they are pretty horns--- just askin' a question runt! "

She couldn't help but laugh!

" Ah it's ok--- Super Honest aren't you, Well i'm a Dragon! so the Horns, are sort of part of that! if you stay any length of time in Avalice you'll see us now and again... but maybe don't point it out. Some of us can be touchy about it "

" Ah Right--- Cool a real fuckin' Dragon? Not Shit? that's bad ass! Never met no Dragon before... how do ya know Carol? "

" Oh i've known her since we were little, she's my best friend. Has been since either of us can remember. Growing up i use to joke she was like my tail---never far behind me. Now i think she's grown up and become her own person... really proud of her "

She paused

" how'd you two meet? "

" Oh she talked shit, and almost got hit! hah! then we busted some mail boxes for a laugh! now she's helpin' me move to Avalice an get away from some bad shit back home. Kinda jarring but, i am hopin' i can learn ta love this place... like Sonar "

" ... Carol has the oddest way of making friends... but she's never changed i all these years. Oh looks like intermission, i think ill grab something to drink--- Be back in a moment! and it was nice to meet you Surge, Kit "

" Yea, you to! don't take to long or you'll miss round 2! "

[aetheternity]

When their meeting is about to start but they can't get their erection to go away.

Sprays the minors be gone spray

Warning: (Fem reader) In this scenario you have been in a sexual on again off again relationship with these guys individually. You're not dating them. The guys have all tried masturbation before coming to you. Also mommy kink for everyone except Levi.

Armin

Poor thing has been hard since he woke up which was about four hours ago.

He runs into your room almost slamming open the door.

"Mommy, please.. I can't make it go away."

He almost cries when he slips inside. The pain in his balls eased a bit as he wraps his fingers in the blankets.

Mouth open as he lets every noise out unabashedly.

He can't even begin to be ashamed of his noises when your wet cunt continually sucks him in.

"You're so hard baby." You moan as you tug him in close, running your hands over his undercut and through his hair. "What were you thinking about?"

"I wasn't being bad mommy, I promise.. I-I just-" He gasps as he sheaths himself all the way inside. Barely pulling out for each thrust.

Pretty blue eyes rolling towards the sky.

"Hmm?"

"I woke up hard and.. I tried to go back to sleep but it got so painful.."

You kiss his pretty red lips coaxing them out from where he's biting them.

Your legs stay spread for every rough pound of his hips. His cock pressed impossibly deep.

"I need you." He whines "I need you so much."

The ache inside him slowly being released.

"You're gonna make me cum.." He whimpers

You cover his mouth with your hand. His face impossibly red as his eyes finally flutter open.

Blue doe eyes filled with tears that quickly begin to trickle down his cheeks.

"Finish baby. You're such a good boy. Don't moan too loud ok? Let it stay our secret."

When he cums inside you his hips stutter and his screams are covered by your hands.

"That's it, good job baby." You moan back arched for him.

When you release him he inhales sharply letting out one last gasp as he fills you up.

"Mommy there's so much.." He heaves

"Hurry and get to your meeting ok?"

"Ok. I'll be back later to properly thank you." He says tongue curving over his lips.

He takes one more second to stare at his cum where it's flowing down to your ass and he almost gets hard again.

Waits until there's like 10 minutes left before the meeting starts.

Eren

Partially because he thought he could manage to get rid of it before then and partially because he was worried you wouldn't be up this early.

He just kinda awkwardly shuffles around until you notice the very obvious bulge in his pants.

When he does finally go to you he's glad to see you awake.

"I.. it won't fuck off." He grunts

The second you wrap your hands around his cock he lets out the deepest groan throwing his head back. And when it slides inside..

His soul almost escapes him.

"Mommy.." He grunts

You need a couple seconds to adjust even though it hasn't been that long since he last fucked you.

When he finally gets going he's so rough but slow as if he doesn't have a meeting to get to.

His hips pressed right up against your inner thighs and pelvis.

"Baby speed up." You gasp softly "You need to cum so you can get to that meeting."

"I know.. but fuuucckk."

He's absolutely losing his mind.

He's got the bed slamming into the wall, hands making permanent marks where they're squeezing around your waist.

Starts fucking your tight cunt a little harder when you start to sound breathless.

At some point he's pushing both your knees forward into the pillows using that leverage to fuck you so deep you can barely breathe.

He growls into every kiss he plants on your lips.

His cock pounding your g-spot so roughly you've started crying.

Starts to shake when he gets close.

His hands slipping from the backs of your knees to right next to your head.

"God.. fuck!" He huffs, cum painting your insides. "Shit.." He groans in your ear.

You can't even speak too focused on trying to catch your breath.

Veins dark where they show up in his knuckles.

Mouth hung agape as he pulls his now limp cock out.

Gives you a sweet kiss before he leaves.

"Thank you mommy." He smirks at your blissful expression.

Jean

"Help me? Please?"

Doesn't wait as long as Eren and Armin.

Probably around 15 minutes of stroking himself to zero effect before he's coming to you.

"What's the magic word, love?"

"..Mommy."

Has your legs wrapped around his waist. His cock mixing your insides and you can't help but let every sinful noise spill from your throat as he does.

Simultaneously kissing you and playing with your nipples

He's fucking you like you're his girlfriend and he doesn't have a meeting to go to.

"Jean, baby.. you gotta hurry."

Even you don't want him to hurry. Or stop.

"I promise I'll get to my meeting on time I just wanna spend as much time as I can here with you mommy."

Rubs your cheek in circular motions with his thumb when you sob over his pace.

Spreads his legs and presses as deep as he can with a hand on your stomach until you're whimpering on every thrust.

"You feel so fucking good mommy. So good, please keep squeezing my cock."

Till you're cumming around his cock.

Has you moaning his name and arching your back.

Only then does he actually speed up and give in to his need to cum.

Deep moans of mommy falling off his lips onto yours.

Every bit of your pussy full of him till his name is the only word you remember.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders. Keeping himself deep as he empties every drop of his load inside.

He stays in you for almost too long just giving you kisses all over your face and hands.

Whines your name in between little mentions of gratitude

Honestly you're a little sad to see him go.

Finally pulls out and gets dressed.

Connie

"I kept thinking about the mission tomorrow and that kept me up most of the night. Then I started thinking about you and that kept me hard the other half." He laughs

Abuses the fact that he can ask you for sex and you'll almost always say yes.

But it's more because it's you than because he's constantly after sexual pleasure.

Just a little. 🤏

You know because the first time you let him hit was surprising but the 45th time he's still in shock but he's adoring every second he gets to climb in your bed and touch every bit of your skin.

Bites his lip a little when he slips in balls deep.

Only because he loves the fact that it's you more than the fact that he can get off with someone.

As soon as it hits morning and he knows you're awake he's pulling himself out of bed.

"Shit.. mommy this is what I needed." His eyes roll back as he penetrates you from below.

Cock twitching inside with every thrust.

Somehow still manages to smirk and flirt with you while groaning in between each word.

"Mommy, you never deny me.. might as well tell me you're in love with me."

You snort, "Cum already so you can go to your meeting."

"I'll cum when you tell me you love me."

He tries he really does but he's getting so close and the way you're squeezing his cock just isn't fair.

Profanity flying from his lips when you slam your hips down using your knees as leverage.

"God mommy please.." He begs reaching out for your waist.

He lifts himself up latching his tongue to one nipple while his free hand is cupping your breast.

Groans low in his throat when he cums. His eyes fluttering shut

Whispers of fuck and goddammit cresting off his lips.

His cock twitching against your walls. The feeling making you bite your lip.

"You take such good care of me mommy." He cooes

He leans into your ear, "What if I just stayed here and fucked you all day?"

"Go to your meeting!" You huff, getting off of him.

He finally leaves when you give him a silent glare.

Levi

Walks into your bedroom without so much as a knock and locks the door.

He waits it out for almost 3 hours before finally going to you with all his pent up frustration.

He wants it to go away on its own so bad.

"What's up with you this morning?" You laugh as he tosses your panties aside haphazardly.

He doesn't need to answer his dick print speaks for itself.

Thrusts all the way inside with no warning.

Like Eren he has your feet in the air, knees pressed into the sheets.

You wanna tease him so bad for being this hard and a little loud this early in the morning but his cock feels like it's in your stomach.

You can only keep your head back, noises spilling off your lips with every thrust.

Eyes coasting north when he slams into your sweet spots.

Keeps fucking into you like you're his little toy. Simultaneously rough and gentle.

Angles his hips in a specific way to hear you scream and then mutters for you to be quiet.

Groans when your nails dig into his back.

Eventually he lets your legs go, allowing them to wrap around his waist as he finally picks a pace.

His thrusts so hard you can hear small clatters from the wood under the mattress hitting the floor.

And you're clenching around him so tight.

Screaming his name along with every curse word known to man.

He lets out a long drawn out moan as he fills your tight pussy with every bit of pent up frustration he possesses in all 160 cm of himself.

And surprisingly it's a lot.

And finally he's letting you go with a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Good girl." He whispers, thumb coaxing strands of your hair off your cheeks.

Meanwhile your heart beat is slamming against your rib cage so loud you're sure you'll bust.

You probably have shit to do today too but after that you just wanna go back to sleep.

[luimagines]

First Kiss! Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2 will include Sky, Legend and Time

Content under the cut!

Sky

Walking through the town was something mundane and simple.

Walking through town hand in hand with your boyfriend Sky was comforting, a journey and a delight.

