#get through this. get your first tattoos. heal. and look forward. and look forward to more.

[shatterthefragments]

The urge to fuck off and fuck me is strong with this one

I can do this. I can. But fuuuuuuck.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

tatted

words: 1k

warnings: established relationship, husband!rafe, tattoos

“mmm, good morning wifey.” rafe pulls you in closer to him, legs tangled together under the blanket.

“i’ll never get sick of hearing you call me that.” you smile, pressing a kiss to rafes chest as you snuggle into him, the morning light illuminating the room.

you’re both still on vacation mode, having just gotten back from your honeymoon two days ago. “i wish i didn’t have to get up, but i’ve got an appointment, baby.” “wait, what?” you whine, picking your head up. “you didn’t say anything about a doctors appointment.” your bottom lip pouts out, making rafe lean forward to kiss the frown off your face. 

“don’t worry, we will spend all day together as soon as i get back.” rafe slides himself out from underneath you, quickly heading to the closet to get dressed. he waited as long as possible to get out of bed, not wanting to part from you, but now having to rush out the door.

“mmm, i’ll probably stay in bed all day.” your body was still on maldives times, not even bothering to readjust to being back in the outer banks.

“perfect.” rafe leans over the bed, giving a kiss goodbye. “no need for my wife to even lift a finger.”

you smile at rafe, cupping his jaw to give him a firm kiss. “come home soon, i miss you already hubby.” 

--

“that was a long doctors appointment.” you frown as rafe reenters the house. you eventually dragged yourself out of bed, taking a shower and eating what you considered breakfast despite it being past noon.

“you know, darling” rafe says as he toes his shoes off, leaving them in the foyer. “i just said appointment, nothing about doctors.”

“what other type of appointments are there?” your brow furrows together as rafe joins you on the couch.

“tattoo.” rafe says with a shrug, making your eyes widen.

“you-you got a tattoo?” 

rafe raises his left hand. you finally realize he has a clear wrap covering his fingers. you take his hand gently in yours, looking through the film at the first letter of your name, complimented by a small heart on his ring finger.

“i’ll put the ring back on once it’s healed, but just in case i ever have to take it off, i need everyone to know that i’m still yours.” rafe says, waiting for your reaction.

“i love you.” you finally manage to get out, melting into rafe, making sure not to press against his hand as the red skin heals.

--

“i’ve got something for you baby!” rafe calls out, smiling as you skip into the kitchen.

“what is it?” you question, tilting your head to the side, expecting rafe to be holding something in his arms, but instead he lifts his loose sleeve, revealing fresh ink on his inner bicep. 

“whats it say?” you quickly move closer to read the script, eyes filling with tears when you realize that rafes newest tattoo is your wedding vows.

“oh.” you cover your mouth. “rafey, this is so sweet. i love it.” you press your lips against his. rafe clearly saw your reaction to the first tattoo, the way your eyes tracked over it whenever he moved his hands, the way you were practically begging to be fingered with just his tattooed finger, watching it disappear inside of you, the cold press of his ring against your cunt.

“love having reminders of the best day of my life on my body.” rafe never viewed himself as a tattoo guy, seeing himself as too indecisive, but his mind quickly changed when he realized they could all be dedicated to you, the one constant, the one steady thing in his life.

--

“i’m thinking about getting another tattoo.” rafe hums. its been a couple months and the script on his forearm is now fully healed. 

“really?” you hum. “what are you thinking, my name on your dick?” you joke, but rafe still cringes thinking about the needle dragging over his sensitive skin.

“definitely not. i was thinking your eyes on the back of my neck.” rafe turns, rubbing his hand over the area he was thinking.

“wouldn’t that hurt a lot?” you ask with a pout, but rafe just shrugs.

he makes an appointment the very same day, looking through all the pictures he has saved of you until he finds the perfect one. you’re smiling at him on the other side of the table on your two year anniversary of dating. 

he shows it off to you a week later, and you’re surprised how much you like it, kissing down his spine when you help him take his shirt off before looking at yourself in the eyes, but in tattoo form.

--

rafe won’t admit it to you, but he’s addicted to getting tattoos, wanting to cover his body in everything and anything relating to you. he does end up getting a few others, mostly to fill up what he feels are blankspots, a smattering of patchwork tattoos covering his body, along with a few more dedicated to you.

“rafey?” you call to him as he comes home, his hand now wrapped in clear plastic. 

“hey baby.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you eye the wrap until rafe turns his hand to reveal that he has the word married across the side, yet another reminder of your union.

“i was actually thinking…” you mumble before trailing off, not restarting your sentence until rafe nods at you to continue, looking at you expectantly. “i was actually thinking of getting a tattoo myself. just the letter r on my ring finger. to match yours.” 

you twist your ring on your hand shyly, not sure if rafe would like the idea of you getting tattoos. you’ve never shown any interest in getting them yourself, but you’ve had to take your ring off enough times to swim or wash dishes and don’t want to be without that reminder of rafe even for a short amount of time.

rafes smile stretches across his cheeks. “i thought you’d never ask, wifey.”

rafe sets an appointment for you with his favorite tattooer before you can second guess yourself.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie

[mermaidinn]

Innkeeper Era OFMD Fic Recs

Hey friends, I was organizing my ofmd fic bookmarks and figured I'd throw together a rec list of a few of my favorite post season 2 fics in case anyone is needing this kind of stuff atm. This is by no means a full list of even all my favorites and I'm sure I've missed some good ones, but I've tried to include a good variety of themes and also not make this post extremely long. <3 love you all so much, I don't do much talking in fandom spaces, but you are all incredible and I appreciate each and every one of you

big thank you, obviously, to all the authors of these (and all) fics, y'all are truly doing the lord's work out there

Magpie- 6k, Ed keeps treasures

Cold feet- 1k, Stede gives Ed a gift

Look back- 4k, Stede tells Ed a story

Weathering it Together- 4k, Ed has a panic attack in a storm (there are a lot of fics about this and I always love them, but in the interest of this post not being a mile long I’ll stick with just this one) 

Moving forward- 1k, Ed talks to Stede about izzy’s emotional abuse

Outburst- 5k, Ed tells the crew about what happened with izzy 

Riding Double- 4k, Stede is a horse girl, Ed’s less into it 

Good Bones- 11k, the boyfriends work on the inn, and their relationship 

Breaking & Entrees- 9k, E, Stede and Ed have an adorable date night, and fun and sweet mermaid rp beach sex

Old friends- 6k, crew visits and Ed panics about it

Of few words- 12k, E, Ed gets a new tattoo and tells Stede about some old ones, Stede gets his first tattoo 

Taking it slow- 5k, E, (2.5, 2.6) Ed has some regrets about the phrases ‘take it slow’ and ‘mistake’

A marriage of true minds- 2.7k, Stede and Ed bond over Shakespeare

Lost and found- 2k, Stede finds the cake topper dolls   

By your side until it’s over / to the back of a hand- 5k/2k, E, (2.8) Stede and Ed talk through lingering insecurities and izzy related traumas 

Dear Ed- 3k, Mary’s widow group discovers some of Stede’s love letters

Sailor's delight- 14k, E, 14k words of hot, fun, sweet tentacle porn, you’re welcome. I think this passes as canon compliant even though the magic is a bit more, um, tangibly real than it is on the show 

Guava jelly- 15k, E, Ed working through some issues, sexual healing 

Gone fishing- 6k, Ed and Stede discuss plans for the inn 

Something to celebrate- 1k, the boyfriends try to decide what their first date was

Finding the right words- 3k, discussion of some of Stede’s insecurities 

The thing about snakes- 7k, Archie and Ed have a chat

[shirefantasies]

Hello again! I have another request that came to me as I was submitting a different one. How do you think Thorin's or the LOTR companies would react to reader having a buzzcut. Especially for dwarves who pride themselves in long intricately done hair and braids. Would they think something bad must've happened to the reader for them to have short hair. Cue misunderstandings and fluff, with maybe hair petting(buzzcuts are super soft!) Hope this sounds interesting enough to do, have a good day again! :)

(I literally lied on my last post THIS is my last pre-op post by the 45 minutes left before my operation appointment)

Heck yeah friend I love this! I don’t quite have a buzzcut but my hair’s far shorter than the average lady’s & definitely so for a dwarf, so I wonder about this too 😁 hope you enjoy 🥰 Warnings: a little violence in one reaction, injury mention in another

Thorin’s Company When You Have a Buzzcut

Balin

“You’re causing quite a stir with everyone, you know that?” Giving a chuckle at Balin’s cheeky look, you lean forward with your chin upon your hand. “And why is that?” “At risk of offense,” the older dwarf answered, “they all want to know what happened to your hair.” “Yourself included,” you shot back with a grin, “or else you’d not be asking.” Taken aback, Balin stutters a bit. “Ah, well, I confess I am a bit curious, after all. Reminds me of when my brother first took all his off. What a stir over something so silly. Do what you like, I was just wondering if Dwalin was trying to get you all painted up too.” “Not yet,” your smile softens and you give him a wink, “but if he does you’ll be the first to know. Ahead of all the sensation.”

Dwalin

You start the conversation on this one, seeing that Dwalin is the other company member with little to no hair upon his head and considering it a bonding opportunity. “Well, I’ve got a reason,” he shoots back to your comment of similarity, arms crossed but expression teasing, “what’s yours? You need some tattoos up there at least.” “No thank you,” you tell him, “if I’m adding any tattoos it won’t be on top of my head! Feel how soft it is up here.” Dwalin looks at you, prompting you to take his hand and put it on top of your head, his eyebrows raising at the sensation. And perhaps because touching one’s hair is a much closer and more intimate thing for him than perhaps you realize. You are quite forward, aren’t you?

Thorin

Pays little mind to how you wear your hair…or lack thereof. In fact, by your appearance he gauges you to be a warrior of some kind, thus taking command of your actions in a fight and seeking proof of your prowess. Before your first encounter with a threat the king’s questions are more along the lines of “What is your weapon of choice?” and “From where in these lands do you hail?” The day the company fights a pack of orcs, you manage to take down more than Thorin expected and at one point, you even jump in front of Dori to parry before a potentially deadly strike takes him off guard. Rising from the struggle of battle, black blood splattered across your layers and even your shaven head, you feel a hand upon your shoulder. Thorin. "It can be hard for us to look beyond our own kin," he tells you, "but you have well proven yourself today. We may not always understand each other, but there is a beauty in that, too, I see."

Oin

Wincing despite your gratitude, you shifted in your seated position while Oin packed the poultice into the wound your side had suffered. "Don't worry, you'll go numb in a bit. If it stings, that is quite alright, that simply means you are getting clean again." Thanking him through heavy breaths, you watched as the dwarf reached a hand up toward your head, running a hand over the soft, shorn little bit of cover it had. "And this one's healing quite nicely, quite nicely indeed. Why, I cannot even see the scar!" The sting in your bloody side faded down a bit as you tilted your head to fix Oin right in the eyes. "What scar?" "Did they not have to sew up your head at some point? Figured that's why they shaved you down," he answered, finally removing his hand from your head. You giggled at that, regretted stretching yourself at a new, though much smaller, arc of pain. "No, my dear Oin, I am afraid the only thing my head has suffered is my typical madness," you teased, waving your hands mystically and grinning at the way the healer laughed.

Gloin

"Pardon me, my dear," your name rolled smoothly off Gloin's tongue as he shuffled forth, hands folded in front of him in the picture of innocence. Oh, this was going to be good. "Yes?" You indulged him, swiveling to give your full attention. The auburn-haired dwarf pointed to his head, his own flowing locks. "What happened t'yer hair?" Perhaps sheepishly, his voice suddenly quickened. Feeling your eyebrows involuntarily raise, you tilted your head- this was not exactly what you’d expected, after all. “I cut it,” you shrugged, “got tired of how it was before. Simply wanted a new beginning, you could say.” Gloin’s eyes never left yours. “So no accident?” “No.” “Ha!” The dwarf bellowed, waggling a hand at his brother and a small scattering of company members a ways back. “I was right! By choice! Now pay up and remember I told ya it was worth the risk!” Shaking your head, you playfully smack him on the shoulder. “I’d better get a cut from this, you ol’ scallywag!”

Bifur

Catching Bifur signing, you turn his way, seeing the motions he performs by his head. “Did you cut your hair yourself?” You realize he is asking. “No,” you sign back, “another did it for me.” “You must trust them a great deal.” Simple enough words signed and yet there is something in the way his eyes shine, the fond inquisition in his smile, that brings a little shock of joy to you. Barring royal dressings, it was far more common for one to do their own hair or entrust it to a loved one, and you could see intimacy in the act. It almost brought a pang of regret that it was just some small-town hairdresser that sheared it at your asking and payment. Your hands freeze for a moment as your eyes search Bifur before you finally sign a response. “I suppose. Perhaps if you ever want to do something different with your hair, I could help you, too.”

Bofur

A mix between caring and teasing, he offers you cover! “Your head looks cold. Need to borrow my hat?” Thinks he’s so funny he laughs at his own joke whether you roll your eyes or joke back. “But really, any particular reason you took it all off?” "It was uncomfortable having it long," you admit, "I was tired of it all being in my face." The way everyone spoke of dwarven culture, you half expect disapproval, but this is Bofur you speak of. Instead he nods acceptingly, smiling in that way that always has you feeling seen and reassured. "I understand that." "You do?" "Sure I do! Why do you think I keep mine braided out to the sides like this?" At that, you smile back. "Besides," he continues, "helps me see all the best sights. The trees, the flowers, that smile of yours..."

Bombur

“Singe all your hair off?” Bombur nods sagely despite the fact that he couldn’t be more wrong. “I’ve been there. Burned my beard leaning too far over the stove.” You can’t even correct him right away because you’re too busy laughing. Finally, though, you explain to him that your hair was simply so unhealthy it needed to start over. “Ah, I see, I see! Trying to take better care of it, then?” At that, you nod. He looks at you with new interest, eyes shining eagerly. “So what would you like to do with it next? I’ve got some things you might like to put in it, and I think it would look mighty nice if you wanted to try…”

Dori

"Sometimes I wish I could do that, too," Dori remarks one day, rolling blue eyes illuminated beneath the sun that peeked between the branches. Shifting carefully so as to not disturb your pony, you turned back to face him. "Do what?" "Cut all my hair off just to save some time in the morning!" He replied with a wave of a hand in your general direction. Chuckling, you gave a conceding nod. "I suppose you would gain back an hour, wouldn't you?" At that, it was Dori's turn to laugh. "But then again," you continued, "then you couldn't wear as many of those nice clips and cases. That is one thing I miss about having it all." Puffing up like a proud little bird, Dori smiled. "They are quite nice, aren't they? You know, if you ever get so bored you're tempted to let it all come back, I could make you some of your own."

Nori

Abrasive as it was, Nori's question found you in a way that raised such amusement you forgot to be upset with him entirely, instead simply falling back with a bark of laughter before you answered. "Looks like you're tryin' to hide your identity. You on the run from someone?" He continued musing, in fact, as you laughed. "Law somewhere? A scorned lover? Simply run off with something too valuable not to do that?" Finally, your voice returned. "All this because I've sheared my head down?" You burst out incredulously. "Ever consider," you gasped in mock-scandal, "I like it like this?" "Sure, but that's not exciting," Nori shot back with a smirk, "I like a good story." "Well," you crossed your arms, "perhaps I still have some of those, too."

Ori

Shuffling up to you was the youngest dwarf in the company, sweet Ori; Ori was one of the dwarves who accepted outsiders most readily, and you spent plenty of time at his side watching his drawings and records come to life. That day, though, what was in his hand was not his book, rather a bundle of fabric. "I made this for you." Eyes widening, you extend your hands to accept the soft knitting, peering back at Ori. "I thought your head must get cold," he explained his craft as you unfolded it, revealing a thick, sturdy cap you immediately began pulling onto your head, "does it fit?" Yarn hugging your head perfectly, you nodded. "It's just my size. Thank you." Before he could speak again, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. "This is the kindest thing anyone has done for me in some time. Thank you."

