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mrs-gauche · 5 months

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So, on the new teaser published on DA Day this year, while I won't even try to go as in-depth as the amazing @felassan already did, compiling everything of note in this excellent post, like the sleep deprived German with limited vocabulary that I am, I'm just gonna add my little two cents to it, hopefully not repeating too much of what has already been mentioned. 😁

So why not start with the caption here!

This honestly made me snort out loud. 😂 I mean, it's like BioWare is not even trying anymore to be subtle about the fact that Thedas has we know it is 100% doomed. lol And yes, I know we all joke about Thedas constantly being in Apocalypse mode, but this time it really feels like some massive change is approaching.

But to be specific, I am pretty confident in that this is referring to both the destruction of the Veil, as well as the freed Evanuris dooming the world through some kind of mega Blight.

When I first read the word "revelation", it immediately made me think of Solas' Tower tarot card. The Tower literally represents sudden, disruptive revelation and potentially destructive change. While "damnation" is the concept of a divine punishment, to be "doomed to suffer in hell forever".

And as felassan theorized, if the last person in the teaser speaking is Elgar'nan, and if he is in fact connected to the Old God Lusacan, who is the God of Night, bringing about the "eternal night" and darkness…

“Lusacan, the Dragon of Night, calls to you. He lives where it is darkest and waits for the day he will rise. Drink of his blood and know the power in darkness: either fear the Night or wield it." "The darkspawn yearn to awaken and corrupt Lusacan to start a new age of darkness." “A night that will never end”

...Whereas the "revelation"/Solas tearing down the Veil, to me at least, always seemed to be associated with light or "purification" (for lack of a better word), with how it was described in Sandal’s prophecy and the way the destruction of the Veil was portrayed in the 2022 cinematic, almost blindlingly bright. (Also, "Solas" literally means "light" in Irish. lol)

„One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just as they were. The shadows will part. And the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.“

So I think, like this "revelation" contrasts the "damnation", like Light and Darkness, at least in terms of visual language, there could be a hint of a figurative, as well as a literal "clashing" of two opposing forces? Like, both are destructive, but like The Tower represents destruction in order to rebuild/to enforce new growth/for the soul to evolve, while the damnation is nothing but irreparable corruption?

Anyway! So generally speaking, the teaser highlights yet again three of the factions/places we've seen in all the 2020 teaser/concept art/books/comics. It looked absolutely gorgeous and the voice over gave me goosebumps, as well as the amazing score again (that may or may not be composed by Hans Zimmer and/or Lorne Balfe lol I wonder) and the sound design! <3333 Though what’s curious to me, is that neither the Shadow Dragons of Tevinter or the Veil Jumpers from the Arlathan Forest were mentioned this time around…

So, I think this time the teaser might be more about the main plot beats/quests in the game than about the protagonist's potential origins, like how in DAO and DAI, you travelled to various places gathering allies and completed their respective narratives first before facing the main threat. Each of the places shown is coupled with a voice over from what is most likely gonna be an important character in each of these plot beats.

The fact that they changed the word "hero" in the plot blurb on the official DA website to "leader" is also.. interesting. It kinda reminds me of when Mark Darrah mentioned that the "vision statement" for Joplin was gonna be "We would be heroes, but the records are sealed". 👀 Or maybe the new protagonist might not be so heroic after all and more on the morally grey spectrum, which is always nice to explore. lol Makes me also yet again wonder about the "They call me the Dread Wolf. What will they call you when this is over?" line, meaning that, no matter how heroic our actions might be, in the end history might still remember us as the villain.

Antiva

This looks phenomenal and if they actually manage to realize a city as big as what this suggests AND fill it with meaningful content and people (side-eyeing you, Val Royeaux lol), it will blow my mind! lol Like felassan said, I'm very curious if we're gonna do some Assassin's Creed style "parkour" here, like what was kinda described in the short story "As We Fly" from last year! The Crows as the only real military defense of Antiva, particularly in Treviso, seem to be in deep trouble now, having been invaded by the Antaam and if you look closely, you can actually see the banner of the Qunari being displayed in the city!

"We fight for everyone. And we always will. The Crows rule Antiva."

My first thought hearing the voice here was actually Caterina Dellamorte. The lines express authority or leadership and it's also a more elderly sounding voice (to me at least), so Caterina as the First Talon would make a lot of sense to me! There have also been lots of speculation about her grandson, Lucanis, being a potential companion as well.

Rivain

(Oh no, all of Rivain got eaten by a squid. lol)

I've been hoping to go there ever since I first saw concept art of Rivain, and this is still giving me huge Pirates of the Caribbean (but with magic) vibes. 😂 As someone who thoroughly enjoyed playing AC Black Flag like ten years ago, this looks VERY promising! Though please, if we're getting any kind of underwater combat (like with the Vinsomer mentioned in the codex entry from last year), just don't make me fight dragons underwater, I'm still traumatized by the Lagiacrus in Monster Hunter Tri. 💀

"Glory to the risen gods. They come to deliver this world."

As to who is saying this, honestly, no idea. 😂 The blurb on the website mentions dragons in this place acting up for some reason, and the line sounds very cultist. lol But I'm definitely with felassan here, too, that this has to be connected to the Evanuris as well, given this GIANT squid thing on the map and all of the horrifying ocean related stuff linked to Ghilan'nain and her monstrosities, my money is also on her being one of these "risen gods".

And honestly… If I was a simple sailor or pirate and then one day I would see this emerge from the ocean…

….I'd probably start believing in these "gods", too. lmao

Anderfels

Next up, we're going to the Anderfels and Weisshaupt and I don't really have anything to add to what has already been said, other than "Shit is definitely Going Down Here". lol Lorewise, it would be crazy to go there and learn more about the very beginnings of the Wardens at their headquarters, so.. given the lines, the ominous sound of battle in the background here and some *things* from those reddit leaks earlier this year (felassan made a great post about this too, but spoiler warning of course!).. I just hope there will be enough left of Weisshaupt to explore after all this. lol

"Grey Wardens don't hide in our castle. I won't ask good soldiers to turn tail and run."

My first guess was the First Warden as well, but felassan actually made a few very good points here that make me question it… 🤔

I was also wondering what these "pillar ring" things are and while I first thought some kind of magical defense mechanism, I saw a reddit user suggesting that these rings could be part of a griffon training flight path?? Hell YEAH. #BringBackGriffonsInDA4

"Tremors have been creating disturbances of late. Their cause is unknown. Upon the distant horizon, a storm of ominous intent brews and darkens the skies."

That is a very interesting description, given that the sky in *this* concept art (which is definitely also showing Weisshaupt), is quite clearly the opposite of "dark". lol

(*looking suspiciously at the things I mentioned at the beginning here about "Light and Darkness" clashing* 👀👀👀 Maybe Solas came to visit here, too, because he just loves the Wardens, right? lol)

You know, if I read the words "tremors" and "Grey Wardens", my natural conclusion is "Something something Old Gods Underground + Grey Wardens Trying to Kill Them Before They Awake = Nothing Good" (and let's not forget about the eleven(!!) mountains/Ghilan'nain's ancient pools underground mentioned in Tevinter Nights as well), keeping in mind that Solas gets furious about the Wardens deliberately searching them out and slaying them (because he obviously knows what's gonna happen if all of them are slayed(!)), and in DAI there was already something ominous going on at Weisshaupt...

And all of this coupled with the new vinyl artwork and all the promotional stuff for DA4 so far, makes me feel like the Wardens will be busier than ever before...

Seven semi-circles with two of them still "lit" and the "tambourine"/Veil looking more broken with each new update....

Seven Old Gods/Evanuris that were banished when Solas created the Veil.....

Seven mirrors shattering....

Seven gates of the Black City, which Kordillus Drakon prophesied will someday shatter and cover both the mortal and spirit realms in darkness....

And speaking of "DARKNESS COVERING BOTH REALMS".....

Tevinter

One word: TENDRILS. lmao

So the last shot shows a big part of Tevinter on the map, most of it covered in purple clouds and tendrils...

Followed by a voice that had me like

"All the world will soon share the peace and comfort of my reign."

First off, that voice actor sounds SO familiar, omg, who IS that?? Someone suggested Joseph Capp, the voice of the Shadow Prince from Divinity 2 and that fits perfectly (DOS2 has quite a few VAs from DA actually and funnily enough, the Shadow Prince is part of Sebille's main quest, who's voiced by Alix Wilton Regan lol) Whoever it is, they're doing a great job at sending a shiver down my spine. lol Like, you can just TELL, he's the Real Deal. "Peace and Comfort" never sounded more menacing. 👀

Alright, so I'll make this short, and say that I'm also very very confident that this is Elgar'nan speaking.

People have suggested the Archon, the Black Divine, some Venatori or Qunari leader, but honestly guys, none of these make much sense to me when looking at the bigger picture here (aside from the visual hints I've talked about earlier). Like, this teaser is obviously trying to set this person up as a serious threat to *the whole world*, and the only way I can see this work would be if this person held just as much or more power than Solas, because if they don't, they would just end up being a secondary concern, like another Corypheus…

You just don't market a game by suddenly introducing a new smaller threat to *"AAALL THE WORLD"* less powerful than the one we already have, you know. 😂 And imo, the only one "outmatching" Solas in terms of power, at this point, would be Elgar'nan or any of the elven gods. Or literally the Blight itself/the Titans.

And then there's this

"Hundreds of years in the making."

We know who has been directing the course of history for ages behind the curtains… I mean, the entire series has been building towards Mythal getting her vengeance.. and what better way to finally get to that point than to bring her husband into the narrative, the one who was potentially the main instigator of the Evanuris's betrayal and Mythal's murder. 👀

(There's one thing I need to say though, and I know this is the silliest of nitpicks, but.. if that guy really does turn out to be Elgar'nan, am I the only one who thinks it's really funny how he's just… talking British English/the common tongue like that? 😂 I mean, I 100% get why they cannot make the actors talk in ancient elven with subtitles for the whole game (something I personally really appreciated when they did it for some of the ancient elves and spirits in DAI), like Corypheus wasn't talking in the old tongue either, and I feel like there are multiple reasons for why this just wouldn't work. And if we're looking for a lore reason, I guess even the imprisoned Evanuris had somehow enough access to people's dreams over the course of thousand years to learn the languages of present Thedas as much as Solas or any other ancient elf like Abelas or Felassan did, but it's still funny to me nonetheless. lol)

Anyway, the teaser ends with a dragon's growling sound and then another wolf howling in the back, which I interpreted as Solas giving Elgar'nan a fair warning here that he's indeed still the title-giving DAD character. lol If we get to see these guys battling it out for real, like Giant Demon Wolf vs Black City Sized Blighted Dragon, it's already the best game in my book. lol

You just know someone at BioWare is having a blast at coming up with as many references to Solas' Trespasser dialogue to put in these blog posts as possible. 😂 I just hope they can keep this promise, cuz I have a LOT of questions (and I need Solas to answer ALL of them lol).

Hmmm... You "hope so", yes? Well, after *this* teaser I sure *hope* that the sentiment of "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" still holds true in this particular situation, because I'd rather still be on Team Solas if I have to choose between "revelation" and "damnation". 👀

I guess we'll see next summer... 😁

#dragon age 4 #da4 #tinfoil time #dragon age dreadwolf #solas #elgar'nan

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gremoria411 · 1 month

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How to get into Gundam

Because fuck it, I was gonna do one of these sooner or later anyway.

So you want to know what this Gundam thing’s about, maybe you like the mecha design, maybe you caught part of an episode one time and want to catch up, or maybe you saw a nice piece of Chamuro fanart and want to go to the source.

But there’s so many shows and timelines that it can be quite daunting on first look, so this guide is intended to give a rough overview.

I would however like to stress two four things beforehand however:

This guide is not intended as “The One True Way” or anything. There’s no harm it coming into it a different way, and these are only my own opinions.

There’s nothing stopping you from just watching one show and leaving it there. You don’t have to watch every single show going, even I’ve only seen most of these, not all. Gundam typically has variations on similar themes - it’s very nice watching multiple shows because they complement one another, but it’s not necessarily required.

I am very much an insider looking out here, so let me know if there’s any details I’ve missed.

I’m not gonna recommend these on a “if you like X, then watch Y basis”, mostly because I don’t personally find genre recommendations helpful, so I’d recommend picking based on promotional material (vibes, if you will).

I’ll be using this chart, supplied by the excellent@l-crimson-l, to illustrate everything.

Gundam as a whole can principally be divided into three sections: Universal Century (or UC), the Alternate Universes (AU’s) and the Build Series.

The AU’s are below the light blue line, near the bottom of the Chart, the Build Series is within the bright green line at the top-right corner of the chart and UC is the big line in the middle. We’ll talk about each of them individually.

The AU’s

The Alternate Universes were conceived as a way to get away from the continuity-heavy nature of Universal Century and provide an easy jumping-on point for new fans. The AU’s are standalone and require no prior knowledge, and are thus an excellent place to start. Honestly, I’d recommend quickly searching some promotional materials (like posters) and just going with the one you find most appealing based on that. They are (in production order):

Mobile Fighter G Gundam (1994)

New Mobile Report Gundam Wing (1995)

After War Gundam X (1996)

Turn A Gundam (1999)

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED (2002)

Mobile Suit Gundam 00 (2007)

Mobile Suit Gundam AGE (2011)

Gundam: Reconguista in G (2014)

Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron Blooded Orphans (2015)

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury (2022)

There’s side series and movies and other things besides, but these are the mainline shows, if you will. I have specific notes on a few of them:

Witch From Mercury - It’s of a shorter length than is usual for mainline shows, so consequently it’s a much smaller time investment than the others.