You always seemed to see things differently when he was around and you’re not sure why but walking with him always made things look brighter, happier, more enjoyable. You never wanted it to end.  

The two of you turned into the town square and watched the others of the group disperse into the natural inclinations for civilization. You laughed and leaned against Sky as they went away, the two of you not having a destination in mind.

“I don’t actually want to do anything right now.” Sky admitted as you walk. “Is there something you had in mind or can we go?”

You hum and think for a moment and realize that there’s not much you think the town can offer you at the moment that would be worth staying and shake your head. “Nope. I’m good.”

Sky smiled and begins to drag you along to the outer rings of the place, making random turns at random times just trying to create distance no matter how imaginary.

“I thought we were leaving.” You snort and stop in your tracks, keeping Sky from moving forward.

Sky blushes a little and uses his other hand to scratch the back of his head. “I realized we would need to check in with someone and I didn’t know where any of them went. So-”

“So we can’t leave because someone could go looking for us?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah...”

You snort and cover your mouth with your free hand. “I should have known.”

“What?”

“You’re too much of a good boy to just ditch people.” You grin and tilt your head. ”Which is cute but I should have known there’s no way you’re a bad boy, even for as something as trivial as knowing where we are.”

You shake your head good naturedly and feel Sky get closer. “Honestly I should have-”

Sky gets into your personal space and the close proximity stuns you into silence.

Sky raises an eyebrow and leans even closer. “I can be a bad boy, if I wanted to.”

The air suddenly feels charged and while you’re not sure with what, you somehow manage to get your tongue working again to shape the words you need to say. “No offence dear, but I doubt that.”

Sky leans in and you lean back to gain some space, less he collide with your face only to feel your back collide with a wall behind you.

You’re trapped. 

You gulp and look up into Sky’s eyes with confusion, only marginally intimidated by his actions.

Sky smirks and you feel a blush cover your face as you bite your lip. You look down out of embarrassment and try to figure out what’s going on with your heart at the same time. Sky finally lets go of your hand and brings his arm over your head to rest his weight on it, his other hand coming up to put a finger under your chin, lifting it just a little higher for you to properly look him in the eyes.

The action combined with the somewhat devilish look on his face and his action have you go weak in the knees and you press yourself deeper into the wall for some semblance of stability.

Sky looks you up and down at the sight and tilts his head, the smirk ever present.

He’s enjoying this.

Your heart is pounding, all you seem to hear is your blood rushing in your ears and your whole body feel too warm and ice cold at the same time.

Sky leans into your face and you can feel his breath on your cheeks as he places little butterfly kisses against you. He brushing his nose against yours on accident but it fails to feel that way. If anything it makes the moment more intimate and charges something in you.

The little kisses he leaves on your face are a kind of sweet torture you’re not sure you can bare for any longer.

You gulp and flutter yours eyes open- not sure when you closed and gasp for a breath. “Oh my god, kiss me.”

Sky stills and you think you might have pushed something just before he angles himself in front of you again and presses his lips against yours.

Your close your eyes and lose yourself in the feeling.

Your hands travel up his check and rest on his shoulders before closing in by his collar bone and snaking behind his head to tangle themselves in his hair.

Sky keeps his arm on the wall but uses his other hand to tilt your head even higher, pushing himself against you as he kisses you deeper.

A loud cough has the two of you jumping away from each other and you can’t help feeling a little pissed that someone interrupted your moment.

There stands Time, a smirk and knowing look in his eye. “Pardon the interruption, but I believe I was tasked to bring Sky to Warrior for a consultation. That is.... unless you’re busy.”

Sky coughs and steps away from you. “No, I... I can go.”

You glare at Time, not at all subtle in your intentional message you’re trying to send.

Time holds back his snickers... barely. “Good. I’ll him know you’re on your way.”

Sky blushes at being caught and laughs a bit when he sees you. “We’ll continue later.”

You blink and only then feel a little shame at also being caught- or it shame for how much you enjoyed it.

You nod at Sky and watch him- his phantom touch still on you.

You collapse against the wall and sigh.

That was not what you were expecting.

Legend

Running.

You and Legend were running through the castle trying to lose the tail of the guards that have found out that you two were very much not supposed to be there. Your party clothes billowed behind you and your steps echoed through the mostly empty hallways, more of them thundering behind you as more guards joined the cause.

“This is the last time I follow you blindly, Link.” You hiss and nearly trip over yourself.

Legend spins with little to no trouble at all and grabs your shoulder, helping you get back onto your feet and throwing you in front of him.

“It’s not like I asked for this.” Legend hisses back to you and pushes you to keep running through the hallways.

You want to stop and breath and leave but you’re lost and Legend knows this place better than you do so you’re stuck with him if you want to survive and not get caught.

Without waring Legend pulls you into a sharp turn and closes a door you didn’t notice behind you only stopping at the last moment to not slam it and instead rest it gently, closing even the small gold threaded curtain over the little peep window. 

Around you is a somewhat closed off spiral stair case and another door in front of you that leads into another unknown area but you can hear people.

You’re still not safe but no one seems to have heard you come in just yet.

“This must be one of the servant stairwells.” Legend says as he pants, resting his hands on his knees. You had though that when Legend had first appeared next to you in his finery that he was very handsome. And even when he’s all disheveled and exhausted, you still find yourself appreciating how every curve and sharp angle is accentuated by the outfit.

But this isn’t the time for that.

“Can we get out through here?” You ask, leaning up against the wall. there’s not  a lot of space between you and Legend where you stand but you’re too tired to compute it at the moment.

“Not without getting seen by more people.” Legend sighs. “We’ll just wait for the guards to pass and then head out the other way.”

You nod and continue to pant, placing your hand over your heart as if that would stop it from beating out of your chest.

Legend takes a few more breaths and walks over to stand next to you and places his weight against the wall as well. He opens his mouth to say something before abruptly shutting it with a click and forcing you to duck down as well when you hear the guards that were chasing you just outside the door that hide you from their gaze.

You stop breathing entirely, leaning closer to Legend who places himself between you and door.

You wait.

They leave.

The two of you nearly collapse into each other when you hear them take their leave to continue their search for you somewhere else.

You both stand up again and Legend reaches for the door.

Someone begins coming down the stairs.

Your eyes widen, body ready to run out the door but you’re being pressed against the wall with Legend on top of you before you can think of moving a muscle. 

Legend presses his lips against yours and traps your body there with his own. He attempts to coax a response out of you as the steps continue to descend, his hand burring itself into your hair as the other pulls you closer by your hip.

Your eyes flutter close and your hands come up to cradle his face, kissing him back like you’ve been wanting to do the entire night.

Legend groans a little as he deepens the kiss and angles you closer to his body.

You begin running your hands all over him, trying to map out his curves and angles that you’ve eyeing the entire night with your hands.

Legend responds favorably and even bites your lip when you refuse to let him kiss you even deeper.

“UM!” A voice squeaks. “My apologies but uh... you can’t be here.”

You break away and Legend turns around to address the poor maid that had caught you two.

“Sorry.” He flushes and waves her away. “We’ll be on our way. We didn’t know.”

You swear you blush all the way to your feet and can’t even bring yourself to look the poor girl in the eye as you both leave.

Legend subtly looks around for anyone who might still looking for you even you both leave and you both calmly leave the stairwell and the maid and begin to make your way out of the castle.

You hand finds its way to your mouth, the phantom touch of his lips on yours still tingling in the present moment because of it.

“I’m sorry.” Legend blurts in the quiet moment, his face a deep red as he looks down. “I panicked... but that doesn’t make that ok. It was the heat of the moment but... I probably could have found another solution or maybe we could have just ran.”

You bite your lip and hold your hands behind your back. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“I just assaulted you-”

“You’re a good kisser-”

You both stop in your tracks and stare at each other wide eyed.

“What did you just say?” You speak at the same time.

You gulp and shake your head. ”I didn’t think you... If I didn’t want you to...Um...” You look away first and try to hide behind your hair. “I wanted to kiss you all night, so.... I’m not complaining.” 

“You- you did?”

You blush deeper and try to walk away from him as you talk, as if that would negate how he would still be able to hear you even now that you’re both outside. “For awhile now actually, but.... uh... you look very handsome like that, so the urge was stronger than usual.”

Legend doesn’t say anything for a while but you keep walking, trying to get away from the awkwardness Your friendship is going to change after this night and you can feel it. You just don’t want to acknowledge it.

It was a good kiss.

Footsteps begin thundering behind you and you turn around to see what’s got Legend in a panic before he tackles you to the ground- ruining your party clothes in the dirt before trapping your lips against his again.

He lifts himself off of you as he pants. “You can’t just say that and then leave.”

“I wasn’t trying-”

“You look gorgeous tonight, it was so hard to control myself.”  He kisses you again.

You blink and stare into his eyes when he lifts himself off of you for the second time, letting a moment of silence over you before you take a breath. “Kiss me again.”

He grins and leans down.

If this is the change to your relationship, let it be known that you’re certainly not complaining.

Time

You sigh and watch the sun set just beyond the mountains in the west.

Every bone in your body felt tired and sore and there was nothing else that you wanted to do. You thought that one more person wanted to talk to you today you were going to lose it.

Time comes to sit next to you and puts a hand on your shoulder. He leans over to look in your eyes before he nods to himself and shifts his weight so that he sits with his front to your side.

Gently he coaxes you to move around also and you follow his lead without much question.

As soon as you’re with your back to him, his hands comes to rest on your shoulder and begin to knead.