Fili

“One of my braids came undone. Kili?” The younger Durin prince seemingly did not hear the request for his presence, so you stepped forward. “I can help.” Goggling at you, Fili posed a question. “Do you even know how?” Hand falling to your hip, you shot him a look. “Though I may not possess them myself, I am quite capable of doing them up.” The golden-haired dwarf looked sheepish, a bit of the mischief fading from his blue eyes. “Suppose I assumed you didn’t much enjoy doing them either,” he told you with a nod toward your head. “Well,” a teasing smile drifted across your face, “I certainly would…unless you are scared.” You were no fool. You knew how the Durins were with challenges. And if you remembered correctly, you knew how dwarves were with braids…

Kili

He cares some of the least out of the dwarves being the least traditionally presenting himself. He’s sort of the type to be a little attracted to everyone, enjoying the unique traits of all types of people. You still cannot help being a bit surprised when he flirts with you, though, not expecting someone with a cut like yours to catch his eye or draw his teasing. “Not one for a courting braid, I see? No one worthy of putting one on you, no doubt.” For all his jesting questions, he never actually demands an answer, though. Instead he simply launches into a story about a haircut prank he pulled with his older brother once to keep light conversation flowing. “Well, by the end of it our uncle looked quite like you! Except he didn’t pull it off half as well.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins | Let me know if you'd like to join!

[captain-mj]

Changling!Ghost attempting to court Selkie!Soap before ditching google and asking Soap's mom.

Hell yeah, love it! I also have the next part of this story already planned and ready to go so hope you guys are enjoying it

Ghost checked the time. Currently 4 am. The screen he was on now was an article of Selkies in Scottish folklore.

After reading about how selkies were sexually dominated by those that stole their coats for the dozenth time, he gave up. Every article held pretty much the same thing. An explanation of how men would force the female selkies to be their brides through their coat or how male selkies would have human families they’d see for a while before leaving. Several stated that once a selkie went to sea, they wouldn’t be seen for seven years and he needed to make sure that wasn’t true because he thought he’d go mad if Soap disappeared from him. 

Ghost set his head down. He wished he could sleep, but alas, it was evading him tonight. It’s why he decided to get some research done. Originally, it was to help him court Soap, but he had gotten a bit lost in the stories. 

There were clear distinctions he could make out. Everything before a certain painted selkies as malevolent or benevolent, some even implying there evil. Then the weird sexual stuff. Then when the catholics came and they could be healed by baptism. Considering Soap was very much still here, that wasn’t true. 

There was nothing on courting. Nothing. Just take their coat and force them. He didn't want that.

He checked the time and did the math. Because of the timezone difference it would be 8 where Soap's mom lived.

Ghost called her before he could second guess himself.

"Hello?" She sounded so soft spoken. Her accent just as thick as Soap's though.

"Hi. This is... Ghost? Soap may have called me Simon."

"Oh. I was waiting for your call. I have to say, I appreciate how safe you keep my son." Her voice grew to a whisper and it was clear she was moving around.

"Yes, of course. I'd do anything for him." He had been honest with Soap about one thing and that's that he really did want her to like him.

"Good. I will admit, I was worried when he said he planned to not tell you. Selkies are sensitive, especially my son." There was a threat right under the surface. "So why are you calling?"

"I want to know how to court him. Properly."

"..."

Ghost stared at the wall ahead of him and shoved himself through one of the most excruciating sentences of his life. "I've been looking into it, but I'm not good at human romance, let alone this. I want... Soap to be my husband and I want to be a good husband back."

"..."

Ghost gritted his teeth and bore the silence for a few minutes before finally getting an answer.

"Did you feel this way before seeing his coat?"

"I've felt this way a while, ma'am."

He swore for a moment he heard her sniffle. "Good. Good. I'll help you, okay? First, please disregard anything you've seen online."

"Already did. They mostly just suggest taking his coat or chasing him."

"Chasing comes later, doing that so early on is seen as tacky and too forward." She explained while Ghost felt a blush creep up on his face. "Right now, you need to prove yourself to be a good mate. Little difficult considering your jobs, but prove you're useful. If you were a selkie, I'd suggest hunting bu-"

"I hunt." Ghost interrupted. "Mostly deer. Would that... work?"

"Excellent. Yes. Bring him food and shiny objects. Also, wear your arms bare more."

"Why?" That didn't make much sense.

"Because Soap likes your tattoos. And your arms. I love my son very much, but I didn't need to know your measurements or how much you can lift. Congrats on getting to 275 on bench presses by the way. According to Soap, that's very impressive."

Ghost had turned bright red under his mask. "Thank you."

She laughed softly before humming. "Can you do something for me and not ask why?"

"Sure."

"Say you're doing this to control him."

Ghost paused and went to ask why before stopping. "I'm doing this to control Soap."

"Thank you. Good luck." She hung up on him.

He decided to brush it off, sure she asked for a good reason. 

So Ghost took her advice and bought him a handful of pens that glittered. Soap held them to his chest and blushed. “Thank you.”

Ghost nodded, staring at him. The next time he went to eat, he noticed Soap had given him some extra food. He immediately looked for him, seeing him talk to Gaz. Something warm spread through his chest before he fled to his room to eat. 

Soap visited him after a while and sat with him, talking casually. 

“You want to come with me on our next leave?” Ghost asked suddenly. “I have a cabin in Canada I go to occasionally.” 

Soap stared at him for a minute, clearly thinking. “I’m sorry, ask me that again.” 

“I have a cabin in Canada. It’s only an hour by foot from a coast too.” He looked at Soap who was still processing. 

“I thought you had a flat in Manchester?”

“Yeah, I do. But I have a cabin I hunt at. It’s pretty nice.”

“And you’re inviting me. To stay there. For a week. Alone. In the woods.” Soap leaned forward as he talked.

“Yes. You and me.” Ghost nodded. 

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll go.” Soap said softly.

-

“How much further?” Soap groaned at him. They had gotten off the plane maybe thirty minutes ago. The cab had driven them as far as the road went and now they had been trekking for maybe ten minutes.

“Stop being a baby.”

Soap groaned more. “Do we have to do this every time we need anything?”

“Yep.”

“I’m regretting this already. I think my feet are going to fall off.”

“We’ve walked way more than this for a mission!” Ghost didn’t understand, turning to look at him. There was a lot of snow... And he didn’t really prepare Soap as well as he could’ve.. 

He noticed that Soap’s face was completely red from the cold. He assumed he’d be immune to the cold, but he supposed without his coat, he was just human. 

Ghost moved closer. “Sorry.”

Soap blinked and stared up at him. His eyes were so big. Ghost really, really like them. 

He took off his mask and grabbed Soap’s face, very gently holding. If hypothermia had set in, rubbing would cause the ice crystals in his skin to tear. Once he thought Soap was a little more warmed up, he moved closer, gently rubbing now to make sure there was plenty of blood flow. Soap was still really red though which was concerning. 

Soap stared at him, a lot more aware of their proximity than Ghost. “Simon?” His breath made clouds but Ghost’s didn’t. It was an odd thing to notice, but they both did. 

Ghost slipped his ski mask over Soap head, tucking in carefully. “There. I don’t really get cold. I’ll carry your bag.” He took it from him and started trekking again. Soap grabbed his arm and followed. Maybe he leaned in a bit too much, making it hard for Ghost to walk, but Ghost wasn’t going to say anything. 

Finally they got there and Soap collapsed on the couch. Ghost turned the heat on and sat with him. He took off both their gloves and did the process he remembered for warming someone up. Start with the extremities. Ghost hummed softly. 

Soap pulled off the mask and tossed it on the table. “You gave me your mask.”

“Yeah, I was worried. Your face was super red.” He continued rubbing Soap’s hands until they felt warm. Ghost hummed. “I’m not rubbing your feet. You can just lose some toes.” 

Soap laughed. “Alright. Understood.” He moved a little closer. “This place is... To be honest, I was expecting a shack.” 

It really was a nice place. Two stories, big lofty rooms and mostly wood from the looks of it. “I’m a little insulted. But I like space. Plus no one can be hiding anywhere.” 

Soap laughed. “Paranoid as always, huh, Lt?” 

Ghost shrugged. “There’s a spare room. I know we’re married and all but...”

“I’ll be staying in the spare room for now.” Soap said quickly, blushing as he looked away.

Ghost nodded and showed him where it was. “Before you ask, there is a hot water heater and it lasts for hours. Unlike the one on base.”

“You’re making me a very happy man, Simon Riley.” Johnny smiled at him. 

Simon tried not to vibrate out of his skin. “I’m going to bring you so many deer.”

“What?”

[aheckinmess]

Quiet Strength

(Part 6 of Cursed, Not Cute.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Dad Sukuna, Ryomen Sukuna, Ryoumen Sukuna, OC Child, Satoru Gojo, Child Satoru Gojo, Protective Sukuna, Sukuna is Bad at Feelings, No One is Surprised There, Angst, Fluff, Mostly Fluff/Comfort Because I Needed It, Tiger Spirit, Baekho, We Love Her, Headcanon of My Own Fic, That She Attached Her Spirit to Besu Because Their Levels of Sass Mesh So Well Together, Sukuna is Not Impressed, But He'll Get Over It, Gojo Still Has Yet to Learn Proper Self-Preservation Skills

Word Count: 1,640 words

Summary: While Besu and Gojo battle a brush with death, Sukuna finds himself having a dilemma about what to do regarding his daughter's growing compassionate ideals. So, when she comes rushing in asking for his help with Gojo, he determines there's only one decision he can make to show her where he stands on the matter.

Chapter 6: Quiet Strength

Sukuna felt a shift in the atmosphere, no doubt from Besu’s cursed energy. When he felt Satoru Gojo’s added onto it, he waved it off as the two sparring. Normally, he might feel more concern for his only daughter, except that he was having a dilemma on her behalf.

He paced across the luxurious den with his eternal scowl in place, disfiguring his tattoos as Besu once again had his damn emotions in a twist. The more she grew, the more Sukuna was forced to acknowledge that she was growing into a woman with her own ideals. Ideals that didn’t fit with his destructive mold. Ideals that he’d originally hoped would be in line with an heir befitting the terror of his name. Instead, Besu clung to her compassion as viciously as Sukuna devoted himself to his destruction. 

If he weren’t so focused on what he should do, he might have detected the second wave of desperation coming from Besu’s cursed energy only a few blocks away.

Instead, when Besu’s shouts echoed through their vast mansion, he huffed from the top of the stairs, irritated at being torn from his musings.

“What do you–Besu?” The reasons for her childish screaming through the halls immediately became clear when he saw a bloodied corpse in her arms. Sukuna’s mind worked just as quick as his body as he rushed over to her. “What the hell happened?!”

Possibilities played through his mind. Had his daughter finally fulfilled her purpose as his wanton successor of savagery? Or was it something as simple as the boy doing something reckless and stupid to cause her to look so afraid and adamant as she presented Gojo to him?

When Toji’s name fell from Besu’s lips, Sukuna could only gape at her. Revenge boiled in his veins but lowered to a simmer when she handed over Gojo. Suddenly, Sukuna could only see her as she’d been at seven, terrified and begging her father for help.

His heir. His daughter. His world. 

Her maroon eyes pierced his chest more precisely than any dagger ever could.

“Dad…please don’t let Satoru die.” 

Sukuna shouldn’t have been so torn by the decision as his daughter swayed forward and he caught her with his second pair of arms. He wanted to heal her and ignore the bothersome Gojo brat, but Besu remained a weak spot in Sukuna’s armored psyche and it was clear her injuries were not as life-threatening.

Plus, he’d been the one to suggest she find friends in the first place because he’d promised it would be beneficial to her to have allies. And he’d be damned if he ate his own words. 

“You little shits.” Sukuna growled, before turning to Gojo, who barely clung to life.

“You would speak so callously of Toji’s slayers?” Baekho’s form drifted into the mansion - or had she always been sitting there behind Besu? - seeming duller than usual. “I will care for the cub. You take care of young Satoru.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Sukuna hissed, lashing out as fear gripped him by the throat. “Remember your place, beast.”

“You’d do well to remember yours, young Ryomen.”

“Young? Tch. I’m over a thousand years old.” He snarled, using reverse cursed technique and watching the boy’s injuries fade as blood still stained his skin.

“And my spirit was here at the beginning of time to watch the birth of this world. You are all young to me. Now, shut up and heal the boy.” Baekho snarled, touching her nose to Besu’s forehead as her stripes glowed and Besu’s injuries disappeared. “Besu will need ample rest. She will not be waking for some time.”

“Why not? Was this your doing?” Sukuna hadn’t felt so feral since he’d executed his month-long war for the takeover of Japan. Few matched him in terms of strength, but hearing that his daughter might not wake up brought out a different sort of unhinged rage within him. 

“No. Her power has expanded and evolved.” Baekho replied calmly, nudging her muzzle under Besu until she could heft her onto her back. “My own rage allows me an increase in power, turning my spirit and energy red. However, it would appear that the culmination of young Besu’s rage and my own amplify that power even more between the two of us. Coupled with your technique that you’ve taught her, your cub is a force even Toji was unable to match.”

“You mean my technique that Besu has yet to execute properly?” Sukuna sneered.

“I mean your technique that Besu used to deal the killing blow.”

. . . . .

Besu woke up feeling like she’d been hit by a truck. After blinking a few times in the dim light, she remembered that “truck” was Toji Fushiguro. When she grunted and turned to see her father asleep on a couch across from her bed, it suddenly didn’t matter.

“Daddy?” She whimpered, muscles groaning under every attempt at movement.

“Mmm…? Bechan!” Sukuna jumped to her side in a moment, sheltering her from the harsh danger of the world as he pulled her against his chest in a hug that squished together all of her broken pieces. Every broken part of her felt stitched together and whole again. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

“Everything feels sore.” She said, closing her eyes and feeling much like she wished she had as a child - protected and prized by her father. But her eyes flashed open as she looked up to him with a frantic question. “Is Satoru okay?”

“The boy is fine.” Sukuna rolled his eyes. “I’m told you fought Toji Fushiguro and came out the victor.”

“Baekho was responsible for our ability to come out victorious. Satoru and I weren’t able to land many hits. It was only when he was hurt that I felt capable of doing any real damage.” Besu sighed, her eyes falling to her deep blue quilt. 

“Baekho herself told me that you used my technique to deal the final blow.” Sukuna said, forcing Besu’s eyes up by lifting her chin with his finger. “You’ve grown so much.”

“I know. I am sorry I have not grown into the daughter you’ve desired I would become.”

“No, you haven’t.” His words choked her, disappointment squeezing the breath out of her. Was that why he was squeezing her so hard? Had he finally overcome his sentiment from her childhood and decided to dispose of her before she could ruin everything? “You’ve grown into something better.”

The world as she knew it crashed around her feet, scattered in an ocean of tears as her father’s words urged her closer to his chest. She knew the moment couldn’t last, that this tender moment didn’t fit the King of Curses and he’d quickly usher her away when he felt too awkward about showing emotion.

“Don’t think this changes anything.” Sukuna’s muscles tensed before relaxing again. “But we’ll talk about it later. For now, you must rest. Baekho says your power has grown and it took a lot out of you.”

“But what about Satoru?” Besu frowned.

“Yeah, what about me?” 

Gojo’s lanky figure reclined against Besu’s door frame and every worry she had disappeared in the glistening blue of his eyes.

“Satoru!” She bolted upright and forced herself to her feet.

Big mistake.

Sukuna caught her when she toppled forward and smirked as he ushered her back into her bed. Besu also didn’t miss that Gojo went from leaning in the doorway to the center of her room by the time she was in bed.

“No need to kill yourself on my part.” Gojo shook his head, keeping a wary eye on Sukuna as he did. Similarly, Besu watched her father eye Gojo speculatively.

“You can stop glaring at each other, you know.” Besu huffed, before the absence of another stole her breath.

Baekho! Where are you?! Are you–

I am here. The tiger chuffed in her mind, relaxing Besu with her familiar rumble. You are not ridding yourself of me that easily.

“I think I have a right to glare at the boy that put my daughter in a situation where she might have been killed.” Sukuna said.

“It wasn’t my fault! Besides, I thought the great and mighty King of Curses would have trained his daughter better.” Gojo snorted.

“Hold your tongue, brat! If it wasn’t for Besu, I’d have let you die! Hell, I’d have dealt the final blow and been done with you!”

Gojo opened his mouth to respond, before Besu sent him a glare that capsized his attitude, rendering him silent.

