#I need to mess around with my brushes more to figure out that ink brush watercolor type vibe lol

[hannahhasafact]

When I say I ship Laois and Kabru I need you to understand this is how I am imagining it

Obviously inspired by this panel from Hark! A Vagrant:

[din-miller]

Blue Ink

Pairing: Clone Trooper Fives x AFAB reader

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: You got Fives’ tattoo tattooed on your hip and lets just say you won’t be leaving the bedroom for a few days.

Warnings: 18+, hand job, respectful possessiveness, fluff

A/N: I have no excuse for this. It’s my birthday and I wanted to write smutty smut. The divider is brought to you by @djarrex . The summary is lacking finesse but please read. Rex’s version < cause I’m obsessed with tattoos apparently. And after seven months I finally finished the clone wars and have thoughts

Fives hands are all over you. Pushing and pulling, fabric going this way, your body going that way. Hands hard and fast then slow and gentle. Too much and not enough.

And then it stopped.

He stopped.

Fives’ mouth separated from your skin, your neck suddenly cold without the warmth of his lips and you made a noise of protest. His left hand, which is currently settled on your hip, carefully explored the unexpected bulk of cloth underneath your shirt. He must have been able to tell what it is because his hand fell away from your body like it had been burned.

“You’re hurt.” He said, alarmed, drawing back as his hand hovered over your side.

It took you a second to chase away the lust over taking your mind to figure out what he’s talking about but once you do, you laughed, “No, I’m perfectly fine, my love.”

His hand grabbed the hem of your shirt and slowly started to lift it up, giving you plenty of opportunity to stop him. When you don’t he lifts the shirt all the way up and his eyes narrowed in on your bandaged hip, “Explain this then.”

“It’s not what it looks like-,”

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like a bacta patch to me,” He dropped the fabric and started pulling you towards the front door, any signs of arousal vanished as concern overtook his expression, “We need to get you to Kix. He’ll patch you up while I find whoever is responsible for this and break every bone in their body.”

“I did it to myself,” You rushed to say, not wanting to hear from Rex that your boyfriend tore apart the mess hall in search of a person that doesn’t exist, “Well technically it was Jesse, but I asked him to.”

“I’m going to kill that osi’kovid.”

“Would you-,” You stepped in front of the door, blocking his escape, “Please just listen to me?”

“Gladly,” He said and you breathed out a sigh of relief, only it’s short lived as Fives tried to push past you, “After I kill my brother.”

“Maker, you’re impossible!” You exclaimed, yanking your shirt off. Once the fabric was discarded somewhere to your right, your fingers found the edge of the bacta patch but before you could rip it off, Fives’ hands brushed yours away. His fingertips ran over the edge of the patch until it found a small gap where it had separated from your skin. Delicately, more so than it really called for, he pulled the patch from your skin.

Then he just stared.

Eyes tracing every ink made line, every detail that is displayed on your skin before those eyes darken, brown orbs becoming black as lust swallowed all colour.

Fives crowed you against the door, your back hitting the wood and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that raced down your spine, nor the involuntary gasp that left your mouth. Fives doesn’t say a word, doesn’t look away from the blue ink and you should probably start panicking.

Then, taking you by complete surprise, Fives is on his knees in front of you, face inches away from your hip as he closely examines the tattoo. His tongue darted out to wet his lips while his thumbs hooked under the band of your pants. With your help he pulled them over your butt and down your legs.

A low whine left your mouth when he groaned appreciatively at the sight of your bare pussy that is meant for his eyes only and your hip marked with his tattoo, “How long have you been walking around with this?”

“Since last night.”

His lips hovered over the tattoo before pressing an open mouth kiss just shy of the ink, “Who else knows?”

“Jesse. He did the tattoo,” You answered, knees quivering in anticipation when his lips trailed lower toward your sex, arousal gathering between your folds, “Kix too. He insisted on being the one to apply the tattoo bacta patch.”

“Good.” He hummed, satisfied with your answer. Whether it’s because Kix was making sure you got proper care, or that him and Jesse are the only people who’ve seen your tattooed skin, you’re not sure. Probably both knowing Fives.

“It looks healed.” He commented and pulled back, looking up at you, eagerly waiting for your response as his tongue pushed past his lips to wet them again. The sight made a wanton need shoot through your body.

“It is.” You confirmed, eyes falling shut as your walls fluttered helplessly around nothing, feeling empty and you really want him to just forget the tattoo for the moment and bend you over the nearest surface until you’re a sobbing mess.

His lips pressed against the middle of the tattoo without warning and your back arched towards him, a breathless sigh passed your lips. His tongue, warm and wet, lapped at the inked skin, “Tell me if this hurts at all.”

“You’re good Fives. You're always so good to me.”

His lips formed a seal over the tattoo in response to your praise and he gave an experimental suck, watching your facial expressions for any sign of pain. There is none. The tattoo is completely healed; matter of fact you left the patch only longer then Kix said too, just to be cautious.

He’s careful not to bruise your skin as he shifts from sucking to nibbling at the tattoo. Your hand shot down to his head, fingers tangled in his brown locks as his teeth bit down with just enough pressure that your toes curled against the floor beneath you, “Fives!”

“Yeah, shit, bed,” He said breathlessly, squeezing the base of his cock over the material of his pants as a few colourful curses fell from his lips, “Lay down for me.”

You did as he said and with deft fingers you undid your chest band, letting your breast bounce free as Fives’ groaned, “You’re killing me here. I’m not sure how long I’ll last.” He admitted with a tinge of embarrassment filling his words.

“That’s okay, my love. We have all night.” You softly reassured him with your back flat against the sheet, your body naked across the beds silk fabric as your arousal soaked the sheets. You beckoned him over with a finger and a sly smirk on your lips.

Fives mirrored your expression and straddled your thighs, trapping your lower half against the bed, clothing removed and his cock heavy in his hand as he stroked himself above you, pre-cum aiding as lubricant as he began thrusting into his own fist, your name falling from his lips.

You made a move to replace his hand with your own, a need to feel his hard velvety heat in your palm, but he’s quick to grab it and he somehow managed to lock both of your wrists in his free hand, placing them above your head, watching as your body stretched tall for him.

Maybe it’s the way you yield underneath his touch or maybe it’s the tattoo, his tattoo, on your skin that sent him crashing over the edge, a wrecked moan filling the room, bouncing off the walls and going straight to your core.

His orgasm is intense and vocal as cum paints your body – more precisely, your tattoo – in hot spurts as he breathed heavily, barely managing to keep himself upright as his cock twitched feebly, drops of cum slowly dripped down his length and onto your hip.

“Oh, Kriff,” Fives swore, running the swollen tip of his cock through his spent, rubbing his cum across the tattoo, another claim of his on you, “Don’t take this the wrong way, cyar’ika, but seeing you inked with my tattoo is fueling me with this possessive side. You are your own person, but fuck, all I can see is how you’re now claimed as mine.”

“So you're not mad?” You asked playfully, freeing a hand to cup his check. He tilted his head down to press a kiss to the inner part of your wrist.

Fives released your other hand and lowered himself slowly down until your chest met his, letting his weight press you further into the mattress and you made a noise of satisfaction, not caring about the drying cum smearing between your pelvic and his. You leaned up to capture his lips in a hungry kiss.

Fives groaned, pulling back from you enough to growl, “Let me show you just how not mad I am.”

“Your wording could use some improvement.”

“I guess I should put my mouth to better use then.” He winked before disappearing between your thighs.

[thepenultimateword]

Eyeteeth Part Four

I gotta say, this is probably one of my favorite stories I've written on tumblr. Thank you to the person who requested part one. When I first started writing, I wasn't sure I could fulfill the request, but soon enough I was completely in love with it.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

CW: Gore, death, killing, destruction

Civilian smashed spine-first into the barstools, toppling two down on top of them with a bruising clang that was immediately lost in the cacophony of screaming people and breaking stone. They coughed on the flakes of drywall raining down from the blasted wall, blinking white flecks from their lashes.

As they slowly lifted their head, the crumpled frame of their glasses slid askew down their nose, a cracked lense on the right and an entirely missing one on the left leaving them half-blind. Yet, even squinting, the mess of rubble and terror around them was crystal clear.

The little diner, a warm, bustling place only seconds ago, was no more. One wall was completely destroyed, covering the ground in broken brick and shattered glass. The force of the blast had split the U-shaped countertop into several pieces, only a single chunk left intact. They should be grateful one of those massive slabs hadn’t landed on top of them. The thought came dazedly as Civilian stared numbly at the limp and bleeding figure pinned in front of them.

“What a dismal little place,” croaked a masculine voice, deep and grating like the very mountains scraping together. "Is this where people go for respite these days?"

Civilian cranked their neck toward the sound, but one glimpse into those coal-black eyes, and they wished they hadn't. Invisible fire flooded their nervous system, burning their insides to hot, nauseating jelly and reducing them to a shuddering heap against the gritty tile.

Yet, as soon as the pain passed, they dared look again--they weren't getting out of this by cowering-- but this time more carefully.

The man--if he even could be called such looking so barely human--hovered a couple feet in the air, toes pointed downward, the blackened ends of his paper white feet just shy of brushing the destruction. He wore a tattered white robe that hung limp and oversized on his skeletal form. Somehow the ill fit came across more disturbing than ridiculous. Darkness spread through his veins, as if they were filled with tar instead of blood, and subsequently, the deep hollows of his cheeks were colored charcoal instead of pink. And those eyes...

Civilian was careful not to meet them directly this time, but they seemed almost crossed out, violent black slashes cutting through them and inking the irises dark before continuing upward and bleeding across his shorn scalp.

An ancient. And a corrupted one at that.

The amount of ancient sorcerers that still existed was in the hundreds, many of them stretched thin by infinite existence. They craved power like a parched man thirsted for water. A yearning to fill the empty parts of them that could never be satiated. At least that was what the books said. The rune bracelet had only been a precaution, a barrier to shield Hero's magery from bigger fish, but never in any of Civilian's dreams had they thought they might see one of those ancients face to face.

Wait. Hero. Where was hero?

Civilian's eyes skimmed the room rapidly until they spied the shock of red hair peeking out from the rubble a few feet away. They weren't moving.

Civilian crawled forward, the muscles in their limbs screaming at being used so soon after such a vicious attack. It didn't matter. Even if it left Civilian permanently damaged, it didn't matter. They needed to reach Hero.

They clawed at the floor, ignoring the glass chunks embedding in their palms as they dragged against the weight on their back. A couple more desperate pulls forward, and the barstools slowly shifted, landing on floor instead of flesh.

Civilian yearned to catch their breath, just that small effort had them winded and agonized, but stopping wasn't an option.

"Where are they?" the ancient said, almost a sort of raspy sing-song. "I can feel their presence. I can hear their blood. It sings to me."

Civilian reached Hero's arm, grasping the child's shoulder with one trembling hand.

"H-Hero."

Why was their voice so small? Was the growing terror in the chest blocking off their throat? Their chest shuddered a little as they summed up another attempt. "Hero."

They struggled into an upright position and pulled at them with as much force as their weak muscles would allow, cradling the top half of their body in their lap. No response.

Civilian's fingers slid numbly along their throat, searching for a pulse. When they steady, thud, thud, thud beat against their fingertips, they almost fell back in relief. Alright. Hero was alright. Now for the other panicked question: where was Villain?

"Oh, what providence. You found them."

Civilian's head shot up, barely dodging the ancient's direct gaze before they could recollapse into another helpless pile of pain. They fixed their eyes on an ugly black splotch in the middle of their forehead, like a rot spot in a piece of fruit. They clutched hero tighter, leaning over their body to shield them from view.

"You can't have them," Civilian croaked.

The ancient sucked in a long breath of air, nostrils flaring. "Hm. Mortal. What could you use them for? Their blood is little more than water for the likes of you."

"They're mine." Civilian wasn't sure what they were saying, but it slipped out anyway.

The ancient stiffened.

"How dare you," they whispered under the breath, as if taking a moment to taste the offense. Then louder, "How dare you! A mortal laying claim against ancient right?"

The light bulbs popped over head, a shower of sparks sprinkling the air for a matter of seconds before the entire diner was bathed in darkness. Those still conscious screamed again.

A cold chill, like a set of longer, icy fingers curling around their esophagus, clutched Civilian's throat, holding their next breath captive.

Civilian squeaked. Tears sprung to their eyes as they struggled to force the breath out their mouth but could not. What an idiot they were. They dreamed of adventure, of daring fights, and brilliant scholarship in the face of death. They thought they were so important and brilliant helping a real life hero, but when it came down to it they were simply a librarian. An insignificant mortal just like the ancient said. They felt better about their averageness by butting into matters that had nothing to do with them, but that didn't magically make them a hero.

They were going to die.

A deep growl ripped the air, feral, guttural, and loud enough to make Civilian's ears pound. A flash of bottle green streaked across the dark, and all at once the breath burst out of Civilian's throat.

They gagged, coughing so violently they might actually puke. After several seconds, they wiped a string of saliva on their sleeve and squinted in the little bit of light streaming in from the streetlamps at the scene in front of them.

Villain clung to the ancients front, claws sunk into their shoulders and teeth sunk deep into their jugular. Tarry blood burbled from the wound, staining Villain's lips and gushing down the front of the ancient's white robes.

The ancient's mouth gaped, seemingly in pain, but then, in a moment, an explosion of power burst out of them, accented with a high pitched shriek similar to a kettle boiling over.

Civilian closed their eyes against the new wave of flying dust and rubble. When they opened them next, Villain was on the ground.

"You insignificant fleabag!" the ancient cried, choking and gurgling on blood.

Civilian almost cried out, but Villain was back on their feet quicker than they could form the sounds. Their eyes glowed strangely, as if in direct contrast to the shadowed curtain the ancient pulled over all of them.

The ancient stretched forth their hand, but Villain was already crouched to the floor before the invisible wave of destruction punched a smoking hole through the back wall. Then they were several feet in the air when the next blow, blasted the title to smithereens.

Premonitory ability, Civilian thought in awe.

Villain was on the ancient once again, claws raking down their belly,. They pulled them from the sky like a stubborn star, pinning them against the floor with a sharp crack of breaking floor.

"Their eyes!" Civilian heard themself shriek. "Take their eyes!"

Without hesitation, Villain clawed up the ancient's chest and, stretching their jaws wide, scraped those long fiamora eyeteeth across their face.

The ancient wailed with the same tone of the howling wind. But this time no explosion of power protected them. Ancient mages used to concentrate their power and life force into one part of their body, an efficient way to channel power if not a significant Achilles heel. The corruption around this particular ancient's eyes had given Civilian a pretty good guess as to what part of their body they preferred casting with. Not that it would hold them back permanently. They were still a magically blooded being.

"Now their head!" Civilian cried next. "They can't die unless you take their head."

Villain did more than that.

Civilian buried their head into Hero's body, wishing they could block out the wet tearing of flesh and the crunch of breaking bones.

A heavy silence drew thick over the building.

Civilian peered up, glasses barely hanging to the end of their nose by this point. A gory, clawed hand stretched out in front of them. They slowly raised their eyes to Villain's face. Their front was absolutely soaked in gore, and Hero's concealing enchantment had worn off, leaving the pair of menacing saberteeth jutting over the lip and glistening with blood.

Civlian swallowed the bout of nausea tossing their stomach and gathering hero closer against them, accepted the offered hand with trembling fingers.

Villain immediately pulled them close. Their tail wrapped tight around their thigh and their other clawed hand braced around the back of their neck, clasping both Civilian and Hero against them.

"I'm sorry," they said licking Civilian's grimy hair a couple times before pressing a careful kiss to their head, "I'm sorry. I had to let them see you. It was the only way I saw that ended with all of us alive."

Understanding slowly seeped through Civilian's skull. Villain had waited to attack. They waited until the ancient was distracted with something else. With Civilian.