You almost groan with the immediate pleasure and relief it brings you but the others are still nearby and you don’t want to give them any ideas.

You have no idea how he does it but Link always seem to know what you need without you saying anything and even before you even know. 

You sigh and try to relax even further under his touch.

Time continues with his massage and travels all over your shoulders, upper back and neck.

Your eyes close and you lean back after a few minutes of this, right into Time’s lap. “Thank you.” You say and smile more genuinely toward him. “You didn’t have to but I feel better now.” 

“Good.” He says and plays with the hair that falls over his leg. “You looked tense.”

“Everything was sore and not happy with me.” You blinked your eyes open and look up into his. “That felt nice.”

“Well you’re welcome.” He smiles back.

You grin and sit up again much to the protest of the rest of your muscles. With a small shimmy, you turn around and hop up to place a little kiss on Time’s cheek before you lose your nerve. “Payment.”

You don’t know where your boldness comes from but you’re not so shameless as to kiss Time fully while the whole group is very much nearby.

Time stills completely before he stands up after you.

You attempt to walk away and go back to the group before he can say anything but he catches your hand and pulls you back with a spin, trapping you with an arm behind your back and your chest against his.

You blush at the close proximity and try to pull away. “Time, the boys-”

Time lets go of the hand behind your back to free that up but he instead rests his hands on your waist and pulls you flush against him. “What about them? I believe that if that was the payment that you’re a little short on the change.”

He’s smirking when he says this. 

He leans down and brushes his nose against yours. “If you’re ok with it that is.”

You gulp and stare at him wide eyed. You bite your lip in thought and you can see Time glance down at the subtle movement.

You grin and push yourself into him, closing the distance between you two with more vigor than either of you expected. The force pushes Time back a step and you throw your arms around him to stabilize yourself. 

He kisses you back with as much passion as you want to believe he’s been holding back. You start to crumble from under him and he follows you down when your knees fail you, bending over to keep kissing you, to kiss you deeper and to pull you closer even if you’re bent in half at this point.

You don’t care. 

Together, you lose yourselves in each other and try to memories each factor of him.

The broadness of his chest, the way his toned arms hold you, the way his lips move against you and your skin and how he moves from your lips to your neck-

“Oh for crying out loud-  GET A ROOM!” Legend yells from across the camp and you pull away from time in shock.

Time calmly looks over and pulls you back on to your feet again. “Do you see one?”

“Time.” You whisper yell and smack his arm a little, your blush on your face clear as day even as the sun sets beyond the horizon.

He smirks and turns back to you, capturing one more kiss from you before he steps away with a low and frankly dangerous kind of chuckle. “Later.”

“Later?” You looks after him and cover you lips with your finger tips. “What do you mean by later?”

Time doesn’t turn around to answer you ad you don’t know if you’re excited for it or too embarrassed at the blatant wanton behavior of yours to even think beyond anything than going to bed and starting the next day.

Who are you kidding?

How are you going to sleep when time has frankly put your mind on over drive that that?

It’s going to be a long night.

Part 3

[an-angel-in-the-garden]

Dating the Obey Me! boys

So I had surgery yesterday and have to be stuck in my room not doing much for a bit so I plan to try and write lots of things and I thought why not start with Obey Me. Hope you enjoy, these are also kinda short since it was so many people! CW: Spoilers and slightly dark

Lucifer

Dating Lucifer is a bit of a struggle at the start

He's headstrong and cruel even to those he care's about so it can be hard to get into a relationship with him

Once that bond is formed however its a different story though he is still blunt and a bit harsh he's more open

He enjoys classic dates candle lit dinners walks under the moon or swaying in his office with his records on

Lucifer adores when you visit him in his office just to spend time with him while he works

Not much PDA but not fully against it will wrap an arm around your waist and might kiss your head if he's feeling really soft that day

Supportive even if he's harsh he wants the best for you in his eyes you deserver the world and then some

Mammon

Mammon is very open about his feelings

Not good with PDA gets very embarrassed but loves it all the same

Will spend money on you without really thinking about it he wants to you everything and in his eyes money is everything

He gets you involved with many schemes but also does everything in his power to not let you get hurt

If any of his siblings are having a bad day and it gets taken out on you he steps in and will swing if needed

Speaking of siblings they dont treat him that well and though he tends to put on a front you kindness to him means so much he can and will cry

Soft just wants you happy your smile makes him feel special and truly loved so he wants you to feel the same

Leviathan

This is a roller coaster that's for sure

Leviathan is a tsundere on the surface but once in a relationship he's a bit more yandere then one might think

With that Levi is very tameable quelling any jealousy of another he might have is simple just give him affection

He can not handle PDA he blushes freaks out and might even faint if people are around

Indoor dates in his aquarium room and also gaming together or watching anime

Though he's not one to enjoy the outdoors if you want to go on a public date all you need to do is ask

Parise for him is heavenly you telling him he's done well or that he makes you happy means he world to him

Satan

Getting into a relationship with Satan is a friends to lovers kinda story he need so much trust to know he can be truly honest with you

Its very give and take he wants this to have the same importance on both side

Café dates often to a cat café and if you allergic dont worry he has a spell for that

Will show off your relationship to everyone

Enjoy soft PDA i.e. hand holding an arm around the waist forehead kisses etc.

Really loves talking with you about books whether about a book you both have read or simply you listening as he goes on about one he likes, Satan also loves hearing you talks about your interest

Hell protect you with his life you're someone who let him feel more then just anger someone who loves him for himself and its all he really wanted

Asmodeus

Dating Asmodesu is not easy and there's a chance it will never be a healthy relationship

He's flirts alot and that's something you have to get use to but Asmo try's very hard to never take it to far once your together

Love PDA will always want to be all over you and hopes you feel the same

Shopping dates are a must in his eyes and of you ever feel self conscious he does his best to help

Talks about you non stop to anyone and everyone he's happy your in his life but in the end his sin makes it quite hard to ever be in a fully committed relationship

Spoils you so much, wants you to live in luxury like him after all someone as perfect as you deserves it

The genuine affection and love is something new to him its something he never thought he would have so when you entered his life he felt you could only ever make things brighter and he plans to always be there for you

Beelzebub

This is a relationship that develops without much thought

It becomes a habit for Beel to share his food with you or to seek you out just to be with you for a while

At some point its pointed out how you both act and Beelzebub confesses

Dates are common and its often food date going to new and old places he thinks you would like

Not great at planning things but if you have something you want to do or talk about he's all in

Very soft with you though its not often that hell innate PDA or anything he's always up to reciprocate it

A gentle giant who wants you safe and happy even if it means sharing his snacks

Belphegor

This is a full slow burn with his hatred of humans and his lack of trust its not an easy ride

Being with him takes a while starting as just people to friends to maybe more to lovers its a drawn out thing

No PDA he just doesn't handle it well however at the house or alone he's very affectionate

You all go on dates rarely as he's not one for going out and would rather spend quite time with you at home

One of his favorite things to do with you is laze around while you talk about your day or things you've been into lately

Will always make sure you have a good nights sleep if your someone prone to bad dreams he can help with that

Though the relationship with him starts a little rocky he treasures you more then he might admit and he happy you gave him a chance

Diavolo

Another friends to lovers and a little forbidden on top of that but you two make it work

It starts as just him being overly interested in the human world and not so slowly he starts to take interest in just you

Diavolo spoils you when he can you've given him so much and he wants to give back

Loves PDA but knows that he has to reel it in due to him tittle so he settles for just holding your hand

Is a very soft demon for you wanting to make you're as comfortable as you can be

Really enjoys when you visit him even if it just you popping in to say hi it just brightens his day

Being in a relationship wit Diavolo isn't easy it takes alot to keep up with everything but he's never been happier then with you by his side

Barbatos (I love him so much so his is slightly longer)

A slow burn and secret relationship full of its ups and downs yet its something he wouldn't trade for anything

The start of the relationship is slow and honestly it doesn't even seem like your dating he's still closed off only being polite when you two are together

It takes him far longer then you would think for him to realize how much that hurts you he hasn't been wit someone for so long if ever he's not use to it

Once you break that barrier things are smoother he's willing to be open with you alone giving you affection when you ask and even sometimes acting with out you saying anything

Barbatos thinks about you alot when he's working always wanting to know what your up to and how your feeling

Wont want to tell anyone he takes his work very seriously and doesn't want that to ever be at risk but on top of that he knows some people dont like him and if they know about you well he doesn't want to think about that

Refuses to look into your future he knows he wont be able to handle what hell see

It a relationship that takes time and sometime it seems like it might slip away but he's always there and he strives to be with you and make you happy just please give him all your love too

Simeon

A story tale romance most the time but one that almost seems impossible to keep

He's the perfect gentlemen sweet moonlight date or strolls through a garden, holding the door open or offering you his coat

With that it might seem like you never see the real him just the person/angle that he wants you to see someone perfect

Once you two have been together a few months hell start to really open up letting you see his more mischievous side and even talking about the pain from when the others fell

Simeon will always be there for you and when your down he wants to be someone you can lean on

The two of you in the in his room the soft lighting thanks to the fire with the only sounds in the room being the scribble of pen on paper and quite breathing making the night feel like endless bliss

He knows this relationship is dangerous if he's not careful he could fall but when you look at him eyes shinning with nothing but love he thinks maybe that wouldn't be so bad

Solomon

An almost tragic love story that much to his glee ends in happiness

He's met you in many lifetimes yet you were never his bit this time this wonderful time you choose him

The most romantic dates with Solomon anything you want he can probably get

Tried to cook for you it didn't go well but man he tried

Helps you study and will partake in your hobbies if you want

Is ok with PDA prefers the simple stuff over anything major

Is such a lovely relationship one he's spent so long waiting for and he's wont let it slip away now

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Survival of the Fittest. 