“I see your brush with death may have humbled your spirit, but you’re still ignorant in the way of self-preservation.” Baekho swirled from Besu and the bed, floating between the group as she stretched her back and claws. 

“Yeah, well…” Gojo shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I figure you all can grant me some patience, seeing as I nearly died.”

“Not as much patience as I’m granting you to stand so far away from me.” Besu finally found her voice, reaching out her arms in an unspoken need.

Gojo smiled, softening instantly before he spared a glance at Sukuna and stepped over to wrap Besu in a hug.

“I’m glad you’re alive too, ya know?” Gojo whispered. “I was terrified I’d find you waiting for me in the afterlife.”

“Oh, please. You’d have been waiting for me, first.”

“No way! Or…well…maybe. But only because I was actually on the offensive! Plus, you had Baekho!”

“I’m just hearing excuses…” Besu laughed.

“Ha! Maybe I should have let you do all the work then!”

And as the two bickered, Sukuna watched, a now-familiar warmth in his chest. Because even though his daughter stood for everything he claimed to be weak, he could doubt it no longer.

His daughter’s strength rivaled even his own.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

// Welcome to Kink K. Ink. inked 01 //

*The nature of this series may be not be appropriate for all readers. Content warnings include: vulgarity, heavy swearing, and implications of adult relations.  Due to these themes, this series may not be suitable for readers under the age of 16.  Reader discretion is advised.*

prev << 01 >> next

“Tsukishima’s here.”

“Send him on back, Akaashi!”  With a snap of his gloves and swivel of his stool, Kuroo Tetsurou turned to face his last client of the day.  “Let’s get this sleeve finished, Tsukki dude.”

By now, Kuroo had gotten used to the unamused look that settled upon his client’s features every time that ridiculous nickname was used, but all the same, Tsukishima sat himself down in the leather seats just like he had done countless times before, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to give his high school friend full access to his shoulder.  

“You know the drill by now.  We’re going to wipe it down, put the stencil on, you can check placement and design, and then we’ll get started, cool?”  There isn’t even a moment for the young man to answer before the cool wipe is passed over his shoulder and the stencil to complete the full look is placed onto the newly clean area.  Tsukki turned his body to look in the mirror at the foot of the chair, offering a slight nod of approval before sitting back.  “This should finish it all out and really pull together the rest of the sleeve,” Kuroo states, letting the hum of the tattoo machine fill the room as his foot eases down on the pedal.  

It seemed like just yesterday he was picking up a machine for the very first time.  But now, the weight of the machine and its steady vibration had just become a part of him.  Day in and day out, Kuroo Tetsurou did nothing but create the most incredible art pieces, punching ink directly into the skin, watching as his own creation stumbled into existence at his very own fingertips.  And at only 27, massive success as a tattoo artist hidden under his belt, he was able to open the doors to a shop of his very own, nothing but a handful of friends and a love for his art to push him forward.   

“Hey, Kuroo!” 

“I’m busy!”

“Dude, it’ll be quick, I promise!”

Kuroo leaned away from Tsukishima’s arm, easing his foot off the pedal, letting the hum fade.  He lifted his head and nearly fell off of his stool from the surprise.  “Dude, what the actual fuck.”

Kuroo had never really regretted having his best friend work alongside him in the shop.  He would get free piercings or jewelry in exchange for regular touch-ups. But it was moments like these where the tattoo artist had serious questions for his past self.  Bokuto Koutarou stood before him, a needle stuck through the septum cartilage of his nose as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck.’  I have a question.”

“Why is there a needle in your nose!”

“I was piercing it, duh.”  His friend looked at him with confused eyes as if the needle and his title of body piercer really should’ve been telling enough.  But, rather than continuing with what he had to say, Bokuto turned the chair on the other side of Tsukishima around to seat himself backwards, arms leaning against the back of the chair.  “What’s good, Tsukki dude! I didn’t know you were coming in today! When are you gonna let me pierce those ears, huh?” He teased, reaching his hand out to lightly flick Tsukishima’s earlobe.

“You are not going anywhere near me with a needle.”

“Oh, come on! I’m good! You can ask Kuroo. Bro, aren’t I a good piercer?”

Kuroo nodded at Tsukishima, slowly turning his machine back on to return to his work.  “He is pretty good. Helps that Akaashi always orders quality jewelry so it heals better.  If you really wanted to, Bokuto could do your ears right now.  I mean, you are going to be here for a while.”

“I am not letting Bokuto pierce my ears.  Especially when he has a needle up his own damn nose.”

Bokuto wiggled his nose a little as if he had completely forgotten about the needle all together.  “Easy fix.  ‘Kaashi!  Will you bring me that ring I put in the autoclave?” 

Akaashi’s heavy sigh could be heard from the front of the shop as he slid his chair away from the counter to bring Bokuto what he had asked for. He pushed the curtain to the side, placing the tiny septum ring into Bokuto’s hand. “Remember to get rid of that needle properly,” he chided, eyeing the piercer with uncertainty.  

“That was one time!”

“Yeah and we got fined for it.”

“We?! I distinctly remember that coming out of my paycheck!”

“Which comes out of my profits,” Kuroo added, shaking his head as he moved the machine over Tsukishima’s skin.  “You’re going to be the reason we get shut down, bro.”

“Then we’ll just open a new shop!  Easy, bro.” Bokuto reached across to sock Kuroo in the shoulder, sending a jolt through the artist’s body that only dragged an ugly line over the face of the portrait, right where the cherry red lips would’ve gone.  

Kuroo slowly raised his head to stare at his friend through narrowed eyes, the shadows cast across his face from his hair only adding an extra layer of intimidation.  “I’m going to beat your ass.”

Bokuto’s body stilled, fingers coming to a halt just as he was twisting the last bead onto his nose ring.  Wide eyes darted from the tattoo artist and back to his reflection in the mirror.  There’s a pointed look from cat like eyes as the hum of a tattoo machine comes to a stop.  Before Bokuto even had the chance to make his escape, the machine had been placed gingerly on the table and the quiet peel of latex gloves leaving Kuroo’s hands was the only noise to this ominous soundtrack.  

“Akaashi. . . Akaashi, help me,” Bokuto whispered, slowly getting up from his seat, eyeing his high school setter with pleading eyes. 

An all too familiar teasing smirk settled onto his tired face as he turned away.  “Don’t break anything,” Akaashi stated simply, rounding the corner back towards the front of the shop.  

“Akaashi!” 

“Akaashi can’t help you now, you little bitch.”  And as quickly as his words ended, Kuroo was leaping over Tsukki in hot pursuit of his very own almost-perfect weapon of mass destruction.  

Bokuto’s chair clattered to the ground in a desperate effort to keep Kuroo’s long legs at bay for a few extra seconds that could be essential for escape. But he simply hopped over the new obstacle, fingers grasping at the soft cotton of the piercer’s t-shirt, but a quick twist had Kuroo’s hand slipping without firm purchase on anything.  

“Get back here, you absolute cow!”

“Hey! Just because you’re mad that you don’t have an absolute dump truck of an ass,” Bokuto pauses, sending a loud smack to his butt, wiggling it in Kuroo’s direction, “doesn’t mean that you get to be mean about it.”  

“What? Did I hurt your poor little feelings?”

Bokuto laid a hand over his heart, golden eyes pouting at his friend.  “You know what, yeah, you kinda did, bro.”

Kuroo’s shoulders drooped and the intensity in his eyes disappeared, softening as he took tedious steps in Bokuto’s direction.  “Bro, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t take my insecurities out on you like that.”

“It’s okay, bro. I forgive you.”

“Bring it in, bro?” Kuroo held open his arms.  His true bro nodded solemnly, opening his own arms to engage in the manly exchange of friendship, a bro hug to end all bro hugs, heavy slaps to the back that concluded the concerto of shouts and pounding footsteps against the tile floor.  “It really is too bad, bro.”

“What is, bro?”

“That you fell right into my trap!” 

Bokuto’s frantic shrieking as he tried to wiggle out of the headlock that he had been forced into pierced the air and it would’ve had the desired effect on an untrained ear, but Kuroo knew.  He had trained and prepared over many years to be unphased by the absolute pterodactyl screeches that Bokuto was capable of producing.  

“You fucked up my tattoo, you piece of shit,” Kuroo hissed, rubbing the knuckles of his free hand against Bokuto’s scalp, only making the piercer writhe in his grasp even more, pleas and apologies dripping from his tongue. 

“Please! Please, I’m sorry! Just let me go,” he begged. “I’ll buy your lunch!”

“You owe me a lot more lunches than just one!”

“Okay, okay! I’ll buy your lunch for the rest of the week!”

It really was as simple as that. The promise of food was enough for Kuroo’s arm to release its hold around Bokuto. “You’re lucky that I’m so kind.”

“Yeah, yeah.  You’re so gracious,” Bokuto muttered, staring at his reflection in an effort to fix his hair that had been displaced from Kuroo’s ruthless assault on his head.  

Kuroo released a hefty sigh as he sat back down on his stool, staring at the now mess of a tattoo.  “Listen, man. I’m going to need a bit to figure out how to work Bokuto’s fine design skills into this, so just sit back and chill for a bit while I get some sketches going, okay?  I don’t know, maybe Akaashi will let you do one of his sudoku puzzles.  Go get some lunch, take a nap, beat Bokuto’s ass, I don’t really care.  But, you’re going to have to give me a bit, cool?”

“You really should put a door to this room instead of just a curtain.  You could keep a lot of pests out,” Tsukishima grumbles, sitting forward in the chair to lean his elbows on his knees.

Bokuto quickly turns around to give one of his not-at-all-terrifying glares, adding a loud, “Hey!  I am not a pest!”

The blond snickered in response, a twisted smirk present on his lips.  “Never said you were. But, now that you mention it, a door with a lock might be better.”

“Tsukki!  Aren’t we supposed to be friends?”

“I don’t remember us being friends. I come to get tattoos, not hang out with you.”

“Yeah, so that’s why you sat around until we closed last time? To get tattoos? Nice try, Tsukki dude.  You know you love us.”

“I’m going to get a coffee.”  Tsukishima shakes his head, fending off the laughter and high-fives from the other two, securing their win in his lack of an objection.  

“Bring me back a black coffee,” Akaashi’s voice calls from where he was sat at the front counter, his eyes never leaving his current puzzle.  

Kuroo’s laugh fills the shop.  “You’ve had like three cups already.  Shouldn’t you drink, I don’t know, water?”

“There’s water in coffee.”

“Akaashi, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count.”

“You’re bitching an awful lot today. I think you’re dehydrated. Maybe you should drink some water.  Tsukishima, bring Kuroo back an ice water, will you?”

“Akaashi!”

“Make it two. He’s really dehydrated.”

“Two waters and a black coffee. Okay,” Tsukishima mutters, typing out the list on his phone.  “I’ll be back.” There wasn’t even time for Bokuto to add in his request for a hot chocolate or for Kuroo to object to the order that was placed for him because Tsukishima was already leaving, the little silver bell jingling above the door being the only noticeable sign of his departure.

And the time should’ve passed normally.  Everyone had busied themselves with their own work.  Akaashi placed orders for new jewelry, more inks, new needles and gloves, everything that possibly could’ve been needed.  Bokuto’s next appointment for the day had come in, the quiet sounds of his voice as he soothed his client’s nerves resonating through the shop.  

“We’re going to do three deep breaths, okay?  You’ll feel a little pinch on the third and some pressure as I put the jewelry in.  Ready?  One . . .”

It was the jingle of the bell, the signal that should have signaled Tsukishima’s return, that pulled heads away from tasks and it was Akaashi’s steady, “Welcome to Kink.  How can I help you?” that had Kuroo’s head snapping away from his sketchbook.

“Stop calling it Kink! You know it’s K dot Ink, you bastard!” 

There was a murmur of a voice that was unrecognizable before Akaashi spoke up again.  “I’m sorry.  He’s busy right now preparing work for another client.  Can I take a message?  I’ll pass it along to him once he’s free.  Excuse me-  Excuse me!  You can’t go back there without an appointment!  Bokuto!”

Akaashi really thought that Bokuto’s large stature coming to block your path, still gloved up from his current client, would’ve deterred you, but you simply shouldered past him, a white-knuckled grip on a small black binder.  You stopped in front of him, the tattoo artist whose work you had admired on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook.  The one who drove you to want to pick up the trade yourself.  The one who was known for turning potential apprentices away at the door without so much as humoring them with a glance at their portfolio.  

It was the binder slamming down on his table, sending pens scattering across the floor that finally forced those amber eyes up in your direction, unamusement painted over his features.  

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Y/N. I’m your new apprentice.”

{taglist: @boosyboo9206 // please send an ask or a dm to be added for future updates}

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hi Mimi 🥰

Congrats on your follower milestone!!!

For your event, may I request "Here Comes The Sun" by the Beetles with Tup x Fem!Reader? (I decided against the bass 😂)

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Thank you so much love @the-bad-batch-baroness!

This was such a good request, not only do I love the Beetles, but I love Tup, and we were robbed of his screen time.

I hope you love my take on this song.

Also 'euk cyar'ika' means little darling/sweetheart. Close enough. ;)

Love oo.

Here Comes The Sun

Warnings: Mentions of tattoo meanings, discussions of slavery, murder, prison, killing, saving, surviving, tenderness, kissing. If I miss anything, please let me know.

Main Master List   | Star Wars Jukebox Roulette |   AO3 Link

You had a crush on Tup from the first moment you met him.

It didn’t surprise you when you both quickly became friends, after all he had a calming and friendly personality, which made it easy for him to become friends with just about anyone. You smiled as you tilted your head while you had lunch with him.

“What is it, mesh’la?”

“Why a teardrop tattoo? I don’t get it. I mean it looks good, but usually a teardrop tattoo signifies a prison term or the fact you’re a murderer. Which you aren’t.”

“Aren’t I?” Tup lowered his utensils and looked at you, a soft smile on his face, “I may not be in prison, but I am an indentured servant to the Republic. I may not have killed out of necessity, greed, or even passion, but am I not killing when I’m in battle?”

“But you’re a soldier.”

“Does that make it more acceptable to take a life?” He shook his head, “I’m sorry mesh’la, maybe this is a bit too heavy-handed a topic for lunch.”

You reached your hand forward and took his, “Is that what you think of yourself, a prisoner who commits murder?”

“Am I wrong?”

You let out a sigh, as you tugged him to his feet to follow you. You guided him to your quarters, and pulled out a holopic display that hung on one of the shelving units. He watched as you swiped through several pictures, until you found the one of your village. 

“This was my village.”

“Was?”

You nodded, “Separatist droids came in and wiped most of them out. There’s only a handful of us left. What they did,” you pointed to the picture, “was murder. You aren’t killing people, Tup. You’re saving them. It’s because of soldiers like you, that my village … whatever is left of it is able to keep surviving. Plus you’re not killing your dismantling droids.”

Despite the turmoil within him, he couldn’t help but feel a weight had lifted off his shoulder. As his eyes drifted to your face, he could feel his soul healing, as though the long, cold, lonely winter that had been his existence since he emerged from his growth chamber had finally started to melt.

He felt his first genuine smile return to his face as he looked at you, he let out a slight chuckle, “You surprise me mesh’la.”

“Me?”

“Mmhmm,” he nodded as he put back your holopic display back to its original spot. “No one has ever … no, no one was ever concerned about my thoughts or even asked me about the teardrop tattoo.” He turned to look at you, “No one bothered to ask, about what I felt inside. What had been tormenting me since the very beginning, but you…”

He closed the distance between the two of you, his gaze was full of his own heart’s desire. He wanted to tell you so many times, countless times of what you meant to him. He gently reached up and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin under his finger. 

“You’re the only one that sees me. It’s as though you’re my sun, you make everything alright, just with your smile alone.” His other hand reached up to cup your cheeks, almost keeping your head there, looking up into his eyes.

“Because of you, euk cyar’ika, the ice that has surrounded my heart since the day I was born has finally started to melt. Because of you …” he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your face. 

Your hands moved, holding his forearms, you weren’t sure if it was to steady yourself or to keep him close.

“Because of you, there’s sun in my life, ner euk cyar’ika” he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours, wanting, needing to pour out everything he had felt for you since the moment you came into his life. 