Civilian body racked violently. They heard heavy sobbing, but they didn't realize it was their own until Villain's clawed finger wiped away the hot tears blurring their vision, leaving a long streak of chilly ancient blood along their cheekbone.

"I needed to keep you safe," Villain said, almost a plea. "Both of you."

They knew, didn't they? They knew exactly what Civilian felt toward them in this moment. And that knowledge was almost more painful than the ancient's attacks.

***

"All tucked in," Villain said.

They were waiting in the living room when Civilian came out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in a clean university sweatshirt and pair of sweats. Their spare pair of glasses were a little too tight and pressed uncomfortably into their temples, but they were just glad they could see clearly again.

Civlian stared at Villain for several long moments, imprinting this clean, wet-haired version of them across the last gory memory. They had always known what fiamora could do; they'd written an extensive chapter on bloodshed, both hunting and territorial rights, in their thesis. But it was very different seeing it in person.

Those fangs did not have the potential to kill. They did kill.

Maybe they stared to long because Villain said quietly, "Civilian?"

Civilian jolted to attention. "Right. Thank you. Did they wake up at all?"

Villain shook their head, twisting the hem of their borrowed t-shirt and flinching when their claws made little holes. "No. But they will. If they weren't, I would feel it."

Civilian nodded.

It had not seemed a good idea to bring Hero home to their family unconscious and covered in building dust. It wouldn't have only exposed Hero's crime-stopping stint but could have also brought up a heap of troubling questions as to why Hero had been with Civilian in the first place. There was also Villain in the mix, making things even more complicated. In the end, they'd come to Civilian's apartment. Villain had cleaned up first, seeing as they were covered in blood, and Civlian had sat shuddering in the kitchen with Hero spread awkwardly across their tabletop. Once Villain returned, they'd quickly slipped off to the bathroom themself, hoping the hot water and some clean clothes would kick their nerves straight.

They still felt on the point of breaking down, but at least they could look Villain straight in the face again. They could recite to themselves all the things they loved about them. Bottle-green eyes, wild untamable hair, fluffy ears, gorgeous, sharp eyetee--

Civilian stopped short as they remembered those teeth taking out the ancient's eyes in one bite. Instead, they focused on Villain's outfit. Also sweats, but topped with an oversized t-shirt with a brightly colored bookshelf printed across the front and captioned LIBRARY SQUAD. A leftover from the book club Civilian had tried and failed to create at the school a couple years ago. Also, since there was no tailored opening in the pants, Villain had stuffed their tail down one leg, and it thrashed against the fabric every so often like an uncomfortable snake. Civilian couldn't help but smile a little. It was sort of funny seeing Villain dressed so casually, in Civilian's own clothes no less. It was intimate and warm, and Civilian probably would have liked it much better if it wasn't just following a near-death experience.

Villain smiled cautiously in return. "Um, I figured you'd want them somewhere comfortable, so I put them in your room. Is that alright?"

"In my room?" Civilian repeated numbly. Stupid. Of course. It wasn't like they owned another bed. "Ah. Yes. Of course. I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

If they could even sleep at all. They didn't know if they could get that ancient inhuman body and ghastly eyes out of their head. Just like fiamora, they knew these things existed, but...how did they go on knowing they could come in at any moment and kill them all in eyeblink?

Villain's claws brushed Civilian's elbow, green eyes flicking up to meet theirs. "Would you...like some company?"

Civilian's heart pounded faster. Villain was dangerous. They knew it more than ever. But...did that actually change how they felt about them?

They shoved the scent of blood and the sound of crunching bone to the back of their mind.

"Sure."

Villain nodded evenly, but the relief in their expression was almost palpable. "Do you have a first aid kit, I think we're both a little more beat up than planned."

"Heh." Civilian rubbed their sore palms together. "Just a moment."

They went off the kitchen to retrieve the little tin box under the sink, a tray of ice cubes, and a box of ziplock bags. When they returned, Villain was sitting crisis cross at the center of their couch, watching the door anxiously for Civilian's return.

"Come here," Civilian said, sitting across from them and shaking a few ice cubes into a ziplock bag. Villain leaned in a little, and Civilian held the bag gently to a large purple bruise forming across Villain's brow bone.

Keeping their head bent into Civilian's touch, Villain popped open the first aid tin and fished out an ointment tube and bandages. They dolloped a drop of syrup scented ointment across their fingers and gently massaged it into Civilian's free hand, careful not to nick them with the sharp points of their claws. When they finished off with some bandages, Civilian switched the hand holding the ice pack, and let them treat the other hand as well.

"You're very frightened of me now, aren't you?" Villain said, peeling back the wrapper on a bandaid and pressed the clean cotton middle to a particularly nasty slice on the heel of Civilian's hand.

Civilian felt sick.

"It was a frightening experience," they said slowly. "I...I don't think you did anything wrong... I'm just a little shaken."

It wasn't as if Villain was the only one with a part to play in this death either.

"I'm the one who told you what to do."

Maybe that was what bothered them most of all. Not the bloodshed itself, but that they had been capable of directing it. Wasn't it wrong to hurt someone? Was it wrong that they had known how to do it? Maybe they were studying the wrong things.

"Civilian," Villain said, maybe hearing the sickness in their tone. "You were only protecting yourself. Protecting everyone. Hero. Those people. Me."

Civilian swallowed hard on a lump of emotion forcing its way into the open.

Villain continued. "That thing was out for blood. You know more than I do about people like that. Tell me honestly, do you think we could have reasoned with him?"

"No." Their voice croaked pathetically. "He would have killed Hero no matter what. As well as anyone who got in his way."

"And you stood up to him anyway." Villain stroked their arm up and down soothingly.

"Only because Hero... They were going to..." They took a deep breath. "Villain, if that kid died, I don't know what I would do."

"And me?"

Those green eyes seemed to pin them to spot, making it hard for Civilian to breathe.

"I haven't known you that long," Civilian said quickly, ducking their head toward their lap.

"I know," Villain said. "I don't expect you to be as dedicated to me as you are Hero. But out of curiosity..."

Civilian thought about it a minute. Imagined how they'd feel tonight if Villain hadn't survived their fight with the ancient. If they weren't safe and sound across from now.

'"I would be very upset. For a very long time. In fact, I'm not sure if I'd ever get over it."

Silence.

Civilian flicked their gaze back up to Villain to see the fiamora staring at them, mouth parted, beautiful eyes wide.

"That deep?" they murmured.

Civilian flushed a little, shoving at their spectacles even though they were already firmly in place. "Apparently."

Villain was just a name a few months ago. A faceless fiamora to build tactics against, but now they were a person. Civilian's person. And they'd protected Civilian with their life.

Civilian leaned in closer, eyeing Villain's fangs carefully, mentally measuring a safe spot to aim for. Then they pressed a gentle kiss to Villain's lips.

They pulled back just a little to see Villain's expression, but no sooner did they catch the violent twitch of Villain's ears and the fiamora was tangling their claws in their hair and pulling them in a second time.

The flat of Villain's right fang skimmed their lips, sending a shiver down Civilian's spine, but Villain was very careful, never letting the points touch them. Of course, a creature with such deadly teeth would know how to maneuver them.

When the kiss ended, Civilian found themself somehow leaning against the arm of their couch, Villain sprawled comfortably on top of them. The ice pack lay forgotten and melting on the floor.

"Um." Villain shifted a little, resting their head against Civilian's chest. "Is this ok?"

Civilian nodded. They actually felt safer this way. If only their face wasn't so traitorously warm right now.

"W-why don't you tell me about these ancient things. I know about fiamora ancients, but I didn't know it was possible for a human to become one."

"Was that a stutter?" Civilian said.

"What? No. A catch in my throat."

"You're nervous too." Civilian had no idea why that was so satisfying.

"Of course I am, you're so close. N-now tell me the lore."

Civilian grinned. "It's thought that every mage has the potential to reach immortality through a natural increase of their power over time. Unlike fiamora, human mages are naturally inclined to a shorter lifespan, so they have to reach a level of power where their magic is strong enough to keep their body from declining. It's like they flip a switch in their natural make up that turns everything more permanent. Usually, this would be a sign of purity, the hard work taken to naturally develop one's magic, but many corrupted ancients received immortality by forcefully consuming the power of other mages. However, once they consume another mage's power, they must keep consuming it. Another's magic is like a drug, and they become addicted. Back in the day, there were sacrificial rituals of young mages to corrupt ones. In fact, there was one city that was so culturally influenced that--"

They stopped short with a loud gasp.

"What?" Villain said, cupping their longer eyetooth and raising their head a little to look Civilian's chest up and down, as if worried they might have knicked them with a fang point.

"My book." Civilian threw their head back against the arm rest with a long groan. "I left it in the diner. Do you think it's alright?"

Villain sighed in relief and snuggled back in. "Is that all?"

"'Is that all?'" Civilian repeated furiously. "Do you know how valuable--"

"Shhh," Villain said, wrapping their arms tightly around Civilian's waist. "I know. I'll go look for it in the morning. But for now, keep talking."

Civilian pouted a moment, but eventually, they fell back into their explanation. They stopped every once in a while, thinking that Villain might have been bored to sleep, but then the fiamora would pipe in with a question or a simple, "What else?"

Each time, Civilian warmed inside and went on, talking and talking until their eyes were too heavy to keep open and words felt like sludge in their mouth.

The night's bad images faded to the fringes of their mind, and they drifted softly into sleep.

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @last-ditch-entry @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany

[brutal-nemesis]

Castys Ref Sheet

As a bitch who can’t draw more than stick figures and has to rely on picrews to make my characters, I thought it would be nice to have a place that will at least tell people exactly what my characters look like. Really I just want to talk about Castys because I have A Disease but whatever. I’ll do ones for my other characters at some point, and feel free to use the template if you want idc

Race: Fantasy Latino, specifically Venezuelan, I think

Height: 5′8″ (173 cm) and a little sensitive about it

Skin: Brown. I’ll have more about the exact shade down with the picrew shit. Since he’s stuck being 19 forever, he’s always dealing with acne and usually has at least a few pimples at any given time. He never moisturizes or anything, so the skin on his hands and feet is calloused, rough, and often dry.

Eyes: Dark brown, almost black. No flecks of gold or anything, just very plain. They’re usually half-lidded unless he’s really excited about something (or in a lot of pain)

Hair: Dark brown and thick in texture. It has a bit of curl to it and will stick up on its own if he doesn’t pat it down, which he doesn’t always do. He likes it pretty short, partially covering his ears and a little down the back of his neck, and if it gets too long he’ll become very annoyed with it. It always looks sort of messy, partially because it’s Like That and partially because he prefers it look like that. His arms and legs are hairy, and he has a tiny bit of hair on his chest as well.

Birthmarks/Scars: No birthmarks, but his body is littered with various smaller scars. He has 3 larger ones that are of note: a gash on his right cheek, a gnarled slash across his stomach, and the remnants of a clean stab wound directly above his heart. He stopped getting new scars after he received those. The scar on his cheek makes it so he can’t smile all the way on the right, so his grins always end up lopsided. They pulse with pain from time to time, his stomach being the worst, but if he’s currently dealing with some other torture as I am inclined to show him, he doesn’t pay it much mind.

Clothes: I don’t have anything too specific here, but he generally prefers comfortable clothes that are durable and easy to move around in. He prefers to wear sturdy boots since he does a lot of walking and whatnot, and when he’s pirating he wears a long brown or red coat. He often wears a red bandana on his head. Unless it’s particularly cold, he sleeps in his underwear.

Hygiene: No. Well, actually, he at least takes care of his teeth, if only because if he doesn’t it fucking hurts. He runs his hands through his hair often enough that it doesn’t get matted, but he never explicitly brushes it (and if he’s being forced to grow his hair out by a whumper, he tries his best to make it a tangled mess so they’ll want to cut it off (so you’d just need to brush it for him ❤️)). He doesn’t bathe unless someone tells him to or he’s covered in blood, and normally smells like Sweaty Guy with a dash of dirt or saltwater depending on where he is. In modern AUs he at least showers a socially acceptable amount so there’s that.

Piercings/Tattoos: Only thing is he sometimes has a black stud in his right earlobe. It has a magnet attached to it, which he can use to retrieve a needle from under his skin to pick locks with (don’t @ me about how realistic this is I just think it’s fun ty💕). He could have tattoos if he wanted, since dying wouldn’t get rid of the ink under his skin, but that’s just not his vibe.

Picrews for some visuals (1) (2)

I think this is the best one in a lot of ways. The hair style and color are perfect, and the skintone is right, too. The only problem is the scar is on the wrong side :( it’s on his right, so it’s on the left if you’re looking at him

Very good as far as clothes. That is the exact way he wears his bandana and those are great boots for him. The general vibes of the other clothes are good too. And the face scar is correct!

Mmkay that’s all I can think of so conga rats if you made it this far 🐀🐀🐀🐀🐀

[coffee-cait]

Hi there @tea-n-ink !

Figured it'd be easier to try and answer this as a post rather than in comments. I'll try to answer the best I can but in all honesty I'm not entirely sure how to answer this question in a way that will be satisfying or insightful. Because while I have an education in visual media and work in the field (which contributes to the studying and progress), a lot of my personal work has been (for lack of a better way to phrase it) "fucking around and finding out" for better AND for worse. A lot of how I work is both in contrast to what's required of me of my job but also based on habits built to perform that job. So I'm not confident in how much I could recommend approaching art the way I do or how applicable it will be. I can only speak to my own experience. Everyone will want to achieve and pursue different things with their art so I don't think there's going to be a specific answer of exactly what to do. I think I can only recommend some amount of framework to consider at best? I'm also not a good writer and struggle to articulate specifics especially when it comes to my creative process because it's very uh…. soupy? unstructured? But I want to make an attempt! I'm so sorry if this ends up being a rambling mess.

I haven't done studies/ brushing up on basics for a few years and I'm actively feeling the limits of how I draw because of that. So I absolutely would recommend brushing up on the fundamentals and doing studies every now and then to help prevent that kind of rut. I feel like it's something to do relatively consistently? It's like stretching and exercising a muscle to keep it in shape. However, how much and how frequent a person does that is going to be up to them based on what their lifestyle is and I feel this is more of something to consider to do long term over time rather than in short term bursts. But if you have the time to do a lot in the short term and won't impede life responsibilities then that's great! Just remember to take breaks because sometimes what you've learned and observed needs time to sink in. But also to protect your hands and physical health.

As for the "just do studies" / what studies to do, I guess a bit of a combination answer incoming? Because of the nature of my job (what is asked of me and MIGHT be asked of me), doing studies is going to be of the vague/broad variety because of how much possible ground I might need to cover. So I've done studies, sketches, looked at reference material etc. of a bunch of different things for years. A majority was outside of my comfort zone and I think it's important to try to to challenge yourself in such a way every once in a while. And definitely trying to explore many different topics (people, plants, architecture, animals, etc) will give more knowledge and possibilities of things to draw. However, it's also not very realistic to expect anyone to study everything to its minutia. I sure can't! I can try my best to draw some basic structures but I don't have enough knowledge and practice to make a convincing cityscape. And even with all the dabbling in different topics I've had to do, I still focus in more on the most likely things that's required of me or what I personally enjoy to draw on my free time. That tends to be characters. So when I do need to brush up I lean towards anatomy, musculature, human observation, that sort of thing. And I feel regardless of what anyone's style is, If you want to draw figures of any sort, practicing and revisiting that is always helpful! Also doing studies of specific things you want to improve on or things you are aware are your weakness is also an avenue I recommend. I think the last studies I did was of hands because it was something I wanted to improve on at the time. And I think it's high time I give buildings another shot.