Pairing: Yandere!Bakugo/Reader/Yandere!Kirishima (BNHA).

Word Count: 3.6k.

TW: Apocalypse/No Quirks AU, Unhealthy Codependency, Non-Consensual Touching, Mentions of Death/injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Imprisonment.

You were lucky Kirishima had been the one to find you.

‘Find’ might’ve been the wrong word. It implied that he was looking, that he wanted to discover you, bleeding and battered and bruised, cowering in a grimy corner of what used to be a grocery store. It must’ve looked pathetic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by your torn clothes, your matted hair, the way you’d whimpered as he first approached, all wide eyes and open arms. Survivors were few and far between, and it’d been weeks since you saw another living, breathing person. Kirishima hadn’t seemed like a god-send, not in the moment, but he was a miracle. You’d been too shocked to thank him properly, as he pulled you to your feet and practically carried you out of the city, but you should. You wanted to. You owed him that, if nothing else.

You were lucky it’d been him, rather than Bakugo. You were grateful it hadn’t been Bakugo.

You’d probably still be rotting in that corner, if it had been.

He didn’t seem to like you very much, even if he had begrudgingly moved aside when Kirishima asked if he could bring you inside. It was a bunker, judging by the sparse furniture littered around the common area, plain cement walls only adorned with the occasional hunting knife or bat left to lean against them. The bench Kirishima had left you on was wooden, too stiff to ever be comfortable, but it was a practical choice. Fabric was a luxury to be stowed away and treasured, saved for things more important than a stranger’s comfort. You’d do the same thing, if you’d been in his shoes.

That didn’t stop Bakugo from glaring, though, perching himself on the edge of a nearby crate and refusing to take his eyes off of you, as if you’d already earned and lost his trust. “There’s no fucking advantage,” He started, but he wasn’t talking to you. You weren't worth his time, just yet, not while you were still just a stray Kirishima was too much of a saint to turn away. “We’re not a damn food bank. It’s not out responsibility to babysit every dumbass on the verge of death.”

“Don’t listen to him.” At least Kirishima was kind enough to address you as he slipped back into the common room, taking his place at your side and handing you something – a mug, cremated and unchipped and filled to the brim with something watery, steam still rising off the top. Your first sip was hesitant, but you couldn’t stop yourself from draining the cup once you recognized the taste. Coffee. Cheap, bitter, heavenly coffee, the kind you didn’t have enough clean water to risk trying to make. You could’ve kissed him. You might’ve, if the calm levity in his voice hadn’t snapped you out of it. “Katsuki’s just a little defensive, when it comes to guests. We’ve got plenty of supplies to go ‘round, and…” He trailed off, glancing over you. To the bruises circling your wrist, the stained bandages peaking out from underneath your shirt. To the spot where your ankle twisted just a little too far to the left for the angle to be natural, the evidence of a fall you tried and failed to break with something besides your own body. “I don’t think we can kick someone out in good faith with those kinda injuries. Not with all the crawler activity, lately.”

You flinched at the name alone. Crawler, creatures, the things that used to be people and weren’t, not now, not anymore. You used to think of them as zombies, but that wasn’t right. Calling them zombies would be an injustice, even if they did tend to rot if left to their own devices. Zombies weren’t that fast. Zombies weren’t that distorted. You’d encountered three or four, but you tried to avoid attracting them, when you could. It was easier, when you were on your own.

Bakugo groaned, bringing you out of your thoughts. You tried to stop your hands from shaking, as he spoke. “You’ve got a group to run back to, right? Nobody survives that long without one.”

You tried not to sound as small as you felt. Judging from the way Kirishima glanced away, it was a futile effort. “Nobody survives that long with one, either.”

Kirishima’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, and Bakugo crossed his arms, a sign that must’ve meant submission, judging by Kirishima’s optimistic response. “Just until your ankle’s healed up,” He promised, a compromise you hadn’t asked him to make. “You’ll stay until then, right? ‘d be a shame if we had to lose another person because of Katsuki’s bad attitude.”

There was a sharp ‘hey’, a barely stifled laugh, and slowly, you forced yourself to nod, immediately receiving a bright grin from Kirishima by way of reward. It was a practical choice, honestly – they had food, they had shelter, they didn’t seem to be grasping at threads just to get by. Even if Kirishima was a little too friendly and Bakugo wasn’t nearly friendly enough, you could life with that, you could get by. Once you’d worn out your welcome, you’d leave. As soon as you were fixed up.

You didn’t want to wait for things to go bad, this time.

~

Despite his reluctance, Bakugo didn’t take long to warm up to you.

Kirishima was still the approachable one, obviously. He was who you went to when you needed to find something, when you had a question about their ration system or weaponry or the parts of the bunker you weren’t allowed to go in, rooms with steel doors and deadbolts on the handle and a raw, metallic smell emanating from the other side, but Bakugo always seemed to be lingering just behind him, ready to scoff and roll his eyes before he took you by the wrist and explained that, if you expected to reap the benefits of their hospitality, you had to at least try to pull your weight. He was helpful, like that, his help less patronizing than Kirishima’s, albeit twice as easily frustrated. Still, he didn’t hate you. If anything, he seemed to—

“If you slow down one more time, I’ll feed ya to the damn bears myself.”

You sped up, reflexively. He didn’t hate you, but it wasn’t too late for him to start.

It’d been Kirishima’s idea for you to go hunting. You were still in a splint, the majority of your calf an abstract blend of medical tape and cloth padding, but you bit back the pain as you followed Katsuki down the rough, unpaved trail, gritting your teeth past the ache forming under your skin. It wasn’t a raid. If anything, you were only getting further from the city, working your way up the mountain their bunker was carved into the base of. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been concerned about the crossbow in Katsuki’s hands, the weapon already loaded and poised, but the hunting knife strapped to your thigh eased your nerves, as did his disinterest in doing anything but trudging forward. If he didn’t take the time to call back to you every few minutes, you might’ve thought he’d forgotten you were there entirely.

But, silence never suited you never well. Not with a near-stranger, at least. “You’re not afraid of crawlers?”

“This far out? Fuck no.” It was an immediate answer, quick and shameless. Like an amputation, if an amputation left you nursing a bruised ego rather than bleeding out. “There’s enough fresh meat in the city to keep ‘em occupied. Only the runts ever bother coming out here to look for scraps.”

“I would’ve been that meat,” You mumbled, absent-mindedly. It was an idle thought, more of an admission than an accusation, but judging by the way his posture slackened, how quickly his attention shifted to the foliage, he wouldn’t have cared either way. “If Kirishima hadn’t found me, I mean. God knows I look like an easy target.”

“You are an easy target. Just be glad he’s got a weak spot for charity cases.”

You opened your mouth, ready to ask what he meant, you lost your footing before you got the chance, slipping on the damp leaf litter as a spike of something agonizing ran from your heel to your knee. Bakugo didn’t flinch, letting you catch yourself on his shoulder as he raised his crossbow, barely taking a moment to aim before firing. You could feel the kick-back, a jolting reverberation that only seemed to make the wet thunk that followed a little worse, the sound of an arrow piercing skin and flesh.

You expected that. You were ready for it. But, you hadn’t been prepared for the deafening scream that came afterwards, heart-piercing and human. You moved to rush toward its source, but Bakugo only caught your arm, shaking his head. Like he’d missed, like he’d only killed a deer. Like there wasn’t a person thrashing in the underbrush, still crying out as he spoke over them. “Looters,” He explained, like that was an excuse. “We’ve been dealin’ with them for a while, now. ’s just a scout, but he would’ve been back with reinforcements if we let him run off untouched.”

Bile rose in the back of your throat. For your own sake, you chose to believe him. “So? We can’t just—”

“Yes, we can.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need your permission, and he didn’t want your compliance. He didn’t even bother to justify himself before he turned away, starting back on the trail as you stood, still too shocked to move. “C’mon, we’ve already lost enough sunlight, and I’m not wasting arrows on scum. The fucker can drag himself back to his hideout, for all I care.”

You could’ve argued. Bakugo didn’t seem to think the blow was fatal, but you could’ve checked, made sure, offer what might’ve been a dying man a few last seconds of company before he bit the bullet. You could’ve, part of you wanted to, but…

But then, Bakugo tossed a glare over his shoulder, and your attention was brought back to the crossbow in his hands, to the machete strapped to his belt, to how pitifully small your knife was, in comparison. You didn’t want to lose the trust you hadn’t really gained, just yet. You didn’t want to take that kind of chance, not when Kirishima wasn’t around to give you the benefit of the doubt.

So, you shut your eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the quiet sobbing in the background as you followed in his tracks.

~

Surprisingly, Kirishima was the first one to slip into your bed.

You told yourself it was a mistake, when he let himself into your room in the middle of the night, closer to sunrise than it was to sunset. None of the doors locked, thin plywood serving as more of a source of comfort than an actual barrier, and beyond your small collection of personal possessions and the bedside table you’d commandeered from storage, your room was identical to any of the eerily unoccupied barracks on the lower layers of the bunker. Still, you expected him to turn around, to see your sleeping form curled up in a corner of your cot and realize he had the wrong room. It was late, and he made a mistake. It didn’t have to be anything more.

But it wasn’t that late, and Kirishima never really made mistakes. He was too careful for anything like that.