Main Master List   | Star Wars Jukebox Roulette |   AO3 Link

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal @crosshair-is-the-superior-clone @totallyunidentified @griffedeloup @leotatombs @leotawrites

[tired-teacher-blog]

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Mature content ahead so please be warned : 18+

How long has it been precisely? Can you truly tell?

Two months one week and six days..

Of course you can, how can you not? Those days have been your dearest and most treasured after all, and even now, you still cannot truly believe that he has welcomed you into his life and Eri's.

Your feelings for the both are growing each minute that passes, and you can no longer picture your life without either one of them.

You beam cheerfully as you look at your tattoo again, it's fully healed and looks stunning, you love it, even more so because he was the one inking it.

"Hello beautiful, I'm taking Eri over to Kayama's house now, she's excited but says she misses you. I'll see you in a bit."

Your smile widens as you read his message again, it's Saturday and you have agreed to spend the night at his place, and it is to be the first time ever that you do so.

You weren't exactly sure what it meant when he suggested it— and you still aren't, does he perhaps have something special in mind? He even insisted on sending Eri to Ms Kayama's house so you can be alone for the night.

You have never spoken about being intimate before, sure, you have kissed, held hands, hugged, cuddled, and that's about it, but something feels different this time.

Secretly, you wish your expectations are correct, you are ready to move forward in your relationship but never really had the courage to initiate anything beyond the usual, so maybe tonight.. who knows..

_ "Hi." he greets you with a grin as soon as you open the door, and you immediately jump in his arms with a cheerful squeal.

You miss him a lot, and even though you see him every evening when he comes to work, it's still not enough because you don't get to hold and kiss him like you wish you could.

_ "Hi." you sneak your arms around his neck and drag him closer for a kiss, your fingers are threading into his hair while his are resting on your hips.

His kisses are always soft and slow, melting you away and fogging up your brain, they are sweet and addictive, just like he is.

_ "So, ready to go?" his whispered words are ghosting over your neck while he nuzzles you there, and you breathe out a "yes" as a shiver runs through your whole body..

You have had dates in his house and yours before, and they've always been casual and fun, sometimes even Eri joins you when you and her insist on it, but tonight is not going to be like any other -you're sure of it- because not only are you going to be home alone with him, but you're also going to spend the night.

Your excitement and anticipation are surprisingly overpowering your nerves, you have a lot of expectations for what to come but what if you're just reading too much into it?

_ "I tried following the recipe to the letter so I hope it came out well," he chuckles nervously while pulling out a chair for you on the dinner table before joining you on the other side of it, "you should've seen Eri trying her hardest to help out, she wanted it to be tasty for you."

_ "She's so sweet," your heart swells up with joy while picturing them together in the kitchen, "it looks appetizing so I'm sure it tastes delicious."

You spend dinner time catching up on each other's news since you haven't been on a date for almost a week, messages and video calls don't count at all because they do nothing to quench your longing for him.

He's as gentle as ever, his voice, his gaze, his smile, his hand cradling yours from across the table, and just everything about this man.

However, you still wish for more of him but the longer time that passes, the further you feel from achieving that, so maybe he truly just invited you over to spend the night and that's that..

_ "Wanna watch a movie or something? I have a few options." he browses through the selection and hums while his eyes study the titles, but all you can focus on is his slender form in a simple white tank top and grey sweatpants, bringing to light the ink covering his buff arms and chest that you cannot repress the urge to run your fingers along them, and so you do.

He flinches at the sudden contact and you instantly retrieve your hand in shame, what were you thinking?

_ "I'm sorry I was just, admiring your tattoos." you try lightening the mood with a shy giggle, but his face remains stoic and your heart drops to your stomach with regret.

How long is he going to stare at you without saying a word?

_ "Aizawa, what's.." but your words are cut short as he pulls you flush against his chest, crashing your lips together without a warning and sneaking his hands under your shirt to squeeze your flesh between his fingers.

_ "It's Shouta." he sounds huskier than usual as he comments between hungry kisses, and you moan a response because that's the only thing you're capable of voicing.

Shouta.. as much as you wished to, you have never called him that before -not aloud anyway- because in your dreams, in your head, in your private time with yourself, he's always been just Shouta to you, and now he's asking you straightforwardly to use the name.

You want to say it out loud, to scream it, to whimper it, but his mouth is devouring yours still.

His body heat is flowing to yours and your eager hands are roaming his protruding pecs, digging your nails into his skin because you need the reassurance that what's happening right now is real.

_ "Shou.." you struggle against his lips and it's like a switch has been turned on in his brain, the growl he lets out afterwards weakens your legs, but he's there to pick you up in his arms and stumble to his bedroom hurriedly.

You have never been to his chamber before, never thought the day would come when you'll actually be, but your once unreachable wish is now a reality as he sinks you both on his plush mattress.

_ "Is this okay?" he whispers breathlessly against your abused lips, hovering over you while his eyes search your face for a permission to carry on.

_ "Yes, it's fine." your hands are on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quickening under your touch, but you still want more.

You're longing for his bare skin against yours, for his lips all over your body, for his fingers reaching your deepest depths, "Shouta, are we..?" you're still unused to using his name casually, but the thrill coming with it is euphoric.

_ "Only if you're comfortable with it." and he truly wishes you are, his lust for you is too obvious to miss.

You say nothing after that, but your hands answer him instead as they slowly start unbuttoning your cute lace blouse while your eyes are fixed on his eager expression.

It's a little flustering to be exposed to him, what would he think of you? Do you look pretty enough for him? What if he doesn't like what he sees? What if..

_ "You're beautiful." and his response to your unvoiced questions comes to pull you back to reality.

You smile sheepishly and welcome him back in your arms, tracing his neck and shoulders as he peppers kisses on your lips, cheeks, jawline, neck, until you start giggling uncontrollably.

He leans back to gaze at you, a gleam in his eyes as he rids you of the blouse still clinging to your body, grazing your sides and belly and licking his lips seductively before diving in to kiss you there.

_ "Sho.. Shouta." you arch off the bed seeking more of the mouth doing wonders to you, closing your eyes and biting down on your lip as his stubble scrapes against your skin.

_ "Yes, I'm right here." his voice is low and tantalizing, messing with your head and sending waves of warmth deep to your guts.

Your fingers move along his slender neck until they reach his hair, tugging it gently everytime he decides to nibble on your flesh. He's tormenting you, and your patience is running low already.

His lips travel upward, covering the expanse of your smooth skin and leaving a trail of saliva and goosebumps behind, to stop right at your breasts.

He looks up, dark irises searching yours for a sign of hesitation, but he finds none, only lidded eyes silently begging him to carry on, and so he does.

He quickly unhooks your bra and slides it off of you before tossing it away where your blouse is discarded.

He's staring, intently, and it's making you cautious about laying bare underneath him, "st.. stop looking at me like that." you whine frustratedly while shifting your gaze and bringing your arms up to hide yourself behind them, but he's faster than you are, grabbing your wrists and pinning them over your head.

_ "I'm sorry but, I can't help it." he leans in again, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his hands leave yours to caress down your body, exploring you slowly and thoroughly until finally cupping your breasts.

You shudder in suprise and let out a moan that he thirstily swallows, his hands are big, warm and gentle, fondling your mounds and circling his thumbs around your perked up nipples.

Your breath hitches at once when you feel his growing bulge nudging your thigh, and suddenly everything becomes real.

This is happening, it's no longer just in your head..

You buck your hips against his own unintentionally, and he lets out a muffled hiss as his lips leave yours.

_ "Wait, don't do that." he groans against your neck while squeezing his eyes shut.

What's happening? Did you do something wrong?

_ "I'm sorry Shouta, I'm.."

Good job ruining the mood.

_ "No, no that's not it," he interjects with a worried smile, "you're just so enticing that I don't think I'm able to handle anymore teasing."

You heave a sigh of relief hearing his words, here you thought he might've hated your impulsive advance when in reality he has enjoyed it a bit too much, and you find yourself tempted to do it again, just so you could relish his flustered expression once more.

_ "This makes me so happy.." you whisper a response as your nails rake his arms teasingly, peering at him through your lashes with an inviting gaze.

His lips ghost over your neck and collarbone, placing the softest kisses in their path until they reach your luscious plumpness, "you look delicious." and his brazen words travel through every vein in your body.

His tongue darts out to lick your sensitive nipples one at a time, humming pleasurably as he does, and the wild sensation he's casually providing you, clouds up your brain and messes with your sanity.

He nibbles on your flesh, relishing your cute trembles and sweet sounds of his name moving past your lips as he engulfs your swollen teats into his mouth and devours you hungrily. Growls of pleasure vibrate against your skin as they leave his throat, and greedy hands move lower and lower until they reach your pants to hastily unbutton and lower them to your knees.

_ "Take them off of me, Shouta.." you request breathlessly while writhing underneath him, you're strangely comfortable with every move he's making and wish to dive deeper into this sensation.

_ "You got it beautiful." he mumbles with a mouthful of your flesh, wasting no time to yank off the garment and leave you only in a pair of silk lavender panties that's elegantly wrapped around your most delicate parts.

A gush of cold air hits your skin as he releases your bud with a shameless pop to sit up and observe you, his dark eyes blaze with passion while taking in every single detail of your luscious curves and you suddenly miss the feeling of his mouth on you, arching your back in hopes of making it clear.

He chuckles heartily and places his warm hands on your sides, hooking his fingers in the hem of your undergarment teasingly before running a digit along your covered pussy.

You twitch under his touch and he groans at your reaction before diving in to peck you there, "relax, this is fine right?"

_ "Yeah, yeah it is." you squeeze your eyes shut and spread out your legs further for him to bury his face there, biting hard on your lip and grabbing onto the bedsheets as he grazes his teeth along your panties.

His tongue is hot and tantalizing, tormanting you through the thin fabric with slow wet licks and trails on your concealed crevice.

Your fingers leave the bedding and thread through his hair as he laps you up faster, soaking the frail garment and stimulating you more.

_ "Shouta, please.."

Has it ever crossed your mind that you might possibly be this intimate with the man? Well, perhaps, but only in your mind when you'd spend hours upon hours daydreaming about him, and even then, it has always felt embarrassing and awkward to have such indecent fantasies about him, but this, this isn't embarrassing nor is it awkward and you fail to understand why, but you love it, and that's all you know.

_ "Uhum, what is it? Tell me." he whispers gruffly.

What you want is more of him, what you need is his mouth directly against your folds, but you cannot possibly voice your desire.

He smirks with a feral look in his eyes, "I got it," swiftly sliding off your panties and throwing them away, "this is what you want right?" and he doesn't even wait for you to reply before planting soft kisses on your trembling thighs and placing them carefully on his shoulders, moving in slowly to lick the outlines of the puffy lips and finally push his way to your glistening slit.

The foreign sensation is driving you mad, being devoured by him has certainly been beyond your wildest dreams, yet here you are, his lips are pressed against your lower ones and his warm tongue is slowly moving between your fluttering hole and reddening clit, twisting and rolling deliciously along your slick folds.

_ " Shouta.. right there." the knot in your belly is tightening as he draws your puffy clit into his mouth, sucking it hungrily while his satisfied humms vibrate deep within you.

His grip on your thighs tenses as you start writhing and moaning beneath him, "I can't, I'm cumming, Shouta!" you cry out a warning and grab onto his hands while a wild shudder shakes you to the core, and he doesn't pull away, not yet, not until your pulsating cunt finally slows, and your tense body falls limp.

He gently lowers your legs and arises from between them, slick coated lips glistening and heavy eyes gleaming with animalistic desire while roaming your sprawled frame.

_ "How are you feeling?" his voice is low and gentle, and his thumbs are caressing your sides as he asks.

_ "I'm.. good.. so good." and your breathing is labored as you strive to keep your gaze on him through blurry eyes, the tingling sensation running throughout your body is unbearable and your thirst for him is yet to be quenched.

You want him out of his clothes already, to touch his bare skin and feel his warmth, and the little chuckle he lets out tells you he understands what's on your mind.

He swiftly lifts his shirt over his head and drops it to the ground, his raven hair falls around his face and the look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you reach out a shaky hand to run along his inked skin, and for a moment there you get lost in the beautiful details of the art adorning him, you see it all now, every last bit of it as nothing is concealing it away.

He grabs your wrist gently and kisses you there, right where he etched your red rose a few weeks ago, "I love this, it has brought you to my life."

_ "Shouta.." warmth is spreading throughout you whole, as the sincerity of his statement is filling your heart with joy, "me too, it's like a part of you is always with me."

You welcome him in your arms as he lays on top you, bare chests pressed together and eager lips devouring each other in a passionate liplock. You can feel his bulge, hard as a rock against your thigh, and your eagerness to have it buried deep within you is too great to contain.

You roll your hips faintly against him and swallow the surprised gasp he lets out, you can tell he's barely holding on to his sanity when he starts thrusting shallowly against you, but that's hardly enough..

He breaks the kiss to sit up again, parading the huge stiffness formed underneath the confinement of his pants, and running his fingers through his hair while observing your reaction.

This is torture that only he can end, and you actually beg him to, "please hurry Shouta, I can't wait any longer."

That's the only thing he needed to hear you utter before carefully lowering his sweatpants and boxers and freeing his raging cock, "me neither beautiful."

Your eyes widen and your breath gets caught in your throat as his veiny shaft bounces against his abdomen, he looks away as a faint blush dusts his cheeks and you find him almost.. cute, if not for the twitching length pointing to you.

You want to touch it, to guide it to your expectant pussy, but you do not possess the audacity to do so, settling for spreading your legs a bit wider instead.

He leans over to open his nightstand's drawer and rummage through it a bit before pulling out a pack of condoms, hastily taking one out and tossing the rest back.

Has he always had those or did he prepare them especially for tonight?

_ "I got these a couple of weeks ago for a night like this, but I was never going to pressure you into anything I promise." he smiles sweetly while answering your unvoiced question.

You know that though, you trust him wholeheartedly and are certain he would never force you to do anything you're uncomfortable with, "I'm glad you did Shouta, because I'm ready."

You observe fervently as he rolls on the rubber and gives himself a few pumps before aligning his length with your pulsating cunt, "brace yourself babe," he groans through clenched teeth before easing himself into you with a strangled "fuck" leaving his throat.

Your body tenses and eyes widen because of the inevitable twinge of the first intrusion, he's big, stretching you out and filling you to the brim, but he's also there for you, leaning in to kiss your forehead and guide your breathing while rubbing soothing circles on your sides, "I won't move yet, so don't worry."

You follow his instructions and take deep breaths, digging your nails in his shoulders to keep from whimpering. It's obviously hard for him to stay still but he's patiently waiting for you to give him permission to move, and the realization warms up your heart.

_ "I'm fine Shouta, you can move now." to be frank, it is a bit painful still, but your lust for him is even more aching.

He slowly pulls back to the tip and pushes in again just as slowly, his heavy breaths are tickling your face and his hands are squeezing your flesh to keep himself in check.

You cradle his cheeks and look deeply into his eyes with a dazed smile brightening your features, and the little chuckle he lets out swells your heart.

_ "What is it? Why are you smiling at me?" he teases playfully.

_ "I just, I want to ensure this is reality."

His eyes widen hearing your response, but soon, his expression softens once more and he captures your lips in a breathtaking kiss that messes with your brain.

He starts moving again, steadily and carefully, pushing in and out of your warmth as your kiss deepens, it's fiery and sensual, bringing shockwaves of pleasure to the tip of your belly.

His lips part from yours to lay hasty pecks on your cheeks and jawline before moving lower to latch onto your neck while his thrusts gradually quicken.

_ "Shouta, keep going please, just like that." the initial discomfort is finally gone and replaced with an arousing sensation, you shakily wrap your arms around him and whimper his name repeatedly as he bites on your collarbone and pushes faster and deeper.

Remnants of your first orgasm are already coaxing a second one to come, and his skillful plunges and tormenting kisses are driving you mad as your pussy squeezes around him.

_ "Ah fuck.. you feel so good inside that I won't be able to hold out much longer." he growls against your flesh as his thrusts become erratic and his fingers dig deeper into the soft flesh of your buttocks.

_ "Me too! Shouta please! I'm cumming again!" you cry out through strangled whimpers and wrap your strained legs around his waist to bring him even closer.