As for style it wasn't something I actively worked on or envisioned. Rather, it was the inevitable mishmash of the aesthetic choices I liked in the artwork I enjoyed, habits I formed and not wanting to draw how I needed to during work hours. And this was a slow and gradual process over my whole life so far and it'll keep on going as long as I continue doing art. And I wouldn't consider it a linear progression either as there were many points where I backpedaled on certain choices because I didn't want to do things like that anymore and went another direction. As for how to develop and refine this actively, I can't say for sure. But what I can say is a person's style will be a love letter to the things they enjoy. Inevitably you'll be influenced by the things that speak to you and you might not realize it until years down the line. In my case, Jet Set Radio was something I played as a kid and it deeply impacted how I drew and what art I gravitated to for years before I realized how formative it was. The more you consume what you enjoy, the more it'll show in your art whether consciously or not. I suppose a potential exercise that can be done is maybe looking at several pieces of art you enjoy and trying to figure out exactly what it is about them that you like? Especially if maybe you find a common element to their styles that really speaks to you that you'd like to incorporate into your own art? While I can't say how effective this'll actually be, if I were to say, "Jet Set Radio, The World Ends With You and Dogs: Bullets & Carnage are things that had a lasting impression on me," and then you were to look at my art I think that statement would track.

But I also want to note that when I create I'M ACTUALLY VERY UNSURE OF MYSELF. I REALLY DON'T KNOW WHAT IM DOING WITH COLOURS AND I'M CONSTANTLY JUST HOPING FOR THE BEST EVERY TIME EVEN THOUGH I DID GO TO SCHOOL FOR WHAT I DO AND I SURE DO WORK HERE NOW. I rely a lot on my gut for things and end up trying over and over, sometimes fully scrapping and then unscrapping before my art gets to whatever I post online. And many things just never end up online. Sometimes things don't work out, and that's ok. And sometimes it feels like things won't work out but then they do. So don't feel discouraged when things don't work out the way you planned. I've found for myself, having a plan in my head of how i want to progress would just contribute to my already abundant anxieties so just letting things happen as they do was really helpful (outside of actual critical deadlines and professional responsibilities). There's always chances to try again and sometimes all you need is a break and to come back to what you were working on with fresh eyes.

I dunno how well this answers your question but I hope you were able to find something helpful amongst my brain soup.

[weird-dere-writes]

Alright you know why I'm here! Ichidere college au lore let's go!

Wooooooooo!!!! 💃🏾✨

More Ichidere lore in the College Byakujas universe >:))))))

I like to think that after that time he was kind enough to help me look for you when I was lost, I just couldn’t stop thinking about him. I could be doing just the most mundane thing and he will pop into my head. Even more so than before when I was simply crushing from afar.

I will be brushing my teeth and his voice will pop into my head and then I’ll accidentally make myself gag. I will be filling my car up with gas and start thinking about how he walked me off campus after I gave you your thing, and then I will have spent a little more money than intended when i come to and look at the little screen on the pump. Casually eating lunch and thinking about how stronk his arm looked when he raised it to scratch the back of his head and I bite my tongue about it and sob cus OW MY TONGUE.

Like I have only experienced the man for at most a couple hours that one day but I am an entire mess lmao.

Quite licherally spinning him around on a rotisserie in my brain and I cannot control it.

AUGH and when you let me know and you Byakuya have noticed my fondness for him I am lowkey bashful when I’m with you guys going around campus. Cus I feel like y’all are always looking and me and wondering if I am looking to see Ichigo (which I might be sometimes, but y’all don’t have to know!!).

Now I am just casually hanging around the school even though I haven’t started attending yet. But! With you and Byakkun’s help I have started the process of applying. Because it’s a little late, I’m unsure if I’ll make it in but my fingers are crossed! Would be cool to graduate the same year as (what is hopefully) my college sweetheart like the bestie and her Byakkun 🫶🏾.

Ichigo also thinks about our first time meeting from time to time, though nowhere near as much as me since he actually has stuff to focus on with his internship and prepping for his first grad year starting soon.

Specifically he thinks about how I was almost about to cry when he found me. Like you said, he’s polite! So he didn’t say anything then. He was glad he was able to get along well with me and help out to make those watery eyes go away. Sometimes tho he finds himself wondering if he’ll see me around on campus again by chance. He hopes if he does that I’m not so upset.

He doesn’t like to see anyone sad, but he felt something a little different when he thought about me specifically. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because I was your friend? And you were sort of an extension of his mentor Byakuya to him?

One time he’s working with Byakuya on something. And it’s on something a little more to do with your expertise. As you’re drafting up a little paper to help Byakuya you realize because of my Psych degree I might be able to help with a part you’re a little unsure about. We were hanging out at your house at the time having a little sleepover, so I was also able to write some notes of my own on the sheet.

Byakuya brought it with for the project. Ichi knows Byakuya’s handwriting, so he figures he didn’t write this reference page they were both looking at from time to time. He asks who did, to be told that the purple ink is in your handwriting, and that the pink ink is mine.

Byakkun goes back to working but Ichigo is looking at the paper for a moment, blinking to himself. When Byakkun steps away, Ichi is lightly stroking places where my handwriting is. He thought my writing was pretty…

Lmao also thinking about if something goes wrong with Ichi’s car, so you end up volunteering me as his ride and i wanna KILL U CUS HOW COULD U DO THIS TO ME!! IM NOT MENTALLY PREPARED FOR THIS PLS 😭. At first it’s a lot of the three of us (me, you, n Ichi in the back). But then you start making moves. Insisting Ichi sits in the front with me (“Oh I just need to go through my bag and it might get messy!”). And then eventually you just yeet all together and start getting rides with Byakuya, leaving me ALONE. And you’re smirking about it but I am a WRECK cus I’m so silly about him HELP. This point is when he and I exchange numbers since we no longer have you as a middle person.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

Your matchmaking is VICIOUS but i know it’s out of love lmao <333333.

[sanctum-stinker]

do u use any specific brushes & stuff for procreate? i just got the app and im having sm trouble figuring it out 😭

Oh my gosh, my guy I absolutely feel you! I only just started using digital programs to draw like a year ago and it overwhelmed me so much. If you need any help navigating the app at all feel free to message me! My knowledge is incredibly limited but I’ve figured things out a bit more, so don’t be afraid to come in and ask!

Because I was such a beginner who refused to watch tutorial videos (can’t sit through them) I found like, six or so brushes which I use. I very rarely branch out to use others, they just don’t hit for me.

For sketching I only use the Derwent pencil. The other textures don’t sit right with me, so that’s the only one I really use. The pencils can be very light if you don’t go over them, so I usually duplicate any layers I have done with sketches so that they appear more dark. I sometimes even just use cleaned sketches as my lines, it works a charm!

For inking I use either Mercury or the Technical pen. The technical pen is the brush I use the most in my stylized stuff as I find the way it flows to be more sketchy and smooth. Mercury is more textured and has a bit more drag.

For coloring I usually am lazy and just maximize the size of my inking brushes, but I do also use the round brush and the square brush in the painting category.

For textures I very occasionally use the Little pine or the Evolve brush in the drawing category. I just like the shape and texture of them and I use them for skin blemishes or blush under the eyes or on the nose.

What I would recommend though is that you fiddle around to find what suits you best! Everyone has different styles and although it can be overwhelming at first, once you start messing around you can find brushes which suit you best. Have fun and experiment!

[sassylady1103]

Shop Talk

Things have been going pretty well. The weather has been beautiful and the garden is doing great! It’s been nice to eat fresh fruit and veggies rather than BlamCo Mac and Cheese or Salisbury steaks. There’s only so much of this old preserved pre-war food I can take. It still blows my mind it’s even edible…

I’ve been feeling much more myself, so I decided to work in the old shelter and start organizing all the stuff I drug out of the pawn shop. I’d just been piling it up down there as I brought it home and it’s a bit of a mess. I moved boxes, slightly worn furniture and hung old paintings up on the wall. I had lugged home several old radios and found out there’s actually a couple radio stations still on the air! I think one is automated, because it plays the same classical pieces over and over, sometimes skipping abruptly and moving to the next selection. But there is one station with an actual announcer between songs. Her name is Julie, and I have no idea where she’s broadcasting from, other than Appalachia, but it feels so normal to hear her on the radio. Just like back in the vault with our daily announcements mixed in with pre-war music!

Anyway, I was singing along with the Ink Spots, unpacking some plushies from the pawn shop when Colleen pulled open the hatch and climbed down. She just stood there for a minute, taking it in with a surprised expression on her face. I guess she didn’t quite understand what I meant when I told her I’d found the “mother load” of junk at the pawn shop. I stood there with a Mr Fuzzie in my hands wondering how she felt about all this. It was odd to suddenly feel nervous about how she’d react. I hadn’t worried about it before, but weirdly, I wanted her approval. Finally she spoke.

“So this is what you were up to when you almost got yourself killed?” I was crushed. I hadn’t really told her why this old junk was important to me. How the loneliness was getting to be too much and that maybe, if I opened up a shop for trade, I would be able to connect with folks and feel like I had a purpose. She must have seen it on my face because she softened as she said “hey, I didn’t mean it like that…more like ‘wow’. I had no idea you’d dragged so much stuff home!”. She looked around and picked up an old ship in a bottle and held it to the light. “Well, look at this…you really did find a treasure trove.”

Still unsure where this was going, I put the Mr Fuzzy down and pulled a Velveteen rabbit from a crate. I held it out to Colleen. “I got this for you, Col. It reminds me of the one you had when I was little…the one I tore up.” Colleen looked at me, then looked at the rabbit, and then she laughed. “I’ve forgotten all about that! It’s perfect. Thank you, Mags.” she brushed some dust off a red overstuffed chair and sat down with the stuffed rabbit on her lap before going on. “You know, I was thinking…you’re aware of the work I’m doing with the Overseer on the Scorched vaccine. I’ve been wanting to get you vaccinated once we figured out how to deliver it to everyone, but seeing you sick, I decided we need to move that up. I want you to come to Charleston with me and use the AutoDoc. I mean, if you’re up to it…”

There were so many emotions rising up in me at that moment. Colleen wanted me to travel with her! To Charleston! I could only imagine the people we’d meet and the things we’d see! I couldn’t even think of it all, but the most important thing was that Colleen wanted me to come with her. That meant everything! I almost teared up. “Sure, that sounds great! I’d love to see Charleston and take a trip with you! I promise we’ll have so much fun!”

Colleen smiled and stood up “well, not too much fun. It’s still dangerous out there and you never know who you’ll meet up with on the roads. You’ll have to follow my lead and jump when I say jump. I don’t want you to think this is a vacation or something.” Winking, Colleen crossed her arms and leaned against the table “besides, I wasn’t sure I could tear you away from your little shop. Looks like it will be quite the business. Are you up to leaving day after tomorrow? We’ll pack up supplies and clean our guns tomorrow and get ready for the road. Then we can head out early. Sound good?”

I could only grin ear to ear and nod. I was overwhelmed and almost knocked her down rushing over to hug her. I can’t wait to go!! Colleen picked up her rabbit and headed back upstairs. I just looked around my piles of goods, already wondering what I could take with me in case I find people willing to trade. It’s going to be hard to sleep the next two nights, I’m so excited!

More from the road!

Mags

PS pics of my efforts today!

[troubatrain]

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets. 

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you. 

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter. 

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Church (Choi San) Rated

Pairing: Choi San × Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, College AU, Friends to Enemies(?), Enemies to Lovers (?)

Summary: He used to be her best friend until he abandoned not only his childhood beliefs, but her in the process. One night, he decides to show her a glimpse of what she's been missing out on. Inspired by Chase Atlantic's Church .

Word Count: 6.3+K

Warnings: Mentions of religious beliefs, brazen college parties, allusions to alcohol/nicotine intake, body insecurity (reader has small breasts), oral (female receiving), fingering, nipple play, body worship/praise, slight cumplay, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (always use protection), slight corruption kink, inexperienced reader, experienced San. (Probably forgot something)

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @yunhoiseyecandy @yunhofingers @galaxteez @brie02 @deja-vux @a-soft-hornytiny @multidreams-and-desires @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie

╬╬═════════════╬╬

The infamous rebel let out a pernicious snicker when he saw the serene and usually proper former acquaintance walk in his direction.

"Are my eyes deceiving me or is that really the pastor's prissy little daughter out past her bedtime in a college party?" He found the situation much too amusing that he just had to point it out.

"I have a name you know." The female he was referring to halted in her steps to turn her head and give him an unkind and unfriendly look.

"You have several, actually. There's goody two shoes, priss, prude, prig-"

"Oh shut the fuck up Choi San." She scoffed as she began walking away from him, already feeling annoyed by his presence.

The man trailed after her, his face donning a shocked expression as he flailed his arms around in a dramatic way.

"Guys it's happening! The apocalypse is really here if L/N Y/N has not only attended a wild party full of debauchery, but her mouth has actually uttered out cursed words!" He shouted out, the other attendants either joining in laughing at her or ignoring him in favor of the bottles or sticks in their fingers.

"I'm surprised you even know what that word means." She turned to look at him with a mocking smile, arms crossed over her chest.

"Please, I know a lot more than you have ever pretended to know." He clicked his tongue, elbow coming up to rest on the wall next to him.

"Is that why you turnt corrupt and abandoned everything you believe in?" She couldn't help but spat back at him.

"Hey at least I was honest and didn't hide it like you people who lead double lives. Preaching one thing but living the total opposite. You're all nothing but a bunch of hypocrites." The venom in his voice was unmistakable, nose scrunching up in disgust as he remembered gross sins he had more often than not had witnessed from people who claimed to be pure and holy.

"I do not lead a double life." She remarked.

"Oh really? Then why the hell are you here in a college party? Full of alcohol, drugs and walking STDs? Riddle me that princess." His foot tapped against the floor, patiently awaiting an answer from her.

Y/N swallowed the non existent lump in her throat and turned her gaze to the floor in embarrassment.

"I just wanted to see what it was like. Just once." She admitted begrudgingly, the man in front of her chuckling lowly.

"Well you sure are going to have a lot to confess on Sunday to your dad. Silly girl, walking into the lion's pit like this." He jeered at her.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Just because I came here doesn't mean I've done anything morally wrong." She counteracted his words to which he only snorted.

"Yet."

Tired of his overly obnoxious attitude, Y/N spun on her heel to get away from him, but she spun so carelessly and fast that she ended up bumping into another classmate who unfortunately was holding a full cup of beer that ended up being doused all over her white blouse.

"Oops! Sorry, my bad." He excused himself, looking completely unapologetic about the situation.

Meanwhile Y/N looked absolutely horrified as she took in the drenched state of her shirt that now had the stench of alcohol on it. The fact San was bursting out in giggles only served to make her even more mad.

"Now tell me how do you plan on explaining that to dear old-"

"Can it San or I swear I'll gauge your eyes out." She threatened him as she stormed out the building, not caring that she bumped into a few figures on her way out.

Feeling just a bit of empathy for his old friend, San sighed softly before following after her. Upon catching up to her, he took hold of her wrist and started dragging her in the opposite direction.

"Hey! Get your filthy hands off me! I will not hesitate to scream!" She tried tugging her arm away.

"Calm down I'm not planning on kidnapping or anything like that sweetheart. I'm taking you back to my car."

She let out a dry laugh at that.

"But that's not kidnapping?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I have a spare shirt in the backseat that you can change into. Unless you wanna go home smelling like PBR." He looked back to see the mess one more time, lips curling up into a smirk.

Against her better judgment, she allowed him to take her all the way where his car was parked, standing there quietly as San rummaged through the backseat before taking out a clean plain white tshirt and held it out to her.

"Here. Put it on."

She looked at him with a face that asked if he was stupid.

"Well what?" He asked.

"Oh yes..I'm totally going to strip in a middle of the street and let anyone passing by see." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh for fuck's sake, there's nobody here, nobody is going to see and frankly I don't think anyone cares about seeing your non existent boobs." He scorned at her as he gestured to her chest.