At least he was being careful now, too, as far as you could tell with your eyes clenched shut, your breathing restricted to slow, shallow inhales that left your lungs feeling just a little too tight. He was gentle, if nothing else, wrapping a strong arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest and burying his face in the nape of your neck. You didn’t squirm, you didn’t push yourself away, but you must’ve been too stiff, too still, too rigid. He didn’t seem to buy the act, however desperate it was.

“’suki’s real proud of you.” His voice was tired, weighted down by exhaustion. Clearly, he wouldn’t be leaving. “He told me about yesterday. Says you were good, cooperative and all. He likes that kind of thing.”

You didn’t respond, digging your nails into the sterile, medical sheets. Your ankle throbbed, and you tried to focus on that, to justify it. To remember why you could still convince yourself to stay.

“He’s a big softie, though. We both are, but I don’t try to hide it.” There was a light squeeze to your side, the ghost of his lips over the crook of your neck. His breath was warm, compared to the bucker’s constant chill, and you tried to think of his smothering body heat as a small silver lining. “I think it’s sweet. Gets lonely ‘round here, y’know? You’re a good fit.” There was a pause, a chuckle. For a moment, you thought he might push a little further, hold you a tighter, but Kirishima only shook his head, going on with that same careless, tired lilt. “I knew you would be, when I first saw you. A fragile little thing like you could never survive out here, not all alone.”

He was half-asleep. He didn’t know what he was saying. He’d probably apologize tomorrow, if he even remembered. “I’m not going to stay for much longer. I’ll be on my own again, in another month.”

“We’ll see.” The cot’s barred frame creaked as he shifted, his weight coming to rest against your back – a constant, oppressive reminder of his presence. A memory flickered to life in the back of your mind, a familiar intimacy that’d been earned and asked for, but you pushed it away quickly. You didn’t want to think about things like that, not here, not when this was so one-sided, in comparison. “Get some rest. You haven’t been getting enough sleep, lately.”

You’d leave when it was safe to. When you healed. When you’d worn out your welcome and become more of a burden than a benefit.

You wouldn’t stick around long enough for things to get suffocating, this time.

~

It was a mutual decision, when Bakugo and Kirishima stopped you from leaving the bunker.

They didn’t ask. That was the part that stung, really, the thorn that started working itself under your skin the moment you caught them standing in the threshold, an empty duffle bag slung over Kirishima’s shoulder and a baseball bat tucked under his arm. Bakugo had his crossbow, a pistol you’d never seen before holstered at his hip, but that bothered you less than the way they were muttering, keeping their voices purposefully low. Like they knew how you’d feel, if you saw them. Like they wanted to avoid the tension.

You’d never been very good at picking up hints, though. Much less those you were desperately trying to ignore.

“You’re going out?” You called, approaching them before you could stop yourself, suppressing a yawn as you made a show of rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It was early, and you didn’t want Kirishima to know you’d already been up for hours. If he thought you were tired, he’d assume you were losing sleep, and if he thought you were losing sleep, he’d take it as an excuse to visit you at night, again. You… you didn’t like it, when he did. “Let me grab my stuff, it’ll only take a minute. If I knew you two were planning a raid today, I would’ve—”

Bakugo was the first to shut you down. “Sit this one out, alright?” It was a question, this time, but barely, his usual bluntness wrapped in a layer of kindness so thin, you could practically see through it. “’s just a quick supply run. We’ll be out and back before you notice we’re gone.”

“We’ve done this a thousand times,” Kirishima added, offering a small smile. At least he was trying to be nice about it, in his own, patronizing way. “It’s starting to get boring, honestly. It‘d be a shame to ruin all the progress you’ve made for something so minor.”

Right, your ankle. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d complained about it, the last time you’d been in enough pain to limp, even if Bakugo still insisted on tending to your ‘injury’ once a day, at least. The truth was glaringly obvious, even if they still made a half-hearted attempt to hide it, to let you avert your eyes and pretend you believed them.

You didn’t bother trying to hide your disappointment, your expression dropping as your nails bit into the meat of your palm. “You don’t think I can keep myself safe.”

In their defense, neither tried to deny it. Bakugo only looked away, and Kirishima smiled apologetically, his hand already pushing against the bunker’s metallic door. “We don’t want to risk it,” He explained, like you were a liability. Like you hadn’t survived out there for months without their help, injured or uninjured. “If something happened to you, if someone got to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. We both care about you, even if Katsuki doesn’t want to admit it.”

“It’s practical.” Bakugo didn’t look at you. It was a small mercy, really. At least he was self-aware enough to be ashamed. “You need more time. You fucked yourself up bad before Eijiro found you – all that doesn’t go away overnight.”

Expect, it hadn’t been a night. It hadn’t been a day, or a week, and you were starting to question if it’d even been only two months. It was hard to keep track of time, but the weather was already turning, every scrape and bruise Bakugo could’ve concerned himself with was already healed, and you’d already let yourself get comfortable. You’d stayed too long. You’d let them get attached, and you’d failed to make it clear that you weren’t.

You had to get out. Now.

~

Or, you could try to get out, at least.

You’d waited too long for Bakugo and Kirishima to just sit back and let you walk away.

They were stronger than you’d assumed. It was easy to forget what the human body was capable of, when you were so used to be exhausted and half-starved, but it wasn’t difficult to remember, not with Bakugo’s hands wrapped around your wrists, one of Kirishima’s arms splayed over your knees, stopping you from thrashing as they shoved you against a bed, a real bed, the frame wooden and the mattress more than just sponge and stuffing. It was one of theirs obviously, and if you’d stumbled onto it at any other time, you might’ve felt insulted, left out.

Right now, the only thing you could feel was terrified.

“Fucking bitch.” It was a grunt, a growl, followed by something close to a snarl as your elbow connected with his check. He was the one who’s caught you gathering up what little you had to take with you, a canteen already filled and strung across your back. It was on the floor, now, the metal dented and the contents spilling out, but if either of them minded wasting clean water, you couldn’t tell. They were busy, now, too busy dealing with you to worry about something so minor. Too angry to care, leaving you as the center of their rage. “We tried to be nice. We tried to give you a choice. You just couldn’t take the fucking hint, could you?”

“Let me go.” You couldn’t bring yourself to raise your voice, but you tried to come across as frantic, desperate, as betrayed and as disgusted as you really felt. “You’re both fucking crazy. I don’t want to—”

Kirishima didn’t let you finish, he’d never really bothered to. He was already shifting, leaning on one of your calves while grabbing at the other, calloused fingertips pressing into your newly-healed ankle, the remaining bruises still raw and tender. You cried out, more out of instinct than agony, but Kirishima only grit his teeth, rubbing circles into your skin, like that would be enough to soothe you. “We’re just taking care of you, alright? We’re just doing what’s best.” It was pointless to say, but the didn’t stop him from going on, rambling like he was going to convince anyone, including himself. “It’s dangerous, out there. You just need a little more time to realize that. You just need to see that ‘suki and I are your best option.”

They weren’t. They weren’t your best anything, but you didn’t have a chance to retort before Bakugo cursed under his breath, gathering your wrists up with one hand and forcing the other over your mouth, cutting you off before you could protest further. “Just do it,” He spat, all-but ignoring you as he spoke to Kirishima. “There’s no point in trying to explain this to someone so irrational. Let’s just get it over with before we have to do something worse.”

For a moment, you went still, a series of worst-case scenarios flashing before your eyes before you could rationalize them, before you could tell yourself to stay calm. For a moment, there was panic – pure, unadulterated, brutal panic.

And then, something cracked under Kirishima’s hand, and you forgot how to think of anything at all.

You let out a stilted, faltering sob, something akin to liquid fire running from your thigh to your calf to the point where everything stopped – everything below your ankle numb, disconnected, dead meat that still managed to hurt. The rest of your body went limp, your survival instincts gone and replaced with the unbearable desire to curl into yourself and cry, but Bakugo was still holding you, his arms strung around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as Kirishima slotted himself against your back, cooing soft nothings as you fought not to break down completely. They were talking again, both of them, but you couldn’t seem to listen. It didn’t matter.

Your ankle was broken. Not sprained, this time, not bruised, but broken. Shattered. Dislocated. Forced into a position that meant you’d be forced to stay, voluntarily or otherwise. Whether or not you could still stomach looking at Bakugo and Kirishima, let alone living with them.

You couldn’t leave, and you were beginning to think they were never going to let you.

[childofaura]

Ok I haven’t been asked about this FEH artist, but given that you all have suggested good artists I have little to no gripes with (minus my gripes with Sencha), there is one artist I want to talk about on my own who I have issues with.

Ryoma Kitada, artist for Summer Caeda and Plumeria.

Look, in the year 2021, FEH was very particular about its quality control for artwork. Which is why sadly a lot of initial artists for FEH didn’t get a chance to prove themselves again: artists like bthx (F!Corrin, which honestly wasn’t even bad artwork, it was just stylized and could have used minor improvement in some fields), Haimura Kiyotaka (Julia and Dierdre), Ito Noizi (Both Tikis) and Ueda Yumehito (F!Robin, Cordelia, Hinata, and Oboro, who had a neat anime-ish style and just needed to improve in like… one or two fields). All the artwork for the game at this point was high quality artwork.

So when I saw Summer Caeda and Plumeria, I was absolutely baffled as to how this artist got hired.

I’m gonna break down each portrait and its issues, so bear with me.