Mobile Fighter G Gundam - While undeniably rad as hell, I would recommend watching another AU first. G Gundam differs from its stablemates in a few key areas, and I find it helps to have a contrast to fully appreciate those differences.

Gundam AGE - is probably the only one I wouldn’t recommend. I didn’t like the art style and the technical explanations just got on my nerves, so I stopped watching.

Turn A and G-Reconguista are technically part of UC as well, but it’s not really crucial information so don’t feel like you have to watch UC first (I’m only including this detail for completionism).

I’ve found all the AU’s I’ve seen to be pretty good, so I’d say that which one you start with really just comes down to personal taste.

The Build Series

Is just kind of doing its own thing. The Build series is basically Buy Our Toys: the series. It’s got a far lighter tone, and I’ve had cause to compare it to pokemon prior. It’s also chock full of references and in-jokes to the other series.

Build Fighters and Build Fighters Try are the ones I’d recommend - they’ve got actual stakes and the fight scenes are really good.

Build Divers and Build Divers Re:rise I can’t recommend - I just find Build Divers aggressively boring. Build Divers Re:Rise is just okay - neither standout good or particularly bad. Its main flaw is that it’s a sequel to Build Divers.

The OVA’s are pretty much bad across the board - I’d particularly recommend avoiding Gundam Build Metaverse.

Universal Century

Universal Century is the big main timeline of Gundam, and is the timeline the original Mobile Suit Gundam from 1979 takes place in. There’s a tendency among certain fans to place UC as the one-above-all of Gundam, but I wouldn’t really go that far. It’s all pretty good, but I wouldnt really say one timeline is better than another (save personal preference, anyway).

Because UC is so big, it can be subdivided a couple times. The primary division is “Mainline” UC versus everything else. Basically there’s four-five shows in Universal Century from which everything else flows. As long as you know roughly what happens in these shows, then you can watch basically anything else in UC and have a good idea of what’s going on. These are (in order):

Mobile Suit Gundam (1979) - sometimes called Mobile Suit Gundam 0079.

Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam (1985)

Mobile Suit Gundam ZZ (1986)

Mobile Suit Gundam: Char’s Counterattack (1988)

With Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn (2010) as a nominal fifth (honestly I feel like you could argue either way).

The rest of the shows are:

Mobile Suit Gundam 0080: War in the Pocket (1989 Three-Episode OVA)

Mobile Suit Gundam F91 (1991 Movie)

Mobile Suit Gundam 0083: Stardust Memory (1991 Thirteen-episode OVA)

Mobile Suit Victory Gundam (1993)

Mobile Suit Gundam: The 08th MS Team (1999 Twelve-episode OVA)

G-Saviour (2000 Live Action Movie) - nobody ever talks about or acknowledges this one, it’s just here for completionism.

Mobile Suit Gundam MS Igloo (2004-2009 Three OVA’s with three Episodes each)

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin (2015 Six-Episode OVA, adapted from the Manga of the same name)

Mobile Suit Gundam Thunderbolt (2015 Eight-Episode Series, adapted from the Manga of the same name)

Mobile Suit Gundam: Twilight Axis (2017 episode, adapted from a light novel of the same name. Later rereleased as Gundam Twilight Axis Red Trace, with additional footage)

Mobile Suit Gundam Narrative (2018 sequel movie to Gundam Unicorn)

Mobile Suit Gundam Hathaway (2021 ongoing movie series, very much adapted from the novel Hathaway’s Flash)

Most of the other series relate to events in the aforementioned “mainline” shows in some way, but a lot of the sidestories set during the One Year War require very little introduction (Thunderbolt, 0080 and 08th MS Team). Similarly, works set in “Late UC” (F91 and Victory Gundam) carry on from the other series thematically but don’t have any plot connections, so they can all be watched without any background knowledge of the rest of the Universal Century.

Compilation Movies

Just a quick note here - many of the Gundam series have compilation movies, where either a whole series or part of one are compressed down into a movie. While each movie compares differently, they usually boil down to this: Compilation Movies usually have worse pacing, but really nice animation.

One of the great things about Gundam is that different shows offer variations on themes, so seeing how different characters react to similar situations, or how different settings change their approaches can make it incredibly rewarding.

I haven’t seen enough of SD Gundam to make any sort of recommendations there, and Manga is something I might touch on another day.

EDIT: Oh hey also: You can watch a good chunk of these on YouTube, for free, officially. The Official Gundam.Info YouTube channel rotates the series shown on its channel periodically. I think it’s got F91 and SEED on there currently? But it’s had Wing, 00 and Witch From Mercury before. Also all of the Build Fighters series are there.

So yeah, that’s a thing.

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sytokun · 1 year

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RWBY V9 Episode 1 first impressions. Some spoilers. Also RWDE.

The first scene, both shot-wise and sound-wise was super well directed. The first person view into Ruby's headspace was very creative, and also an elegantly concise but unique recap of the last finale. Disregarding the nonsense surrounding the actual events (Yang getting KO'd instantly, no one being able to catch her and all that), it was an excellently directed scene.

Which makes it a pity that the scene right after felt really plodding and tonally dissonant. Having the already painful low framerate and cartoony jokes is already bad, but after a scene like that is... not how you do it.

The Monochrome scene was well-animated and adorable though. Amazing how much chemistry RWBY can get from its characters when it's not actively trying to signpost it to your face.

Speaking of signposting, the Bumbleby hug was good. Blake's tender voice calling Yang's name, and just them hugging on the beach is a really romantic image. and I'm a sucker for that kind of thing.

It kind of irks me more because my enjoyment of this ship is actively sabotaged by this show's own refusal to engage with it unless it's a weird combination of too-loud subtext and the fact it relishes in its own plausible deniability. I don't know what to say if there isn't a kiss or proper declaration of love by the end of this.

OK Goodnight doesn't miss, and they didn't for this OP song, Inside, either. I personally was super excited Casey was brought on in full force and her band's involvement was the singular thing that excited me about Volume 9. I have this opening on loop for hours now.

I loved how the Jabberwocky monster thing was animated, but part of me felt the design fell a bit short compared to how creatively it moved. I think if it went through another design pass or two to really bring out its more unsettling qualities it'd land even better.

But it was that thought that stirred up an iffy thought I had as I watched all the colourful characters and setting that was showcased in the opening and trailers. I know the whole point was to show a visual contrast by having everything be bright and whimsical but...

Part of me just kept thinking throughout this episode, and I suspect will keep me thinking throughout this Volume... why couldn't have all the Ever After creatures have been sentient talking Grimm instead?

Like, we don't know the canon explanation for the Ever After yet, but assuming that anything just goes here... I would have been really interested in the idea that this was a parallel world where benevolent Grimm exist and formed their own chaotic but intelligent societies. It could be an interesting exploration into the nature of Grimm, which by extension includes Salem's nature and how the heroes could not only defeat her dark nature, but perhaps understand and reason with it as well.

I just keep looking at the visual direction they decided to go with this world and can't help but think:

"Damn, Grimm mice would be cool, and a lot more visually distinct and marketable/merchandisable to RWBY fans too. Imagine Ruby making friends with a cute little Grimm? Something she's been trained to kill since forever? How weird but interesting would that be?"

"Damn, this glitchy monster thing would be way cooler as a Grimm, wouldn't it? Imagine it writhing like that and talking, but with the trademark glowing eye trails and miasmic black smoke trailing from its limbs."

"Damn, that Wonderland smoking caterpillar dude in the opening would have looked cool as a Grimm, maybe along the vibes of Koh the Face Stealer from Avatar?"

"Damn, the Cheshire cat as a teleporting Grimm feline would be cool. Its design might be a lot less polarising too since a lot of people think it hurts to look at. Some Grimm like Geists are already pretty formless to begin with."

And at the root of all these what-ifs, it just all comes back to the same question that I think sums up a lot of RWBY's problems:

"Damn, this show would be cooler in all these little ways if it just played into the ideas that made it cool to begin with."

#rwby #rwby v9 #rwde #rwby volume 9 spoilers

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jesus-in-the-womb · 2 years

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Golden Girl ~ Cherry Bomb // Steve Harrington

Steve Harrington x OG Character

Summary: innocence is a virtue, or isn't that what they say? Steve knows nothing of purity, yet that's all she was. Can he crack her stone-cold covers?

Warnings: Heavy angst, pining, eventual smut (warnings will ensue in that specific part), king! steve/cutie ScoopsAhoy!steve, innocent!OGC, kinda a slow burn :), fluff!, lots of jealousy in like ALL parts, OGC is innocent but severely horny 24/7.

NO USE OF Y/N (CHARACTER HAS HER OWN NAME!!)

A/N: I kinda wanna do a piece where I show the characters's outfits so you can click on this to see the fit if you'd like.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: 9k

Part Summary: King Steve was completely thrown off his high horse the second he graduated, now he's making just under minimum wage by scooping cones and hitting on girls he'd never land. What happens when he says some dirty words to an angelic girl, who's just looking to satisfy her sweet tooth after a long day of work?

Part Warnings: dirty talk for literally a second, Steve is an absolute asswipe in this part, innocent!OGC, perv!Steve, masturbation (m and f), phone sex, mentions of Billy Hargrove x OGC.

Absolute hell. That's the only way Steve could describe his job, hell. It was bad enough that he was dressed like a mock 'Smee' from Peter Pan, did he really have to recite the Scoops' stupid slogan to every single person who walked through the non-existent door? Yes.

"Set sail on this ocean on flavor with me, I'll be your cap'n." he paused and looked at the dumb gaze locked onto the child that stood before him. His face was covered in spit, mouth open and drooling onto the floor. He grimaced, noting to himself that he'd make Robin clean it up. The kid barked out his order, pointing at the glass case he could just barely see over if he stood on his tippy toes.

As he busied himself with the young boy's order, he couldn't help but be distracted by the sounds of two girls rushing into the shop. The two were gossiping about something that had happened during their shift, Steve concluding that they worked at the record store across from his own. The girls were polar opposites, their outfits and personalities were complete contrasts between the two of them. One of the girls was wearing the most grunge look Steve could ever think to see in the late '70s. Her black ripped jeans clung to her thin legs, bright red band t-shirt clashing against the pale beige of her friend’s knitted cardigan. Neither girls were his type, not in a million years. But, the pleated skirt on the other one caught his eyes. The skin of her thighs were soft, barely shown between her knee-length socks and the skirt itself. He eyed her form, drinking in her haphazardly done-up bun, hair falling out and framing her near angelic face.

She was hot, and there was no denying it. It didn’t matter to him that she was most likely a stuck-up priss with no intentions of ever getting with someone like him, he was gonna try.

“Ahoy Ladies,” he slammed his palms down on the counter, earning a jump from the girls, “set sail on this ocean of flavor with me, I’ll be your cap’n,” he winked at the modest girl, pretty much ignoring her mock Munson friend, “the name’s, Steve.” he watched her swallow a grimace, noticing how fake her smile looked as she glanced over to her friend in hopes of a savior.

“Alrighty, Cap’n Steven, recommend me a flavor oh ‘mighty one.” the metalhead mocked him, quickly making a joke of his pitiful attempt at wooing her friend. His cockiness was immediately gone, soon replaced with annoyance.

“Ya like bubblegum?” he questioned unamused, pointing his beloved scooper at the many pails of ice cream, “what about cotton candy.” his expression was bored, embarking on a stare-off with the overzealous girl. She placed her hands on her hips, looking toward her friend for a split second.

“One cone of rocky road, please Cap’n Smee.” he nearly groaned at the nickname, constantly hearing the comparison throughout his never-ending shifts.

“And for you?” he asked politely, looking over at her quiet friend in hopes of engaging in conversation with her. She looked around the case, choosing not to speak as she gave a pointed look toward the metalhead.

“She’ll have a vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles.” he raised his brow, confused as to why the girl suddenly became mute, his ego slightly spiking at the idea of her being nervous around him. Which she was, in a sense. The girl found it hard to speak in the presence of anyone new, relying on her outspoken ‘bestie’ for assistance. How did she have a customer service job you might ask? No fucking clue.

Steve let out a soft ‘mmk’, making quick work of dishing out their orders. He handed the first girl her cone, all but thrusting it in her direction as she snatched it from his hands. When he turned to the quieter one, he softly held it out to her, nearly melting at her gentle touch.

“Thank you,” she smiled politely at him, holding her hand up to drop a few dollars into his hand, giving him more than the actual total. When he went to hand back her change, she put her hands up in a surrender like motion, shaking her head with a soft smile, “your tip, for being so kind.”

“Oh, well, thank you…” he trailed off, hoping to catch her name. Before he could even ask, they turned around, either not noticing his itch to question or not caring entirely. He let out a sigh, turning around at the sound of his coworker sliding the window to the backroom open.

“Ooh, and another one bites the dust!” Robin’s voice was loud catching the customer's attention before she lowered it to protect the boy’s dignity, “you are oh-for-six, Popeye.” she drew a line on the company’s whiteboard, under the scribbled words of a chart that read of “YOU RULE | YOU SUCK”.

Steve was annoyed, yet another possible triumph was ripped out from beneath his feet like the moldy rug that sat in his aunt Judy’s basement.

“Yeah, yeah. I can count.” he crossed his arms, leaning his back against the counter and blocking out the insistent calls from hungry teenagers.

“You know that means you suck.” Robin put emphesis on the ‘suck’, hoping to torture the man even further as he grew exasperated.

“Yup, I can read, too.” she threw an incredulous look his way, eyes wide in mock surprise.

“Since when?” she set the board down, preparing for his ritual ‘it’s this hat’ rant.