"Ok rude and uncalled for." She felt slightly hurt by his comment, having always been somewhat insecure about the size of her chest.

"Don't look." She warned him.

"Not like I want to." He jeered at her as he turned away to not only give her privacy, but to also serve as a lookout for anyone that might accidentally show up and see the scene. He could hear her behind him tearing off her clothes and then slipping it back on.

"Ok there. I'm done." Y/N announced as she stuffed the soiled shirt into her bag.

"Not even a thank you?" San pouted slightly, to which Y/N gave a feigned smile.

"Thanks."

With that said and done, she brushed past him and started walking away, absolutely done with the night.

"Careful not to get caught sneaking back inside your house." She heard San say from behind.

"For your information I'm not living with them anymore. I moved into the dorms 2 months ago." She stated in a matter of factly, a proud look on her face.

"Well in that case....want to ride back with me?" He offered.

"Yeah no, I'd rather take my chances at being kidnapped and then butchered up. Besides, I wouldn't want to cut your wild night short." She declined the offer.

"Stop being so negative Nancy and accept my generosity. Geez."

Running over to her, he quickly snatched her up and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her shocked exclaims and protests.

"Now this is really kidnapping!" She declared.

"Yeah I know, now shut up before I duct tape that bratty mouth of yours." San grinned mischievously as he tossed her into the backseat and shut the door before striding over to get on the driver's seat.

"Oh come on. Stop looking at me like I'm a criminal. Just because I indulge in a few sins every now and then, doesn't make me into a bad person." He stated when he saw the dirty look she gave him.

"Whatever." She muttered as she locked in her seatbelt.

San opted for just driving back to the dorms and get Y/N tucked in her bed since it was clear to him she needed it.

╬╬═════════════╬╬

"You're lucky my roommate is on vacation, otherwise I would have left your ass back there." Y/N spewed out as she threw her keys onto her dresser.

"Thanks Y/N, I always said you were the nicest and most giving person in the planet." San complimented her as he felt he should given she was letting him stay the night in her dorm after a little tiny incident with his keys dropping inside one of the manholes surrounding the university. And the administration office wouldn't be open til the morning, meaning he was screwed unless his roommate showed up to let him in, but that was a definite no since San knew Seonghwa would definitely end up in someone else's bed and come back til the next day, hickeys plastered all over his neck and chest.

"No, you always said I was the most stuck up-"

San shushed her by pressing a hand over her mouth.

"You dwell so much on the present image of me you drew up in your head that you completely erased the friend you had all those years ago." He slid his hand off her mouth, shoulders slumping down as he turned away from her to crouch on the floor.

"That friend doesn't exist anymore, that is if he even existed in the first place. If I recall, my friend wasn't into parties, booze, vaping, tattoos, piercings and fucking around with every whore in the school."

San didn't say anything as he heard her ramble, he just let her talk away as she started pulling out spare blankets and pillows for him to use.

"My Sannie was sweet, cute, adorable, always ready to lend people help and respectful to others." She reminisced with a sad look. Pulling her expression straight, she laid out the blankets and started arranging them neatly on the floor.

"I still am."

San's voice was so quiet that she barely registered that he even opened his mouth in the first place, but she heard him.

"Maybe if you weren't so puffed up with pride and didn't cut me off after I cut ties with the church, you'd see that I'm still the way I was. You think I changed completely because of ink and metal on my body? Because I wanted to try certain substances and yes, satisfy some perfectly normal and humane needs?"

Y/N averted her gaze from him and continued the task she was in. San let out a despondent scoff.

"Of course you do. And yet didn't I just demonstrate to you back there that I haven't changed? Giving you my shirt, giving you a ride, yeah I know, it's not much and no big deal, but wasn't those the types of things I'd do even back then?"

Y/N's tongue poked against her cheek as she knew she couldn't deny that was San said was absolutely true. He did nothing different back at the party as he used to do years ago. Helping old ladies with grocery bags, giving away some of his clothes to less fortunate kids, he was always known as being such a giving and kind person.....

No wonder so many were devastated when it was announced he had resigned as a member of the church. Y/N herself was hurt and even indignated by his decision. And after that she adamantly refused to see him or talk to him, and of course San respected her decision and avoided contacting her so as to not make her uncomfortable. He understood that their friendship was broken and he wasn't going to overstep boundaries just to try and fix it when the other party didn't want it. So he just decided to live his life as he thought was right without his conscience bothering him. And he was much happier now, he felt free, something that he had never felt before. Perhaps he was so chained down by formality, discipline, strict regulations and even fear that he didn't realize that he was miserable all that time until his eyes were fully open and he found he didn't like what he saw, especially after seeing the dark and ugly side of what was supposed to be a safe and pure sanctuary. He was let down severely and he suffered in the process. But now that was behind him and he had no regrets......

Except Y/N. He truly missed her and her company. As he laid on the makeshift bed on the floor, he found himself unable to sleep as he recalled all those fond times spent with her. The trips to the lake, hiking, first day of school, their first accident after he had gotten his driver's license. He let out an involuntary smile at that memory. Unbeknownst to him, the girl on her bed was equally reminiscing on the old days filled with her best friend. She had been so alone ever since she distanced herself from him, the world now feeling empty and cold without him. Shifting around in her bed, she whined into her pillow as she desperate tried to sleep.

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" Her question startled San momentarily.

"Are you that sleep deprived that you're suddenly asking me to confess my worst sins?" He chuckled amusedly.

"Maybe it'll help me get actual sleep, I don't know. And.... I'm just curious." She clutched one of her plushies and started messing around with it.

"Curiosity killed the cat and I don't think your virgin mind will be able to handle my confession." He asserted confidently.

"I'm not a virgin, but oh well. Just tell me, what's the worst?" Her casual response made San flip out. He sat upright and kneeled at the front of her bed with an incredulous look.

"What do you mean you're not a virgin? When did you-?" He was so flabbergasted he wouldn't even finish his sentence.

Rolling over to where he was, Y/N smirked at him.

"Uh uh. I asked you a question first and you have to answer it before I can answer any you want."

Knowing he had no alternative, San placed his chin on the top of her mattress.

"Had a threesome with 2 of our professors." He laughed when he saw how shocked Y/N looked.

"What?! No way!" She refused to believe him.

"It's true. I won't tell you who they were since you won't be able to look at them the same way if I did...... I'll just dish this: they both got really huge tits and it's a shame they're married." He admitted with a smug expression.

"I can't believe you." She fanned her face which she was sure was now a deep crimson color.

"Ok now your turn. When did this happen? Who was it with?"

Y/N didn't even mind that San got up and crawled into her bed to lay down next to her. His face was rested on his hands as he looked at her with intense inquisitiveness. Knowing she'd have to talk about it sooner or later, she thought it would be best if San was the one to know since he would never tell anyone else and he'd understand since he was tainted as well.

"Remember when that group of missionaries came to stay over at our city for a while back in high school?"

San nodded, vividly remembering everything. Y/N blushed and smiled shyly.

"Do you remember that there was a family with a son our age? Chase?"

San widened his eyes and flopped over on his back as his hands came to hide his face.

"Oh dear lord, please don't tell me it was that Canadian boy." He groaned in pain.

"Yeah....yeah it was."

San couldn't stop cringing at the thought of his friend doing such a thing.

"How even did that happen?" He was so lost.

"I don't know! It just did ok? It happened while we were out in that camping trip. Somewhere there, we were left alone and we started talking about everything and nothing til it spiraled into talking about sex and us being virgins decided to see what was the big deal....." She bit her lower lip as the memory flashed in her mind. Looking over at San, she knew he was judging her as she expected. A tiny snort escaped his lips.

"That must have been the worst 45 seconds of your life." He joked, earning him a slap on his chest by Y/N's hand.

"It was not 45 seconds!............. it was 2 minutes."

San only laughed harder at that, nearly crying from how funny it was to him. He composed himself though when he saw how embarrassed Y/N looked about it. Feeling bad for laughing at her expense, he cleared his throat and patted her head.

"It's ok. First times are always awkward and uncomfortable. The problem was you weren't prepared and you were both inexperienced. He just didn't know how to please you."

Y/N couldn't help herself as she asked:

"And I suppose you can?"

Flipping onto his stomach, San cupped her chin with his hand and ran his thumb across her lower lip.

"Don't tread on dangerous territory little angel lest you want an evil demon to corrupt you." He warned her, and although he wouldn't actually follow through on it, he did want to tease her a little. But he wasn't expecting for Y/N to play along to his teasing, only she was not joking at all as she brought her face closer to his.

"Maybe I want you to corrupt me, show me what I've been missing out on." She brushed her lips against his, tongue daring to poke out and press on his slit briefly, leaving him stunned.

"You have no idea what you're asking for princess." San mused as he held himself back from touching her.

"I know what I'm asking for Choi San and what I'm asking for....is you." She responded with confidence.

Escaping from underneath the blanket that covered her, Y/N reclined back on the mattress, her head laying on her soft pillow as she gestured for San to come over to her, which he promptly did. Parting her legs so he could fit his body between them, he smirked softly down at her eagerness, fingers brushing against the soft skin on her thighs.

"You're serious about this?" He wanted to make sure it wouldn't be something she'd regret.

"I already messed up once, what's one more time gonna do?" She pulled him down against her, not caring when he lost balance and accidentally crushed her under him with his muscular body.

"Besides...." Wanting to further entice him, Y/N brushed her lips against his ear.

"Look at me and tell me you don't want to fuck me. That you don't want to stuff that hard cock of yours into my tight and inexperienced pussy. Bet you're itching to tear into me until I'm crying under you. Don't you want that?"

San let out a moan at hearing such filthy and depraved talk from her. It only fueled his appetite and hunger for indulging in carnal desires.

"Yes... I want that.... I want you."

Closing space between them, San molded his lips over hers, encasing them in a sloppy and wet kiss. Y/N could faintly make out the leftover scent of alcohol and nicotine as she let him taste her mouth, but she didn't mind or felt grossed out by it. She just kept her lips parted and allowed him to move his tongue freely inside her. Cupping her cheeks, San continued to roll his tongue over hers, massaging it gently with both deep yet gentle strokes. When he pulled away, he made sure to tuck her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it towards him as Y/N let out a moan that was like music to his ears. Pausing briefly, their lips were barely touching as they breathed in each other's air. San was the first one to break into a smile, the one that had Y/N melting since it displayed his dimples to the fullest.

"Never thought I'd hear that sound come out of your pretty mouth." He teased her.

"S-shut up." She frowned, hand reaching up to smack his chest.

"It's not a bad thing. I like it. Now let's see if I can make sure you keep them up."

Stuffing his face into her neck, San ghosted his lips across her skin, tongue subtly poking out solely to hear her breath hitch slightly. Dipping his tongue into her collarbone, his lips opened up so they could firmly latch and spread wet kisses across her neck. Y/N gasped when she felt teeth sink down, head tilting back to give San more room which he took advantage of. Focusing on particular spots that he knew she was sensitive in, he sucked her skin into his mouth. Each time he pulled away, he reveled when he saw the finished mark that was now painted on her skin.

"I would love to see your parent's reaction to my love bites." He brushed a fingers across the newest spot he just embedded in her body, hand then reaching up to suddenly clasp around her neck. Y/N shuddered when his grip got tighter, her oxygen intake getting cut and making her feel hazy, but it was nonetheless enjoyable. Snaking a hand under her shirt, or more like his shirt, San swiped his tongue over his bottom lip as he started to pull the material up.

"How about I make some matching ones all across your pretty chest?"

Before he could lift the shirt any further, Y/N's hand clasped around his wrist, preventing him from moving any further.

"Don't." She begged him.

San retracted his hands away from her, fearing he made her uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry." He immediately apologized and began to move away from her, but Y/N's hands raked against his thighs to keep him in place.

"No, it's not you. It's just..... if we're going to do this, can I keep the shirt on? I don't...." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she admitted an insecurity of hers.

"I don't like my chest. My boobs are too small, it's unflattering and I'd rather you not see them." She slowly opened her eyes to see his reaction. San had a sad look on his face, bottom lip poking out as his fingers came up to brush against her cheek. Remembering what he had previously said back in the parking loyal, he felt terrible for saying that ill intended joke about her body. He probably hurt her and he didn't realize it.

"Y/N don't say that. Your chest size doesn't matter. You're beautiful the way you are and I bet underneath that layer is clothing there is the cutest and most adorable set of boobs in the world." She let out an involuntary giggle at his words, letting him run his hand down her clothed sternum.

"But if that's what you want, I'll respect it. Either way, my tshirt looks amazing on you." He acknowledged rather cockily.

Shifting further back, San took hold of the top of her shorts, making sure to look at her.

"Are you ok with these coming off?"

Y/N resisted the temptation to slap the top of his head.

"If you don't take them off, how are you going to fuck me genius?" She retorted.

"You'd be surprised at what I've learned." He uttered, mostly to himself than at her.

Like an expert, he practically tore her shorts down her legs, panties falling to the floor along with them. Y/N let out a soft squeal when he took hold of her thighs and brought her down so his face was at eye level with her most intimate part. San took a few seconds to admire her bare mound, lips parted and threatening to start drooling all over her thighs. Pressing both thumbs against each one is her lips, San pried her folds open, staring intently as he now clearly saw all of her.

"Oh fuck. I'm gonna need to prep you real good. I can tell you're going to be really tight."

She wanted to ask him what he meant by prep, but her words got caught in her throat when she felt his tongue delve into her core. She had never felt someone's mouth anywhere near her folds and she regretted not having experienced it before. Her eyes shut tight as she marveled at the sensation of San's tongue lapping at her bud, his lips making sure to enclose all around the flesh surrounding it before giving it gentle suckles. Shaky breaths blew out from her mouth, her legs wanting to close themselves around San's head but his firm grip on her thighs kept it from happening. He kept her knees pinned to the bed as his mouth continued to ravish at her taste, sloppily consuming her heat fervently. Her mind was so occupied in what he was doing that she didn't register the hand that slowly crept away from her thigh until she felt something poke at her entrance.

"Oh-" She gasped, opening her eyes to see what was going on.

"Relax princess. It's just my finger.....for now." He momentarily pulled off her heat to let her know what was happening before diving back in to continue his task of eating her out.

His finger inside her felt a little weird at first, sliding in slowly before pulling out only to plunge itself back into her. During one of those times where she expected him to slide back in, she was surprised when she felt herself being stretched out as San curled a second finger inside her. Keeping them lodged there, he began scissoring them alternatively so he could further spread her walls apart. During one of those movements, his fingertips brushed along her hood, making her hips slightly jolt up into San's face, who smiled against her folds as he now knew exactly where to angle his hips for later. Using this new knowledge, that was probably unbeknownst to Y/N, he slipped his fingers deeper into her, knuckles deep as he moved his tips rhythmically on the the spot he found. Y/N's mouth fell wide open into an 'O' as whiny gasps and airy moans poured out of it. San's mouth latched to her clit and his fingers working deep in her hole was producing a stirring in the lower pit of her stomach that she couldn't quite make out. But it felt good, especially since it continued to grow more and more, almost as if it was a cord about to snap.

"San- wait. I feel, I feel-" She couldn't finish her sentence as her body trembled slightly, a flood of overwhelming pleasure washing over her that was prolonged by San drinking up the juices that spilled forth out of her body. He didn't pull away until he made sure to swallow every drop she had to give.

"Aren't you grossed out?" She asked him, always having wondered about that.

"Nope. I love licking girl's pussies, especially if they're as sweet as yours." He affirmed while pulling his shirt off his body.

Y/N turned her flustered face away from him, keeping her gaze locked on the wall to her right, which was decorated with several polaroids of her with her family, friends and members of her church, some of them even had San in them, back when they were inseparable. Before she could become nostalgic, a strong set of hands clutched her chin and teared her gaze away from the pictures, forcing her to stare at the now naked man in front of her.