Look at the neutral portrait:

Immediate issues that can be noted:

-Caeda’s eyes are uneven

-Their noses are just dots with dark shading, makes it look like they have cat noses or something

-The poses are extremely stiff, Caeda just looks like she’s standing on one leg. Usually if artists are drawing floaty poses with bent legs, the characters usually aren’t standing up

-Plumeria has like… no ankles

-Caeda’s left arm just disappears down the bicep (it should be visible just looking from looking at the angle)

-Caeda’s skirt has no flow, this can be seen in their attack portrait too

-The biggest issue I have that clearly shows they held horny in priority over quality: They made Caeda’s boobs super big for some reason???

Bear in mind, Caeda’s been shown to have a smaller chest in official artwork and her Bridal alt:

But in her artwork they show this weird shading and fabric stretch like her tits are supposed to be massive, even though… they’re not???

Moving on…

Attack pose (and by extension crit pose)

-Caeda has no arm curves.

-WHERE’S PLUMERIA’S RIGHT ARM??

-Plumeria’s left leg has curve and ankle definition but her right leg doesn’t

-Something I just noticed, the girls both had gaping belly buttons in the neutral art but it’s normal in the attack portrait

-Plumeria’s wings are super low on her back

-Also Plumeria has like… no expression change. She doesn’t even look in character.

-She’s not even holding the staff

-Caeda’s skirt looks like stiff plastic

And finally… the damage artwork:

-Awkward posing

-Suddenly Plumeria’s wings are right back where they’re supposed to be

-Still almost no arm definition on Caeda

-Still bad expressions

-AGAIN. PLUMERIA. WHERE THE HELL IS YOUR RIGHT ARM.

-Plumeria’s left knee is driving straight into Caeda’s ass. Poor expression of depth in this drawing

-The girls suddenly have gaping belly buttons again

-Plumeria still has no ankle definition

Look, I’m not gonna pretend like I’m some great artist. My art is shit. I don’t know how to experiment with different line art tools and techniques to save my life, my coloring is shit, and my posing is stiff as shit. But A) as a consumer and B) given how meticulous FEH has been about its art quality and giving numerous character opportunities to high-quality artists (Kita Senri, Daisuke Izuka, kaya8, PenekoR and so on and so forth) and kicking anyone whose art they think is poor quality (Tell me the last time we saw AKIRA, Aoji, Arai Teruko, Fujikawa Akira, etc. All those artists who maybe barely made it to Book 3 before we stopped seeing their artwork)…

WHAT in their RIGHT MIND made them look at Kitada’s artwork and think, “Oh yeah, this is acceptable quality to match our other Summer entries.” LIKE BRO. YOU’RE TELLING ME IT LOOKS BETTER THAN SUMMER OGMA? YOU’RE TELLING ME IT LOOKS BETTER THAN SUMMER FREYJA? YOU’RE TELLING ME IT LOOKS BETTER THAN SUMMER FREYR?!?!

This artwork probably has to be the shittiest in the series. Try to prove me wrong. Change my mind.

[yeojaa]

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud.  Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or:  Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing.  tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  slice of life fluff, light smut.  explicit (but only at the end). 

tags / warnings.  mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc.  7.6k.

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​, @papillonsgf​, and @yeoldontknow​​ 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note.  i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this.  it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless.  as always, feedback means a lot! 

You and forethought aren’t close friends.  You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree.  You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is.  Careful consideration?  Thoughtful patience?  None of that exists for you.  At least, not when you really, really want something. 

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.  

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this.  Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid.  By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.  

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment.  Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to.  When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed.  (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right? 

“Everyone’s fully booked.”  The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial.  (You don’t blame her.)  By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal.  You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue.  “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice?  Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable.  Well-known.  Considered one of the best in the city.  Surely their apprentice would be fine.  Just less seasoned, not as experienced. 

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter.  “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall.  “Last room on the left.  His name’s Jungkook.  His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.”  It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves.  Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told. 

“Jungkook?”  There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight.  (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.)  It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else. 

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting:  one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits.  Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine.  A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall;  one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it.  There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath.  All in all, very homey.  Reminiscent of your own apartment.) 

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space.  “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples. 

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for.  Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.  

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe.  It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin.  “Are you okay?”  He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way.  Good for him, but worse for you. 

He’s so cute.  Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.”  You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete.  “Um— I was told you might have some time?  For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering?  You’re never shy.  Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess.  People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!”  Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder.  He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway.  “Yeah, I’ve got time.  Come in.”  Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek;  the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip;  each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks.  “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no.  You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook?  He was that.  In spades. 

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”  He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table.  It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display.  “I’ve got a pretty big selection.” 

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him.  This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation. 

“So—”  He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen.  You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt.  It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion;  it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles.  He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling.  The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity.  “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.”  It really is.  You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink.  “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question.  Of course it did.  It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally.  “Like crazy, but it was worth it.  This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—”  He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.  

“A piece of cake?”  You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you.  (It doesn’t.  You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap.  “Do any of these interest you?”  He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash.  There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf).  They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.”  It catches your eye more than the others have.  Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines.  A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do.  “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.”  He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled;  you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion.  A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen.  “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy.  Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no.  You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.  

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though.  You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it.  You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life.  There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,”  you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.  

“Do you have your ID?”  You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form.  “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come. 

Alone, the nerves set in.  You’re actually doing this.  Getting a tattoo.  Putting something permanent on your body.  It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap.  Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come.  (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.) 

(But had you really made up your mind?  Was this going to be it?  It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise.  It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!”  Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope.  You eye it curiously.  “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”  

He’s really thought of everything.  Or the shop has.  Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?”  It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand.  (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.) 

You hadn’t thought about that.  You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away.  “My arm?”

“Upper?  Forearm?”  There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative.  He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you. 

“Tricep area, I think?  Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.”  Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same.  “I’m kidding.  That was cheesy.  But I’m sure it’ll look fine.  We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?” 

“That sounds good.”  A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement. 

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake:  wearing a turtleneck.  “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like.  Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon?  Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)? 

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule.  Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside.  Whatever you’d prefer.” 

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill.  You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.  

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way?  He was probably desensitized.)  

“It’s fine.”  You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly.  Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though.  Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater.  It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath.  Two. 

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him.  “All right.  Let’s do this.” 

“So, which arm?”  He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.  

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello. 

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers.  You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.”  It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror.  “It’s so pretty.” 

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face.  “Thanks.”  He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful.  “What do you think?”

“This is it.  Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool.  As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee. 

“All right.  We’ll shave you down and get started.  You like the colours, right?”  Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart.  It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes.  (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.)  He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him.  “Hop on up.  Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace.  It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.  

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?”  You’d misheard that, right? 

“Your skin.  You’re sparkling.”  He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.  

“Oh.”  Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly.  “It’s my soap.” 

“Sparkle soap?”  Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure.  He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before.  (Which, fair.) 

“It’s this specialty holiday soap.  It has pigment in it.” 

“That’s cool.”  He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm.  “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree.  It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does.  Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot.  “Thanks.” 

“Was that weird?  I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.” 

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.  

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle.  “Ready?” 

Honestly, you’re not sure.  Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog.  Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue.  “I think so.” 

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee. 

“All right—”“  The incessant buzzing stops.  Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel.  “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you.  Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.) 

“Can I see?”  You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face. 

“Yeah, go ahead.  Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right.  You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet.  It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you. 

“Careful!”  It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.  

“Sorry, sorry.”  You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede.  Everything straightens out quickly enough.  “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?”  He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall.  “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art.  “I’m fine.”  That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.”  The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open.  Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words,  “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention.  It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours.  It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.  

“You like?”  

“I love.”  You’d stare at it for hours, if you could.  Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie.  “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head.  Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose.  Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into.  “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one.  It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink.  (You half expect him not to answer;  you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.) 

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.  

“So, what’re you thinking?”  

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking.  Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history.  You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece.  “A sleeve?”

That surprises him.  His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously.  “Like, a full sleeve?”  It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable.  “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high.  “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,”  he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea.  “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.”  He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up.  For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing.  (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.)  “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan.  It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there.  He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.  

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”  

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions.  It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin.  A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep.  Another takes up the entirety of your forearm.  There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi.  It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.  

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch.  You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.”  Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap.  “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers.  Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat.  He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up.  Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.  

“You mean we did it,”  you return, giddy like a child.  

“Ah, right.”  The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled.  “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey!  Screw you!”  You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.  

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more.  It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head.  Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow.  You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm.  That in itself had hurt like a biiitch;  you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?”  He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to.  It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.  

“Yes, you are.”  You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares.  This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together.  (Not that you’d complain.  You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful.  “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration.  “You wouldn’t dare.”  You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.  

“Wouldn’t I?  I’m leaving anyway.”

You���re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”  

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed?  You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation.  Had he mentioned it previously?  Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain?  No, you would’ve remembered that.  You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.”  How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea.  You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway.  Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago.  (God, your memory is good.  If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.)  “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.  

“Gonna miss me?”  

Would it be inappropriate to say yes?  Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question.  You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).  

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own.  “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,”  he answers, offering honesty to your reticence.  “You can still send me funny photos though.”  

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile.  “I guess you’re right.  Will you still be tattooing?”  It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know.  You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.”  Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin.  “Actually, where I got most of mine done.”  You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith.  He’s finally come full circle.  You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.  

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to.  It wouldn’t feel right otherwise.  “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,”  he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair.  It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn.  “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,”  you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder.  You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go.  It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk.  “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”  

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you.  It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available.  (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.)  “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black.  You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.  