It doesn't take much longer after that for you to wail his name over and over again until a splintering bliss ripples through your whole being, and you're left shuddering with mind blowing ecstacy.

He sits up at once, hips snapping against yours and pounding mercilessly into your pulsating walls as you ride out your orgasm, his eyes shine across the dimly lit room as he fills up his senses with the sight of you; spent body shimmering in a sheen of sweat and a deep flush, puffy lips mouthing his name repeatedly, disheveled hair strewn over the pillow, trembling fists grasping onto the bedsheets beneath you, and he loses his mind at that instance, low groans escaping his mouth as he thrusts one last time before his hips finally still, buried deep into your warmth as his pearly seeds fill up the condom.

You welcome him between your arms as he collapses on top of you, and you can feel his heart pounding against your chest while his hot breath tickles your cheek.

You're too exhausted to move a muscle, but cannot fight the smile appearing on your face, tonight was perfect, he is perfect.

He shifts a little to slip out of you with a groan leaving his throat and a gasp leaving yours, your walls are left empty, clenching around nothing as he peels off the rubber and tosses it in the trashcan nearby.

_ "Are you okay?" he coos softly, lips brushing against your ear.

_ "Yes, you were very gentle with me." your eyes are heavy and already closing as you reply.

_ "Well, you're my lady."

You yelp in surprise when he picks you up in his arms and gets out of bed, walking straight to the bathroom with you clutching on to his shoulders, "and now all I need you to do is relax and allow me to take care of everything." he requests with a smile while putting the toilet lid down and placing you gently atop it before turning on warm water to fill the tub.

_ "I'm all yours, Shouta."

To be continued..

[fruitydiaz]

find a way an exploration of the time when Shannon found out she was pregnant, Eddie enlisted, and he got his ‘find a way’ tattoo. 3,992 words AO3 link

Eddie gets his first tattoo on a Wednesday.

It’s the kind of spontaneous, rash, reckless, spur-of-the-moment decision that his parents are always accusing him of making, though he rarely ever actually does.

Two weeks ago, Shannon told Eddie she was pregnant. She’d called him up and the tremble of her voice had him out of his house and down her street in a matter of minutes. He’d found her in her mom’s living room with the small piece of plastic held tight in her hands.

“Shannon?” He’d called to her, walking cautiously towards the couch. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her lips pressed tight together. She lifted her hands a bit, the test shaking between her fingers.

“I—” She’d started before shaking her head. She tried to speak a few more times but she kept getting choked up and giving up halfway through. It was painful to watch.

Eddie rushed forward, dropping to his knees in front of her and taking the test from her hands. He swallowed hard when he looked down at it, the thin blue lines glaring back at him. His first thought is to curse himself out in his head. He should’ve been more careful—but there’d be plenty of time to berate himself later. Now wasn’t the time.

“What do you want to do?” Eddie asked, carefully setting the test down on the coffee table behind him, as if it were made of glass and not cheap plastic. He turned his attention back to Shannon, wrapping one hand around her knee to keep it from shaking.

“I don’t know, Eddie,” Shannon cried. “I don’t—I don’t know how to be somebody’s mom. I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mom.”

“I’m scared,” she said, and Eddie swallowed the me too on his tongue. He wasn’t allowed to be scared. Not like this. Not with her.

“We’ll figure something out,” he had said. “We’ll find a way. Together. You and me.”

Since then, they haven’t told a single soul, save for Shannon’s mom, because Shannon tells her everything. But nobody else knows.

It wasn’t something they had planned. Obviously they’d gotten careless and now they’re two expecting parents, just barely adults themselves, trying to prepare for an entirely different future that neither one of them had ever anticipated.

It’s scary to realize at 22 years old that you’re going to be a father. One minute, you’re in school, counting down the minutes before you can bust out of the metal doors and stain your jeans green sliding around the baseball field with your friends; the next minute, you’re hot on your dad’s heals, following him around oil rigs, absorbing all of the information you can and trying your best not to look like the kid you are. You’re barely old enough to buy your own liquor one minute, and the next, you’re preparing to buy baby formula and diapers.

A lot of people plan for things like this. If Eddie had been smart enough and responsible enough, he definitely would’ve planned ahead for something like this. He wouldn’t be 22, for one. He’d be married for another. And he’d have an actual plan for what he wanted to do with his life. Instead he’s here, 22 years old, no college degree, barely any money in savings, still living at home with his parents, and working with his dad.

Most days, he tries to tell himself that there’s nothing wrong with that. There were plenty of jobs in town to go around. Many of the boys he went to school with stayed home and picked up different shift jobs around town, or worked the rigs with him. A few, though, had signed up for the army. With too-bright, too-naive grins on their faces, they had proudly announced that it was their one-way ticket out of El Paso.

Eddie remembered being a little jealous at the time. The idea of getting away from his parents and away from El Paso was starting to feel more and more like a pipe dream every day.

A part of him must have held onto the idea, though, because a few months before Shannon’s announcement, after a particularly hard week at home, he’d started considering enlisting again. He even went as far as walking into a recruitment office, signing up for the ASVAB, and taking the test a few days later. His scores were good enough he just—didn’t believe that was his path.

Now, though. With a child on the way and a new family to support, he’s started to think about it again, turning the idea over in his mind every night as he lay awake in bed, envisioning his future.

Shannon won’t be able to work soon, not while pregnant and not while nursing Christopher. And Eddie knows firsthand not only how expensive kids can be but how much time and energy they take to raise. Ramon had been gone a lot when the girls were younger, so it often fell to Eddie to help is mom out.

He needs to make the right decision here. He needs to be able to support his family—but if he leaves, how much can he really be supporting them? More than anything, Eddie just wants to do the right thing, he’s just not entirely sure what that is.

The day he makes his decision, he finds himself outside a tattoo shop with his cousin.

“I got my first tattoo here,” Jaime says proudly, twisting to show off the design wrapped around his bicep. “They’re cheap and good; can’t go wrong.”

“I don’t even know what I’d get,” Eddie says, staring at the flash sheets taped all over the windows.

The tattoo on Jaime’s arm is biomechanical in design; like the skin has been torn away to show the cold mechanical underside. It suits Jaime, Eddie thinks, he just doesn’t think it would suit him.

There’s a variety of designs plastered along the storefront, a lot of bold black and white lines, splashes of color here and there, some floral pieces, some gothic lettering.

“You’ll figure it out, man. Trust me.”

Eddie lets Jaime talk to the artists first, lingering around the edges of the shop and taking all of the art in.

He’s not much of an artist himself. He’d enjoyed it as a kid, especially when Adriana and Sophia were born. He’d pull out their rattiest coloring books and drop a bucket of pencils onto the table, tearing the pages out of the book and challenging them each to a race to see who could color in their pictures the fastest.

It was fun. But eventually, Ramon would come back home, see Eddie coloring with his sisters, and cast a disapproving look on him before pulling him aside.

“You don’t have time to be playing with crayons, Edmundo,” His dad would say, towering over him. “You’re the man of the house now. You need to step up and act like it.”

He was 10 years old then. He’d spent the last 12 years trying to live up to that idea.

If his parents were here now, they’d be giving Jaime all kinds of hell for taking Eddie to a place like this. And then they’d turn on Eddie, telling him how he should know better, how he shouldn’t even be hanging out with Jaime in the first place. 

But his parents aren’t here. He watches Jaime pull some cash out of his wallet before handing it to the artist over the counter and thinks, fuck it. He’s old enough to have a kid; he’s old enough to make his own decisions.

He strides up to the counter and the artist greets him with a quick nod.

“You know what you want?”

“Yeah—yeah, I do.”

Jaime shoots him a knowing grin before following his artist toward the back of the shop, and the guy at the counter slides Eddie over some forms to sign.

–

He was nine years old the first time his dad had taken him out into the field to check out one of the rigs. Helena had managed to keep him from them for as long as she could, allowing Ramon to drag Eddie along to sit in his cubicle while he attended meeting after meeting, but drawing the line at actually going out into the field. She’d said it was too dangerous for a kid; Helena had wanted Eddie to stay soft in many ways. Ramon had very different ideas. And nine years old, according to Ramon, was very nearly an adult, so he’d managed to convince her to let him take Eddie along just to tour.

Eddie had already become familiar with the people at Ramon’s office by then, all of the very important, very smart people that Ramon always boasted about working with. Meeting the men on the rig was different. They regarded Eddie with a certain kindness, had demonstrated to him how different parts of the rig worked, and told him about the different parts of the land they were digging into.

“There are a lot of good men on this rig,” Ramon said by the end of the day, steering Eddie to his truck. “A lot of men doing hard work to provide for their families. That’s what we do as men, Edmundo.”

“Right, dad,” Eddie nodded, holding his hard hat in his hands, still too large to fit on his head properly.

“A lot of people don’t want to see us succeed. But we’re just like them—we work hard and we support our families. Even if it means doing the dirty work.”

There was a lot about Ramon’s job that Eddie didn’t understand. All of the meetings, for one. And all of his travel. He was never home. All Eddie knew was that he didn’t want to be like his dad when he grew up. He didn’t want to be an engineer. He didn’t want to spend all day in meetings or sitting in a cubicle. Most of all he didn’t want to spend so much time away from his family.

He wanted to do something with his hands. Good things, honorable things.

“No matter what life throws at you, Edumundo,” Ramon said seriously, facing Eddie. “You find a way.”

–

The artist hands him a binder to flip through, a portfolio filled with black and white images of the shop's different lettering examples. There’s an overwhelming number to choose from; admittedly Eddie’s never given much thought to font choices.

In the end, he chooses a soft cursive font, one that reminds him of his abuelo’s handwriting and makes him feel rooted. He gets it on the inside of his wrist, unassuming but a constant reminder nonetheless.

When he gets back home that night, his parents are angry with him the second he steps through the front door. 

He should’ve known the private bubble he and Shannon had built around themselves could only last so long before it burst. Eddie’s parents have heard through the neighborhood gossip that she’s pregnant. He’d been meaning to tell them, to face them like a man and own up to his faults, but he hadn’t been ready yet. He’d just needed to come up with a plan on his own, to make his own decisions without his parents looming over his shoulder, telling him what they knew was best. He’d just needed some more time, is all.

They’re waiting by the door when he walks in, his mom pacing back and forth in the entryway while Ramon hangs back, leaning against the wall with folded arms, watching.

“How could you let this happen?” Helena asks as soon as Eddie’s shuts the door behind him. He barely opens his mouth to respond before she keeps going. “We raised you to be smarter than this, Eddie. To make better decisions than this.”

He presses his lips together and leans back against the door, a well-practiced look of indifference on his face. He’d hoped for more time but he’d been prepared to hear all of this eventually. He knew his parents well enough by now; it was inevitable.

“The neighbors are all talking about you two now, did you know that? I had to find out from Iliana down the street that my own son got some girl pregnant. Eddie, she’s barely out of high school. You’re barely out of high school!”

“She’s not just some girl,” Eddie interjects, but it’s a lost cause. He and Shannon were dating long before he graduated, but his parents have never liked her.  They never once thought she was good enough for him. This is just the proof they’d been waiting for.

“I don’t understand where we went wrong?” Helena continues like Eddie never said anything. “What are your sisters going to think, huh? Did you ever think about how this would affect them?”

No? Eddie thinks bitterly, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, searching for reprieve.

“What are you going to do about this, Edmundo?” His dad asks finally, his quiet voice cutting through Helena’s like a hot knife through butter. She stops and glances back at Ramon before facing Eddie again, eyebrows raised.

Eddie swallows, squaring his shoulders and raising his chin, the way his father always taught him.

“I’m going to marry her,” He says. The silence stretches between them, a quiet stand-off between Eddie and his parents.

“What?” Helena exclaims, huffing out a humorless laugh. “Now you’re going to marry her? You’re just a child, Edmundo, you’re not ready for marriage.”

“I can’t leave her to raise our kid on her own,” Eddie snaps back. His chest burns and he crosses his arms in front of him, his hands balling into fists. “Dad always said it’s our duty as men to support our families, didn’t you? Well, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“This girl isn’t your family,” Helena says.

“Shannon is my family now. I’ve made my decision and you’re not going to change my mind. I’m an adult and I can make my own choices. This is what we’re going to do. It’s the right thing.”

Helena’s mouth twists and she looks back at Ramon, who watches Eddie with a steady gaze. Neither one of them says anything. When she turns back to Eddie her eyes catch on the bandage wrapped around his wrist.

“What is that?” She asks, taking a step towards him. He sighs and drops his arms, tugging his sleeve down over his wrist.

“I got a tattoo,” He says, all his earlier bravado dying somewhere in his throat.

“A tattoo? Oh my god,” Helena throws her hands up, spinning around to face Ramon. “First, he gets a girl pregnant, then he wants to get married, and now he’s getting tattoos?”

“In the grand scheme of things I really think the tattoo is not that big of deal,” Eddie mumbles, mostly to himself, sneaking by his parents and escaping up to his room. 

His dad finds him alone later that night.

“Come to lecture me some more?” Eddie says dryly, raising an eyebrow at him. Ramon steps towards his bed, settling down on the edge and giving him a soft smile.

“I came to tell you that I’m proud of you.”

Eddie raises his other eyebrow. “Really.”

“I’m not happy about the circumstances. But you are taking responsibility. You may be doing it faster than I wanted, in a way I never wanted, but you’re becoming the man I always wanted you to be. So, yes, I’m proud of you, Edmundo.”

And—Eddie can’t lie. For all of his anger and all of his pain, all he’s ever wanted was a chance to make his dad proud. It seemed like he’d been fighting his whole life just to hear those words. Now that he’s heard them, he doesn’t quite know what to do with them, or himself.

“We can talk to Stephen tomorrow,” Ramon continues, eyes shining. “You’ve been doing good work these past few months, maybe we can get you a better position, something with more money.”

“I’m not working at the rig.”

“It’s a good job. You need one to support your family.”

“I’m enlisting, Dad.”

Ramon freezes, mouth closing in shock. For a moment, Eddie sees a flash of fear in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes.

“What?”

“I’m enlisting. They need men. And—the benefits are good. They’ll take care of Shannon and the baby while I’m gone and—and I’ll get to do something good. For the country.”

He’s practiced this speech in his head all week—not for his dad but for Shannon. He hasn’t even told her yet but he knows this is the right decision. His heart’s not in it but—for the country—his dad will like that.

Shannon won’t. He already knows what she’ll say, it’s been playing over and over in his mind all week.

For the country? I don’t give a fuck about the country, Eddie! I’m having your baby and I need you here with me.

He traces the bandage around his tattoo gently.

His dad is quiet for a moment and Eddie can see him turning the idea over in his mind, analyzing it just as carefully as he has every decision Eddie’s ever made. Eddie swallows his nerves and keeps his eyes trained on Ramon, jaw steady.

“War is a serious thing, Edmundo,” Is what he says eventually, eyes dropping to Eddie’s shoulder.

“I know that. This is…what I want to do.”

“Your mother won’t like this,” Ramon says carefully, eyes finally lifting to meet Eddie’s again.

“No, she won’t. I’ll give her some time before I tell her. Let her get over the marriage and the tattoo.”

“She just wants you to make smart choices.”

Eddie snorts, rolling his head back on his shoulders. “Sorry to disappoint. Again.”

They lapse into silence again. Eddie finally looks away from his dad, leaning back against the wall and staring up at his ceiling. He’s already mapped out the next few months with his recruiter, planning the fastest route to get all of his training done before the baby is born. He’ll get a house with Shannon, get her set up somewhere nice, a place of their own. They’ll make friends on base and she’ll have people there with her to help her through her pregnancy. They won’t be alone anymore. They’ll be okay; he’s taking care of it.

He’ll probably already be shipped off when she gives birth, if he's done the math correctly. But he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there. This is good for now.

“You know, I could go with you, if you want. When you sign up,” Ramon says suddenly. Eddie blinks at him. “For the army.”

“I already did. I took my test a few months back. I just gotta pass the physical and then I’m good to start training.”

“Oh,” Ramon’s eyes drift back to Eddie’s shoulder, then to the bed. “Well…that is good. You’re determined.”

“I am,” Eddie says.