"Forget about that for now. Right now I want your full attention on me and what we're about to do. After we're done, that image of a good girl you have will gone." His words seemed to almost taunt her.

Although she tried not to look, Y/N's eyes fell in between San's legs, filled with astonishment when she glimpsed for the very first time at her former friend's member, fully erect and leaking at the tip as it awaited to be hugged by her warm walls.

"Like it? Maybe later I'll let you play with it." San giggled when her eyes shot up at him in surprise.

Placing himself to hover above her, he hummed lowly as he slowly stuffed himself inside her, working her open until he was fully nestled inside her warmth. Although she felt a light burn scraping against her inner walls, it wasn't unpleasant or painful like her first time. She could tell San knew exactly what he was doing as he began rolling his hips. Perfectly recalling exactly where to aim at, he made sure to angle his thrusts accordingly so each time he pushed back in, he'd hit her pleasure spot.

"Oh God-" Y/N exclaimed when he continued to brushed against the hood of her core.

"Really think it's a good idea to call out the good lord's name when I'm balls deep inside your pussy?" He asked with a malicious smirk plastered across his face.

"No baby. Tonight your only lord is me."

Pinning her wrists above her head, San continued pushing his cock deeper into her. The harsh pounding of his hips against hers was becoming louder, their bodies starting to get heated and producing sweat. Y/N couldn't do anything but whimper and wrap her legs around San's waist, keeping him firmly locked to her body. She closed her eyes once more as she felt the same familiar feeling from before start piling up, only it felt more intense and stronger probably due to the fact that she was getting railed to her bed by her ex best friend, whom she still cared about deeply. She was definitely not planning on making up with him this way, but holy hell, she couldn't deny that he was making her feel so many emotions at once. Pleasure, lust, satisfaction, happiness, euphoria, love? Perhaps that last one was definitely a stretch, but she blamed her confused thoughts on how well his cock was abusing her hole. She felt unable to focus on anything except him.

"Clenching so hard around me babygirl. Are you gonna cum all over my cock?"

Slipping one hand in between their bodies, San pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing it back and forth so it would serve as an extra push to tip her over the edge. Y/N splayed her hands on San's lower back, nails raking against his skin, causing him to hiss.

"Fuck- am I seriously making you feel that good babygirl?" He knew for a fact he was feeling absolutely amazing, her tight warmth gripping along his shaft, making it hard for him to hold back much longer.

"Mmm yeah." She shamelessly moaned.

"Am I better than your first?" Although he already knew the answer, he still wanted to feed his ego and hear her say it.

"So much better! It feels so fucking good." She inhaled sharply when that she began to feel the sensation from before. With even louder cries from before, her body shook underneath San's, blood rushing to her head as an even greater orgasm coursed through her body. She was left speechless, a full on panting mess even after San had pulled out of her after helping her ride out her high.

"Oh geez. Shit." San's voice rasped out as he jerked himself off, his cum painting her thighs white, not stopping until he had finished coating them with everything he had to give.

Looking down at the mess, Y/N couldn't suppress a tiny giggle, one of her hands clasping over her mouth while the other picked up some of his cum and spread it between her fingers.

"Having fun there?" San grinned, finding her fascinated gaze to be completely adorable to him.

"Yeah.." She said as sat up to get a better look at the cum around her thighs.

"Well I was going to clean it off you, but seeing as you're so entertained by it, I'll just leave you with it."

Not forgetting that he was merely a guest, San slid himself off her bed and plopped his tired body onto the blankets on the floor. Closing his eyes, he was thinking he would finally be able to sleep, but he found his plans thwarted when he felt a pair of hands graze across his chest. Looking up, he found Y/N straddling his lap, biting down on her lower lip as she grinded her wet folds along his softened dick which was now becoming hard again thanks to her.

"What in the world are you doing you crazy girl?" He sucked in a breath, not expecting her to suddenly pounce on him.

"I wanna try that again." She pleaded, grinding her hips harder on him.

"Oh my- did I accidentally turn you into a nymphomaniac?" She chuckled at his joke and although he groaned as if he was frustrated, he obliged to her wishes and sat up.

Clasping her waist with his hands, he lifted her up and guided her so she could easily sink herself down on his length. Not letting go, he slowly rolled his hips up, burying himself deep in her body once more. Since they were both still riled up from their previous session, it didn't take long for both of them to start spewing out a clutter of moans and grunts as they once again get lost in a mist of lust that clouded their minds. San drunk up every expression on Y/N's face. Every twitch of her facial muscles, every shuddering breath she exhaled, each time her eyelids shut close, he marveled at seeing her enjoy the experience. He loved seeing her indulge in such an intimate practice with him, more so given how special she was to him, one of the most important people in his life aside from his family. Looking down at her torso, his fingers brushed along the hem of her shirt.

"Please...." His urging caught her attention.

"Please let me see all of you. I want to admire every inch of you and your beautiful body. I promise I won't laugh or judge. I just want to worship you."

Y/N hesitated briefly, still afraid to let him see what was hidden under the shirt.

"It's ok if you don't want to. I won't force you." He shot a kind smile at her as he focused back on making sure to drive his cock up into her.

Feeling safe and knowing she could trust her lifelong friend whom she thought of as a soulmate at one point, Y/N reached for the bottom of her shirt and peeled it off her body. Coming face to face with her bare chest, San groaned in ecstasy as he slid his hands up her body.

"Just as I predicted, you have very cute breasts."

Pulling her chest to his face, he opened his mouth and took one of her nipples in it, swirling his tongue around it before sucking on it. Y/N's fingers raked themselves through his hair, harshly tugging them when she felt his teeth sink themselves into her flesh.

"Aren't they too small?" She inquired.

Letting go of her breast with an audible pop, San cupped her chin.

"No baby, they're absolutely perfect. They're gorgeous, just like every other part of your body. You're gorgeous, absolutely stunning and holy fuck, you're driving me insane honestly." He confessed, his mouth diving into her other breast so it wouldn't feel left out from being tenderly kissed and sucked on.

His words sunk deep in Y/N's heart. He really did found her beautiful, attractive and it spurred something in her. Feeling a newfound passion, Y/N unconsciously began taking over their movements. Pushing against his thrusts, she began to set her own pace, rutting herself on top of his dick. San of course took notice and was happy about it.

"Oh wanna take over now baby? Well go ahead."

Laying back down on the floor, his eyes stared up at her with lust.

"Fuck yourself on me darling."

Encouraged by him, Y/N began bouncing herself on his cock. Finding an angle that she liked, she sunk down on his length over and over, her head thrown back as she used his body to push her down another spiral of immense pleasure. San just relaxed and admired the way she lost herself and gave into her deepest desires. He loved the way she rode his cock, and he loved feeling her walls tighten once more around his shaft.

"Oh shit- Sannie." She cried out his name as she quivered on top of him, her juices spilling out onto his cock once more.

Knowing fully well she was probably aching between her thighs, San gripped her hips and helped her ride out her climax so the feeling she was going through wouldn't go away just yet. He made sure to be gentle, easing her up and down his cock with absolute tenderness. Once he knew she was satisfied, he pulled her of him and set her down on the floor before sitting up above her body. Just like before, he took hold of his cock and began pumping his cum out of his body, plastering it all across her inner thighs and even splattering some on her stomach. Looking up, Y/N had the same giggly expression as before.

"Does my cum really make you burst into a fit of giggles?" He questioned her.

"I can't help it. It's just... I don't know. Maybe it's the fact it's so dirty and wrong, and then to have you spread it all over my body." She explained, which made San chuckle.

"Maybe I should baptize your thighs with my cum more often." Although he was joking, Y/N was more than willing to take him up on that offer.

"Will you?" She looked up at him with puppy eyes.

San studied her for a moment, before a wicked idea popped in his brain.

"How about you let me baptize and stain that pretty face of yours?"

Getting a hint of what he meant, Y/N got up on her knees while San stood up right in front of her, cock in hand as he brought it up to her lips.

"I hope you weren't planning on going to morning services tomorrow because I'm going to keep you up til morning until your knees hurt."

[nervouscupcakeinspace]

BTS FIC RECS (PART 2)

Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope

Don't Get Charmed by shikiso

When an injured omega is found on their territory, Jungkook's instincts scream danger. He is the pack's omega, they don't need another one. Jungkook is doing a good enough job by himself, protecting the den and soothing the tension off everybody's shoulders.

Why is the pack so adamant on keeping that useless omega in ?

They have Jungkook, they don't need Hoseok.

Why can't they even see his little game ? Hoseok definitely knows how to play the scared and helpless omega. But, if he manages to trick everybody, he can't trick Jungkook. He is immune to his sweet scent and sweeter eyes.

He won't fall into his trap.

Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin

Omega Drip by sugamongoose

Park Jimin is the kind of alpha who makes you coffee and asks about your day before reducing his partner to a crying, writhing mess on his organic cotton sheets. He doesn't even seem to care one bit that Jungkook is a broken omega who doesn't get wet when he's supposed to.

“Are you busy right now, alpha?” Jungkook asks, holding his breath in anticipation. He can already visualise getting on his knees for the smaller man, can imagine those soft-looking hands petting his hair in approval when he shows just how good his mouth is.

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Namjoon | RM

Every Kind of Way by Oh_Hey_Tae

And then he realizes, quite belatedly, that he’s not supposed to be shaking the hand of the barista. Because that’s weird. And uncalled for. And really, really weird.

So Jungkook draws back his arm, grips the straps of his backpack, and promptly flees the building without a word spoken. Which is fine. Sometimes you have to get out of awkward social situations and blacklist particular cafés and adjust your route to school to avoid said café and the barista with the heart shaped face and his sweet pea scented hands. It happens.

“Jungkook-ah, meet Kim Namjoon.”

And sometimes during your bi-weekly dinner one of your good friends introduces you to said barista with the terribly soft hands who also happens to be getting his masters in social work to help underprivileged youth in inner city neighborhoods. Which is fine. This is fine. Jungkook is doing just fine.

 (Or: Jungkook adores everything about Namjoon except that the man can't catch a clue.)

Here Is What I Know by Oh_Hey_Tae

There are flowers growing on Namjoon’s arm. They aren’t real flowers, of course. That would be absurd. Impossible. Ridiculous. But Namjoon spends most of his lecture on Kant watching the garden of ink bloom on his skin, beginning at his pinkie and spreading across his wrist, trickling down to his elbow, curling up and around his bicep and out of sight under the sleeve of his shirt. Irises and peonies and roses and sunflowers. The girl who’s sitting beside him is staring, and when caught, gives Namjoon a bright-eyed grin before glancing back to the board. Namjoon spots a faded smiley face inked into the skin of her thumb, what looks to be a grocery list scrawled over the back of her hand. Notes or reminders from her soulmate maybe. Soulmates. Huh. It looks like Namjoon has one of those now.

try to resist, i still want it all by exarite

At first, Namjoon doesn’t think much of him.

He looks familiar, but he’s too far away for Namjoon to really see or scent out his dynamic. He’s cute, but Namjoon's not new to cute boys either. He's far too used to handsome, and pretty, and everything in between in the industry.

But then he stands up. Namjoon's eyes catch on the swell of his belly, and every nerve in his body lights up, his mind going blank, and—

Oh, he breathes. He's pregnant.

::

Namjoon fucks a pregnant Jungkook.

just let me adore you by elle_O_moonchild *

Rockstar omega Jungkook has never let an alpha tie him down. He was independent, and happy, and had no need for a domineering knothead to mess up his career and lifestyle.

But powerful and wealthy alpha Namjoon only wants to spoil the pretty omega rotten.

or

A smitten alpha Namjoon gets a weary omega Jungkook to go on a date with him and shows him just how good they can be together…

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Seokjin | Jin

more and more and more by moonsuns

"If you haven’t had sex by the time you’re twenty, then I’ll have sex with you. That way you’ll have a guaranteed end date for your virginity.”

“Do you promise, hyung?”

"I promise."

The problem was, Seokjin never expected to be called on it.

you shouldn't give it to me (good like that) by jamaisvore

opposites in the eyes of the media, but a perfect match in each other's arms.

or: supermodel!jk x rockstar!jin

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM

Pull Me Under by Oh_Hey_Tae

It’s been two weeks. Hoseok has managed to survive two weeks of Kim Namjoon’s progressively darkening thighs and his cheek craters and his swooshy hair and that stupid laugh he does that makes him sound like a bleating sheep.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder. Stares. Slowly draws his gaze back to Hoseok. “Are we discussing the same man who tried to brush his teeth with sunscreen yesterday?”

“Ew, he did that?”

“Your voice says that’s disgusting but your face says you’re enamored.”

Hoseok presses his palms against his eyes until he sees colored spots. “Make it stop, hyung.”

  (Or: Hoseok works at a summer resort and Namjoon is the newest lifeguard. Chaos ensues.)

fall underneath by crycoby

“Is this secretly about your huge crush on Namjoon?” Jimin asks, his fingers digging into the back of Hoseok’s neck in a way that is frankly criminal. “You know that if you like him, you’re going to have to be more direct. He doesn’t like to assume things about people and… He overthinks a lot,” he finally settles on diplomatically.

Hoseok groans, half because of the pressure and half because the idea of talking about this, about any of this, about any of the gnarled mess that is the clutch of Hoseok’s emotions in the knot of his chest, gives him hives.

//

hoseok could talk about his big messy feelings about namjoon, or he could talk around them instead and just hope for the best. yeah. that sounds good.

Methods of Mutual Stress Relief by Only_A_Fangirl

Hoseok cringes, “How weird would it be if I actually asked to jerk off in here with you?”

“Very,” Namjoon answers instantly.

Hoseok nods, “You can choose the porn.”

Namjoon blinks, “Are you for real?”

lyre lyre lyre by oliviacirce

Namjoo regrets every life choice that has led her here, to the hard wooden floor of this dance studio, where she's lying on her back like a beached whale.

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Taehyung | V

the long and winding road by moonsuns

Hoseok is (basically) forced to go on vacation and leave his stressful idol life behind, at least for a little while. He wasn't expecting to find Taehyung, that's for sure. (He's glad he did, though.)

Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin

Procurement by FlyYouFools1 (WIP) *

Seokjin and Namjoon have waited decades for a little of their own. Taehyung just wants to pay for his little brother's education.

Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Taehyung | V

Dandelion Love (part of the (Not) Destined series) by almostsophie1

Taehyung is twenty-one when the word on his wrist turns ashen. The kind of love that soulmates share is forever out of reach.

(But enter one Kim Namjoon, who doesn't think the same.)

Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

Bleeding Love by beebalm

Yoongi was already dressed and halfway to the door, nothing but a dry chuckle and a See you around when Namjoon asked for his number.

OR

It's not that Namjoon is hurt Yoongi only ever wanted him for a one night stand. And he doesn't have a crush. He just wishes they didn't have to keep seeing each other all the time.

Kim Namjoon | RM/Park Jimin

but i want it anyway by ameliabedelias *

Park Jimin’s roommate goes to study abroad for a semester. Kim Namjoon takes over the lease.

only lingering around you by moonsuns 

“I don't. I mean...this is going to sound awkward, but I’m...not really looking for a relationship right now.”

Namjoon considers, for a moment, elaborating and telling Jimin about everything with Hoseok, but there wouldn't be any point in that. And also, Namjoon is pretty sure that Jimin doesn't care about any of that anyway.

And he's right. At this, Jimin outright laughs. It isn’t a mean laugh, but Namjoon is pierced by the sound anyway. “Who said anything about a relationship, or even feelings? It’s just sex.”

Or, Namjoon and Jimin are friends with benefits.