“It’s this stupid hat,” yup, right on the nose with this one, Robin, “I am telling you, it is totally blowing my best feature.” he motioned to his hair, forcing the blonde to look at him with mock pity.

“I think, maybe, and hear me out,” she paused for good measure, attempting to add dramatic flair to her assumption, “you’re trying to hook, line, and sinker a girl who couldn’t be bothered with the likes of King Steve.” her words pulled a quizatory gaze upon the mans face, features twisting in slight frustration.

“Stop, stop calling me that. And, what do y’mean ‘couldnt be bothered’,” he quoted the air, perplexed as to what high horse this mystery girl sat on.

“Do you even know who she is?” she asked, pure curiosity struggling to cover her amusement.

“Not a god damned clue.”

“Nicole Campbell? Nickie? Angel of Hawkins?” the girl was trying hard, hoping to strike Steve with familiarity, but he was clearly too far up his own ass to know the names of anyone who wasn’t inside his circle, or inside his bed, “jesus dude, she’s the school’s good girl. The nicest chick you’ll ever have the pleasure of meeting.”

Steve’s face was hilarious to his friend, eyes blown as wide as saucers, pretending as if he knew exactly who she was, “ohh right! Nicole Barbell!” he was an absolute idiot.

“No, tool, Campbell, like the soup.” she corrected, hoping he’d catch on and stop being so stupid.

“Campbell, whatever. What’s wrong with Steve Harrington, why would she never wanna be with me?” his ego was insane, Robin thought. Who the hell genuinely thinks like that, like there is not a single thing out of place with them so everyone should like them.

She could give him a million reasons as to why the angelic girl would never want to be with the likes of Steve Harrington, why she would never treat him with anything other than kindness. She’d known the girls since freshman year, the two sharing the same pottery class for 3 years in a row and growing to be friends. She had watched too many boys walk up to her friend and strike out immediately, the girl always turning them down but quickly offering up a replacement for someone more suited to their person. Not once had the girl ever accepted an offer to go on a date, never even kissed a boy. She’d confided in Robin, explaining that she never really had the need to be in a relationship, unlike her fellow classmates that were foaming at the mouth for a taste of Hawkins angel.

At first, Robin hated the girl, despising her for constantly having both men and women surrounding her nearly every second of every day. But, when she’d learned how sweet and charismatic the girl was, she quickly fell under her spell, following her like a lost puppy with the rest of the school. The fact that Steve had no idea who she was, baffled the blonde. If anything, their popularity ranks in school surely called for a steamy romance to bloom. But alas, Steve Harrington had been too hung up on Nancy Wheeler and his self-image to even notice the celestial girl trailing slightly behind him in her own high school glory.

“She’s too good for you, and I mean that literally. That girl is the definition of sweetheart.” Robin was being as truthful as she could. Although she didn’t know that she’d be convincing Steve that Nicole would be his next conquest, the man was already coming up with ways to attempt to seduce her.

“So,” he paused, knowing his next words were going to be outlandish and extremely perverted, yet he was just oh so curious to know, “is she like a virgin or something?”

“Jesus, Steve, gross! You’re such a horndog.” his friend was annoyed, becoming uncomfortable at the question as if it were about her. She hated how easily he sexualized her friend, wishing she could punch him in his ‘noggin and knock the thoughts permanently from his head. But, he was dead set on finding out, dead set on making her his next project.

Nicole’s shift went like any other, helping someone find an album they most likely had displayed right in front of their faces, ringing customers up at the register, and gossiping with her co-worker turned friend, Melissa. On today’s menu, she chose to ask about the cute sailor boy they’d encountered on their break, curious as to who he was.

“So, do you know who that Steve guy is?” she inquired, helping Mel sort the albums that had been moved out of their place.

“Eh, kinda,” she paused, narrowing her eyes at the girl across from her who sunk into a bit of embarrassment for even asking, “why?”

“I- I don’t know. He just seemed familiar is all.” alike Robin, Mel became baffled. Before the two had started working at Sam Goody’s, Melissa had never uttered a word to the practically famous girl, always steering clear of the popular crowd. When she walked into Sam’s to apply, she’d been met with the friendly and kind face of Nickie, excitedly forcing her to apply immediately, stoked to finally have a female co-worker. The two hit it off on Mel’s first shift, becoming two peas in a pod. She found it hard to believe that Nicole had zero clue as to who Steve the hair Harrington was, both of them being household names throughout Hawkins; star athlete Harrington and golden girl Anders.

“You’re telling me that you don’t know who Steve Harrington is?”

“Name and face seem familiar, but uh, yea, no idea.” she shrugged, making her way back to the register as a family met her halfway.

“That’s bull, no way in hell, do you not know who Steve is. You two are practically royalty in Hawkins, how do you not know each other?” Mel interrogated incredulously, determined to figure out how the two of you had never crossed paths.

“First, be mindful of the children in the store,” she turned to the horrified mother, quickly apologizing for Mel’s harsh words, in which the metalhead simply rolled her eyes, “and second, I don’t know, maybe,” she trailed off, trying to find the right words, but ultimately confusing herself even further as she let out a sigh, “I don’t know, okay?”

“Hey, don’t get worked up over it, I was just curious.” Mel rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, lightly nudging her out of the way to finish ringing up the family, something she did when she could tell the sweet girl needed a few seconds to herself.

Nicole stepped back, sending a soft smile to the family before making her way to the back of the store, finding a safe space among the Fleetwood Mac shrine. If she couldn’t find solace within her own mind, then maybe she could find some in the charming voice of Stevie Nicks. Removing the cassette from its confines, she placed it in her walkman that she had strapped to her hip at all times, picking the headphones up from around her neck and placing them over her ears.

The sweet beat of Dreams clouded her thoughts, pulling the girl from reality and into a mindful space of music and daydreaming. She moved her hips lightly to the beat, unceremoniously moving her body to the song as she mouthed the words. Her feet carried her to the front of the store, pointing her finger at Mel and whisper yelling the lyrics at her friend like a mad man. The metalhead laughed, always enjoying this side of her friend once the music started going.

The family had left the store moments before, so Mel thought she’d let the girl have her fun, playing the air guitar and spurring her on even more as Nicole spun in between aisles of records. To Mel’s enjoyment, her friend waltzed over towards her, removing her headphones and pausing her walkman. She knew what this meant, she knew that in a few short seconds, she’d be forced to hear the lovely sounds of Stevie Nicks’ vocals as they surrounded the entire shop. Nicole pressed play, letting the music flow through the speakers that covered the walls of Sam Goody’s.

“Now here you go again, you say, you want your freedom!” Nicole grabbed her friend by the hands, pulling her out from behind the counter and into the middle of the shop. The two danced and twirled away, belting the lyrics out and getting weird looks from the patrons outside, walking quicker to their next destination to avoid the odd pair. Unbeknownst to them, their voices carried out across the food court, entering the shops around them like a carried bit of wind. Steve stopped what he was doing, hand pausing on the table he was currently cleaning as he glanced around the mall. When his eyes landed on the record store, he couldn’t help but chuckle, almost in awe as the two girls carelessly flung themselves about. It wasn’t too enjoyable to watch, growing embarrassed for the two of them as they danced offbeat and sang out of tune. He did, however, find his eyes moving towards Nicole. No matter how hard he tried to avert his eyes and look elsewhere, he always found himself admiring the way she danced about, with not a care in the world for how she might’ve looked.

To Steve, she looked like a dork, a dork who couldn’t hold a beat as she bounced on the dark blue carpet that lined the shops’ floors. Although he would never be caught dead dancing in such a public place, he couldn’t help but admire her bravery. Surely, she knew that people could see her, right? If not, he couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she noticed.

To his surprise, when the song ended, she didn’t stop, giddily running to the record player and queuing up the next song for her concert. If it wasn’t for her gestures and tone deaf voice that echoed across the food court, he wouldn’t have a single clue as to what song was playing next.

He scoffed in disbelieve, the sounds of ‘Cherry Bomb’ by The Runaways blasting through the speakers, louder than the last song. He found it very hard to believe that such a sweet and innocent girl like herself, per Robin’s demanding speech, would be listening to a song like Cherry Bomb. If anything, it intrigued him more. Who was this ‘golden girl, and why was she so fascinating?

“Robin, I’ll be right back,” Steve yelled out to the blonde girl, hoping she wouldn’t question him.

When she entered the lobby of the ice cream parlor to ask him where he was going, she was met with the sight of Mel and Nicole, snorting out a laugh before she realized that Steve was making his way to the pair, “Wait, Steve! No!” She wished she could run after him, tackle him to the shiny floors of the mall, but she couldn’t leave the shop unattended. So, she decided to sacrifice her friend's dignity for her job, praying that Nicole would forgive her for not stopping the boy.

“Didn’t peg you as the type.” Steve had to yell, the song blaring so loud he was sure his ears would go numb. Nicole let out a scream, holding her hand to her chest as Mel ran to turn the song down.

“I’m- I’m sorry, what?”

“Didn’t peg you as the type to enjoy this kinda music, is all.” The fluffy-haired boy wore a smirk, confidence oozing from his persona and onto the record store floor. Gross, Mel thought.

“Oh, this?” Nicole gestured up at the speakers that had immensely quieted, “Um, yea. It’s just a good song, I guess?”

Steve was anything but enamored, staring her down with a hungry gaze that made her squirm in her spot. Gross, again, Mel voiced inside her head.

“Bit hardcore, don’t ya think?” Nicole shook her head no, a sheepish smile on her face as her body burned with embarrassment from being caught.

“Can I help you with something, Smee?” Mel interrupted, attempting to save her friend from the heartbreaker.

“Uh, yes actually,” he glanced over at Nicole,” you got her number?”

“Ew, get out.” Mel felt like gagging, his sexual attraction for her friend radiating throughout the store and sending a disgusted shiver down her spine. Mel was uncomfortable, grossed out by his obvious advances. Nicole on the other hand, well she all but tripped on her way over to Steve, pulling a pen out of her pocket as she neared him.

“Do you have a piece of paper?” she asked quietly, unsure as to why she was even agreeing to give the man her number. He stuck his hand out, exposing his wrist as he flipped it over, prompting her to write the digits on his skin. She did, pink ink seeping into his pores and most likely giving him some form of ink poisoning. She signed her name underneath the numbers, replacing the dots in Nickie with adorable hearts. Steve let out a chuckle, sending her a wink and leaving the store as quickly as he entered.

Nicole watched him walk across the food court, hearts practically taking shape in her eyes as he sashayed away, cockiness absorbing him. Melissa stood at the counter dumbfounded, jaw nearly slapping the ground with how wide her opened mouth was.

“What the hell just happened?” Mel couldn’t believe her eyes, she needed verbal confirmation that her friend had just given her number to ‘The Hair’.

“Stop, you saw what happened.” Nickie was shy, tucking the loose strands of her bun behind her ears and moving to pick up a few albums that had dropped to the floor in the midst of their dancing.

“Yea, you gave your number to that asswipe.” she retracted into herself when she saw the girl roll her eyes. Three minutes of Steve Harrington and she was already showing a mean side that Mel had never seen from her before.

“He’s not a buttwipe, he’s kinda sweet.” That's it, Mel was going to be sick.

“Gross.”

Across the food court, Steve was absolutely pumping with adrenaline. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was completely surprised, not expecting the girl to give him the time of day. But, when she took her time to neatly scribble her number down in a cute font, he all but popped a boner. As he walked through the entrance to his workplace, he feigned a sad smile, walking around the counter to stand next to Robin.

“Aww, you strike out Stevie? Let me go get the board.” Robin walked into the back, holding the whiteboard up in the opened window as she went to put yet another checkmark underneath the ‘YOU SUCK’ category.

“Move that marker over to ‘YOU RULE’, because king Steve is back in the game, baby, woo!” he pumped his arms in the air, flashing the pink numbers Robin’s way as the blonde’s eyes widened.

“No way, no fucking way!” her mouth mirrored Mel’s, growing in size as disbelief rendered her body still, “that’s gotta be a fake.” she walked back into the lobby, pulling his forearm towards her to inspect the writing. Robin couldn’t believe it, there was no way in hell that out of all the people she’d finally give her number to, it’d be Steve Harrington. Sure enough, her actual number sat inked into his skin, Robin groaning at the adorable signature she’d left underneath it.

“Told you it was the stupid hat,” he smirked, growing cocky with the fact that he’d finally landed a girl. He’d been trying all summer, never quite hitting the ball until Nickie came along, knocking it straight out of the park. Not only was he especially proud of himself, he couldn’t wait to call her, but he found himself drooling at the thought of what she’d be like in bed. Steve wasn’t usually a pervert like this, always taking girls on dates and never expecting much in return, although he wouldn’t say no if they decided to get on their knees for him. But, with the promise of Nicole being inexperienced, all he could think about was defiling her. He knew it was wrong, knew that it was extremely wrong of him to think about her like this, but he couldn’t help it. With a final glance at her workplace, he busied himself with tasks, so as to act as if she didn’t exist, using his usual tricks when it came to women. Little did he know, Nicole Anders was far from the usual woman, and she had no intention of entertaining a man who treated her as if she didn’t exist.

After the first night had passed, and there was no call from Steve, Nicole began to worry that she’d given him the wrong number. On day two, she recalled that she’d written her number correctly, so she assumed he must’ve been too busy to call. On night three, Nicole was pissed. She rarely got mad at people, so the fact that the Harrington boy had pissed her off to this level, was worrisome. Steve was living his best life, pretending as if he’d never met the girl before and going about his day, itching to call her but deciding that the best idea was to wait. On the fourth night, Steve picked up the phone, attempting to decipher the numbers that were nearly faded on his arm. After a few miscalls, he finally dialed the right one, listening to it ring as he sat confidently perched on his desk chair, fixing his hair as if the girl could see him.