It doesn’t feel like a complete lie, but it doesn’t feel completely true either. Eddie’s starting to wonder if he’ll ever feel like he’s on solid ground again.

He tells Shannon a few days later.

They’re eating lunch at their favorite restaurant. Shannon’s not showing yet but Eddie swears she already has that glow about her. Shannon says it’s just the way her sweat shines under the Texas sun. Sometimes when Eddie looks at her the only thing he feels is scared out of his mind; other times he thinks she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“My mom keeps telling me all these horror stories about pregnancy and everything that could possibly go wrong. It’s great,” She says dryly, salting their fries heavily before popping a few in her mouth.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Eddie assures her, knocking some of the freshly salted fries out of the way and digging out the ones underneath.

“It’s still terrifying.”

Eddie nods, looking down at his tray. He’s been anxious about telling Shannon his plans all day. After telling his parents, telling Shannon feels like climbing a completely different mountain. He needs a completely different tactic; different gear, a different route, a different mindset. Eddie’s spent his whole life disappointing his parents. He doesn’t want to start off this new chapter of his relationship with Shannon by fucking it up—though it kind of feels like he already has.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” He says carefully, peeking up at Shannon. She narrows her eyes at him.

“Hmm. Is that why you’ve been acting weird all day?”

Eddie shrugs.

“Okay, what is it?”

“I think we should get married.”

He says it quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth in one breath. Shannon stares at him, stunned, and he stares back at her, frankly equally stunned. That’s not exactly how he thought he’d start, but it is a start.

“I’m going to enlist.”

Shannon’s eyes grow even wider and she drops her hand down to the table, fries forgotten.

“Are you kidding me?” She says eventually.

“Look—my job at the rig doesn’t pay enough for the both of us let alone the three of us. You’re not gonna be able to work with a baby on the way. The army will set us up with a house, I’ll have a consistent paycheck with benefits, and we’ll be taken care of.”

Shannon leans forward and when she speaks her voice is low and sharp. “And where are you going to be when I have our baby, Eddie?”

He shrinks a little. “I have a few months to work that out. But this’ll be good for us, baby. I mean, it’s the only option, really.”

“The only option?” Shannon repeats incredulously. Eddie nods, grabbing his soda and taking a sip before continuing.

“Look, Shannon. I know this isn’t…exactly what either of us wanted. Not right now, at least. But we’re having a baby. And I love you so much I just want to do the best for you and our kid. This is gonna be the rest of our lives, you know?”

“Yeah, the rest of our lives is going to start with me in a hospital room and you on the other side of the world in the middle of a warzone. Sounds like a really great start, Eddie.”

“I promise you that I am going to do whatever I can to be there with you when it matters,” He says honestly, reaching out to grab her hand. “I’ll find a way, I promise.”

They’re silent for a while, picking at their food and letting the idea of their new future settle around them. Shannon takes a deep breath eventually and narrows her eyes at Eddie.

“You’ve already enlisted, haven’t you?”

Eddie shrugs. “I haven’t committed to anything.”

“God, I just had to get with the most stubborn man on the planet.”

“And you love me,” Eddie says, flashing a smile and praying the tremor in his jaw doesn’t give him away.

Shannon studies him. “Yeah, yeah I do. This is a shitty proposal, by the way. I don’t even have a ring.”

“I’ll get you one,” Eddie says quickly, thinking about the overflowing piggy bank he’s kept since he was 9 years old, dreaming up a life far away from here, in LA with his Abuela and tia. “A nice one.”

“Hm,” Shannon hums, finishing off her fries. She brushes her hands off on her thighs, turning something over in her mind before looking at Eddie again. “I’m scared, Eddie.”

He wants to tell her that he is too, but he doesn’t. He feels like he needs to be brave enough for the both of them if they’re going to make this work.

“Don’t be,” He says, reaching for her hand again. “We’ll do this together. Trust me.”

[steveshairychest]

Hiii First off I love your writingg so much and have been following them for a while now freaking love them so muchhhajdjw

And secondd pleasee write something where Steve has gotten a tongue piercing and Eddie is so flustered but obsessed with itt when he finds out Pleaseee I read a post by someone (Sorry I forgot their name) but seriously can't get it out of my minddd

Hii !! Thank you so much !! I'm squeezing you into a hug, you're so sweet! And of course I can write about Steve with a tongue piercing.

It was an impulsive decision made while out of town with Robin. They'd gone away for the weekend for a 'girls trip', as Robin called it. Eddie had tried to sneak into the back-seat after Steve kissed him goodbye, but Robin had dragged him out by his feet and dumped him on the sidewalk and told him to stay like a dog. So, it was just the two of them.

They'd been wandering around the streets, arms linked as they gossiped and window shopped, when Robin abruptly stopped in front of a dark windowed shop. "Let's get piercings." She said excitedly and started pulling Steve towards the red painted door.

"No way. I saw Eddie get his lip pierced and nearly passed out!" Eddie had gotten snake bites 6 months ago and he'd begged Steve to come along because, 'I need my big strong boyfriend to hold my hand.' Steve had fought monsters and ripped a demobat apart with his teeth with no drama, but the sight of his boyfriend with a needle through his lip had made him so queasy he had to go outside.

There was no way he was going to let someone stab him with a needle.

... he let's someone stab him with a needle.

It was the most surreal moment of his life. One minute he's begrudgingly agreeing to get an ear piercing and the next a girl with full tattoo sleeves was holding his tongue in a clamp and telling him to be a good boy and just breathe as she pierced his tongue. He barely even flinched because he couldn't even remember how he got to that point.

The both of them paid and walked out in a daze with fresh new piercings. Steve's tongue ached and Robin could barely smile because she got a smiley piercing, but they were excited. They've never been this impulsive before and it felt good.

They decide to get matching tattoos as well; a small heart behind their ears. Robin swore the reason they got a discount is because of Steve's booty shorts and not because the artist was doing 5% off on small flash art.

When Steve finally got home after dropping Robin off, his tongue was slightly swollen and achey, and Eddie was extremely offended when Steve pushed him away after gently kissing his lips. "What kind of welcome home kiss was that?" Eddie pouted while helping Steve carry his bag inside.

"Sorry, my tongue hurts and I've got a headache- "

"Your tongue hurts?! Why?" Eddie's up in his face instantly. A look of worry crossed his features as he held Steve's face, his thumbs brushed over his cheeks gently. "What happened? Show me. Did you burn your tongue on your coffee again? I've told you - Oh. Oh."

All the worry disappeared from Eddie's face and was replaced with surprise as Steve opened his mouth and stuck out his freshly pierced tongue. "Steve, baby, that is so hot." Steve could feel the way Eddie stopped himself from surging forward to feel the piercing against his own tongue, could see it in the way he bit his pierced bottom lip and groaned. "You're going to be the death of me."

Steve closed his mouth and smiled, hiding the piercing from Eddie's eager eyes. "So, you like it?"

Eddie groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "Do I like it? Stevie, i love it."

"I can't give you head for 3 weeks while it heals."

"Never mind. I hate it. Take it out."

[crybaby-bkg]

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: unnamed civilian being attacked (not graphic), gun violence against villains, mentions of not drinking alcohol due to trauma, more reader cussing out bakugou! Word Count: 3.8k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

“Remember guys; your past does not make you who you are today. It does not define you.” You inform the group in front of you, wonder if they can see just how fake your smile is, if they can hear the disbelief in your own voice. But they all smile back at you, nodding, whispering encouraging words to themselves and the others around you. 

“That’s it for today. See you guys next Wednesday!” You tell them, standing from your chair as you hold open the door for everyone. They shake your hand and thank you as they make their way out, and when they’re all gone, do you finally release the breath you’ve been holding in. 

After what happened to you, while you physically trained your body to become stronger, you also started taking different counseling courses. In only a matter of time did you have your certifications for mental health counseling. Miruko had reached out to you to recommend you to a battered women’s and non-binary person’s shelter, as a person to help guide those who had also been attacked and hurt. They accepted you, and you’ve been counseling the people coming through here regularly on how to heal and work through their trauma. 

But really—you feel like a fraud. You smile in these people’s faces, hold them when they expose their vulnerabilities to you, tell them how to get better, how to come to terms with being a survivor. But you haven’t done any of that for yourself, now have you? 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a certain ringing from your bag nestled in the corner. Its from the radio you had stolen to alert you of certain crimes being committed, positioned on the channel that dealt with sexual attacks and hate crimes. You instantly perk up, pattering over to your bag as you listen in on the report. 

Train station in … Two men … attacking woman … thought to be villain’s … has stopped the line … heroes on duty … report … urgent …

You don’t need to hear anymore, before you suit up and sneak out of the building, ready to put on the mask of being the Red Medusa. 

…

You get there before any hero does, and find yourself on the train after busting out a window in an empty car. You have to go through a few before you catch sight of the villains hovering over an innocent woman, who cowers and sobs on the floor beneath them as they stand over her. It only brings back a torrent of memories that you wished you were strong enough to not let haunt you anymore. 

Get up, bitch, rings in your head, a slimy voice trickling its way down your spine, pools at the base of it, sends chills up your arms. If you turn your head, you think you might still see your attacker, but you ground yourself in the comfort that Miruko smashed his fucking head in all that time ago. You shake yourself out of that, sucking in a deep breath, as you hold your gun at the ready. 

Don’t hesitate, you tell yourself, counting, waiting until the first villain takes a step forward to fire, blasting shards of glass into pieces as the bullet whizzes into the next car. There’s a loud yelp that emits from the man, all three of them turning to you, faces uncovered and eyes ablaze. So were they planning on killing her, since they didn’t care to conceal their identities? Or were they just that damn sure of themselves that she wouldn’t go to the police and rat them out? 

Either way, you don’t let their gnarled faces scare you, the scars and the sharp teeth jutting from the others maw. The first villain stumbles before going down, the wound in his thigh bleeding out profusely, as the woman screeches and backs away from them as much as she can. For a second, there’s a flash of reassurance gracing her features when she looks at you and recognizes the tattoo on your chest, but its quickly wiped away when the second villain goes to pick her up by her upper arm. 

Before he can use her as a shield, you take out both of his knees, barely blinking at the screech that tears from his throat before he, too, drops to the floor. The first one reaches a hand out to you, and you don’t know what his quirk is to prepare, so you shoot him straight through the middle of his palm. Just to be safe. 

He passes out from the pain after a scream, all the while his buddy writhes in agony beside him. The woman stares down at them in horror, before looking to you, as you brush away the glass from your mask. You keep your gun in hand but motion her toward you with the other hand quickly. 

“Cmon, come with me.” You goad her as you open up the door to the car. “We don’t know if they have regenerative powers, so its best we get out of here as soon as we can.” 

The woman only sits on the ground, shaking, her eyes wide and blown out, unseeing. The look is one familiar to you, one that you’ve worn yourself after getting so close to the violence of the world. You just hope it hasn’t touched her in the same way that its touched you. 

You open the car door and walk over to her quickly, kicking the second villain in the knee when he rolls too close to you, ignoring his pained groan as you put yourself between her and the men. She keeps her gaze on you, on the gun, on your tattoo, where your eyes are the only thing exposed in the mask. She doesn’t say anything, even though her body starts hiccuping with sobs that make your heart twist tightly in your chest. You squat in front of her, hiding the gun from her sight as you motion for her to look at you again, and keep her eyes there. 

“I know you’re in panic mode right now, but we have to go, okay? Just focus on me, alright? I got you. I’ll keep you protected.” You reassure her, tone quiet and intimate despite the groaning and screaming of extremities behind you. You reach a hand out to her, slowly, going for her hand, and she lets you hold it, even though she doesn’t hold you back. 

“Okay, let’s get up, now. Slowly, slowly.” You guide her, voice gentle, already aware of how numb she must be from the panic, the fear, how her body has become paralyzed and stiffened like a corpse. But she unfurls from herself, eyes glancing down to the men below her, but you pull her along. 

“Keep your eyes forward, okay? Don’t want you to trip.” You whisper, tugging her to walk in front of you. She’s taller than you and can easily look over your head to see her attackers, but she follows your directions, keeping your hand in hers as she makes her way to the end of the cars. You keep looking over your shoulder to make sure the men are still down, and still don’t feel comforted when you make it to the end of the train and hear the bustle of heroes making their way down. 

You squeeze her hand in yours to get her attention, sheathing your gun as she looks at you. Her eyes have cleared a little, and there’s a bruise forming on her cheek and cuts littering her upper arms and chest you hadn’t noticed before. You swallow, feeling the nape of your neck getting warm as you try to find the right words to tell her. 

“I have to go,” she immediately tries to pull you in, shaking her head quickly as a new wave of panic sets in. “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna leave you in this state, but some heroes are on their way and I can’t be here when they come.” She just keeps shaking her head at you, ears unhearing as tears start to pool in her glassy green eyes. 

“Please don’t leave me. They’ll get up, and they’re gonna hurt me again.” She cries to you, clinging tightly onto your hand. Your heart rate speeds up at the sound of voices coming closer, and you know that its now or never. 

“You’re in good hands now.” You whisper to her, squeezing her hands tight before quickly letting go so she can’t keep you close anymore. You dart off before she can say anything, despite her desperate cries and pleading for you to return, but you hear the voices starting to become clearer and clearer. 

This is the hardest part about being a vigilante—saving people who are still in the height of their panic, still desperate to cling onto the safeness and hope that you bring them. You damn near feel as evil as the bad guys, leaving them in a state like that. But, you can’t get caught. How else will you be able to save the other people who need it if you’re behind bars?

You run on the train tracks, pulling out your civilian clothes as you go. You take not even a minute to switch out, shooting out the camera in the railway before you take your mask off. You hold it in your hands, admiring it for a few seconds as you try to catch your breath. 

This one is all red with black detailing, a large, snarling maw with sharp teeth protruding from it. The material is thick, impenetrable, has bullet proof glass over where your eyes lay, visible. An ode to Medusa herself, for if any man looks you in the eye, there will be guaranteed violence that they have never dreamed of before bestowed upon them. 

You continue your trek to the station, hiding around the corner as you enter the busyness of everyone running around like chickens with their heads cut off because of their late train. Have they not heard of the woman being attacked, or did they just have no compassion? The thought makes your stomach turn, irritation bubbling as you bump into a man who complains loudly on the phone about not being able to miss a meeting. 

You ignore his shout at you, used to the berating names so many weak men have given you, slithering your way through the crowd and up the stairs until you reach the daylight again. Its chilly out, the autumn air starting to settle into your bones as the rush of what just happened settles into your skin, deep into your flesh. 

This is too much at times, you think to yourself as you look around, trying to gather your bearings, but somebody has to do it all. You realize you’re farther away from your shitty apartment than you had realized, and sigh loudly at the long trek you have to make home. Before you get started though, your stomach grumbles loudly, makes a woman passing by on the street look at you with wide eyes before laughing softly, making you nod solemnly with your own chuckle at her. 

Guess you’ll have to eat something first. You (not so surprisingly) decide on a ramen bar, figuring you could spoil yourself just a little since you got paid yesterday. It’s not much, and you hardly scrape by, but its all you have right now and you like your job for the most part. You just wish Miruko would’ve helped you find residence in a place that wouldn’t cost so much after her generous help ran dry after the first six months. 

But you deserve the luxury of extra pork in your ramen, and that’s what you order when you get to the nearest place. You take a tea with it, glaring at the waiter when he keeps insisting on trying their new sake, his persistence earning him a hard glare that makes him scurry away. 

You hadn’t drank since you were with your attacker, and you promised to never make yourself vulnerable like that again. 

You grunt out a barely audible thanks when the waiter returns with your food, hunching over yourself as you immediately start to dig in. Something about shooting people just makes you really fuckin’ hungry, for some reason. You think there may be some kind of psychology behind it, but you really don’t feel like diving into that right now. 

You eat in silence for the most part, humming to yourself with your eyes closed, before you stiffen when someone suddenly sits down across from you. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” It’s Dynamight, both to your surprise and disappointment. You sigh, long and deep, before fluttering your eyes open. He sits there across from you, hands folded in his lap, wearing a muscle tee, a bandage still wrapped around his shoulder. You only blink at him before talking with your mouth full,

“Why the fuck are you following me, weirdo?” You ask around the noodles. Dynamight scoffs in surprise, scrunches his nose up at that. 