Kim Seokjin | Jin/Min Yoongi | Suga

운명 (Fate) (part of the (Not) Destined series) by almostsophie1

Yoongi is part of that three percent population left without a soulmate word. It doesn't matter if he falls in love, because love isn't meant for people like him.

(Then he meets Seokjin.)

candy on my lips (part of the just desserts series) by moonbabie

Anonymous advice columnist and baby bi Kim Sujin meets queer club president Min Yoonji, and does the following: writes some cheesy advice columns, cuts her hair, and figures out her shit. (aka a queer romcom meets emotional constipation, self-discovery, and clueless wlw)

Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin

pull me closer in the backseat of your rover by moonsuns

Jimin had just wanted to get off. He didn't think he'd end up with a boyfriend at the end of it all.

Or, another friends with benefits AU.

Nip & Bloom by sugamongoose (WIP) *

The year is 2021, and yet traditional and oppressive views of alpha/omega relations run rampant in the Korean society. Unmated Park Jimin is placed in a government programme which pairs delinquent omegas with support mates to make them more comfortable in their submission. Jimin’s alpha for six months turns out to be Min Yoongi, a tiny music producer who wears fuzzy sweaters, and who won’t stop talking about his kitten Holly.

“You look like an omega,” Jimin blurts out. The strange alpha flashes him a smile that reveals the pink of his gums. “Is that something you prefer? I saw your file, and it said you identify as queer.” “Oh, you looked at my file just to see if I like to fuck other omegas? Knot swelling yet?”

POLY RELATIONSHIPS

OT7 - Relationship

indiscentsible by cloudyworld *

Jungkook had been a little disappointed when, after all the build-up and speculation, he'd presented as a beta. Betas are great! They play an important role in society: level-headed, big-picture thinkers, the solid foundation that holds everyone together. But that pull of instinct that comes with being an alpha or omega, the feeling of belonging... He was crushed at the thought he might never get to have that.

In a pack with three alphas and three omegas already, presenting beta was a gift; Jungkook learns to see that too.

Precious Mettle by glitterandgilt (WIP) *

Jin loved his nest. He'd built it very carefully from the ground up. Spent centuries on selecting the individuals he wanted to spend the rest of his immortal life with. He was proud of his nest and protected it with a possessive love that rivaled a dragon's guard on their trove.

Jin didn't get the chance to go through that evaluation process with his newest treasure. But he would never let it go.

Or

When Jin's blood is stolen and used to sire a new fledgling, Jin has two choices: to ignore the strands of magic binding him to his new childe, or to lay claim to another jewel for his collection. He chooses the latter and drags his entire nest into a situation none of them were anticipating.

Kim's Seven by Gobi17 (WIP) *

Jungkook, 17 year old YouTuber, is in awe of the 6 hot boys who have adopted him online.

Bangtan are a dangerous group of vigilantes who seize the opportunity to kidnap the stepson of their latest target.

Found Kin by Adaptive_Artist (WIP)

Jungkook is starving. Food doesn't make anything better, and his teeth ache like someone is hammering on them. He thought he was cursed. Turns out he's a hatchling kin, and is now the precious baby of the renowned Kim nest. He's also growing little fangs.

Huh.

love bites (series) by feraljk (WIP) 

Summary from the first fic:

newly-turned vampire jungkook still has a lot to learn, but his hyungs are there to help him. taehyung enlists yoongi and jin to teach the fledgling how to teethe and helps him discover how much of a bonding activity teething can be.

or: trans koo and tae teeth on their hyungs and also come

Isn't it lovely? (all alone) by hopefully2020

At age eighteen, all citizens are given a concentration that will determine their fields of study. A small empty square on their wrist will gain a color corresponding to their skill set. Everyone’s fear is that their square color is black, meaning they are destined for a life of crime. When Jungkook turns eighteen, he waits anxiously for his square to gain color, only to be presented with a blank square. He is shunned by his family, having to struggle through high school while trying to figure out what to do for the rest of his life. Jungkook's life gets flipped upside down on the day of his twenty-first birthday when the store he works at is robbed with Jungkook at the cash register. Fearing for his life he believes he is going to die, only to be saved by a figure in black with a mask covering his face. To make things even worse, Jungkook suddenly becomes the target of one of the largest drug syndicates, solely because of his new connection to his savior and five other men who turn out to be the biggest crime lords in Seoul. What happens then, you ask? Well, then the blank world Jungkook always saw starts to drip with black, just a little bit.

blueberry peaches (a serendipitous summer) by elle_O_moonchild (WIP)

Jungkook spends a life changing summer working at a beachside car wash and meets 6 new lovers who change his heart and life forever.

Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM 

Falling For an Alien From Amalthea 5 by Pyotr_Keats78 (WIP)

Jungkook has been in and out of the hospital for years with various medical problems. Eventually, his heart becomes so weak that no human medicine can save him. Believing he will die never having come out as trans to anyone, he gives up. That is until his brother Jimin tells him, “You have two choices, Jungah: you can stay here in this hospital and get high every day until your heart fails you, or you can go to Amalthea, grow a parasite, and live.”

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin

Mentoring on Marsa by FlyYouFools1

Jungkook comes to the planet Marsa after being promised a full scholarship to Marsa National University. When the scholarship falls through, his academic advisor gives him the number for a mentoring service for newly stranded omegas on Marsa. With rent due, no way home, and no success in finding a job, Jungkook calls the number. The organization sends him Min Yoongi, a fellow omega who's been living on Marsa for 8 years. Yoongi teaches him how to survive. Jungkook's first attempt at survival is alpha couple Jimin and Taehyung.

Features: Yoongi doing his best to teach Jungkook how to manage handsy alphas, handsy alphas (like all of them are touchy) taking liberties with omega protagonists, and my best attempt at writing problematic but entertaining sex. A lot of fluff too, actually. The alphas are fluffy as hell with the omegas, and pamper them a lot, even though their actual behavior is wrong.

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Min Yoongi | Suga

November (series) by cuttothequickk 

Summary from the first fic: 

Sometimes, Jeongguk gets so lonely he doesn't even feel alone anymore. He's practicing, and he's very good at it. Loneliness. Being alone. It's blustery cold, and the leaves are falling from the branches of trembling trees, and Jeongguk is alone in a big city, shivering without a jacket, trying desperately to keep himself warm.

There is no one, and then there is someone. Two someones. The lovely winter boys from Daegu, Taehyung and Yoongi, opposites and equals, so loving and in love.

It would be ridiculous, really, if Jeongguk didn't fall for them, too.

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

how, or when, or from where by moonsuns

“Stop calling it my quest,” Namjoon whines, and Hoseok laughs.

“You’re the one that said it first.”

“I was drunk.”

“Well, the bad thing about going out with people, is that you can’t take back the stupid shit you said when you were drunk. Especially when they’re way less drunk than you.”

Or, after Namjoon almost dies, he decides to go on a quest to live his best life, and takes Yoongi and Hoseok along for the ride.

(* Personal favorites)

MASTERPOST FIC RECS PART 1

[seijorhi]

Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

Me attempting a multi-part fic?? More likely than you think! I wrote this fic because this blog started with Hawks and Dabi and kinda got a bit of traction with soulmate au’s so to me it made sense to post it for my first anniversary. I hope you guys like it! 💕

Touya Todoroki (Dabi) x female reader, Keigo Takami (Hawks) x female reader

TW canonical character ‘death’, a little angst and maybe a slight hint of dub-con (if you squint your eyes a little)

Part I, II

You’re eleven years old when your parents take you by the hand, sit you down on the couch and tell you that your soulmate is dead.

It doesn’t make sense. There’s a hollow ache inside of your chest like something important is gone but you were with Touya only yesterday. You had the rest of your lives together, you were gonna leave with him, start something better…

You feel empty and you can’t understand it. He can’t be dead, that’s not how it works. You find your soulmate and you get to ride off into the sunset. You get to be happy, everyone knows that.

But it doesn’t sink in until you’re kicking and screaming by his grave and Endeavor won’t so much as meet your eye and your parents are pulling you back because there’s no body.

There’s nothing left of Touya Todoroki.

And there’s nothing left of you without him.

—

They call it the bloom. A simple touch, the first from your soulmate’s hand, and the mark appears on your skin like drops of ink spilled into water. You’ve always thought it beautiful, the delicate black pattern imprinted on your wrist.

You can still remember the heat you’d felt when it happened. Not the burning kind you knew him capable of, but like the warmth of a fire seeping through you. And you remember the way those bright, blue eyes had widened as you’d tripped and fell, taking him with you. His mark was over his heart; Touya always was stupidly smug about that.

You were just kids. Angry and scared and lost, but you had Touya and Touya had you.

(Not that that counted for anything in the end. He still died alone.)

They say it’s rare to find your soulmate before adulthood, but you’d been one of the lucky ones.

Lucky.

The word tastes bitter on your tongue now. It’s not that you disagree exactly – even now, years after his death you’re glad that you had time with him. You would’ve been grateful for a minute, for a mere glance at his face. Two and a half years with your soulmate was a gift, but having him, losing him so young only meant that you had more years of your life to struggle on without him.

And sometimes you catch yourself staring at your mark, lost in thought. Touya was the one with all the plans, you were always just the tag along, happy to go anywhere so long as he was the one leading you. You wonder what he’d think if he could see you now. Not the Hero you’d let yourselves imagine, though you suppose you both knew deep down that was nothing more than a pipe dream for someone like you.

Gazing around your cramped, messy apartment, debating exactly how badly you need this shitty, barely-enough-to-scrape-by job, you can’t imagine he’d be impressed.

God knows your parents are disappointed, but that’s nothing new. The Quirkless daughter of two mid rank heroes – well, the only thing you ever had going for you was being Enji Todoroki’s future daughter in law, and everybody knows how that one ended.

But part of you likes to think that maybe Touya wouldn’t judge you too harshly for it. You’re doing the best you can. You’re surviving, all on your own, that has to count for something, doesn’t it?

There’s a text message awaiting you when you roll over and grab your phone.

Happy Birthday x

Natsuo never forgets. The rest of the Todoroki’s – you ceased to matter to them the day they buried an empty casket for their son. Natsuo’s the only one who bothers to check in on you, make sure that you’re keeping your head above the water. It’s usually just a message here and there, and he calls you on Touya’s birthday. And on the anniversary of his death.

It’s painful for him, but you suppose you’re the only tangible connection he has left of his brother.

You stare at the message for a moment longer, a strange feeling tugging at your heart. Typing out a quick reply, you set your phone down and fall back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh.

Today of all days, you’d honestly rather just roll over and let the hours pass you by, but your boss isn’t that forgiving and as much as you hate to admit it, you need this job.

The hotel’s already abuzz by the time you clock in, your manager’s jaw tight, a frown pinching at his face. As much as you don’t like him, you can’t exactly blame him for the bad mood – in less than three hours, the ballroom will be filled with a media circus and a plethora of pro heroes. Some big promotional event before the hero rankings are announced; you honestly don’t care.

It just means that everybody’s on edge, you’re gonna spend all day stuck in heels, smiling blandly while you serve people who won’t so much as look twice at you.

And then there’s the real reason you’re dreading today. 6’4”, blue eyed, broad shouldered, currently burning holes into you from across the ballroom while you carry around a platter of canapés. The last time you’d seen Enji Todoroki in person was two weeks after the funeral, and he’d ignored you entirely.

That was years ago; you weren’t even in your teens. Half of you had hoped that in his infinite arrogance and the complete lack of care he’d shown since his son’s death he would’ve forgotten about you entirely.

From the way he’s spent the last twenty minutes staring at you while bulldozing past reporters, though, you’re not feeling all that confident.

And for the life of you, you can’t figure out why your presence seems to be disturbing him so much, considering you’re really only there to serve and then fade into the background. It’s not like you’re chasing after him, demanding an autograph much less any kind of acknowledgement – you’re not exactly thrilled to be here either. Things work just fine with the two of you pretending the other doesn’t exist.

Does he think you’ve planned this? Some big ‘fuck you’ to try and mess with what you’re sure will be an announcement of his retainership of the number one position? Even while Touya was still alive, his father didn’t have a place in your life – he was off training his youngest, you barely saw him and you were glad for it.

While he might have hated him, some part of Touya still idolised him, craved his approval, but Enji had never been anything to you but a selfish, unfeeling monster. A bully.

But now he’s staring at you, slack jawed and wide eyed like he’s seen a ghost and it’s harder than you thought it would be to keep that smile plastered across your face knowing he’s watching your every move.

Your cheeks feels hot, and it only gets worse when you realise that Endeavor’s less than subtle behaviour is slowly but surely drawing attention from others in the room. A few curious reporters have shot you odd looks, heads cocked for a moment before dismissing you as just another waitress, hardly headline worthy.

The other heroes are less quick to brush you off. Mirko, current number five, elegantly clasping her glass of champagne in a gloved hand keeps shooting furtive glances between you and Enji, Gang Orca’s beady eyes following you across the floor, a flicker of what you’re fairly sure is concern maring his face.

It’s mortifying. Your smile is stretched and painful, your throat tight and you feel utterly exposed, but there’s nothing you can do. The flame hero doesn’t seem to care about the attention he’s drawing, or that with every passing minute it gets harder and harder for you to maintain that professional, customer service demeanour you need for this job.

And you’re beyond caring if he’s embarrassed to find his firstborn’s soulmate has sunk so low in his absence, you just want him to stop staring so you can finish your shift in peace. But it seems like the flame hero has other plans, because you’re just beginning to seriously weigh up your chances of keeping this job if you just up and walk off right here and now when Enji’s limited patience finally reaches its threshold.

He doesn’t bother offering excuses towards the poor reporter trying to pry an interview out of him, he just abruptly sets his drink down and starts stalking towards you. Rationally, you realise that with all these people here, he can’t make too much of a scene.

It’s just that even the thought of having to talk with him, to look into those blue eyes that are so painfully familiar yet wrong–

You can’t do it.

Not today.

And so you spin on your heel, stomach lurching. The silver tray in your hands stacked high with champagne teeters and falls, crystal glass shattering on the marble floors drawing gasps from the crowd. Endeavor calls out your name but you block him out, desperately weaving your way through the stunned mass of people.

Most of them give you a wide berth, likely due to the oversized hero barrelling after you. He calls your name again, louder this time. It’s not a scream, or a yell – it almost sounds pleading, though you can’t possibly imagine why. Endeavor doesn’t do pleading.

Your cheeks are burning; there’s too many people staring and hot tears begin to prickle at your eyes. A flash of red blurs past your field of vision and you start, a sharp squeak slipping out as a figure lands before you, blocking your exit.

Handsome with bushy eyebrows, dirty blonde hair messily brushed back and golden eyes gleaming; the hero in front of you would be impossible to mistake, even if it weren’t for the sweeping blood red wings sprouting from his back. Hawks, the current number two pro-hero and the only man standing between you and your fumbling escape.

Your body’s slow to catch up with your mind though, and as you try to stop, backpedal and side-step him at once your foot catches on your ankle. It’s instinctive, the way your arms fly up, wildly trying to catch yourself before you fall on your ass.

Just like you suppose it’s instinctive for him to rush forward to do the same.

It happens in a split second, your fingers brushing the skin of his neck just above the collar of his shirt, his hand grasping at your waist to steady you. Beneath his gloved hand a familiar burst of heat warms your skin.

Time slows to a crawl. The ballroom, all the gathered heroes and the press, your co-workers, they all fade into the background as your eyes dart to your fingertips, resting gently on the side of Hawks’ throat. There, a soft, inky black mark begins to unfurl spreading up to his jaw, disappearing below the collar of his turtleneck.

Over the quiet hum of the classical music playing in the background, you hear his breath catch.

He has you dipped, the two of you frozen as if in a dance and for a moment you dare to meet those piercing golden eyes. There’s a clicking sound, a camera shutter you distantly register, but while it makes your heart jump, Hawks pays it no mind.