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?”  He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to.  (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?)  “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended.  “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”  

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you.  “Hey, I don’t judge.  You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there.  Used your own impulsive history against you.  “I would never.”  

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what?  Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him.  “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth.  There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up.  You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”  

“Really?”  You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face.  “Then why don’t you have one?”  He has a million others as it is:  a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs.  (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)  

“And hide all this?”  One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home.  “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual.  “But I’m cuter.  It’d be a shame if it were me.  You…”  The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean.  (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.)  “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”  

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him. 

“I’m kidding.”  You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries.  A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke.  “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them?  Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was.  Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met.  It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?”  The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.  

Were you?  You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really?  You can’t?”  You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it.  But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously.  It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears.  “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”  

Had he?  Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall.  Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of;  accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff).  Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought.  You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,”  you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.  

“I think you’re cute,”  he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff.  The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week.  The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb.  (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer.  “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.”  Where the confidence comes from, who knows.  You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering.  It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits. 

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go. 

Then he does the last thing you expect:  shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.  

(His lips are so soft.  A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate.  Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him.  French fries and beer and his Chapstick.) 

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.) 

“You just kissed me.”  It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.  

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.”  Speaking the words into existence feels bad;  you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.  

“I am.”  At least he’s realistic.  It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay. 

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose. 

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.  

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next.  (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass.  Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers.  An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,”  the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials.  You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation. 

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof.  The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin.  You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous.  It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left. 

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed.  He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders.  You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,”  he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity.  It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,”  you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped.  You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was.  As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though.  You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow.  He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?”  You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder.  Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again.  (You’re proud of that.  It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”  

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine.  You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness.  Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad.  Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around.  It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper.  He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror.  “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals.  Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care.  Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre.  You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life.  It means so much - like progressing to the next level.  

Which, you suppose it is.  This is a fresh start for you.  A new beginning in a new city.  

“Proud of you,”  he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips.  He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.  

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago.  A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,”  you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.  

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual.  “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that.  You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome.  From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.  

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this:  a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had;  to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.  

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that.  Made it worth it in ways you had never considered.  Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?”  He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself.  It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.  

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.”  The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?”  You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets.  It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that.  He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.  

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised.  “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?”  Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job? 

(It truthfully could be.  You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.”  All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine.  “You don’t like when I admire my own work?”  Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit.  The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need.  (Because you really do need it.  You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.)  It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once. 

“Kook,”  you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.”  He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin.  They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas.  A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care.  Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits.  When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”  

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt.  “I’ve missed this,”  he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.  

“Missed you too,”  you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.  

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​ @snackhobi​​​​ @codeinebelle​ @xjoonchildx​

[badgirlcovenrep]

omg chenrich prompts? hell yeah!! Okay so how about immediately after the council meeting? Steph taking Alex to the hospital because u KNOW its steph who takes her to get treated

As is expected I got a little carried away 😁

So this is a bit of a mix between chenrich in the hospital and medical grade painkillers Alex lol

Hope you enjoy!

No one could have prepared them for that community meeting. Steph shook all over just to think of Jed luring Alex into the woods. Of him leaving her for dead in some awful mining hole.

It made her so furious. Even hearing him cry, blabbering like a sad shadow of the man she'd known (the man that was all a charismatic lie, showmanship, to hide the disgusting truth) her anger, her hurt was too fresh for the girl to gather any sort of sadness for him.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Alex repeats, standing at the bar with them.

Ryan is staring, speechless, at his father's crying shadow.

"I'm so sorry-" she tries to take a step forward, but her feet falter, and Alex nearly topples over to the ground, grunting in pain as Steph jumps to hold her elbow and help steady her into the floor once again.

"Fuck, Alex, you need a doctor." Steph insists. But Alex is looking at Ryan with so much concern that she can't get her to move.

"It's not your fault, okay?" Ryan finally speaks, breaking out of whatever haze he'd been in to look back at her, "It's not your fault. I just- need a moment to process all this. Go with Steph, you're hurt."

Alex finally looks at her then, and Steph can feel herself plead with her eyes - because she might not know a lot about these sorts of injuries but she's smart enough to know - just by the way she's swaying back and forth on unsteady feet - they probably have another minute, at most, before Alex collapses.

"You did it." Steph mumbles, voice filling with unbridled pride as well as urgency, touching down Alex's arm to hold her cold hand, "You did it, ok? You can settle down now."

Her brown eyes are hazy, blinking back to Steph with rapidly heavying eyelids.

"Good. That's- That's good." Alex slurs back, the last reminiscent of adrenaline leaking out of her body in a heavy huff, "very, very good-"

Steph barely has a second to process what is happening before Alex's body gives out. By some miracle, she's able to flip her arms around her shoulders just fast enough to stop her from falling to the ground.

****

Pike helps her take Alex to the local hospital before going back to deal with Jed's arrest.

It's a small hospital and probably has about ten rooms, but given that these sorts of things (bad things) rarely ever happen in Haven Springs, they're quickly given a private room, and Alex is just conscient enough (before she passes out from the painkillers) to tell the staff she could stay.

Steph doesn't think she would have left either way. Not without knowing Alex was alright, but it's good to have permission to sit by her as she fluttered in and out of drug-induced, heavy sleep.

The doctor had given her the run-down of the other girl's injuries. Five broken ribs, stage two trauma to the head - probable concussion to be assessed once she was more awake - a punctured lung, internal bleeding all around the ribcage, and a bullet wound to the shoulder.

She was an absolute mess of scars. A walking, breathing miracle.

Steph had heard the doctor talking to the police when she stepped out to get some snacks at the vending machines. "She should be dead." He said, with such conviction and surprise, it made her stomach turn.

Steph felt that she could do nothing but sit by Alex's sleeping form, slowly realizing that she was absolutely screwed. Because she already liked this girl way too much - and God, what a roller-coaster of emotion she'd been put on the last month - but how could she not? When Alex just waltzed into everyone's lives like this determined, selfless little light? When she was so obviously a rare soul, made of so much sweetness, and softness, and strength, Steph doubted she'd ever come across someone like her again?

Looking at the circumstances from the other side now, it seemed as inevitable as any of it.

"I can feel you thinking." Alex's voice startles her out of her thoughts. Steph looks up to meet her tired brown eyes, looking so soft and vulnerable without her glasses and surrounded by clean hospital sheets, "You've been broody lately."

Steph giggles, choking on her own emotion, "Guess I'm still mad about Jed." It's not a lie. She is upset. But there was a lot more than that, more about how her insides swelled with emotion when Alex looked at her - but she leaves it the way it is.

"I forgave him." She shrugs. And Steph knows she did, she was there after all, but that didn't mean the drummer was quite as ready herself.

"Well, I didn't." And maybe that makes her childish - resentful - but she can't take the image of him pointing a gun at Alex out of her head. The image of him pulling the trigger, sending her off to what could very well have been death - "at least you made him cry like a baby."

"Jerk." Alex smiles, eyes squinting back at her in humorous indignation before they slowly turn more vulnerable as she adjusts herself on the mattress, patting the empty space beside her body, "Can you- come lie down with me?"

There's nothing, truly, that Steph would have liked more. She would take any chance of being closer to Alex (and of getting off the uncomfortable hospital chair) but she was also still afraid - still scared something might go wrong and they'd lose her. "Are you sure? You're hurt."

"Please?" Alex pleads, blinking back at her with honest-to-God puppy eyes, even if still a little glassed-over from the amount of Vicodin they were pumping into her veins. For the umpteenth time in the past few days, Steph has even more confirmation that she is screwed.

Because, honestly, there's nothing Alex couldn't get her to do with just a slow blink of her brown eyes.

So she gets up and climbs into bed with her. It's incredibly tight for two people, and they are instantly pressed together as Alex scoots over the pillow so they can look at each other, alone in this hospital room that smelled like industrial-grade detergent.

Alex reaches forward and takes her cheeks between her palms, so very close Steph can't help but catalog all the cuts and bruises covering her face.

"You're so pretty." The girl says, finally, and Steph can hear the tiny slur in her voice. She's probably still drunk on a shit ton of medicine, but it does nothing to stop the drummer from blushing profusely, "you're, really, really pretty. Have I told you that?"

"Hm- yeah you sorta- do that when you're on painkillers." Steph comments, and her eyes can't help but fall to Alex's mouth.

She has a tiny cut on her lower lip, and Steph's fingers itch to touch it. To feel her skin again, like that night on the roof, when she felt so warm and tingly, like a live wire of electricity that could swallow Steph whole. For now, she holds her distance.

"But it's true." Alex pouts, "and you're really hot when you're protective too."

Now that- that was different from anything she'd said before. And when she looks up, the girl realizes Alex's eyes have turned to stare at Steph's lips too.

"Yeah?" She asks, a little too cocky given the situation, but oh well, you can't blame her for the swell of pride that takes over her chest.

"Yeah." Alex teases back, "Thank you. For taking care of me. For being mad at Jed for me- even if you can't do anything about it." Her tone turns sincere, and her eyes flutter everywhere but Steph's face, Alex's dead giveaway that she was trying to hold something back.

"Oh please, I'll rip his mustache off." Steph jokes, because it's her default strategy when she doesn't quite know what to do, "You have lost your right to upstanding citizen facial hair, sir!"