Upon her picking up, he could hear the heavy notes of Cherry Bomb playing in the background softly; of course, he thought.

“Hello?” her angelic voice sounded confused, wondering who was calling her at 10 pm on a Sunday night.

“Hey, it’s Steve,” he smirked, waiting to hear her gasp of surprise like he usually did when this happened.

“Oh, what’s up.” he sat straight, confusion clouding his form at her nonchalant response. Why wasn’t she squealing?

“Uh- uh nothing, just, thought I’d call you. See how you were doing.” He attempted to play through it, hoping she’d succumb to his forced seduction that was honestly teetering on the edge of embarrassing.

“I’m fine.” this was weird, he thought. Why wasn’t she swooning over his voice, over the fact that he’d finally called?

“Did,” he paused, already cursing himself for dropping his playboy act; it wasn’t working, so might as well be himself, “did I do something?”

“I don’t know, Steve, you tell me.” with that she hung up, Steve pulling the phone from his ear with a grimace at the painful sound of her slamming the receiver back to its base. She was upset, he could tell. Instead of being rational and assuming he was an absolute idiot for leaving her hanging for 4 days, he dialed her number once again, thankful that he’d written it down after she’d answered.

He called again, growing excited as she picked up his call once again, maybe she was mad at someone else, “Hey, why did-”

“Piss off.” he was wrong, she was clearly mad at him. Although Steve had his obvious good looks, he wasn’t too blessed in the smarts category, chalking up her anger to something happening outside of his realm. And once again, instead of rationally thinking, he exited his house swiftly. Before he left, he made a quick call to Robin, praying that she knew where Nicole lived. Robin, being half asleep told him the address, realization only dawning on her when she hung up, “Oops”.

He made it to the girl’s house, admiring the homes that lined her subdivision as he parked two houses down. It was now 11 pm, he was not about to walk up to the front door with a charming smile and ask her parents to see their daughter at close to midnight. So, he opted for scaling the side of her two-story house, moving gracefully due to his practice at the Wheeler’s. Praying he’d find her window first; and not catch a glimpse of her parents doing the dirty, he moved to the first window on the second floor, peering just over the corner to see inside.

He was lucky, the room obviously belonged to you. Pinks and browns were strewn across the room, stuffed animals stacked high in a beanbag chair in the corner, desk littered with books and cassette tapes. There she stood, leaning over her vanity and applying some sort of night cream in her adorable PJs. She wore these fluffy white shorts, cupping to her skin just below her bottom, a white fluffy top to match, dipping low enough to show the slopes of her breasts. Steve nearly moaned at how hot she looked in her night attire, loving the way her smooth legs were on show, stomach just barely appearing through the flowy portion of her top. He softly rapped his knuckles against the glass of her window, causing the girl to jump in fear and hold up an unused curling wand as a makeshift weapon.

“Steve?” she whispered, moving to open the window in hopes that it was him and not some weirdo, “what are you doing here? Wait, how do you know where I live?” she grew fearful, almost slamming the window down on his back as he attempted to climb through it.

“Ow,” he made it in, moving past her to sit on her bed as she softly shut the window closed, “Robin told me, needed to check up on you.”

“You don’t find it weird that you barely know me and your sneaking into my room in the middle of the night?” she asked perplexed, a bit uncomfortable about having him in the safe haven she called her bedroom. Quickly moving her foot to push a pair of panties she’d peeled off this morning under her bed, she advanced toward him, choosing to sit on her pillows and not too close to the handsome boy.

“Well, yeah, I guess it’s kinda weird. But, you seemed upset on the phone, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” he was trying to be sweet, picking up the nearest stuffed animal; which happened to be a plush dog, and moving its arms in a mock hugging motion, an adorable faux pout on his lips.

“I told you I was fine, Steve. You didn’t need to go all Rambo.” she joked, keeping her eyes on the toy in his hands as she spoke.

“You didn’t seem fine, what’s up?” he set the plush down, laying on his side and peering up at the girl, whom he could tell was growing anxious in his proximity. He hoped it was a good anxious.

“I’m just annoyed,” she admitted, picking at the skin of her fingers uncomfortably.

“With?” he pushed, hoping to get some form of an answer from her. What he didn’t expect, was for her to kick her leg out towards him, pushing him off he bed with an umph as he tried to recover on the carpet.

“You!” she all but yelled, “you asked for my number, but then waited 4 days to fricken call me? What the heck!” he wanted to chuckle at her lack of cussing, replacing the ‘taboo’ words with common fraises he heard come from a certain curly-haired freak he called his friend. But, he couldn’t, not when she was clearly upset with him and his usually successful antics.

“I’m sorry?” he didn’t know what to say, most girls brushing his lack of care to the side in hopes of landing a steamy night in the bedroom with him, “I didn’t know that is would upset you.”

“Annoy me,” she corrected, rolling her eyes and sitting up on her bed with her legs crossed underneath her, “you annoyed me, why?”

“I don’t know. That stuff usually works with chicks.”

She scoffed, placing a pillow in her lap to hug instead of beating him to a pulp with her growing anger, “I’m not a chick, Steve. I’m a person.”

“I know, I know.” he stood from the floor, awkwardly making his way to her bed, “I’m sorry.”

She shot her hand out, pointing at her bedroom window with her manicured nails, gesturing for him to leave, “Out, now.” he held his hands up, making his way to her window in mock surrender.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked hopeful.

“Yeah, yeah. Now leave weirdo.” she giggled, Steve noting how pretty she looked with a smile on her face.

He sent a wink her way, opening the pane of glass and sliding back out into the warm summer air of Hawkins. As he descended down her house, he couldn’t help but find a large grin on his face, jogging happily to his car. Although he had made her mad, she was still sweet as ever, in the end, making him hopeful.

He spent his night thinking of her, his hand venturing under his covers as he pictured her body and the way it looked in her PJs, supple flesh nearly all on show for him. He imagined what she would look like naked, underneath him and begging for him to do something, tears streaming down her face. He was close, pumping his hard cock to the thought of her voice, her face, literally everything about her. It felt so wrong, yet so right, touching himself whilst thinking about all the things he would do to her. He made a split-second decision, pausing his ministrations to grab the phone off of his nightstand, making quick work of dialing her number for the third time that night.

After a few rings, she answered, voice slightly whiny and filled with sleep, causing the man to groan as his hand continued where he left off, “Hello? Steve?”

“Hey, pretty. You sleepin’?” he tried to be as inconspicuous as he could, his hips thrusting up into his hand at the sound of her gentle voice.

“I was, what’s up? You okay?” her concern was charming, making Steve’s fist move faster.

“I’m great, you?” he had no idea why he called her, maybe this was a bad idea.

“Steve, what- what is that noise?” oh no, she could hear. He now realized that he’d been caught, the wet sounds of his palm jerking his heavy cock were loud, echoing through the mic and into the girl’s ear.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to hear your voice.” he apologized, not caring to slow down even as he was caught.

“Oh, I. Uh, I don’t know what to say.” she grew shy, thighs clenching together at the thought of him touching himself.

“Why don’t you help me, baby? Go on, touch yourself.” he was overly confident, not worrying about the fact that she could hang up and turn him into the laughing stock of the town. She could easily tell everyone that Steve Harrington called her at 1 in the morning, jerking off and asking her to help him catch his release by joining him.

She wasn’t a prude, she’d often touched herself at night, constantly getting off to the thought of being fucked by an imaginary man she’d read about in a romance novel she stole from Mel. So, when she trailed her hand down her body to her shorts, Steve could’ve sworn he was in heaven. He listened to the rustling sounds of her hand underneath her quilt. He nearly busted when she let out a whimper, his name following shortly after.

“You wet, pretty?” he groaned out, squeezing the base of his cock as he listened to the sounds of her whining.

“Mhm, s’wet for you Stevie.” He all but moaned out loud, giving a sharp tug to his length at the girl’s admission.

She wasn’t new to masturbation, that was clear. But, she was new to any form of sexual intimacy with someone. So, it was weird how easily she responded to him, as if she’d had phone sex before, growing alarmingly aroused at his husky voice as it bled through the speaker of her phone. Nicole had barely touched herself, and she was already nearing an orgasm, embarrassingly fast.

“Fuck, baby. Let me hear it.” Steve didn’t care that his request was odd, couldn’t give two shits. Especially when the girl moaned, pulling the phone from her ear and down to her heat, resting the microphone on her inner thigh as she continued to rub her clit. Steve let out a loud groan, pumping his cock faster at the sounds of her wet cunt and subtle moaning in the background. Jesus, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this hard, this horny for someone.

She put the phone back to her ear, letting out a squeak as she entered a finger into her tight hole, pumping the digit in and out, “feels s’good, Stevie.” the nickname nearly made him combust, his stomach pulling tight at her words.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking sexy. Wanna fuck you so bad.” once again, he didn’t care if he was being weird, letting his thoughts spill from his mind and into the receiver.

“I’m c-close.” he sped up, wanting to cum with her. He knew that this was all too soon, too quick to even establish boundaries, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care, not with her whiny moans and sopping wet cunt reeling him into the deep end and clutching him close. It would surely be awkward the next time they saw each other, surely uncomfortable for the both of them, but neither one could care. Nicole didn’t care. She didn’t care that she was making it easy for the Harrington boy. Didn’t care that she’d feel extremely guilty afterward. As long as she got to cum, that’s all she could care about in the end.

“Me too, cum for me baby. Cum on your fingers.” she did, moaning loudly into the phone and immediately pulling a release from the boy. The two cumming together, reaching their highs with erotic moans.

“Holy shit, Steve” that was the first time he’d heard the girl swear, and he nearly snorted at how odd it sounded coming from her. The two quickly came down from their highs, realizing what had just happened in the wake of their tiredness.

“Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.” he rushed out, throwing his arm over his eyes as he grimaced at how awkward he was being.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” she quickly hung up, tossing the phone away from her and back onto the base. What the hell just happened?

Nearly 10 miles apart, the two lay in their respective beds, staring up at their ceilings in disbelief. Steve couldn’t believe how much of a horny teenager he could be when it came down to it, throwing all rationality out the window in order to chase his release. Nicole couldn’t believe what she had just done, guilt and humiliation closing in around her and swallowing her whole. She’d known the man for only 4 days, not even. Yet, here she was, handing him her innocence on a platter with no regard for her own emotions. She had morals, but she couldn’t find them at that moment. Tomorrow was going to be so awkward.

And, it was. The two barely held eye contact for more than a few seconds, both burning bright red and practically running away. Their friends started to catch on, Robin interrogating Steve and asking why he was being so weird, Mel comforting Nicole, refusing to ask what had happened and instead offering a shoulder to lean on. Steve was quick to throw Nicole under the bus, pulling Robin into the employee lounge and relaying everything to her. Robin sat wide-eyed, staring at Steve with utter confusion and awe.

“What are you drinking, dude? Can I have some, Jesus.” she stood, adjusting her hat before leaving him in the back to wallow in his confession.

Nicole told her friend the more PG version, walking around the phone call and refusing to bring it up, humiliation eating away at her from the inside out. She felt smaller than usual, caving in on herself and walking around the shop like a kicked puppy.

“Stop beating yourself up, Nic,” her friend accused, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly, “it’s not like you had sex with him.” she offered a soft smile, the gesture falling when she saw how red her friend’s face became.

“You didn’t!” she exclaimed moving to stand in front of the girl who sat on the counter.

“I didn’t,” she wasn’t entirely lying. Well, yea they did things, but they didn’t have sex. It wasn’t that big of a deal, right? “But, we kinda did stuff over the phone last night.” she pursed her lips, choosing to look at the floor instead of the bewildered girl in front of her.

“What?!” she screamed, literally screamed, pulling the attention of patrons walking past the store; pulling the attention of Steve. He made eye contact with Nicole, immediately assuming what their conversation was about and sending her a glare. In his mind, it was okay that he told Robin, the girl becoming a best friend of sorts that he relied on. However, it wasn’t okay that Nicole had told blabber-mouth Melissa Scott about the incident. He shook his head like the asshole he was, and stomped into the back, leaving Nicole to groan out and jump off the counter, making her way out of the store.

“Where are you going? You haven’t even told me anything yet!” her friend called out, watching her wordlessly stomp to the ice cream parlor. Letting out an awkward sigh she turned around, eyes wide and lips pulled into a tight line, “here lies Steve Harrington, Hawkin’s resident idiot.”

She marched into the shop, making eye contact with her friend Robin, she’d say hi later. Without a second thought, she entered the back, finding Steve sitting at the singular table. He had his head in his hands, leg bouncing with anxiety.

“What the hell was that look for?” Nickie seethed, scaring the boy with her sudden presence.

“What are you doing back here?” he answered with a question, looking up at her with annoyance.

“What was that look for.” she repeated, not backing down until she got an answer.

“You tell me, Ms. Perfect.” he spit, pretending to be bored as he looked down at his hands.

“Ms. Perfect?” she asked incredulously, “what is your problem?”

“My problem,” he paused, standing up to tower over her with his height, “is you. Opening your dirty little mouth and telling Mel what happened last night.”

Robin could hear the conversation from where she stood, hell everyone in Scoops could hear the conversation. She grew annoyed, scoffing at the double standard he laid out for her friend as if he didn’t tell Robin herself what had happened.

“As if you didn’t tell anyone, King Steve.” Nicole was outraged, knowing damn well he had to have told someone, after what she learned about him from both Robin and Mel.