“I’m  not the fuckin weird one here.”  He spits back at you, childishly. You only stare at him for a few seconds before slurping the rest of your food, never breaking eye contact all the while. You chew the food in your mouth slowly, swallowing, watching him watch you, feeling a wave of agitation bubbling up in your gut. 

“The fuck do you want now?” You say brusquely, sitting back in your seat now that he’s ruined your appetite. Dynamight frowns at you, before glancing off somewhere behind you. You turn your head, searching for whatever he’s signaling at, before your eyes catch the TV, muted, above you. 

Its the news, talking about the woman who was just captured in the train. Its showing the two villains being wheeled out, the other finally awake and groaning about the pain in his hand. It flashes to the woman, and although its muted, you can read her shaking lips when she says something about saving and the Red Medusa. 

You turn to Dynamight with a smile, appetite suddenly back in full swing. You kick your legs happily, feeling accomplished seeing your name on the news again, feeling like you’ve made a difference once more. You slurp on your noodles, seemingly forgetting about the hero in front of you whose frown deepens at your contended look. 

“This shit is funny to you?” He scoffs, gesturing up to the TV. You only stare at him for a minute before shrugging, swallowing around your food as you sigh. 

“Not necessarily funny, but I do feel,” you pause, searching for the right word as you pick up your tea. “Accomplished, you know? That I saved an innocent woman from being attacked by two scumbags.” You tilt your head at Dynamight, and his eyes jump from your slightly shaking hands back up to your face. 

“So what are heroes for then?” He grunts, lip grit in confusion as he looks down at you where you sit. You shrug dramatically, damn near spilling your tea in the process. 

“You tell me.” You raise your voice more than you should, shooing away the waiter that walks by in concern. “By the time they would’ve gotten there, I’m sure she would’ve been…been,” your voice trails off, throat suddenly running dry as you get a faraway look in your eye. She was already bruised and cut up by the time you got there, her skirt already tattered, the first few buttons of her shirt ripped. What more could they have done to her? What wouldn’t they have done to her if they had more time? If you weren’t there? If the heroes weren’t faster? Would she have ended up like you, like Vanity? Would she…would she… 

“Look.” Dynamight pulls you out of your thoughts with a harsh bite to his words. “You make it really fuckin’ hard to be nice to you—”

“This is nice?” You cut him off, voice dripping in confusion as you damn near choke on your tea. 

“Shuddup.” He puts a finger up to silence you. “You make it hard to be nice when you don’t see the errors of your ways.” Dynamight looks at you disappointedly, but it doesn’t do much to sway you. You only roll your eyes and set your drink down, sitting back in your booth as you fold your arms over your chest, eyeing him up and down. 

“Coming from a hero that makes more than any working class person could ever hope to see in their lifetime. Pretty ignorant, if I do say so myself.” You spit venomously, shrugging with faux nonchalance as Dynamight narrows his eyes at you. 

“I donate half of my earnings every month, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss right now.” He shakes his head at you. You know its true, have seen the articles praising him for his earnest donations. But it doesn’t mean that the system he thrives in isn’t flawed and faulty in every capacity, in every hero, in every mission. 

“So why are you badgering me about right and wrongs, Mr. Perfect fuckin’ Hero?” You bite at him, resting your head on your shoulder, seemingly bored. Dynamight looks agitated for a few seconds before his face unscrews. He sighs, long and loud, slumping back in his seat as he runs a hand over his face in defeat. 

“Because I understand your cause.” He tells you, simply, makes a fuzzy feeling start to fester in the back of your head. “I think its…noble, if anything. Heroes aren’t perfect, we’re all just humans with too much fuckin’ power. But what you’re doing is dangerous and could really get your ass hurt.” His head tilts toward you, and it makes you bristle irritatedly. You raise your hands flippantly in the air, laughing humorlessly. 

“So what do you suggest then, huh?” You ask him with a wobbly grin. “What’s step one in this little reformation plan for the Red Medusa?”  You know you should be lowering your voice in a public establishment like this, but you find it hard to control yourself when Dynamight speaks to you as if you’re just some dumb kid, some idiot girl that doesn’t know what she’s doing. He’s been undermining you since he met you, and you’re fucking sick of it. Dynamight stares at you for a long while with a twisted mouth, as you’ve come to find out he does a fucking lot, before he blurts out, 

“I want you to come to my agency.”

“No.” You immediately shoot back, preparing to stand up and leave him, at the table and with the bill, before he stops you with a hand motioned toward you. 

“Listen.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was pleading with you, with uncharacteristically soft eyes that make you give pause. 

“I want you to come to my agency.” He repeats, eyebrow raising to see if you’d stand this time, but you’re glued to your chair, listening. “I’ve already talked to a few people, some higher ups. We all wanna see if we can get you out on the field in a legal and civilized way, because your need to help battered persons against those who commit evil acts of injustice is respected in my eyes.” 

He nods his head to you, and you feel…not validated—you’d never need validation from a man—but, listened to. Like you’re not just some evil piece of shit just wreaking havoc in the streets for no good reason. You nod to that, however it doesn’t last long when he opens his stupid mouth again. 

“What’s not respected, is your method of madness.” He tells you bluntly, arms folded and you wonder how fast he’s healed since you shot him four and a half weeks ago to not even flinch.   You narrow your eyes at him, growling under your breath as Dynamight tilts his head at you, ready for you to defend your method. Which, said method, involves shooting many, many men when they have either already committed or were caught in the act of committing harm against people. You didn’t kill them though, sheesh. He could give you some credit for that. 

“So—what?” You scoff at him. “This means I’m uncivilized now? I’m barbaric? Shall I start dragging you men around the block by your scalps?” You raise an eyebrow at him, thinking you’d at least get a humorless chuckle from him. But Dynamight doesn’t say anything for a long while, tonguing his cheek as his eyes glance down to where your ramen has gone cold. 

“If I had Miruko tell you exactly what I’m saying right now—I know you’d listen and respect everything she had to say.” He says quietly, and it stings. His words ring in your head, bouncing around the walls, makes your chest clench tightly, your breath catch. You try so hard not to think about Miruko whenever you go around shooting men, turn off the TV when she comes on to talk about how she’s gonna catch this shitty vigilante. You know she doesn’t mean you, just the persona, but it aches every time. 

Did she even know that you did this because of her? Because of her saving you, holding you when you needed it most? Did she know that you did this so everyone could feel safe when being rescued, to know that they wouldn’t be hurt anymore? Did she know that you weren’t just some shitty villain?

“Don’t do that.” You whisper to Dynamight, throat tight as you quickly blink away tears. You wipe at your face hurriedly, sniffling as your eyes fall to the bowl in front of you, staring at your sorry reflection. 

“Think about my offer.” Dynamight tells you more than asks you, slides a piece of paper over that you hadn’t notice him pull out before. It has a phone number and address on it, scrawled in shitty handwriting. You tell him that. 

“Your handwritings shit, asshole.” You hiccup quietly, and you look up to see Dynamight’s lips quirking up crookedly at the corners. 

“Stay safe, dumbass.” He tells you before standing from the table, walking away without another word. You sit there, a mix of emotions overtaking you, feeling numb as you try to mull over your options. You’re gonna have to talk to Vanity about this. 

As you go to pay for your meal, you see there’s a wad of cash under the note. Usually, you wouldn’t accept money from a man, wouldn’t want to ever be in debt to one, but you figure he owes you. For emotional turmoil, crying in your noodles, and making them go cold. You pocket the rest.

Chapter four

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tag list: @endlessfreaky @iamaconfusedpan

[seraphicsentences]

canvas of comfort: when tattoos mend hearts in the dark <3

ellie williams x cat 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

AN: lol. i don’t know how to write but i never see ellie x cat stories so i thought i’d give it a shot. this is not edited. why did i try writing. let me know what you think!! xx

tags: ellie williams x cat, tlou universe, first kiss kinda, soft ellie, baby ellie, jackson’s resident tattoo artist cat, the story we never got but deserved, background joel + ellie <33

After turning over the idea numerous times in her head, Ellie gave in. The bite mark was, for the most part, hidden. Ridges and indents from the remnants of her old self-instilled chemical burn perfectly blended the curved marks of infected teeth— not exactly pretty, but it did the job. She received a real scolding from Joel when he found out what she had done.

~~ flashback ~~

Ellie didn’t know what to do once she rinsed off the chemical mixture with water. Her skin flamed a bright red, and the shirt stuffed in her mouth was entirely soaked through with saliva. She was dizzy with pain, and the air against her forearm felt like needles. The burn didn’t seem to be getting better the more she rinsed.

Ellie heaved a sigh, “Well fuck me.” She knew what she had to do… or more, who she had to face. Joel was going to absolutely murder her.

She loosely wrapped her arm in the softest shirt she could find, and used her good arm to pat her face with water- hopefully reducing the hot pink flush across her cheeks. Feeling this was the most normal she was gonna look, Ellie quickly snuck her way towards the main house, praying to God she wouldn’t run into anyone.

It’d be hard to explain exactly why she decided to melt off a layer of her skin in the middle of the night.

~~

“Are you crazy? Ellie, you could have been seriously injured! What if it burned off more than just your skin?”

“I’m fine Joel! It’s not a big deal! You said we needed to figure a way to hide it from the others, so I found us a way.”

“This is not what I meant when I said that! We don’t have doctors here in Jackson.. let alone the right supplies at the moment to let this properly heal. We’ll have to keep this bandaged for now. You’re lucky I have patrol in Teton tomorrow morning, I’ll stop by that pharmacy there first thing. You were scheduled for patrol in Wilson, correct?”

“Yes… I can still g-“

“Absolutely not. You’re staying here until I get back tomorrow. Don’t go putting anything else on it. I mean it. I’ll tell Maria you’re not feeling well, you hear me?”

“Yeees, Joooeel. What you say goes.”

“Thank you, Joel?”

“Thank you, Joel.”

~ flash-forward ~

Ellie finds her way to Cat’s place, a small old back-house on the far edge of Jackson. Cat had agreed to do the tattoo, after much convincing that it would be perfectly fine to do over her old injury. Ellie had brought her notebook with her, several pages with sketches dedicated to potential designs.

She knocks on the door, shifting with anticipation. “Hey Cat. It’s me, Ellie, here for, uh, you know,” she calls through the wood.

The door opens, Cat’s face peeking through. Her dark eyes slide down to meet Ellie’s as she smiles. “Oh hey Els, come on in,” she beckons, widening the space between the door frame to let Ellie slide in under her arm. “Sorry ‘bout the mess, it’s from last night’s whole fiasco. You should’ve come!”

Ellie chuckles, scratching behind her ear out of nerves. “Yeah yeah, next time. Joel and I were having a movie night.”

She follows Cat towards her room, stepping over bunches of paper and books, before finally entering the dimly lit space.

“You guys and your movies. Cute. I don’t have like a tattoo chair or anything so you can just sit on my bed by that table. It’ll be more comfortable anyways.” Cat motions.

She goes around the room, picking up a few materials and such before dragging a small stool to the edge of the bed.

She sits down, straddling it, as Ellie, wide-eyed, watches. “You coming or what?” Cat laughs, head tilted over her shoulder to peek at her.

“Yeah, sorry”, Ellie mumbles, ears blushing, as she moved her way onto the foot of the bed. She shuffles backwards to lean against the wall and hands Cat the sketchbook, already flipped open to one of her drawings.

“I was thinking something like this, just around here,” Ellie points to her scabbed forearm.

“I like it. You’re quite the artist aren’t you,” Cat teases.

“Ha- ha. Shut up,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes.

Cat grins, eyes glinting with laughter before pulling Ellie’s arm off her lap and onto the table.

“Let me know if it hurts, okay? This’ll take a couple sessions, so we can take breaks whenever, just let me know.”

Ellie hums an okay, and Cat moves to get started.

~~

After a painful 2 hours, Cat decides they’ve made enough progress, and scribbles down a couple of dates for Ellie’s next sessions. The afternoon had been filled with slow chatter, warm smiles, and soft touches. Ellie was completely unable to tear her eyes away from Cat as she worked.

Everything about her was hypnotizing: the way strands of her jet-black hair fell out of her loose bun, framing her sharp olive cheekbones, how the veins on her hands pronounced with every motion, the way Cat peeked through her eyelashes at Ellie to make sure she was okay to keep going…

Ellie hoped she didn’t notice the raised goosebumps on her skin. She had never felt so nervous around another person here at Jackson, but there was just something about Cat that had Ellie’s heart in hummingbird mode.

Her piercing appearance contrasted greatly with her gentle mannerisms, and Ellie felt entirely succumbed to her.

~~

It was just about afternoon and her final session at Cat’s, and Ellie couldn’t help but feel disappointed, knowing she wouldn’t have any more excuses to spend hours alone at Cat’s, pressed close together hovering over her arm.

“Hey Els,” Cat greets, her eyebrow raised. “You ready to finish this up?”

“Hi Cat,” Ellie smiles, “Thanks for doing this.”

“Sure thing,” Cat says, as they trail into the bedroom.

Ellie settles in her typical spot, fingers drumming on the table as Cat preps her station with all her tools. By now they’ve fallen into an easy routine, actions on autopilot, Cat humming some 80s tune under her breath as she inks.

An hour or so passes before Cat looks up, meeting Ellie’s enamored green eyes, and says, “Well… I’m all done here. You like it?”

Ellie tears her eyes away, stumbling over her words as she gawks at Cat’s beautiful work etched onto her skin. “That’s crazy good, I-what do I owe you?”

Cat laughs as if Ellie’s just told her one of her pocketbook jokes. She moves onto the bed as her laughter fades, pushing aside Ellie to make room to sit. Her gaze slowly traces up from Ellie’s forearm to her lips- then her eyes.

Cat’s hooded expression grows darker, and she asks just above a whisper, “What can you give me?” She sounds absolutely carnal, her head turned just enough for their noses to hover not even a centimeter away from one another.

Mind-fogged and pupils blown, Ellie breathes out the only word that comes to mind, “Anything.”

She blinks and Cat’s moved on top of her, straddling her thighs, core hovered just above Ellie’s hips and lips crashing to meet her own. It’s filled with passion, but so soft at the same time, just like Cat. She tastes like soda and cigarettes, and Ellie lifts her hands to rest on Cat’s waist, when her freshly done tattoo brushes against the bedsheet.

It’s as if she’s just been dumped with a bucket of ice water, and instinctively, Ellie throws Cat off of her onto the other side of the bed. “What the fuck, Cat?”, she yells.

Her fingers meet her lips as she touches them, face paled, and her heart in her stomach. Cat’s expression matches her own.

“Shit. Sorry, it’s just-“ She’s infected. I just infected her, was all Ellie could think. What came out of her mouth was, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Cat pauses, her hair now tousled as she tucks in her lips. Looking down, she quietly responds, “Yeah, okay.”

~~

The pair paints quite the picture, a rather buff woman covered in tattoos following after a shorter blushing brunette (redhead?? how does one classify auburn 😭) through the greenery filled outdoors.

Cat is the first to break the silence. Clearing her throat, she says, “Hey Ellie I’m s-“.

“No, no, listen,” Ellie cuts her off. She turns around to face Cat, eyebrows scrunched together as she looks up. “I- I, uh,” Ellie stumbles over her words. She doesn’t know how to break the news, how to explain her past, how Cat will react if she tells her she might turn because of their kiss.

Cat’s head falls to the side, a soft, pained smile gracing her pink lips as she murmurs, “You don’t have to explain yourself. I totally misread the vibe.”

Shaking her head Ellie tries to explain, “Cat-“

“I’m sor-“, Cat apologizes.

“I’ve never kissed anyone! I was nervous!” Ellie blurts out.

Cat’s eyebrows jump up as her mouth gapes open, trying to make feel for the words she wants to say. She lands upon the word, “Oh”, a laugh bursting from her chest as a heartwarming smile spreads across her face.

Ellie, knowing the truth and finding the situation a whole lot less amusing, groans, “Caaaat. Stop it, it’s not funny!” I mean, there was a chance she wouldn’t turn, right?

Cat ignores Ellie’s arguments, still laughing and grabs her hand, pulling her back towards the house, teasing, “C’mon, Els, no need to get all scared of me. I don’t bite.”