He stares at you with impossibly wide eyes; open, vulnerable and raw.

And then he blinks, and that glimpse is gone, his grip tightening as he slowly sets you right. He doesn’t let you go, however.

“Hawks,” Enji’s tone is low and gruff, a warning this time.

Tension, thick and crackling with electricity hangs in the air between the three of you, amplified by the crowd of onlookers. All those journalists, chomping at the bit with the realisation of a juicy story playing out right in front of their eyes. Your name’s called out again, not by Endeavor, but by the reporter he’d cut off before – eyeing you now with an eager leer that has you recoiling back into Hawks’ embrace.

It’s enough to jerk the winged hero into action. His mouth finds your ear, his thumb sweeping soothingly along your side as he speaks low enough for only you to hear.

“You wanna leave, baby bird?”

You don’t remember nodding, but you must have, because in the space of a single heartbeat Hawks has you hoisted up in his arms, those powerful wings spreading wide – and you’re flying.

—

“I don’t think I have a job anymore,” you laugh drily, staring down at the city lights twinkling on the horizon.

Beside you, Hawks snorts in agreement, “Hell of a way to make an exit, though.”

He’s not wrong. You can only imagine what the tabloid headlines will say tomorrow ‘Pro Hero sweeps hotel waitress soulmate off her feet’ ‘Hawks mates for life; Endeavor jealous?’ Even if by some miracle your boss wasn’t intent on firing you on the spot, you’re not sure you can even bear to show your face there again.

It’ll be a pain though, trying to find a new job while your face is plastered across every less than reputable news outlet.

Perched atop the rooftop of Hawks’ hotel, halfway across the city, the wind ruffling gently through your hair, everything feels… surreal almost. It’s your birthday, and instead of crashing through the door of your apartment, exhausted and aching before falling face first onto your bed and not moving for the next few hours, you’re here. With the number two pro hero. Who, incidentally, is your second soulmate.

Having more than one soulmate, it’s not unheard of, just… rare.

And your hand’s entwined with his, his gloves long since discarded, his fleece lined jacket draped over your shoulders. Touya’s mark, long since blossomed across your inner wrist lies starkly between the two of you, unignorable.

“It was his son, wasn’t it?” he asks eventually, breaking the fragile silence as he toys with your fingers. When you nervously risk a glance up, Hawks doesn’t look angry or upset or even that jealous. Those golden eyes study your face with an odd kind of curiosity, but there’s no trace of resentment there. “Touya, the one who died. He was your soulmate.”

It’s not a question, but you find yourself nodding anyway. A part of you’s almost surprised he put it together so quickly, but you guess being a pro hero of that calibre requires a little more than just having a strong quirk.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, because what else can you say?

You can’t possibly imagine how he’s feeling right now, what thoughts are running through his head. You’d accepted a long time ago that while you’d love Touya Todoroki until your dying breath, he was gone; that chance of a fairytale happily ever after going with him. Another soulmate wasn’t something you’d ever considered, much less wasted time longing for.

And yet here you are, another mark inked across your skin and it feels wrong somehow, yet also completely right. Imagining being on the other foot; putting yourself in Hawks’ shoes – a pro hero soulmated to some insignificant, quirkless waitress, and not only that, but finding out she has another soulmate, somebody she loved before you, a ghost of a memory you’ll always be competing against… you honestly don’t know how you’d feel.

“Look at me,” he whispers, calloused fingers coaxing at your chin. Heart thrumming like a hummingbird's you comply, letting out another soft squeak as Hawks takes the hand still entwined with his and lifts it to his neck, right above his mark.

He smiles, nuzzling into the touch as your breath stutters. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” Again, you find yourself nodding without even really being conscious of it. It doesn’t seem to matter to Hawks though, whose smile widens at the sight of it. He leans in closer, his breath fanning across your face as molten pools of honey drink you in. You wonder if he can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, mixed emotions warring inside of you as he cups your cheek.

“And I’m yours. That’s all I care about, baby bird.”

He’s drawing you into a kiss before you can even comprehend the words, soft lips moving against yours. Gently at first, but that sweetness gives way to a burning urgency as he pulls you closer, holds you tighter.

Hawks kisses you like your lips hold salvation, and it’s frightening and thrilling and it feels like every nerve in your body is electrified when his teeth catch at your bottom lip and he moans your name.

There’s some part of you that realises that you’re moving too fast – soulmates or not he’s practically a stranger – but as you break for air, panting and breathless and Hawks looks at you with those burning, beautiful eyes; you’re helpless to resist.

“Keigo,” he tells you as he lays you down on his bed, crawling up between your thighs with a gleaming, hungry smirk that’s nothing less than predatory, “Call me Keigo.”

[xiaosmoon]

what tattoos they would have.

feat. childe, diluc, & kaeya.

warnings: none.

childe.

- i imagine him to be the type with a bunch of tattoos littered all over him in a modern au. but realistically? i could see him having a tattoo on his lower left side abdomen. it would be blank inked of his harbinger mask.

- he wouldn't ever show off his tattoo to you intentionally; mostly because he forgets it's even there. it's on the opposite side of his lil peep hole so you would probably never see it unless he's walking around shirtless.

- childe probably doesn't even remember why he got it in the first place. it's not like he's proud of being a harbinger, even though he uses his title to his advantage all the time. ("i am the 11th of the fatui harbingers. that's why. now go, fetch me something to eat.") more so a symbol of who he is. and that he shouldn't forget what he's done to get that position.

- the first time you see the tattoo you're a bit taken back and confused. why get a tattoo of his mask?

the both of you rarely get time to yourselves. with childe always on fatui business and you caught up in your own work, lounging around the house and doing absolutely nothing was a luxury. you were in the kitchen cooking up a lovely meal for childe and yourself. too focusing on deciding which seasoning you should use, the arms that were slowing making their way around your body surprised you. "hello." you smiled, adding paprika to your pot. childe had just gotten out of the shower and his head was resting on your shoulder, wet hair brushing against the crook of your neck. "ugh childe, you're wet." you wiggle out of his embrace and turn around to meet his figure.

"what are you cooking? smells delicious." childe peers into the pot behind you.

your cheeks heated up at the sight of him. shirtless. you were new to this relationship and this was your first ever time seeing him shirtless. you were quite afraid to speak, scared that your words would come out as a jumbled mess.

he looked beautiful like this. wet hair, bright blue eyes, built arms, and- wait. is that a tattoo? making it obvious that you were staring, childe flicked ur head playfully. "like what you see?" you roll your eyes at the cliche saying and turn back to your cooking.

"i like your tattoo." childe smiles at your comment and hops up on the counter next to you. "i got it a few months ago. i honestly forget it's still there sometimes."

"maybe i should get one and we can match!"

"absolutely not."

diluc.

- this man would absolutely have a tattoo of a bird and no one can tell me otherwise. i can see him going for more of a minimal look and would have one on his upper back. it would be a small bird, nothing too noticeable.

- like childe, diluc wouldn't show off his tattoo but for different reasons. partially because he regrets getting it.

- he also tends to forget about it because he can't see it.

- the first time you see his tattoo would be when you both hit the beach.

it was a very hot summer day, so what a better to do than spend it at the beach with your boyfriend? convincing diluc to come with you was no easy task. this man can physically not vacation. even to mention a vacation would send him into panic. "a vacation? now? but there's so much to do; i couldn't possibly pack up and leave. who's going to manage the orders coming in next week? and what about-"

yeah you get the idea.

but when eventually you were able to convince him, diluc was all in. and at the beach there was no way he would wear his daily attire. a heavy coat and covered head to toe? absolutely not. he was laying down next to you in nothing but a pair of swim shorts and you couldn't deny you enjoyed the view. it was rare for you to see diluc without heavy clothing and you definitely wouldn't mind seeing him like this more.

"diluc, do you want me to put sunscreen on you? i'm scared you're going to fry." you ask in a teasing manner. diluc smiles up at you sits up more. "it's alright dear i can do it myself. thank you for reminding me, i'm afraid i really would fry." with his pale ass i wouldn't let him go an hour without reapplying.

rubbing sunscreen all over himself, diluc meets a issue; not being able to get his back. "dear, would you mind?" his sheepish smile tells you what he needs. you motion him to turn his back to you and that's when you see it, his beautiful bird tattoo. you squirt some sunscreen into your hand and immediately start at the tattooed area. "i didnt know you had a tattoo." "hm? oh, i forgot about that thing."

you smile and continue rubbing until you're done. "it's pretty." diluc blushes a little at the comment. "thank you. now turn around, let me get your back."

kaeya.

- this man. this lovely man. if anyone would have a tattoo it would be him. and he wouldn't just have one, no, he would have two. one on the inner upper side of his left forearm, your birthday in roman numerals. the second one right on his boob (couldn't decide which one) of a pavo ocellus constellation and it would be very beautiful.

- i don't know why he got the pavo ocellus one, but he got the one of your birthday cause he loves you and says it's the "best day in the world." he would totally surprise you with it.

- i feel like kaeya is the type to have a meaningful tattoos and would also flaunt them.

- he'll be at the tavern taking to his drinking buddies and just bring up his tattoos. "hey did i ever tell you i got y/n's birthday tattooed on my arm? yeah! look!"

it was the day after your birthday and you were exhausted. amber threw a huge surprise party for you at angel's share and you were dancing and drinking all night, leaving you burnt out the next day.

jean allowed you the day off so you spent it at home, relaxing and writing thank you cards to everyone who brought you gifts. kaeya's gift to you was the prettiest of them all. a beautiful necklace with your favorite flower on it, made of pure diamonds. you weren't one for expensive jewelry but the one who gifted it to you made it worth it.

kaeya came home that evening with the dorkiest smile on his face. his usual sly and flirty demeanor was not present. "y/n, guess whattttt" he dragged out his words plopping next to you on the couch. you were a bit worried, you've never seen kaeya have the expression of a happy child who looks like they just bought all of the candy in the candy shop. "what is it?" you raise a brow at him. he throws out his arm in front of you quickly, making you flinch a bit. it takes a moment for you to see what he was showing you but oh my, what a beautiful tattoo.

it was your birthday. you look back up at him and smile. "that's very cute of you kae. looks like i'll just have to get your birthday on me too!"

his flirty dark smile makes its appearance again. "can i choose where?"

"no."

[goingmorry]

The Art of Domesticity [Trafalgar Law x Fem! Reader]

Synopsis: On a whim, Law decides to indulge you with a hot bath. Feeling lethargic despite your nap, you are more than delighted to take him up on his offer.

Tags: domestic fluff, sexually suggestive themes, male and female nudity, established relationship

Word Count: 2,161

In the depths of the Grand Line, deadly sea creatures swim idly by, patiently waiting for the next unsuspecting shipwrecked pirate to serve as their next meal.

Not long after, an unknown object of immeasurable speed barrels across the ocean floor, whirring past the mess of Sea Kings. Intent on chomping down on the foreign entity, the creatures join together in pursuit.

A yellow submarine, adorned with a Jolly Roger resembling a smiley face and inscribed with the words "DEATH,"  shakes beneath the water pressure.

The Polar Tang, home to the notorious Heart Pirates, aggressively reverberates in response to the Sea Kings' pursuit, mimicking the chaos inside the ship.

Meanwhile, in the control room, Captain Trafalgar Law stands at attention, face impassive as he calmly assesses the situation. In contrast to the rest of the crew's panicked behavior, Law had complete confidence in his crew's ability to make it out of this predicament unharmed. Right on cue, Law watches as his navigator, Vice-Captain Bepo, expertly maneuvers the ship away from dubious underwater beasts and excess debris. Under Bepo's supervision, Shachi and Penguin carefully operate the numerous controls to keep the sub afloat. In the engine room, Ikkaku and Jean Bart attend to the ship's generators, air compressors, and fuel pumps, ensuring their pristine condition during the onslaught.

After weeks of being submerged, the Polar Tang steadily heads to the surface. And with every second that passes, the distance between the pirates and the monsters increases until the vessel can no longer be seen by their pursuers. Sure enough, having lost sight of their target, it became apparent to the Sea Kings that they were no match for the submarine's speed. Where the ship once was, only faint bubble traces remain.

Unbeknownst to the pirate crew, loud rumbling sounds vibrate across the sea bed, the Sea Kings' roars echoing across the deep oceans, scaring away small fishes that dare to come close.

"We've lost sight of them, Captain," Bepo exclaims, swiveling his chair in Law's direction.

"So it seems," Law says, grabbing the nearby Den Den Mushi to announce their successful escape to the entire crew.

Almost immediately, Penguin and Shachi cheer in conjunction with the rest of the crew's boisterous laughter. To celebrate their victory, the Polar Tang resurfaces, providing an opportunity for the crew to receive some much-needed sunlight.

The turbulent atmosphere moments ago can no longer be found, replaced by a serene calmness. In celebration, the Heart Pirates gather in the upper deck, engaging themselves in various recreational activities. The perfect time to disappear for a bit, Law thinks.

Voicing these thoughts, Law directly addresses Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. "I'll be in my room."

Shachi nudges Penguin, suggestively wiggling their eyebrows at each other. Bepo curiously looks at the duo, sneaking glances at his captain, while Law scowls at their childishness.

"Don't worry, Captain! We'll make sure no one bothers you two!" Penguin blurts out, earning a swift elbow to his ribs.

"You idiot! Be more discreet next time!" Shachi angrily whispers in Penguin's ear, looking around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation, before continuing, "They're still in the honeymoon phase."

"More like hornymoon phase," Penguin huffs, causing both of them to break out in uncontrollable giggles. Bepo lets out an innocent smile.

Choosing not to respond since nothing he could say could convince Shachi and Penguin otherwise, Law hurries to his quarters, leaving the two to their incessant bickering.

- - - - - - - - - -

Standing in front of his bedroom,  Law raises his hand to give two light raps to the door. He frowns at the lack of response, turning the door handle to reveal your upper body sprawled on his desk. He pauses for a moment before walking over to your slumped form. Upon closer inspection, you were sleeping soundlessly, seemingly unaware of earlier's events. Your head was nestled atop your forearms, an expression of serenity overcoming your features. Sheets of paper and various writing instruments were strewn across the corner of the desk, haphazardly pushed aside to accommodate your slumbering figure.

Law lifts his tattooed hand, gently brushing the stray hair that had fallen on your face. He runs his fingers across your unruly hair, noticing several tangled knots that had formed. Despite your less-than-ideal appearance, however, you never looked more beautiful in his eyes.

Deciding to let you sleep for a moment longer, Law saunters over to the bathroom, intent on running a bath for himself and you, should you choose to wake up in time to join him.

The sound of the water steadily splashing as it fills the tub is enough to rouse you.

Your eyes flutter open, turning around in search of the source of the noise before landing on the ajar door leading to the bathroom. A familiar lanky figure - sporting his signature leopard jeans - crouches over the tub. You couldn't see the top half of his body, but you were pretty sure he was monitoring the tub's water level. Not long after, you hear the sound of the faucet turning, and the water stops. Law stands up, walking over to lean against the doorframe. His golden eyes meet yours in amusement, mouth turning upward in a slight smirk.

"Mmm... Did something happen?" you mumble, voice raspy from your nap. You stretch your arms over your head, groaning in satisfaction before leaning back against the headrest of the chair. Despite the needed rest, you didn't feel as refreshed as you'd hoped. You felt so exhausted, your lips dry and your mouth parched.

Law must have noticed your tiredness in your appearance and voice. He reacts almost immediately, enveloping you in a familiar blue film. "Room," he says in that low tone you've come to love before a mug of water appears on the desk in front of you. You blink at him in surprise, humming appreciatively.

"I... Thanks," you say, gripping the mug between your hands before taking generous gulps. He can be so thoughtful when he wants to be, you think, unable to hide the smile gracing your lips as you do so.

He returns your hidden smile with a smile of his own. "Nothing important," he vaguely adds.