“Well I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Got what I wanted, didn’t I?” he regretted his words the second he spoke them, watching the girl before him deflate immediately.

“So- So what, I was just some stupid accomplishment for you?” she felt tears prick at her eyes, chest bubbling with disappointment and hurt.

Digging himself an even deeper hole, he let out a fake laugh, nodding his head at her words and breaking her soul into a million tiny pieces, “yea, pretty much. Kinda easy too, if you think about it.”

A sob left her throat, it didn’t matter that they hadn’t even had sex, just the plain and simple fact that she’d let him in, only for him to throw it back in her face hurt like hell. It hurt so bad, that she found herself stomping towards him, her palm slapping across his face and leaving his cheek to sting.

“Fuck you, Steve.” her words hurt, more than he wanted to admit. He refused to look at her, eyes finding the blurry outline of Robin’s head through the window more interesting than Nicole’s. He wanted to apologize, take it all back, but she wasn’t his in the first place. They were stupid 18-year-olds, having a stupid sexcipade as their only true encounter between them. What he said was wrong, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. Not yet, at least.

She left almost as fast as she had entered, running past a concerned Robin and out of the mall. She hadn’t even gotten to her car before she was breaking down, looking crazed as she sobbed along her way. She didn’t know what she was expecting to happen after the phone call, but it surely wasn’t this outcome. Not a single one of her assumptions could line up with what had just happened between her and Steve, not one.

She probably should’ve stayed at work, a lengthy phone call from her boss waiting for her at home, but she couldn’t. Not when she’d be forced to stand less than 100 yards from the one person she wanted to hide from right now. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, she immediately changed out of her work clothes, throwing her swimming suit on with the thought of hopefully drowning in the public pool. She decided to keep the outfit simple, tossing her dad’s button-up on, and tucking it into her denim overalls.

With only the thought of submerging her overheated body in chlorine water, she set off. The drive was shorter than she expected, pulling up to the outdoor pool and walking in after handing the front office a few quarters for the entry fee. She easily could’ve avoided paying, sneaking past the two teens who probably would’ve just rolled their eyes. But alas, her morals were too strong. She made her way over to an open chair, pulling her clothes from her body and exposing her not-so-modest bikini. Even after being practically slut shamed, she didn’t care enough to throw on her one piece. It was way too hot for her to care about being judged by the mothers at the pool. Who were, in fact, sitting next to her, Karen Wheeler leaning over to softly pat the girl’s knee in hopes to gain her attention.

“Hi, sweetie,” the mom called, smiling brightly at her, “haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”

“Oh, Mrs.Wheeler, I’m good, and you?” she responded politely, working sunscreen into her calves mid-conversation.

“Ah, the usual, hiding from my husband and kids,” she joked, pulling a forced laugh from Nicole, “So, you here to swim or?”

“Isn’t that what a pool is for?” she asked confused.

“Well yeah, but,” she trailed off, leaning closer in her direction to whisper something that utterly shocked the girl, “there’s a nice piece of eye candy working the lifeguard post, you got here just in time.”

Nickie looked over her shoulder, watching multiple heads turn toward the men’s locker room. Out walked Billy Hargrove in all his glory, abs on show and mullet gracefully flowing in the wind. Nicole knew who he was, avoiding him all throughout her senior year in hopes of never having to meet the new kid. Usually, she’d be sticking by their side, helping them to classes and opening their locker for them, but after hearing that he was quite the womanizer, she didn’t want to risk being wooed. Billy walked along the edge of the pool and stopped at the sight of a little kid running on the concrete. His whistle sounded out, pulling a grimace onto Nicole’s face at the shrill sound.

“Hey, lard-ass!” Nicole followed his line of sight, finding a chunky boy stopped in his steps, fearful of the much older and stronger boy, “No running on my watch! I gotta warn you-” she cut his yelling out with a sigh, feeling bad for the boy, but not saying anything like the rest of the pool goers. She continued to apply her sunscreen, moving from her legs to her stomach, attempting to get her lower back before she let out a huff of annoyance. Damn her short arms.

“Need some help sweetheart?” she looked up, the sun being blocked out by Billy’s much larger form as he towered over her.

“Um, sure?” without realizing how intimate applying sunscreen for someone else could be, she handed him the bottle, turning around and holding her hair up in a makeshift bun, exposing her smooth back.

She listened to the squirting sound the bottle made, body going still as his large hands palmed her back, massaging the lotion into her skin. Although the women around her were jealous as all hell, they bit there lips at the scene before them. Pretending the girl was themselves, they watching his hands dip under the strings of her bikini, fingers softly digging into the flesh of her lower back, sensually rubbing the milky cream in. Nicole thought nothing of it, turning with a smile and thanking him for applying it.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” he watched her stand, eyes zeroing in on her ass as she all but sashayed to the pool’s steps. He held his breath, the girl unknowingly putting on a show for him and the other hungry men at the pool as she descended down the stairs and into the water. She immediately dove under, coming up just as quick to push her hair back and out of her face as it became wet. She wasn’t even trying to, but she was being seductive as hell, Billy biting the tip of his sunglasses and watching the water cascade down her front and over the slopes of her breasts. He nearly tripped up the ladder to his seat, eyes never leaving her form as she swam from one end of the pool to the other. Although his job was to watch everyone at the pool, he sat comfortably in his seat, sporting a half hard cock and keeping his eyes on her. He knew who she was, constantly hearing about the famous good girl of Hawkins High the second he had gotten there. He never payed too much mind to the fact that they’d never crossed paths. Now he could see the enigma everyone spoke of, he finally met Nicole Anders. And god was he happy to. She was as sweet and as kind as everyone had said, hotter than what the guys at school described, why was he just now meeting her? He needed a piece of her, and fast. But, unlike Steve, he knew her type; running into many ‘angelic’ girls. He knew how to rile them up, in the best way. Start as charming as ever, wiggle your way into a friendship, take her on stupid cheesy dates and pretend to be the most gentleman like guy she’d ever meet, and then finally worm your way into her bed. And that, was exactly the Hargrove boy’s plan.

“Hey, your Nickie right?” he started, crouching down at the edge of the pool as she stopped to catch her breath. Her chlorine stained eyes blinked up at him, nodding quickly as she realized she didn’t answer, “sorry it took me this long to remember. I don’t think we’ve officially ever met, I’m Billy.” he held his hand out, not caring that she’d get him wet as he helped her out of the water.

“Nice to meet you Billy, I gotta get going though, I’ll see you later!” she called out, walking away from him but being stopped as he jogged to meet her quick strides. He unwrapped the dry towel from around his neck, offering it out to her. She gladly took it, smiling up at him as a thank you and wrapping it around her soaked body.

“I could give you a ride home?” he offered, hoping she’d say yes.

“I took my car here, thank you though.” although she was being sweet, he was growing annoyed, constantly being shut down, clearly she’d be more of a challenge then he thought.

“I-I’m sorry,” his hand grabbed her wrist softly, giving her space to pull away which she did, his eyes locked onto his empty hand before they looked down at his feet, his faux sadness fooling her, “I don’t mean to come off so strong. It’s just-”

He paused, looking around the pool before lowering his voice so no one could hear him, “I don’t have many friends, with my being new and all, and, I don’t know. You’re one of the first people to be nice to me.” he shrugged. Although his words pained him, he wasn’t entirely lying. Of course people catered to him and now surround him as if he’s royalty, none of them were genuinely nice upon first meeting, unlike her.

“I’m sorry, the people here aren’t all that bad though, sometimes they just need some warming up. You’re kind and gentle, I’m sure they’ll fall inlove with you in no time.” Jesus, was this girl a saint or something?

“You, you think so?” he asked, feigning innocence as he looked around the pool in mock fear.

“I know so. Look, I gotta head home, but tomorrow im free?” she smiled as she placed her hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze that made him internally groan, “you can stop by my work while I’m on break, we can go get some food or something, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. Where do you work?” it was hard for him not to take her right there, the sun glowing behind her and forming a halo of light above her head.

“I work in Starcourt. You know the record store, Sam’s?” he nodded, excitement and arousal coursing through his veins.

“See ya then.” he watched her walk off, adjusting his hard cock in his swimtrunks, not caring who saw.

The next day, Steve had found himself constantly looking over at Sam’s, catching glimpses of Nicole as she chatted away with Mel and customers. Not once, did he catch her looking his way, acting as if he’d never existed. It was painful, sitting there and watching him ignore her.

“Ahoy, Harrington.” the familiar voice bounced off the walls of the shop, striking shortly lived fear in some of the patrons. Steve looked up from his spot behind the counter, giving Billy and eyeroll.

“What do you want Hargrove.” what the hell was he doing here.

“Just here for some ice cream,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “How about one cone of chocolate, and one vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles.” the order struck a memory chord in him, the boy finding his eyes veering off the smug look on Billy’s face and toward the girl who had been on his mind for atleast a week now.

After scooping out the cones, he turned to Billy who threw the few dollar bills on the counter, “This for one of your women?” he poked boredly, hoping the boy would leave quickly.

“Yup.” Billy popped the ‘P’, sending a wink Steve’s way before marching out of the store. Steve let out a scoff, the look of annoyance quicking turning to one of confusion watching him walk in the opposite direction of the mall’s exit. The confusion left his body instantly, fear replacing it as he watched him walk toward Sam’s.

“Please be Mel, Please be Mel.” he chanted under his breath, praying that Nicole had nothing to do with his enemy. He felt the blood leave his face, forcing him to be as pale as a ghost, watching her run up to Billy with a smile, giving his side a quick hug before graciously accepting the cone.

He painfully watched them for the next half-hour, sitting in the foodcourt just barely in his line of sight. Robin noticed the two the second she entered the mall for her shift, speedwalking to the store in hopes to reach it before Steve could see them. Upon her entrance, she immediately noticed the kicked puppy behind the counter, walking around it and wrapping her arm around his shoulder comfortingly.

“I hate to break it to you, Steve, but this is kinda your fault.” Robin’s voice broke him out of his near trance, thankful to be watching something other than Nickie schmoozing it up with his arch nemesis.

“Yeah, yeah,” with one last glance at the pair, he turned around walking into the back before dejectedly calling out to Robin, “I know.”.

AHHHHH it's finally here! I honestly don't hate it, the plot, but I do hate the pace of the story....Wayyy too fast, someone teach me how to slow things down!!! Let me know if you like it and wanna see the next chapter!! also, hmu to be added to the taglist for cherry bomb and the rest of my writes!!

taglist: @lollipopz

#stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington #joe keery #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #king steve #smut #steve harrington smut #mean steve #billy hargrove #robin buckley #dustin henderson #cherry bomb #heavy angst #smutty smut smut #requests are open #steve harrington fluff

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movementsofmylife · 1 year

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bad buddy ep 10 (rewatch)

how many times does pran pull out his entire (extremely intense) set of markers and not use them:

total so far: //// / (i actually don't think we see the markers ever again after ep 7, and this is wild to me, because i thought they were so much more present)

this ep just leaves me shattered every time.

and it starts off so cute. i love that pat's shirt is hanging off the back of pran's chair. they're so domestic.

honestly i feel kind of robbed of 5th year pran. because pran is clearly pretty high on the arch hierarchy. he can organize this wild confession plot and even get joke to take part. he would have been incredible to see in his final year fully ruling over arch lol.

also, not be on the kornwai agenda, but this scene. also, everyone else is also clearly on the kornwai agenda because this is the most replayed scene lol.

i paused with them for a bit bc wai was being extra annoying and on his 'i'm a straight boy' arc. but clearly clearly, that simply should not be the case. (i could definitely headcanon them in some kind of messy fuck buddies situation at this point. it would be so chaotic and incredible.)

ink is the most confident gay one could be. like goddamn. she's an inspiration. on her peak game this ep.

also, these shirts. adorable. also, i think the vibe of this ep is almost too bright? it's like effervescent and lovely and it's the sun with a rainbow without the rain. and obviously we get the rain at the end.

and i also think this is a tiny glimpse of what patpran would have been without the fall out with their parents.

it's not that they're not happy at the end of the show. they're happy and together and thriving. but they're also carrying what secrets they have to carry and cognizant of the limits they push against. they're adults who have learned to enjoyed the boundaries of the space they've built for themselves. and that's fine, that's truly extremely normal.

but here, for a short while we get patpran at their most naive and reckless. who are in love and out to friends and faculty and to random old teachers. and they could have had this, they could have been this, but for their parents and i think that's a tragedy, and i think we're supposed to see that.

like look at this face. and pat casually confessing he watched pran as long as pran watched him

they truly committed to the episode's theme of secrets revealed. and the contrast between purposeful joyful confessions and ones dragged out of you by circumstance. like this show is the queerest shit in the world.

pran casually devastating me with this line. they're so in love.

and then we get the jindapat siblings being truly so much better than they have any right to be.

pa's "your sister is too hot" is an incredible line. she should say it like it is.

my girls:)

i have written and thought and despaired so much over this scene.

and i think this is the core of it. their entire childhood was fucked up over a grudge that didn't have to be.

it was a shitty thing that ming did. but they could have resolved shit like adults. but instead there's a grudge and saving face and secrets and pitting their children against each other. and it's so fucking shit because patpran aren't star-crossed. they didn't have to be. and this is pran telling his mom that.

and this is pat learning that.

also fuck his mom for this.

this episode though.