You might in a couple of hours, Ellie thinks.

~~

It’s half past 3 in the morning, and Ellie is anything but tired. The garage- turned room is filled with sounds of Cat’s sleepy snores, and Ellie watches (creep 🙄) as her chest rises and falls with her breathing.

The movie is long over, Cat not staying awake to see the ending, and Ellie quietly thanks the heavens for Cat’s exhaustion. She hasn’t shown any signs of infection yet, luckily, but Ellie isn’t going to take any chances.

In the meantime, she takes in Cat’s seraphic features. Her lips are just barely parted, slightly cracking due to the dry air. Ellie wants to wet them with her own. Strands of Cat’s short, black hair fall across the bridge of her nose as she shifts onto her side. Ellie reaches out to tuck them behind her ear, ever so gently, so as not to disturb her slumber.

The night passes and the morning comes, and Ellie stays, her face rested on the crook of her arm, eyes peeking over to watch Cat’s face. Soon enough, Cat inhales deeply and her eyes flutter open to meet Ellie’s stare. “Hey, stalker.” she whispers. The rasp in Cat’s voice pulls at Ellie’s heartstrings and she blushes a scarlet red, feeling caught. Her embarrassment is quickly overturned by the surging relief of Cat’s normal condition. “How do you feel?” tone hopeful, she can’t help but ask.

Cat lifts herself to lean on one arm before smoothly responding, “Like I want to kiss you again.”

Ellie lets her relief crash over as she smiles, still blushing, and leans in to press it into Cat’s matching grin. She can’t help but sigh into the kiss, before moving her lips more fervently, more hungrily, scrambling to take in as much of Cat as she can.

Finally Ellie leans away, falling back into the mattress, bouncing when she lands. Cat chuckles, “Not so nervous anymore, are we?”

Ellie doesn’t even complain about her teasing. She tucks her smile into the pillow, saying, “Just kiss me.”

AN: they’re so cute 😭😭. pov me blushing and kicking my feet at my own writing. i just needed this so bad.

[cyborg-franky]

Kinktober Day 5 - Hate Fucking

I was going to do more then one char but I ended up getting really invested in this for some reason and.. well.. here.

Marco x GN Reader N/SFW Word Count: 800

Marco

He’s not above a hate fuck here and there.

To be honest, he’s surprised you dislike him as much as you do, everyone else seems to get on with him.

Such an easygoing person how could anyone find anything to be mad about?

That’s what pisses you off, how laid back he is.

How it takes ages to get a reaction out of him, you could scream and shout in his face and he just blinks at you, the lazy smirk never leaving his face as he watches you wear yourself out from the little screaming session for your own benefit.

You hate that he thinks he’s untouchable, smug because he has the power of the phoenix at his fingertips.

He was so fucking up himself.

You’ve had enough of the condescending tone in his voice when he tells you what you’ve done wrong for what he makes out to be the hundredth time. 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” You ask him through gritted teeth as you narrow your eyes.

He quirks his brows and tilts his head to one side, regarding you for a moment.

“And what if I don’t? Are you going to shut me up, little bird?” He said with mirth in his voice, a chuckle as he leans in closer.

You're so confused and angry at his arrogant words that aren’t sure what you're doing at first, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling Marco the rest of the way down, lips crashing against his.

You feel him chuckle into the kiss and it just pisses you off more.

You try to take control of the situation, grabbing your commander and swapping places with him, throwing him onto the seat, and pinning him.

It doesn’t take long for the clothes to come off, insults hissed out between breathy moans as you ride his cock, digging your nails as hard as you can into his shoulders as you try and give him a filthy look as he gazes up at you with a half-lidded eyes, smirk still in place even as you ride him,

“It’s like you want to hurt me yoi.” He said as blue flames tickle your hands, healing the marks you try and create.

“S-shut up.” You huff as he grips your hips, taking control of your movements and as much as you hate Marco having the upper hand, to be in control once again, you had to admit this feels amazing. 

“Who knew that I just had to fuck the attitude out of you?” Marco said with a hum as he thrust up into you, pulling blissful moans from you.

He was going to get you to cum and you wanted to scream at yourself, you wanted to hiss insults at him. At those beautiful blue eyes and full lips, the blond tuft of hair. Gazing down at his chest seeing the tattoo inked there, you hated to admit he was a handsome man and knew how to please you.

“Come on darling, cum for me yoi” Marco’s tone was like honey, he didn’t let up, moving you up and down on his cock, enjoying how the glare on your face didn't match the sounds spilling from your lips.

He adjusted and had you seeing stars, his hand moving to where your bodies met, touching you and coaxing you to your climax.

Gritting your teeth, desperate not to scream the place down as you got closer to your finish.

“I wish you’d let me hear those pretty sounds…” He said with a sigh as his hand sped up and he thrust into you deeper, hitting just right. 

The glare wiped off your face when you wrapped arms around his neck, falling forward and crying out for all you were worth, body shaking and voice a trembling mess as you came hard.

“That’s a good little bird, so good for me yoi.” Marco whispered in your ear as he rutted up a few more times.

You sighed, a slight grimace of defeat, your anger washed away as he came deep inside you, and part of you adored the feeling of being stuffed with his cum, and the other part of you wanted to knock his head off his shoulders.

“This doesn’t change anything, I still can’t stand you.” You muttered and let your body slump against his, enjoying how he ran hands down your back, tickling touches to match the butterfly kisses he placed across your shoulders.

“As long as you hate me like this more often, I don’t think I mind.” He chuckled but you had no energy to snap back, closing your eyes and taking a breath.

He was still an insufferable bastard but he was a great fuck.

Maybe this could be a regular thing..

[snomoscribbles]

"It's okay to let it out. I'm here to listen." Comfort fic where it's Nanui that needs to be comforted and let out steam? :3c

He knew logically that he could only push himself so far. Weariness weighed heavy on Nanui's bones, the days passing the attack on the tulkun had been rough and the whole village was feeling themselves wilting after the initial rush to fix and mend and heal. He'd been assisting with everything he could, mending homes and taking hunting shifts to give his fellow Metkayina a break. But he was skipping his.

He didn't want to stop. He didn't want to think. He had a feeling if he sat down, he might not get back up again. So on he pushed. Day by day his shoulders sagged further, his smiles waning and his energy draining away. He'd stopped thinking about it after awhile, just letting his body move through the days without thought. Until... "Nanui! hey, big guy? You there? " The tattooed craftsman startled, looking down and immediately offering a tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. You were standing in front of him, brow furrowed and arms crossed. You had been trying to get his attention apparently, and it wasn't like him to deny you. His heart felt heavy at the thought of worrying you. "Ah, my apologies. I am...just tired." He yawned as if to solidify his point. But you knew that. You'd been keeping your eye on the weaver and trying to push him away from this slow shut down he was stumbling toward. You reach out and take his hand gently in both of yours, frowning when he startles again at your touch. He was definitely not all there. "C'mon. I need you to come with me." There was no room for argument and he wouldn't attempt to anyway. He's pretty sure you could ask him to walk into an open flame and he would do so. You held his trust in your hands. He stumbles after you, letting you lead him away from the cluster of maruis and into the cluster of trees that lay on the other side of the beach. He watched, head tilted curiously just the slightest bit in a shadow of the energy he usually has. "Come on. Sit down." You tug on his hand as you take a seat at the base of a tree, letting out a hefty sigh, "You're not burning a candle at both ends at this point, buddy. You threw it in the fire." "I can not understand your sayings on a good day, I'm not sure you'll have any luck explaining that one." He jests with a gentle chuckle, slowly managing to lower himself into a cross legged sitting position. His movements are stiff and slow.

"Yeah, Thought about it after I said it." you laugh, shaking your head. You wait until he's settled before reaching out to offer him your hands once again. Without thought he reaches out, larger scarred fingers gently holding your own. His shoulders visibly relax a little, heaving once with a long breath. "I can tell you're not okay, big guy. Theres been a lot going on and you haven't taken any time to process it. I don't know if its on purpose or not but..." You debate pressing further but your encouraged forward by the look of surprise in those large blue eyes, teal ears flicking upward in attention. "It's okay to let it out. I'm here to listen. You can't keep this up. You're gonna break yourself." Theres a heavy pause, Nanui processing your words before he seems to crumble. His eyes sting with tears, ears flattening, shoulders sagging followed by the rest of him as he collapses forward into your lap. You yelp in surprise, releasing his hands to catch the large man in your arms and let him lay across you with his head pillowed on your thigh. Your heart shatters at the first shuttery breath that heaves from the man, tears let loose and wetting the skin of your thigh where he's pressed his forehead to hide his face. You don't say anything, bringing your hands up to gently move the endless amount of hair from his shoulders so you can trace soothing patterns across his back and shoulders. He'd lost so many people. His home was half burned and his friends and family were hurt and in mourning of their siblings. He had earned a good cry. "I- I am-" He starts and you lightly thump him in the back of the head, earning a reflective wince from him. "If you try to apologize right now, I will end you. Its overdue. You need to let it out." He turns his head a little to look at you finally, head still resting on your leg as he sniffles. His nose and eyes are flushed and raw, hair slipping from his bun and spilling over your thigh. He furrows his brow in concern, looking up at you like a proper kicked puppy. Pathetic and adorable. He looks down again, taking a deep breath and you resume rubbing his back gently. "Nothing could have prepared me for this. I have not known this pain....War has not seen us like this before." You cant help leaning over, reaching your arms out in the best way you can to replicate an embrace. "You're all healing. It will take time and we're going to do it together. But you need to rest or you wont be much help at all." "I do not wish to see it all again. Its there when I close my eyes." The admission is hushed, ashamed and you squeeze him a little harder. "Rest here. I'll stay with you." "You will?" "Yes. Close your eyes. Just for a little bit. I'll wake you up if someone needs you." You shift and move a little until your both resting comfortably, leaning against the tree at your back with the giant mourning Metkayina in your lap breathing deeply with his eyes shut and hopefully no dreams to disturb him.

[skylarmoon71]

Matt Murdock (Daredevil) - Chapter 24 - Final

The break has finally come to an end and you’re excited. Foggy is moving back in and you can’t wait to see him.

Matt is just as excited, he’s just better at hiding it.

The second Foggy makes his way through the door you basically tackle him. You both end up on the floor laughing and Matt laughs at the soft thud.

“I guess you guys missed me huh?”

Matt nods.

“It wasn’t the same without you here.”

Foggy stands with a proud look.

“I would imagine.”

You roll your eyes at his little boast and he’s still grinning when he reaches over, placing an arm over Matt’s shoulders.

“So what have you two been doing while I was gone.”

It’s an innocent question, but your mind immediately goes to your joined activities.

“N-Nothing important!” You reply.

Your hurried words make Foggy raise a brow.

“Why are you acting so suspicious?”

“I-I’m not acting suspicious, you are!!”

You’re not doing much to defend your case. Foggy slowly pulls his arm away, looking between you and Matt. For a moment he’s just squinting but then his eyes widen.

“N-No way! Come on, I thought you promised never to do it in this room!” Matt is about to defend himself, but you’re blurting everything out once Foggy makes the discovery.

“I-It’s not my fault that he’s so good at this I can’t help myself!”

Foggy’s expression changes to pure disgust.

“Too much information!!”

It was an interesting reunion indeed.

Once you’ve thoroughly embarrassed yourself, it’s back to classes as usual. You’re getting used to the schedule and tedious lectures. One particular class that you have with Foggy just drones on. The second it’s finally over you just want to drop on your bed. Foggy laughs at your exasperated expression. The both of you had decided to cut through behind the baseball field to make it to the library. Foggy is ranting about his summer adventures and you listen with a smile.

“Then we went ziplining.”

You giggle.

“It sounds like you had an amazing summer.”

“Sure did, I almost got a tattoo. “

You can picture it now. With a smile, you adjust your bag matching pace with Foggy. For a second everything is normal, but you catch what sounds like a rush of air and you lift your hand. Foggy stumbles and you turn your palm over in surprise. Your hand is still somewhat extended, a baseball between your fingers.

You gape and so does Foggy.

“Dude…you just literally saved me from a baseball to the head. That’s awesome!! We’re definitely keeping this!”

He seems very excited, but you’re still a bit stunned. You’ve never had good reflexes, much less the ones necessary to catch a ball without even seeing it coming.

This is something.

~Later That Night~

“Hurry up, the cops are coming.”

The hushed whisper of men shoving cash into a truck had Matt titled his head. He eased over to the side of the building, marking the amount of heartbeats.

“Six.”

He had the advantage of surprise.

When he threw the stick, it struck two of the men right in the head and that’s when the chaos started.

Yells echoed, so did the sound of gunshots. He’d managed to subdue four of them and collected a few punches in the process. His ribs hurt, that was for sure. But there were only two men left and he could already hear the police sirens. He blocked the first couple punches from the one behind, but he hadn’t managed to dodge the blade that sliced his cheek.

He stumbled back at the contact and his assailant grinned, watching the blood dripping down. Matt was prepared to shake it off and push forward, but the sensation on his skin caused him to pause.

For a moment he assumed it was poison, but the warmth on his cheek wasn’t numbing his body. It felt similar to the times that you’d healed his wounds. There was a dull ache, and then it was gone.

Both men had stopped moving, and he heard the unsteady beats of their hearts. It sounded like fear.

“What the hell…”

The one with the knife was shocked and Matt didn’t wait longer to dwell on what happened to urge those words. He threw both sticks and they bounced right off the heads of his attackers, jumping right back into his palms as their bodies dropped unconscious. He was quick to make his escape, right before he heard the wheels of a squad car skate to a stop, apprehending the poorly hidden drug dealers.

After his little escapade, he felt obligated to drop by your place. He’d managed to make it back to his dorm when he decided to shoot you a message. One had come into his phone right at that moment.

“Can you stop by tonight, something weird happened today.”

He responded immediately, positive that his weirdness was much more crazy than yours.

When he got to your apartment however, it seemed you both had an equal amount of weird.

“You caught it?”

“Yeah and I didn’t even see it coming. It was like my body felt it before it even came. I just sort of heard it at the back of my head and instinct kicked in. It was strange. I’m not exactly ninja level so for me this is really unusual.”

He titled his head to the right.

“Tonight while I was doing my patrol I got sliced on my cheek with a blade.”

Your eyes widened.

“What! Are you okay?” you rushed to his side to search for the wound, but there was none.

“There isn’t anything here..” You mumble.

He nods.

“Exactly. I think..I think my body healed itself. Just like the way you’ve done.”

That was not what you expected at all.

“So..you somehow have my abilities and I have yours?”

“That’s what it seems like, but how. We haven’t exactly been carrying out experiments and I’m pretty sure I haven’t injected any of your blood into my system.”

He was right, so how was it possible? You kept racking your brain when something occurred to you. Heat rushed to your cheeks the minute you realized.

“Oh my gosh…”

Matt’s brows knitted.

“What is it?”

“I-It’s because we’ve been having sex. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

It had to be that. Before you started you had the reflexes of a sloth.

“You..might be right.”

It was strange, but given what you were capable of, maybe your abilities did have a bit of transferring properties. The realization of what this meant was a bit frustrating.

“We probably shouldn’t have sex until we figure this out. It could be dangerous.” You had a feeling he would say something like that. The thought of you in any danger would immediately make him protective. Although he said that, you could tell that he wasn’t very ecstatic about it. Neither were you.

“S-So no sex..” You mumble.

He nodded, clearing his throat and looking away.

It was so unfair, you’ve literally just discovered the pleasures of it and now you need to restrain yourself.

“I should probably go.” He states.

“Yeah..”

Despite those words, you’re both just lingering in place. Your eyes run over him hungrily. You’re not sure if it’s the fact that you’re going to have to refrain for the time being that makes him look so enticing. Matt lets out a breath, gulping.

“(Y/N),”

His voice sounds a bit scolding. It’s clear that he’s reading your body’s reaction and it’s making him waver.

“We shouldn’t.” He says that, but there is a falter in his voice.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t.” You agree.

One breath, that’s all that’s exchanged on either side before you close the space and you’re basically tearing each other’s clothes off.

“F-Fuck..”

Matt groans when you tear his shirt open.

Looks like you’ll both just have to get used to the exchange. You can’t really say that you’re complaining.

Neither is Matt.