You look at him in confusion before realizing his was response was to your previous question. You nod in acknowledgment, deciding not to pry, before setting the now empty mug aside.

Law walks over to his side of the bed, pulling his cap off to set it down on the nightstand, keeping it relatively safe and away from tonight's activities.

"I ran you a bath. Get in it."

He glances at you before striding over to the bathroom. You cock an eyebrow at his retreating figure.

Before you have the chance to retort, he pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it over to the laundry basket. The sight of his muscled backside, inked with his jolly roger, makes the words die in your throat.

Before you can stop yourself, your tongue peeks out from the corner of your mouth to moisten your chapped lips. Your thirst was for an entirely different reason now.

"Don't keep me waiting." As if seemingly aware of his effect on you, Law disappears behind the door, the sound of clothes rustling reach your ears, no doubt the sound of the remainder of his clothes being shed. You can hear the amusement dripping in his honeyed tone, can picture the full-blown smirk evident on his face.

You reflexively gulp, feeling your body flush in response to his invitation. You've seen Law naked plenty of times by now, you reassure yourself. Have become well-acquainted with each other's bodies. Know firsthand how the heart tattoo inked on his chest ripples under your teasing touch as your hands trail down his chiseled abs. How the sweat glistens his toned skin and how his usually impassive face contorts in pleasure as he thrusts into-

You shake your head to keep the dirty thoughts at bay.

We're just having a nice relaxing bath together, you think, not entirely convincing yourself.

Following his lead, you stroll over to the laundry basket, stripping yourself of your clothing to join Law in the bath. Your head peeks out from the corner of the open bathroom door while the rest of your naked body remains in the bedroom, away from his prying eyes, your nervous gesture making it appear as though you were an innocent virgin.

Adorable, he thinks.

You look at each other expectantly, your eyes admiring his perfectly relaxed posture. His jet-black hair was in disarray, poking out in all directions, evidence of his combing through them in a careless fashion. His arms were stretched to the sides, slim fingers gripping the edges of the tub. His naked upper body was in full display; the dark ink of his tattoos was a stark contrast to the white bubbles that formed on the surface of the water, obscuring the lower half of his body.

You clear your throat, eyes returning to meet his golden ones that were alight with apparent amusement. "Sorry to intrude."

Law chuckles, the sound of his baritone voice echoing across the bathroom walls, only for your ears to hear. When you take a step forward and close the door behind you, his eyes drop to your naked form, shamelessly admiring your breasts and derrière.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," you say indignantly, pausing right in front of the tub, his brazen admiration of your nudity quickly restoring your confidence.

"I am," he says without hesitation, golden hues darkening with desire at your bold gesture.

Leaning over the tub, you bring your face close to his, lips a breath away from touching. For a moment, you pull back to admire his rugged handsomeness, fingers ghosting over his goatee to his cheek before settling on the back of his neck. Lightly tugging his hair, you pull him in for a chaste kiss, your free hand grasping the edge of the tub for balance. Law has other plans, however, as he reciprocates by licking the bottom of your lips for permission to dive into the wet expanse of your mouth. You let him, of course, moaning at the feel of his demanding tongue as it fights against yours for control.

His hand snakes across the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging, mirroring your previous actions, while his other hand firmly kneads your breast. You groan against his mouth at the display of dominance in his rough handling of your body, loving how depraved he can be when aroused by you.

After what seems like an eternity, his hands gently encircle your waist, coaxing your body to join him into the warm pool of the tub. You oblige, breaking off the kiss to positioning yourself in between his legs, facing toward him. You sigh in contentment at the feel of the bubbled water and the warmth emanating from his bare body. Making an executive decision not to escalate further should both of you decide to forego the bath in favor of more risque activities, you avoid the softness of his lips. Instead, your mouth latches onto his neck, leaving trailing kisses to his jaw before stopping to rest your head at the crook of his shoulder. In response, Law sighs in defeat, hands rubbing reassuring circles against your back. The heated passion of your earlier kiss was replaced with soothing affection.

"Will you wash my hair?" you ask, voice slightly muffled against his skin.

Law looks down at your head nuzzled against him, eyes softening at your vulnerable state. "Honestly, you're hopeless without me," he says before nudging you over to turn around.

You do as your told, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position. His hands reach over the side of the tub for your shampoo, squeezing a sizable portion onto his hands, lathering it up into a foam. His hands weave into your hair, softly massaging the shampoo into your scalp in circular motions, careful to avoid your ears.

You can't help the wide grin that stretches across your face, thankful that your lover can't see your smile from the way you're positioned away from him. Trafalgar Law - a notoriously fearsome pirate, Captain of the Heart Pirates, and a former Warlord of the Sea - is the perfect picture of a doting boyfriend as he methodically applies shampoo onto his girlfriend's head, eyebrows furrowing in deep concentration.

"I love you," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

His hands still for a moment before resuming their ministrations. And though you've said it plenty of times before, he can't help the wild beating of his fragile heart in response to your sincere declaration.

While words fail him, actions don't. Law pulls you into a comforting hug, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders as you lean back against his defined chest, blissful in each other's embrace.

- - - - - - - - - -

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed my writing! I'd love to hear feedback. 💖

[paintedkinzy-88]

I wonder how Error reacted to learning that Ink shifting was painful since I remember him saying before that it wasn't? (yn, usually)

I’m feeling generous today ლ( ` ∀ ´ ლ)

Also because this has been a wip for very long and would love to put something out so here ya go, a fairly-long snippet of Violet is My Least Favorite Color Part 2

“Whatever. Fucking shift back and put on some damn clothes.” He jerked his head toward the pile he’d thrown down earlier. “I’m dumping you off somewhere else, but not as a fucking dragon. You know how to shift, right?”

…Unfortunately.

At his nod, Error crossed his arms and turned around, giving the Protector as much privacy as he could in this space.

Ink stared down at the mismatched clothing items. It looked like just a pair of jeans, a shirt, and what he thinks was a Fell ‘verse jacket, though there might be more items underneath the thick coat. Truly, they looked small, but then again, so did Error, if only slightly. His dragon form wasn’t too much bigger, after all.

He wasn’t scared of shifting back. If he had his paints, he would be. He’d be terrified. It was painful, and he was scared it would remind him too much of that moment XGaster hurt him in the first place. But, just because he couldn’t feel the crippling fear and dread didn’t mean he exactly wanted to either. He didn’t need emotions to dislike pain.

But, in the end, he’d troubled Error enough as it was. If there was one thing this blank state was good for, it was following orders.

With that bit of hesitation Ink closed his sockets and focused on shifting back. After doing it twice now, the process was a bit faster. It only took a couple seconds for the first sickening snap to sound through the Anti-Void.

Just as every other time, his bones cracked and broke and shifted to realign themselves in the right position. He felt his wings, tail, and horns crumble into shattered pieces that piled on the ground and turned to ink droplets moments later. It was almost reminiscent of dark rain. His very spine and ribs shuffled about to a proper humanlike form, his pelvis snapping and flattening out back into a bowl-like shape.

He wondered if this is what it would feel like to be a clay figure, slowly pinched and bent and carved into the correct form, bits that were too big torn off completely. He’d only worked with clay on occasion. Maybe he should try again later.

Slowly, Ink’s body got smaller, head pounding and bones once again doused in black blood, until he was back to the form he was more used to. The gauze hung uselessly from his bones, completely soaked in ink now. He’d need to reapply new ones later, if he couldn’t get to one of his brushes soon enough to just paint over his injuries.

When he looked up to shakily reach for the clothes, he caught sight of the Destroyer. He had turned back around to look at him at some point. His face was devoid of the usual grumpy anger, replaced by a mortified horror as he looked Ink’s battered body up and down. At first, he thought it was because he ruined the blankets he was still sitting on. Maybe shifting here was a little inconsiderate when he was well aware of the mess he’d be making.

That didn’t seem to be the case, though. Error quickly snatched his bandolier off the string still hanging beside him, tossing it onto the pile as well. His expression still startled, he turned away slowly and uttered, “Change of plans. You’re staying here. Don’t fucking touch those clothes. I’m gonna get you some new bandages.”

With that, he disappeared through another portal, leaving the soulless skeleton confused and alone once again.

Following the orders given to him, he sat back and waited.

[boldlyanxious]

Designs on you

Jasonette July prompt 18: design

July

Masterlist

Marinette hadn’t made an appointment but the shop appeared to not be busy. Maybe she could get in pretty quickly. Shocking for how many positive reviews it had. There were a few negative ones but they just seemed like haters. They didn’t even seem like they had been to the shop. Maybe someone just didn’t like a tattoo parlor in the neighborhood.

The door made a quiet tone as she entered. She looked around. It was very clean. Not at all what she had expected from a tattoo parlor. She had only been in one once when she went with Alya. Marinette had chickened out. Alya was getting a tiny fox but Marinette didn’t want to do something little that she didn’t feel connected to. But she hadn’t been ready then to go for a larger piece covering her side like she was now.

She guessed the man who came from the back was the tattoo artist on duty. He was very tall with dark hair. He looked exactly like she would expect. His arms were muscled and covered in tattoos. She briefly wondered if he had any art under the shirt that stretched tightly over his muscled chest. She pulled her thoughts away and looked up at him. He seemed surprised to see her. Probably not surprised at business, but surprised at the tiny woman in dainty business apparel walking into the shop.

“You here to get a tattoo?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she said, a bit hesitantly.

He glanced down at the desk. “Did you make an appointment? I don’t have anything in the schedule. ”

“I didn’t make an appointment. I figured I would see what times you had available instead.”

“You’re in luck. I was supposed to be closed today so I don’t have anything scheduled.”

“That’s great. I won’t be able to back out.”

She laughed nervously at her half joke. He eyed her for a moment.

“Are you sure this is what you want? It won’t come off easily.”

“Yes. I made the design years ago. I just get nervous sometimes.”

He nodded and held out his hand to see her design. He looked it over for a moment. Then pulled out some paperwork.

“Standard paperwork for liability and care after.” he added. “It's a nice design. You must have been barely old enough when you designed it.”

“The first version I made when I was 9. I’ve updated it a lot since then. But I’m happy with how it looks now.”

They discussed the process and the design for a few minutes and he made a copy of the design for his records. He made a quick sketch as well for her to approve how he made her design for the transfer. He took her back to the studio room and prepped a space to get started. He made sure she had eaten and stayed hydrated that day and let her know that it would take several hours or they could split it into 2 sessions. She said she would rather do it all at once so he just let her know to discuss when she needed breaks.

Marinette flinched when he put his hand on her bare skin. Even knowing it was going to happen didn’t stop it from tickling. He paused while she worked on stopping her squirming so he could get the transfer applied to get ribs. She focused on holding still and expecting his touch. He seemed very focused on his work. She tried not to think about how nice his fingers felt brushing against her skin. Before he began he checked to make sure she was ready and had an idea of what to expect with how she would be laying and the best way to hold herself and breathe.

He was quiet at first and Marinette focused on trying to maintain her position through the stinging. She did her best to remain still as he moved from one side to the other. She was starting to feel stiff and she really wanted to shift but didn’t want to mess it up. She really wanted a break but he said it would be best if he could get a certain amount done before they took a break. She was pretty sure he could tell she was getting restless because his hand moved and put slightly more pressure on her than he had before. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back trying to think of how great it would look when he finished. It was only a few more minutes before he pulled away and told her it was a good time for a break.

She stood and stretched and he offered her some water and a granola bar to help her make it through the rest. She moved around and went into the bathroom to splash her face before she felt ready again. He recommended a few stretches she could do from a poster on his wall that would help her manage to make it through to the next break. He seemed distracted on his phone but when she finished he was ready again. She laid back in the chair with her side exposed as he started up again. It seemed to feel a lot worse when he started again. She stopped most of the noise she wanted to make and instead sucked in a fast breath. Then focused on blowing the air out slowly rather than shifting away.

“Good girl,” he said, before continuing on.

Marinette felt herself flush and she didn’t think it had anything to do with the continuing pain. She tried not to think about the pain but somehow she only noticed his hand as it moved to a different spot on her side. The gentle movement felt like a caress in comparison to the burning feeling left in the wake of the needle. Once they got back into the rhythm he started talking to her.

“So what made you decide that the art needed to go on now rather than later?”

“Well, I’ve wanted it for a long time, but I am making a dress that will show most of the side off. I thought it would look nice showing through.”

“That should do. Do you make a lot of dresses?”

“Yes, actually. I’m a fashion designer.”

“A dress showing off the side doesn’t sound like your everyday dress. Is it for something special?”

“I’ve been designing for a client having a formal event. He invited me to that as a way to expand my business because he was impressed with my work.”

“That should be nice. I like to display the work I’ve done, so if you get a good picture of the tattoo in the dress it could be a good thing for both of us.”

“I’ll make sure to do that.”

He suggested a final break not long later. He said like with the first break it would feel a bit worse right after but it would be easiest for both of them if they had a chance to stretch out a bit. She treated it much the same as the first one, just moving slightly more carefully with more of her side feeling raw. He seemed to be on his phone again, but also watching her a bit more than the first time. She still tried to do a bit of stretching and moving around until he headed back to the tattoo space.

She was prepared for it to be more tender when he started this time so she managed to keep her breathing in check. He moved quickly and carefully filling in the lines with color but also moved to conversation to distract her more quickly this time.

“You drew this when you were a kid still?” he asked.

“Well, the first time I did. This is just the version I settled on. I use it in my designs a lot like a signature.”

“That's some dedication. What made you decide on it?”

“A picture of my parents the day my dad proposed to my mom. It was in Paris, where I’m from, and the chestnut trees were in full bloom. I’ve just always loved the way they looked.”

“I don’t think I even realized chestnut trees bloomed. I guess I just never thought of it.”

“They have a lot of them in Paris. There is basically a blossom season in Paris but chestnut was always my favorite. I tried to confess to my crush when they were blooming back in lycee because I thought it would be romantic.”

“That doesn’t sound like it worked the way you wanted.”

“It was a disaster. I stumbled all over my words and he told me all about how he should bring his crush there. I ended up talking about fabric for 10 minutes before he finally redirected the conversation. When we left he told me I was a great friend.”

With the conversation suddenly going to a place Marinette didn’t like to remember she forgot to focus on her breathing and holding still. She made a pained noise and jumped, grabbing his hand without even thinking. He patted her a bit and rubbed her arm to calm her down. She caught her breath and refocused on her breathing. He waited until she was back into position and held the tattoo needle steady above her before he restarted.

“We only have a few more minutes. It will be a bit rough for you and you will want to move, try to refrain.”

She did well for another few minutes but then she started squirming again. He added pressure to help her relax but she struggled each time the needle moved. He pressed his free arm down on her and said.

“If you can't hold still, I will have to pin you down. I can't have you messing up all my hard work.”

Marinette froze and looked at him wide eyed. He winked but still held steady until she nodded at him to continue. She gripped the side of the chair and closed her eyes. She focused everything on breathing steady and within a few minutes he had stopped again. He spent a few minutes wiping away a bit of blood and ink before showing her the final look before he wrapped it carefully and explained the instructions for care. They went to the counter and paid. He suggested that she return when she wanted to add to the design; she had mentioned wanting it to travel down her thigh too.

“It turned out very nice. You might be my best side piece.” he said.

Marinette stumbled over her goodbye at that. She looked at him but his smirk seemed to suggest he knew exactly what he had said. She reentered the front of the shop and walked back to the counter. She held out a card for him. He took it with a grin. Their fingertips brushed with the exchange but he reached up and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing her hand and taking the card. Marinette met his eyes and held them for a moment before she turned and headed for the door, smiling.

Taglist

Next

@jasonette-july-event | @theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha | @trythisagainlove | @trippingovermyfeet | @tbehartoo | @adrestar | @zynna