#as always i'm still on that rooftop #bad buddy #this was longer #but then tumblr ate the fucking post somehow #so now it's mildly more reasonable #idk #badbuddyrewatch #bad buddy ep 10

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ppoppokari · 2 months

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🍃🍡...overall ship...🍡🍃

@margumis

i literally feel so embarrassed by how chummy i was with you, just assigning you the "my gumis" title when i hadn't even touched your ship description, but oh my god, your personality and your visuals??!! i am so enamoured like wow, you really got everything going on for you, you're such a cool person, i could have shipped you with the whole entire group, no joke.

you're just everything with the sweetest personality on top of your sabrina carpenter visuals.

wren

~stray kids~ changbin🍃🍡

You can only express so much through the written word, so all of this probably won’t come close to fully explaining just how much I ship you with Changbin. It seems very on the nose but shipping him with someone who expels such intense energy but seriously pairing him with someone so bright and enthusiastic is big yes.

There is something in you that would strike Changbin as odd (in all the right ways), you just had this natural ability to stand out in a crowd with little to no effort. Or at least that’s how he perceived it, you weren’t a try hard at all, but you totally put a little extra effort in to charm Changbin.

We all know that Changbin is a bubbly mess off stage, but you really help remind people that he has like no chill at all.

Now, let’s be real Changbin would adore you inside and out but, I must talk about how the two of you are a happy pair of visuals. I’m trying to not be violent with my analogy, but your collective visuals will give any person who sees you two together a finishing body slam.

You both have such a bold look, something so striking and sharp, it’s lethal. As you can tell by my gushing you are so pretty, and I really mean it. I just love how much duality is present in your visuals, you look like a cold, femme fatale ice queen but there is so much kindness and softness in your eyes.

Even though I would describe Changbin in the exact same way, there is still such a contrast, somehow your visuals feel so damn sharp and refined, compared to the 50% macho man 50% soft boy thing he has going on. It really does seem like you’re the inverted version of him, at least visually speaking but you have everyone else, including me, in awe.

My favourite part of these ships is always the personality part of these ships, and this is no exception. I promise I’m not trying to flatter you; you just have the most fascinating personality. Even from two paragraphs worth of description you felt like an old friend, there was a sense of familiarity with you, and I feel like that’s just the impression you give off.

So, in Changbin’s eyes you are just that, a safety blanket, a familiar person who he wishes to spend a large portion of his time around. There’s an inside joke where you are everything Chan wants to be and that you’re lucky Chan falls short otherwise Changbin would be in a dating scandal with 1racha.

Honestly, it would be hard to tell whether he is joking or not and that is the thrill you’ve always wanted in a relationship.

Though I lowkey gag at the thought of “fitness” couples (nothing against them I swear) I really love the idea of Changbin trying to bench press you, or you both deciding on the tame route of hiking together.

You just have so much in common, so even if you want to do something more domestic and lowkey you still have heaps of fun together. The coffee dates, the late-night drives that are reminiscent of those specific aesthetic audios, that’s what makes this is how pretty your relationship is.

You push all his buttons in the right way, you excite him, he literally welcomes your unserious side.

Each subtle thing that either of you did, brought you closer together, some days Changbin is sure that he stumbled upon his soulmate, one thing is certain in his mind. Each cold distant stare you give him sets his heart ablaze.

......

p.s. if you ever need a headcanon or a x reader drabble/fic with this changbin x you energy i will deliverrrrr

#kpop ships #kpop matchups #overall ships #stray kids #margumis more like my gumis #my lovely mootz #⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆#old souls edition #vintage boyfriend aesthetic

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lunarsands · 1 year

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Empires SMP S1 Fanfic: Night of the Winter Stars

Title: Night of the Winter Stars

Characters: Mythical Sausage, Scott Smajor, Xornoth (in elf form not demon), and a small flock of adopted children

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor

Tags: Empires SMP S1 AU, scosage, adoption, wholesome, fluff

WARNINGS: acknowledgement of amputation (not sure how else to tag that but just in case)

Summary: It’s time for the winter festival in Rivendell. Scott and Sausage bring their little growing family to experience the snow and have some fun.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ A/N: The story of how Scott and Sausage ended up together (and how Sausage came to lose an arm) is currently a WIP by Cynthrey. The story of how they ended up adopting over a half dozen children is the sequel that I’m currently working on, but I wanted to write a cute little fic for the holidays, so here’s a preview of what life is like for these two as they navigate fatherhood with an adorable mix of children. | Also includes collaborative artwork by Cynthrey here!]

- - -

Packing for the week-long stay in Rivendell for the winter festival had gotten slightly more complicated with the addition of two now five-year-olds and an infant of indeterminate age but at this point was considered to be about six months old. It would be the human children’s first time visiting, and Sausage was probably worrying too much about making sure everyone stayed warm enough. Xornoth had joked about building a lodge just for his brother’s gaggle of kids when three more had first been added, but now with little Mariposa it was pretty much a necessity to have the space plus anything extra they might need, so there would be spare clothes available waiting for them. The elven children would be fine with their newly acquired color-coordinated hats, scarves, and gloves, and at least the older children could handle most of their own packing.

Now at fourteen, Azahar was helping where he could, providing an example of dressing responsibly for the weather with the striped scarf that matched his amber eyes and short orange dreadlocks, contrasting well with his darker skin. He made sure nine-year-old – well, nine-and-a-half, as she would insist – Liana kept both of her gloves in one coat pocket and her hat in the other. She had requested violet for her set to match her eyes, complaining that dark blue would blend in with her long, sapphire hair. Twelve-year-old Elowen, meanwhile, had asked not for dark green that might go with his shoulder-length hair, but for light blue to go with his eyes and also to match with Scott; this had been quietly agreed by the two fathers as a good idea, since it could work as a comfort for the boy if he became nervous in possible crowds.

Meanwhile, Seren and Rayen, the long-blond-haired and brown-eyed human twins, had been given a similar shade of pink so they could interchange accessories as they were wont to do; Sausage had a backup set of everything in case one glove went missing during that mischief. At nine, their older sibling Ilan was also going to be on the more responsible side. They had green to match their eyes, and the hat fit just right to cover all of their brown hair to avoid assumptions about their identity.

Everyone adored the fact that Mariposa had tiny little boots that stuck out of the bottom of the crossbody baby carrier Scott would be using to transport her around, while the rest of her would be swaddled in a light pink fleece onesie plus as many colorful blankets as necessary. She had a tiny hat in bright turquoise to cover her white-blond hair, the shade perfectly matched to her eyes.

Scott didn’t mind being designated baby holder for most of the trip since Sausage wouldn’t be able to easily use the carrier with his own need for an extra layer of clothes, especially the thick, fleece-lined vest needed so his prosthetic arm wouldn’t be covered by a coat, which would render it almost unusable. A cloak draped over the remaining part of his upper arm worked well enough to stave off the chill on that side during his previous visits to Rivendell in winter, and of course fWhip had designed the prosthetic to resist being affected by the cold in general.

With nearly everyone waiting at the carriage outside, Sausage and Ilan were grabbing a few last-minute things, which included Seren, who was escaping every attempt to get her nice new hat on. She kept giggling and evading Sausage as he chased her down the hall; naturally, a five-year-old perpetually had more energy and ability to squirm free of anything, particularly a one-armed grown man, prosthetic limb or not.

Fortunately, Ilan was always prepared to wrangle one or both of their younger sisters, so they easily stepped in after the third escape and plopped the hat onto her head while she giggled again.

“Thank you, Ilan,” Sausage said with a bit of huffing and puffing after all the running. “Now we can go.”

“Carry me, Papa!” Seren crowed and held her arms up toward him.

“Okay, give me a moment. Ilan, can you take this bag? There’s a couple of extra things in there for Mariposa.”

“Got it,” they agreed, picking up the straps in both hands, although it was light enough that they didn’t have to struggle with it any.

“All right, let’s go. You know, Rayen went ahead already without a fuss.” Sausage scooped up Seren with his left arm, bracing her on his hip with careful support from his right hand, checking to be sure neither the bottom of her coat or her scarf got caught in any of the struts of his prosthetic before they all headed outside.

Scott had the rest of the children situated inside the carriage by the time they arrived, except for Azahar, who was on the driver’s bench holding the reins while waiting for Sausage. Ilan climbed in first, then Sausage more or less handed Seren to them so they could take over getting her settled. She saw that Liana was hugging her favorite plush bunny, and immediately clamored for her own plushie. Already prepared, Scott handed her a teddy bear. She then swapped with Rayen for a toy sheep.

Sausage got into the driver’s spot and took the reins. “And we’re off!” he announced.

~*~

The trip went smoothly with Mariposa only crying once on the way, but a few rounds of elven lullabies got her to quiet down again. Elowen and Liana joined in; Ilan was gaining more of a grasp of the new language and sang a few words that they knew through repetition, after the past few months of becoming used to Scott singing to the baby. The twins imitated some of the sounds but mostly hummed instead. It was a good way to keep everyone occupied, Scott decided, as he gently patted Mariposa’s back, having turned her around in the carrier toward him since being able to lean her face on his chest seemed the most comforting for her.

Pulling onto the street leading to the apparent location of their assigned lodge, Sausage spotted Xornoth waiting for them. The purple-haired elf waved and Azahar waved back, calling, “Uncle Xornoth! We’re here!” As Sausage halted the carriage, the younger elf hopped down and ran over for a hug.

“Hey, kiddo! You’ve gotten tall.” Xornoth grinned and walked back over with Azahar while Sausage opened the carriage door and started helping the other children climb down. Xornoth nodded to each of them and greeted them with compliments or comments such as, “Oh, that’s a lovely bunny you have, Liana” and “Watch out, Seren, that sheep might eat your arm like it did to your papa.”

When it was Scott’s turn to exit, Xornoth said, “Okay, let me see, where is my newest little niece – you two are utterly ridiculous by the way, have I told you that? – Ah, there she is!” Scott already had Mariposa out of the carrier and was holding her toward his brother. Xornoth took her into his arms and quickly shifted to holding her in a supported cradle position. “Oh, look at you! You’re so tiny! And in one piece! That’s a miracle, with your two hapless dads. Just wait until you’re old enough to notice one of them misplaced an entire arm!”

“Xornoth,” Scott warned through gritted teeth. When he had gotten his brother to agree to the promise of we don’t talk about what happened to Papa’s arm, he should have known there would be endless jokes involved to avoid the truth.

“Uncle Xornoth!” Liana yelled, “Don’t make her scared of sheep!”

Xornoth chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell her something else. Maybe this time it could be that… hmm… he traded it for a magic spell that would make a tiny flower turn into a tiny princess, because he and Dad wanted a baby for the family.”

Scott couldn’t help casting a soft-hearted look at Sausage. Well, that one was kind of sweet, at least. The children had gotten used to their elven uncle’s habit of telling a different story every time he started joking about Sausage’s prosthetic arm. The mix of redstone technology and magic that made it work had only fascinated them and hadn’t bothered any of them when they had each first been introduced to the fact. He gave perfectly good hugs with it, after all.

“Well,” Xornoth then said, “Let’s get you settled in. Come on, kids, I’ll show you to your rooms! I assume you two can handle your luggage.” He threw a teasing smirk at Scott and Sausage then swept off into the building while a porter held the door for him, still cradling Mariposa and the other children eagerly following him.

Scott blinked and slowly looked down at the empty baby carrier, as if trying to process that his brother had easily made off with an infant with zero fuss.

Sausage, meanwhile, chuckled as he climbed up to reach the bags secured on top of the carriage. “We’ll see how he handles babysitting them all once the novelty of arriving here wears off for them. Last time he saw the twins they were on their best behavior. Just wait until they find out how much they’re allowed to run around in the snow.”

“That could be the deal, then: if he wants to hold Mariposa, he has to help with the other girls.” Scott began to take bags as Sausage handed them down to him, then the porter and a couple of other servants joined to assist getting everything inside. Aside from Seren and Rayen, the other children knew to come back to get their own things, but in the meantime most of the bags were left near the door so Scott and Sausage had a chance to look around, although Sausage made sure to take one of the baby supply bags with him.

There was the main room with a large fireplace with enough seats for a dozen people, and a small kitchen to the left. A hallway to the right led to one set of rooms, while a staircase went up to another floor. They could hear multiple footsteps above them so they assumed everyone was touring the rooms upstairs. The two were just about to go up when Xornoth appeared, chattering away as he led the children back downstairs.

“See, I remembered ahead of time so you don’t all have to have a room each to yourself. Those rooms are just extras, so you can pick from the ones down here. There is one especially set aside for your dads and Mariposa, though, so maybe not that one.” He flashed a look at Sausage and Scott. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

He expertly held the baby with one hand while opening the door to the first room off the hallway. While the other rooms they had already seen contained two double beds, this room had only one so that there was space for a changing table and a very old, but sturdy-looking wooden crib that was decorated with finely carved images of the moon, stars, and planets on the headboard with slightly more crudely painted images of animals along the outside bottom – lower spots where a small child could reach.

“This crib,” Xornoth announced, as he leaned over the side to gently place Mariposa onto the awaiting blankets, then stood with a flourish of one hand, “Is where your dad slept when he was a baby! Believe it or not, he was once even smaller than Mariposa. I don’t call him my little brother for nothing.”

There were some giggles, then Liana asked, “Did he have magic as a baby?”

“Sometimes, when he sneezed, he caused a tiny snow flurry in the crib, but that was it. Magic only really comes to you when you get older.” Here Xornoth cast a warm smile at Elowen, knowing the boy had begun practicing more spells lately for a special reason.

Ilan had been looking at the animal pictures, but then asked, “Uncle Xornoth, do you know any magic?”

“A little bit, and more like general stuff. Sometimes there is one special magic someone can do, like your dad, and the rest of the time there are many different kinds, which I like to learn about even if I can’t actually cast the spells yet.”