"Fuck, Steph, don't make me laugh." Alex says as a few stolen giggles escape her lips, creating ripples across her shattered chest that made her hiss with pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Steph apologizes, and on instinct, she leans closer to run her hands over Alex's arm in reassurance, holding the weight of her body above Alex with her elbow.

From this angle, they were even closer, and Steph was staring at her from above, watching Alex smile at her, head on the pillow and a half-lidded, humorous expression on her face.

"Oh, this is nothing. Just a few cuts compared to my fighting days." She jokes, and Steph's heart is filled with so much concern, so much love for this girl she can't help but fluster with anger.

"Shut up. You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't take it seriously." Steph says, "you're like, seriously hurt, Alex, you could have died."

Steph wants to ask, but Alex's free hand reaches forward and pulls her closer, fist tightening around the collar of her button-up shirt, and suddenly they are so close her hand shakes with the itch to touch her, "See? Protective Steph is so hot."

"I know. I'm sorry." Alex has the decency to look reprimanded, smoothing one hand over Steph's shoulder in a simple act that sends calming waves over Steph's flushed skin, "I'm okay. I promise" she's being sincere, Steph knows she is by the way she frowns slightly in concern. However, there's a quiet, teasing smile spreading across her face.

And Steph honestly used to think she was smooth.

She made girls blush by the minute. Awoke the bisexuality in at least a few of her drunk makeouts on the way from California to here. She used to be a real flirt, ready for anything a pretty girl could throw her way. But sitting here, with her torso half hovering over Alex Chen's body, her tongue feels heavy, and her brain can't conjure a single thing to offer in response.

It's at least a relief that she doesn't say anything, because a second later, Alex is smiling at her with her coy, knowing little smirk, and pulling her in for a kiss.

Steph is far too focused on not crushing her further, very deliberately placing her hands on both sides of her head to better hold her weight, but she still feels the strong, dizzying zap of electricity as Alex's lips touch hers, her lungs filling with liquid, warm waves of emotion.

And maybe, Steph thinks, it'd be fine if she never breathed air again.

[twinklelilstarkey]

Relieved - Matthew Tkachuk

Words: 1.7k+

Type: Fluff

Summary: Matthew has to go back to work just days after you give birth to his son and he absolutely hates it.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Anxiety (maybe, separation anxiety). Kinda rude Matty. Mentions of soreness and lack of sleep (from birth).

It has been 2 days since you were dismissed from the hospital. Two days since you have officially become a mother. And two days since you haven’t slept a full night without waking up at least 4 times during it.

Your body is still very sore, but medicine helps. Yet it’s not like you move a lot around the house.

Matthew, your boyfriend and dad of your kid, does not let you get up most times the baby cries. He always says that he will check and then if you’re needed, he’ll bring the baby to you. All of this because he knows that you’re tired and really doesn’t want you to tire yourself out further or go through any pain from how sore you are, over something that he can do.

Bad thing work calls quick. You’ll be on maternity leave for at least one more month, but Matt? Yeah, no, his team supposedly already needs him back.

And he’s not happy about it.

“Baby, I’ll be fine.” You tell him in a low whisper. “You don’t have to worry that much.”

He clenches his jaw and looks out of the window, clearly annoyed. He’s not wearing a shirt and is holding the newborn baby close to his chest as he sleeps peacefully.

Matt looks down at his son, staring at his small chubby face with adoration, as it is kind of smooshed against his warm skin, which makes his lips slightly parted, and he continues to contemplate calling his coach and just announce his absence last minute.

“He’ll probably still be asleep when you come back.” You tell him, gaining his attention again. “We’ll both be fine.”

“And if something happens?” He asks, also in a whisper, “I won’t be able to pick up the phone and come home.”

“Your mom is just a few blocks away at the hotel, remember?” You ask softly, “I promise that if something happens she’ll be the first person I call.”

He thinks about it for a second and looks down at the baby again.

“She’ll probably get here in less than 2 minutes too.” You add to lighten the mood.

A grin appears over his lips at the sound of your words and he gives his head a slight shake. You smile and he leans away from the wall beside the bedroom window.

Matthew sits down beside you on the side of the bed and you move a bit to sit closer to him. You two look down at the sleeping baby, admiring him as if he’s just the most peaceful thing in the world and didn’t wail his little lungs out just about half an hour ago.

You lean your cheek against Matthew’s naked shoulder and he lays his head against yours, letting the two of you sit in the peaceful silence as he rethinks his options.

“I’ll go.” He finally whispers, “But promise me you’ll call my mom right away. And that you’ll always have your phone with you.”

“I promise.” You say with a slight grin.

You lift your head off his shoulder really slowly, so he can lift his first, and you move a bit on the bed to move in even closer to him. You give a quick kiss on the lips before giving him two more on the cheek and offer him a smile.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” You tell him in a whisper.

(...)

Throughout the warmups and game, Matthew’s mind is going a mile a second. 

Sure, he’s a professional athlete, he’s supposed to be able to put everything in the back of his mind and only focus on the game and nothing else. But it doesn’t really work that way. 

From the time he stepped foot outside of the apartment and inside the arena, he feels like his heart is continuously skipping beats and accelerating for no reason.

And the fact that everyone that would see him walking to or around the locker room would congratulate him for the second time for being a first-time dad, is just making matters worse. 

How is he supposed to be focused on something when everyone just keeps on reminding him who he has at home?

Warm-ups were awful, he just wanted to do one more lap, go take his gear off, and go home. It’s going to take him hours to leave that place and knowing that is just worsening this whole situation.

You, on the other hand, are more than calm. To be completely honest, you’re sitting in bed half-asleep for most of the time. As well as the baby, who is sleeping on his little crib beside your bed, peacefully, as the game plays in a soft mumble on your bedroom’s TV. 

You’ve also now come to realize that the voices of the casters over the sound of blades on the ice are surprisingly relaxing when left at a certain volume. To you, at least, a mother who hasn’t slept more than 3 hours for the past few days.

While you were taking your very peaceful nap, Matthew was still a nervous wreck. He’s made sure that one of his trainers has his phone just in case something happens. Something that, of course, they never do but today is the big exception.

And surprisingly, he scored in the second period. 

Matthew honestly felt like he was on autopilot the whole game, so it even came as a shock to him that he did it. Which some people did notice since he had a more confused look on his face than anything while everyone around him celebrated. 

And right as the game went to intermission, he thought he was being able to put home aside for a second. But that was only until the god damn intermission interview.

“Congratulations on the new addition to the family , by the way. How’s everything going back home?”

Damn you, whoever decided to make that question. He did answer with a smile and a soft tone, seeming to everyone like he’s an under-control-over-his-emotions dad and not at all freaking the fuck out.

You? Still fast asleep. Just like the baby.

By the time the third period reached its half, Matthew was already seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. 

He’s almost home.

And you? Well, this time you’re not asleep anymore. You’re changing a diaper and then comforting your very small baby against your upper chest as you walk around the house.

It still amazes you how such a small being can scream so loud.

You used the opportunity of being up on your feet and with the baby with you to go actually eat something. Which was kind of hard to do with only one hand, but not impossible.

You texted back Chantal, Matt’s mom, just to let her know that you are okay and that you were even able to take a nap, which as an answer you got all types of celebration emojis.

Everything was going pretty okay and honestly, that nap worked wonders with you. You felt exhausted when Matthew left, and now you feel as strong as ever. Still sore, but strong.

After eating and drinking tones of water, you walked back to the bedroom to watch the end of the game. You had to eventually feed the baby as well but that went fairly easy.

You had to give yourself a pat on the back after this whole thing, everything went so well that it seemed like you’re truly getting the hang of it. For now, at least.

The game ended, the Flames won, and Matthew was ready to go home. 

That is until he’s told that he has press to do. He swears he almost hit someone with his stick or even helmet. Like, come on, people!

And this time he did not have the smile nor a soft tone, he looked pissed, which some people found funny. 

At least some questions were quick and easy to answer, but there still were the quite annoying ones he’s grown accustomed to.

He was out of his chair as soon as the words ‘the questions are do-’ left someone's mouth. Rude? Probably, but today is not the day to throw that in his face.

The shower was probably the quickest one he’s ever taken and he thinks he didn’t even dry himself off completely when he started getting dressed. 

Speeding out of the parking lot, home he went.

He doesn’t even think he parked his car correctly, but he was out of the car and inside the house in a matter of seconds.

You heard him from the bedroom let his bag fall by the lobby of the house and his quick footsteps over the wooden floor of the hallway. 

A few seconds later, Matthew appears in the bedroom’s doorway and his eyes are staring down at you right away.

“Hi!” You say with a smile.

“Did he sleep this whole time?” He asks, a slight shock on his face.

“No,” You say with a smile, “But he might go to sleep again in a few.”

You look down at the small baby and you hear Matthew making his way to the bed. He ignores the fact that he’s still wearing his very uncomfortable suit and sits next to you, leaning his back against the headboard while eyeing his son staring at the ceiling while what looks like chewing on his tongue.

“Do you want to hold him?” You ask him as he stares intensely.

A shy smile grows on his face and you smile back as you see that as a big ol’ silent yes. 

You lean away from the bed’s headboard and turn a bit to Matthew to get a better angle. He slowly and safely takes his baby from your arms, who automatically leans on whatever warmth is next to him - that being Matt’s chest.

Matt doesn’t feel stressed, anxious, mad, or even tired anymore. He just feels relieved that he’s back home.

You look at two of them and your heart completely melts at the image you swear you can look at for the rest of your life. 

What is there not to love about this?

Baby fever is still going strong, so I had to write this, don’t hate me.