Ilan now looked at him, then at Sausage, with a bit of a hopeful smile. The human child had shown interest in learning magic as well, but had been worried when they couldn’t catch on to the ice magic as easily as Elowen had. If an adult elf was still learning, that meant they had a chance, too.

Rayen started tugging at the bottom of Sausage’s vest. “Papa, I’m hungy.”

“Me too me too,” Seren chimed in, then stuck her thumb in her mouth before tugging on the other side. Well, there was one glove unaccounted for already.

Xornoth smiled down at them. “I’ll go see if dinner is ready at the Great Hall, if you can wait just a bit longer, little ones. If not, there are a few snacks in the kitchen, and you can settle in more until then.”

Mariposa chose that moment to start wailing, causing both Scott and Sausage to turn toward the crib. With the latter hindered by the twins, Scott made it there first and picked her up to carry her over to the changing table for a check.

“Wow, you’re both already really good at this,” Xornoth complimented. “Guess you can handle a baby after all. Well, I’ll be on my way! See you in a bit!”

Sausage handed off the supply bag to Scott, then ushered the other children out to assign them specific rooms – mainly so the twins would be right next door in case they had any late-night issues. Liana agreed to share the room with them, and as expected while being in an unfamiliar place Elowen asked to be in Azahar’s room, leaving Ilan to a room all their own, which they were happy with since it gave them a break from their sisters. The younger girls might behave since they were away from home and would have Liana there to tell them things about the elven homeland in winter.

After dinner Xornoth returned to the lodge with them to chat some more with Sausage, holding Mariposa again while the younger children played under Azahar’s supervision. Scott sat separately with Elowen, going over a few spellcasting gestures without fully creating the intended effect. It would be an early bedtime for everyone, though, since the festival began in the morning.

~*~

Despite being woken up twice during the night by Mariposa crying, Scott was awake on time. He quietly walked around the room getting ready, letting Sausage sleep a few extra minutes before finally waking him and helping him put his prosthetic on for the day.

While Sausage tended to Mariposa, Scott went to wake Elowen to help him fix up his hair with braids along each side of his head and tied together at the back, just like Scott’s. After that they gathered up the rest of the children, bundling up as necessary against the extra chill just as the sun was rising. Elowen walked beside Scott with Azahar right behind, while Liana and Ilan held the hand of one twin each, and Sausage at the rear, temporarily carrying a still-sleepy Mariposa facing outward in the carrier.

Although there was already a fair amount of snow around and frost on the gardens they passed, the official start of the festival called for a little something more. As they entered the area where many residents of Rivendell had already begun to gather, they saw Xornoth waiting with a crown of blue crystals on his head and an attendant at his side holding a folded cloth.

When the group stopped, Xornoth bowed to Scott and took off the crown to place it on his brother’s head. From atop the cloth he took a necklace that had a single blue crystal attached to a gold bauble and bestowed it upon Elowen. He then took the cloth itself, holding it up by one edge so that it unfolded into a shimmering dark blue cape, which he put around Scott’s shoulders, signaling that he would be the Summoner of the Sigils for the duration of Winterfest.

There was some light applause from those closest who had watched. More of the crowd parted as Scott walked to the center of the main festival grounds. Elowen remained behind, looking uncertain, but Azahar used the moment to squeeze his hand and give his best friend-turned-brother a reassuring smile.

Seren and Rayen jostled their way between their older brothers to get closer. Azahar gave them a patient look and now put a hand on each’s head to keep them from wandering further away, but they stayed in place now that they had a better view to watch as Scott shaped the spell that would form the snowflake sigils in the sky. He paused just before completing it and looked over at Elowen with a gentle smile.

The boy glanced around nervously, but Azahar whispered an encouraging, “You can do it,” although he refrained from offering a physical push. Elowen kept his eyes downward as he walked over, but he did look up at Scott once he reached him. Scott gave the slightest of nods, and Elowen took a breath then began to trace out the spell they had practiced the night before. He threw his arms upward at the same time as Scott did. The sigils appeared, accompanied by a small flurry of snow that dusted the surrounding area in a fresh layer of white glitter. The attendees applauded louder now, and there were a few exclamations of wonder as frost elementals materialized beyond the gathering and began to wander around at random, adding more layers of snow in their wake.

Elowen grinned; Scott kept his own arms up a few seconds longer even though he wanted to hug him, but then Azahar ran over to catch the younger boy up in a fierce embrace, getting that hug in first. “You did it! I knew you’d be alright!”

Scott smiled and now hugged them both.

Drawn by the excitement, Seren and Rayen came over as well, running in circles around the three of them. Liana skipped over next, proclaiming, “Elowen did it! He’s a winter wizard!”

Xornoth, remaining beside Sausage and Ilan, chuckled warmly. The summoning was usually a more formal affair, but the crowd didn’t seem to mind, already turning toward individual chatter and breaking off into smaller parties to start exploring the food stalls and market offerings spread throughout the town and adjacent valley. He decided he preferred the rambunctiousness of children over stiff ceremony.

He was about to comment as much to Sausage, but the soft look on the man’s face as he watched Scott and the rest of the kids made him chuckle again instead. He put a gentle hand on Ilan’s head and smiled down when they looked up, then put his other hand on Sausage’s shoulder. “A whole bunch of future wizards and knights and caretakers and whatever else they want to be. You two are doing all right.”

“Thank you,” Sausage replied, glancing down at Mariposa as she babbled and waved her tiny hands in Scott’s direction. “Looks like she wants Dad again. If you’ll excuse us, Your Highness, we’ve got some playing to do.” He grinned and took Ilan’s hand to include the still somewhat stoic child in the wintery games, as the others had started to construct figures out of snow in imitation of the frost elementals with Scott helping to shape and keep the forms with a little extra magic.

~*~

There was a break for food along the way, with plenty of offers of free treats for the younger children, but Sausage insisted on paying for everything. The inn offered a space for tending infants during the day, which Scott used as a chance to converse with a few nursing elven mothers there and get advice while feeding Mariposa her scheduled bottles.

A little later on the family went further separate ways when Sausage took the children to go sledding while Scott brought Mariposa back to the lodge for a nap somewhere warmer rather than continuing to carry her around. Xornoth accompanied him and once Mariposa was settled into the crib, they made some hot cider and sat in the main room close to the hallway to be able to hear if she suddenly woke up crying.

“Parenthood seems to be suiting you both well,” Xornoth commented. “Elowen did wonderfully, and I can see that all of them are fond of you. I assume you’re stopping at seven, though. You might start getting in over your head, and I’m going to run out of embarrassing stories soon.”

“Well, going from three to six was a little overwhelming at first, but things worked out for the best for everyone, I think. We have the space at the castle, after all. And Mariposa just sort of happened before we realized it.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, and well, just to be honest: what possessed you tw— Uh, sorry, wrong choice of word there, ehm. What made you decide to adopt an infant? It’s your business, of course, I’m not saying you shouldn’t have, just kind of curious how that came about.”

“It was an impulse decision, I’ll admit. We could have let her go to a home better able to meet her needs, but with one look she won our hearts and we decided to at least try.” Scott smiled down at his mug of cider. “This is our new adventure and we’re exploring it together. If we can make a difference in their lives, I’d say it was a success.”

Xornoth couldn’t resist reaching over and ruffling Scott’s hair. “My little brother, taking on the biggest adventure of all. So, tell me more of what everyone is up to. Liana is still a little firecracker, I see. I don’t imagine her having the patience to learn magic, but Ilan seems interested…”

~*~

Out on the sledding hills, a game had been set up of three teams to see who could navigate to the bottom of the hill and climb back up the fastest.

Halfway through the second run, Liana and Elowen were trying to race Sausage back to the top, then Liana stopped and yelled, “Papa, you’re cheating! You can carry them and the sled! They should walk like us!”

Sausage looked back at her, a twin balanced on each hip and the ropes of the small sled tied to his belt. “What? I thought that counted to slow me down? Have you picked one of them up lately? They’re getting heavy!”

The twins giggled. Liana huffed. Sausage laughed and set the girls down one at a time, although for a second he regretted not going right-side first because he thought he felt the rig holding his prosthetic in place shift ever so slightly. fWhip had reinforced it the last time he did maintenance specifically in order for Sausage to handle picking up the kids more often, so it shouldn’t be having an issue. He then untied the sled from his belt, acquiescing to her complaint.

Liana waded through the snow and wrapped her arms around Seren, attempting to pick her up. Seren giggled, while Elowen stood holding the ropes of the other sled, wondering if he should point out to his elven sister that Azahar and Ilan were now winning. Then Rayen wanted to get involved and jumped on Liana, knocking all three of them over into the snow. Seren started crying, getting a little too squished under the other two and with cold ice crystals scraping against her face.

Sausage hurried to intervene before someone started kicking. “Easy, girls. You’re okay. It’s just a little snow.” He got Liana back on her feet then picked up Seren again and brushed the icy flakes off her reddened cheeks with his gloved left hand; the metal of his right would be colder to the touch.

Just then Azahar and Ilan came sledding past, calling out how they were going to win because everyone else was being slowpokes. Liana grabbed the sled from Elowen then charged the rest of the way up with him floundering to follow.

“Slowpokes! We’re slowpokes, Papa! Let’s go!” Rayen called out and tried to push him toward the top of the hill. Naturally she couldn’t move him even half a centimeter.

“In a second, Rayen. Let me make sure your sister is okay.” Seren was making sniffling noises but quieted down after another moment. “I think it might be time to go inside and warm up. We can play more tomorrow, alright?” Seren nodded and hugged him around the neck. Rayen emitted a disappointed whine, as kids do, but started trudging up the hill.

Sausage was about to follow, then felt the horizontal strap securing the prosthetic’s rig around his upper arm start to slip. “Uh, Rayen – Rayen, wait a second—” With little choice he dropped himself straight down into the snow, preventing Seren from falling by herself as his prosthetic came clean off. He winced a little at the abrupt cut off of the redstone signal, but he was more concerned that she would begin crying again from the sudden drop.

Instead, she only blinked before laughing. “Papa! Your arm!”

Fortunately, Azahar and Ilan were on their way back again and noticed there was something wrong, what with how Sausage was sitting on the ground now with both twins clamoring for him to get up. He had fished his prosthetic out of the snow but was resigned to having to put it back down in it so he could get up, but then Ilan took it from him with a sheepish smile while Azahar offered to help Sausage up.

“Thank you. Um, Azahar, can you give that a quick look? I don’t think anything broke. All it did was fall off.”

Having three years of experience watching fWhip tinker with the arm during maintenance visits, the elven teen had a basic idea of how the struts and plates looked in the correct condition. There wasn’t any sparking from any wires and Sausage did a quick test by making the fingers curl; even though it was controlled by remote signal anyway, it was slightly disconcerting to see it move when it wasn’t attached.

At least watching all this unfold kept the twins’ attention rapt, more fascinated than weirded out by the arm seeming to move by itself. A minute later Elowen and Liana caught up to the group as well, stopping to see what had happened.

Sausage clasped his left hand over the exposed stub of his arm, the fabric cuff designed to resist chaffing, not the cold. “Okay, everybody, time to go find Dad and get inside. Let’s go, let’s go.” He waved his left hand to encourage them all to get in front of him, but Liana held back and stared up at his right side.

“Papa,” she said in a scolding tone, “You’re gonna get cold.”

“It’s okay, Liana, let’s just get going.”

“No, Papa. You’re gonna get cold! C’mere.” She waved him down to her level.

He gave an accepting smile and knelt on one knee. She pulled off her scarf and wrapped it around, under, and over his right shoulder, managing to cover that entire part of his arm. He helped tuck in the ends so it wouldn’t come loose. “Thank you. Now I’ll stay good and warm until we get back.”

Liana went skipping off – as much as the snow allowed for skipping – and he followed, catching up to the others in time to hear Seren demand to carry the prosthetic because it was her fault it came off so she should get to help. As she made several attempts to jump and take it from Ilan, Azahar’s answer was to take it instead and hold it up higher out of her reach.

They left their sleds in a corral at the top of the hill for others to use later, then headed in the direction of the lodge. On the way they met up with Xornoth and Scott, chatting together as they strolled around town. Scott was cradling Mariposa in his arms instead of using the baby carrier, perhaps to allow for a thicker layer of swaddling blankets, but once he caught sight of the purple scarf around Sausage’s upper arm, he handed off the entire bundle of quietly murmuring baby to Xornoth so he could go and inspect the prosthetic for himself.

Azahar held it out for him to see. “I didn’t notice any damage. I think the strap got loosened, and… maybe the rig isn’t as cold-proof as Uncle fWhip thought?” the boy suggested.

“That’s possible. Winter in Mythland and the Grimlands is milder, plus you’ve all been out here for a while.” Scott removed his own scarf and put it on Liana despite her claiming that she was fine, then they all headed back to the lodge.

~*~

A clothes line was already strung up across the width of the room in front of the fireplace for all the hats and gloves to be hung up. Armor stands had been made into improvised coat racks, and soon the children had changed into dryer clothes. Scott helped Sausage out of his vest and into a change of clothes of his own while Xornoth kept an eye on everyone, then they sat down together to inspect his prosthetic a little more.

The rig was designed to fit snugly with the strap as more of a backup to keep it in place. As Scott slid it up over the end of Sausage’s arm, it seemed to be fitting correctly, but he kept a thought toward what their eldest son had said. “I think Azahar is right. It might be because it’s just that much colder here and it’s affecting the metal. You might have to take it easy on the extra lifting and carrying we have this time.”

“But that’s not fair to you,” Sausage protested. “You’re already handling most of the things for Mariposa. I’ll just, umm… Well, I’ll find a regular coat to wear and that will be some insulation, at least.”

As their conversation went on, Xornoth listened in while pretending to have his own conversation with Mariposa as she happily gurgled and mumbled, laying on a blanket on the seat beside him so she was free to wave her hands and kick her little legs. He made sure to rest his hands on her so she didn’t make any sudden moves that might make her fall before he snuck a glance at his brother. It was difficult to plan for everything when traveling with kids, but with one extra thing that could become an inconvenience when this was meant to be a simple holiday trip…

Xornoth picked up the baby and started toward the bedrooms, calling back, “Scott, the extra diapers are in that one bag, right? I think Mariposa needs a change. I’ll take care of that then we’ll figure out dinner.”

He only pretended once he got to the room, however, knowing she would fuss if she did need a change. Instead, he pulled on the carrier and placed her in it, then picked up the supply bag and casually walked out. “Grab your coats and hats, kids, we’re going over to the Great Hall now to see what’s cooking. I know they were baking cookies earlier. You two stay here, Papa needs time to warm up some more, I think. I’ll send someone over with a delivery so you can eat right here.”

Of course, with the mention of cookies, the children were happy to follow him without questioning, although Azahar had an amused expression, sensing this was a scheme to distract them from the fact that their fathers were being told to stay put.

Sausage also smiled and subtly made a little shrug that caused his prosthetic to slide off again, and Scott was distracted from potentially stopping his brother when it fell into his lap. “Oops. Maybe just leave it off for now?” He gave his elven husband a soft smile. A few hours without the kids would be fine, and they knew they could trust Xornoth with them.

As promised, a dinner for two was brought to the lodge, and they sat in the kitchen enjoying a calm, quiet meal. Afterward they sat by the large window in the main room, watching the sky begin to darken and the occasional bit of snow drifting off the roof in the breeze. Sausage leaned back against Scott’s chest while the elf draped his arms around him, gently resting a hand on the remainder of his right arm, prosthetic already put away for the night.

“Feels weird not jumping up to see why Mariposa might be crying,” Sausage murmured.

“Or getting the girls to stop running around and come to dinner,” Scott put in.

“It’s almost too quiet.”

“Yeah.”

Sausage sighed. “I don’t mind having a moment to ourselves, but… the room feels too empty.”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t tell if you’re really agreeing or not.”

“Well, I’m kind of thinking how it is a bit nice to have my husband in my arms right now.”

Sausage tilted his head to share a smile, then they kissed and went back to peacefully watching the sun set.

~*~

Everyone slept in a little later the next morning. With no other official ceremonies taking place until the end of the week, Scott was free to relax a little more, and now with the slight hiccup of Sausage’s prosthetic not being as snow day-proof as they had thought, there was some rearranging of the system they had previously planned out. It was also the children who woke their fathers first, asking if they could go sledding again after breakfast.

Sausage was in the midst of seeing them off with a comment to Scott warning him to not cheat, when Xornoth arrived at the door. “Hello again, I’m here to help with baby duties. I know you can always use an extra hand with that.” He winked at Sausage.

Scott groaned quietly. “Please, don’t start with the jokes again. I hear enough of those at home, I don’t need them from both of you.”

Xornoth and Sausage traded conspiratorial looks, and the elf said, “Oh, no, I would never subject you to so much torment, my dear brother. The offer goes to Sausage, after all. I know you can handle Mariposa fine by yourself, but he needs an arm to lean on sometimes. Although, I probably should have faith he can do it all single-handedly. Hands down, you both are doing a very good job with all of this—”

While Sausage cracked up at all the puns, Xornoth was hit in the face with a snowball that Scott had conjured from thin air. “Keep it up and you’ll become one with the frost elementals. We’re leaving now. I hate both of you.”

Sausage laughed again. “Okay, see you in a bit! Have f—” He was promptly struck in the chest by a less cohesive clump of snow and there was a round of giggles from outside the doorway. Azahar pointed down at Liana, although the gesture was unnecessary since she was already gathering up more snow from the nearby flower box for another attempt.

Scott conjured a smaller, more loosely packed snowball and tossed it at her. “Keep the snow outside please!”

Liana threw the new clump she had collected at him, then ran off around the side of the lodge to avoid retaliation. Scott glanced at Azahar, and at the unspoken signal the teen ran after her, flinging a snowball he had secretly made. The rest of the children followed and with a little bit of strategic herding, Scott managed to move the snowball fight behind the lodge so they wouldn’t accidentally involve anyone walking on the street.

He provided a few gentle bursts of extra snow, laughing and cheering along with them, and occasionally helping (or limiting) the twins with their enthusiasm. Rayen decided to once again get involved when Elowen and Azahar began to tussle in a snow drift. Scott mentally noted that they should probably keep tabs on how feisty she turned out as she got older. He scooped her up to move her out of the way, lightly swinging her around in the air to distract her.

She laughed and, after he set her down, returned to flinging bits of snow at her sisters and Ilan. Sausage and Xornoth watched from the bedroom window, the latter holding Mariposa up so she could watch while keeping safe and warm where she was. She babbled and giggled, seeing the motion outside and following the various colors as her older siblings happened to pass by the window.

At one point, Azahar stopped and waved at her. She babbled louder and made grabby hands toward him. Sausage opened the window a little and Azahar reached in with a little bit of snow on his glove. Mariposa automatically caught hold of one of his fingers but seemed to rethink it, not sure what to make of the cold and then the wet when the snowflakes melted under her warm touch. She made the baby noise equivalent of confusion and Azahar gently pulled his finger free with a smile and another wave.

Mariposa wiggled and kicked her legs. Xornoth kept a good hold on her, while Sausage went to get a cloth to dry her hand off; it never hurt to be overly cautious when she couldn’t say it might be bothering her.

The request for sledding was forgotten as the snowball fight turned from building small snow fortifications to throw from behind into a group effort to build several snowmen. Sausage put Mariposa down for a nap but remained inside to keep an eye on her while Xornoth went out to join the snow-sculpting. He and Scott worked on the higher parts and would smile warmly at each other from around the figures taking shape, both of them thinking about how they hadn’t played in the snow together since they were children, and rekindled their own brotherly bond – which included things like Xornoth pretending to accidentally dump a large handful of snow on Scott when it was meant to go on the biggest of the snowmen.

Naturally Scott responded by conjuring a tiny, localized snow flurry directly above his brother’s head. Xornoth made an exaggerated annoyed face, much to the amusement of the children; all except Liana, who was extremely focused on trying to weave some sticks together to make a right arm for one of the snowmen. At last, she held up her creation and called out, “Look! It’s just like Papa’s!”

“Oh no!” Xornoth cried dramatically. “Could it be? A frost elemental stole his arm the first time, now another is going to steal his new one?”

Liana emitted an indignant noise. “Uncle Xornoth! Stop changing the story or I’m gonna steal your arm an’ give it to Papa!”

This time the amusement was shared by everyone except Scott and Sausage, who glanced at each other from either side of the open window, until Sausage gave the elf a weak smile then turned away to check on Mariposa. Xornoth noticed the exchange and a realization about his joke hit him; he turned an apologetic wince toward his brother.

“It looks very good, Liana,” Scott interjected, moving to take the stick creation from her and carefully adding it to the tallest of the snowmen. “Everyone did a great job. I think it’s past lunchtime, though, so we should go inside for a while. We can play some more later this afternoon.”

~*~

The week continued on with various snowy activities, and Xornoth made up for his gaffe by babysitting Mariposa so Scott and Sausage could both spend time out with the other children at the same time, although they were just as happy to have everyone gathered by the fire in the main room before bedtime.

On the final evening of the festival everyone bundled up again to go out and join the crowd on the plateau. Scott, wearing the crown of crystals and shimmering cloak, dismissed the sigils, then placed the crown on Xornoth’s head and removed the cloak, folding it up neatly and handing it to his brother to finalize the ceremony, passing the power back to Rivendell’s ruler. Then, as the sun fully set, he found a comfortable spot to sit with Sausage and the children as a fireworks show started.

Sausage handed Mariposa to him then got the twins settled on his lap to keep them still for the show. Liana leaned on him from behind, arms around his neck in a loose hug. Elowen sat beside Scott, fidgeting with the crystal necklace he had worn again despite not contributing to the spellcasting this time, a gift to keep. Behind them Azahar and Ilan sat with Xornoth between them, having joined the family group after sending an attendant off with the ceremonial items.

The fireworks first appeared in the shape of the snow sigils, then, with a little extra magic, became more complex figures representing the frost elementals that appeared to move around, creating more sigils in the next round of colorful bursts. With the kids enchanted by the show, Scott leaned toward Sausage with a soft smile. “Happy Winterfest, love.”

There was the start of an attempt to kiss, but at that moment Mariposa let out a loud, happy squeal of her own and laughed, bright eyes on the sky as she kicked her feet. Sausage chuckled and settled for leaning his head against Scott’s with an answering fond smile.

~End~

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #empiresshipping #MythicalSausage #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #empires xornoth #scosage #empires smp s1 #champions au: garden path #lunar yarns

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werspinna · 8 months

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“🔥?” (he's curious xD)

Send “🔥?” and my muse will admit whether they find your muse attractive or not.

"Oh I am sure that if you would visit me while I am taking a nap in the hay at the stables with your oh so nice eyes of amethyst and emerald, and your oh so pretty hair of silver I for sure would not kick you out of the hay, but that is sure something you hear everyday, do you, your Grace?" Again Wolf said the words 'Your Grace' with a wit and a smile as if she was sharing a sweet joke with the other. The small alcove was far away enough from the convents kitchen that the autumn coldness had sneaked in through the window with open shutters and pinched noses, cheeks, ears and fingers until they were as red as if burned. The redness of her scarred fingers working on the weighted loom were a stark contrast against the bright blue of the warp and weft theards with which the young woman was weaving a new cloak. She had brought a can of black tea with her to drink during her work, but the can stood forgotten and cooled down to her bare, from coldness red feet,yet the spicy scent lingered in the air like a soft sillage. At this hour of the morning, with the last drops of dampness form the morningmist still hanging shimmering on the brown grass in the conventgardens, the convents corridors were cool, empty and so silent that the occaisonal crunching noise of the tauted theards was almost loud. The only noises was the cool wind outside sneaking through the window, the crunching noise of the taunted theards and the rustling of Wolfs coat and dresssleeves that sounded like the rustling autumnleafs outside.

"So why not let me try to tell you something you are not hearing everyday, so you can for once ease your ears on hearing something nice thats not about your oh so beautiful eyes and oh so beautiful hair-" the shuttle dived beneath and jumped atop the blue warp-theards like a ship between the waves of a bright blue sea on a summerday, but Wolf continued talking with a smile still on her poxscarred face without even needing to put much focus on her nimbly working hands.The cloak was going to be bright blue on the upper part laying around the shoulders, slowly turning darker blue until the end swirling around the boots was almost black just like the autumnsky would change its colour from the bright blue of a sunny day to the dark blue and almost black of a approaching storm, from the birght blue of the sky when Daemon had arrived in the convent to the dark blue of the nightky when he would sit in the library studying:

"-Hmm, I do find the way you can sneak around so very nicely gracefully very attractive, although I do not want to imagine why a Prince needed to learn to sneak around so much unless it was about stealing sweets from his castles kitchen, of course." Wolf gifted Daemon with a knowing wink over her shoulder before continueing to letting the shuttle dive between the theards and with that continueing talking: " I also did find the sound of your honest chuckle when the children discussed how too greet you very attractive and even more attractive was your nice try of defending them staying up late. In the same manner I find the way your oh so beautiful eyes of amethyst and emerald light up with excitment when you step into the convents library very attractive. And how you treat every book and scroll like a gem and handle it oh so gently with those pretty, soft hands of yours, is also not unattractive at all. Similar I find the fact very attractive that you who grew up in a castle with the best sweets everyday and the best food in the morning, noon and evening, would stay in a convent where the food consists of vegetable brooths, ryebread with herbcurd and hardcheese, and woody pears as sweets; to study in the library all humbly. So what do you say, were that enough nice things for your ears, your Grace?", With a happy grin that showed the little gap between her stark fronteeth in all its glory the women teasingly fluttered her lashes at the Prince: "Or should I go back all nicely boring on praising your oh so beautiful eyes and oh so beautiful hair instead, like you had heard a thausand times before, Your Grace?"

[ @the-rogue-dragon ]

#curiosity fed? xD #the-rogue-dragon #[ v ] hic sunt dracones 🕷#its embarassing on how long I needes to research how the pieces of a weightes loom are called #BECAUSE I TEACH HISTORY AND IN ARTLESSONS ALSO WEAVING TO MY STUDENTS

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beevean · 2 years

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I read IDW #50.

We already discussed plenty about the whole Metal part. It’s stupid. Sonic comes off as an arrogant, defensive dickhead, and that whole scene is literally a way to distract them without adding anything to the characters. Bad writing. Move along.

I see Kit is in his “I AM THE TALLEST OF MOUNTAINS I AM THE ROUGHEST OF WAVES” phase. It’s a nice contrast compared to his doormat behavior, so I don’t mind. The artist went a little overboard, but that’s a nitpick.

“If you had just taken them out, I wouldn’t have been made!” Oh, for fuck’s sake. Really? Again? Now Surge is the one blaming Sonic for not killing Eggman and Starline? I am so sick of this song and dance! This is the third time! We did this during the MV arc! We did this with the Zeti! Enough! I don’t care how compelling of a conflict it is, I don’t care that it makes sense for Surge to blame her woes on the person she’s programmed to hate, it’s boring! This is the fourth time, clearly Sonic isn’t going to learn!

Also, I can’t fucking believe this. Surge really made fun of Sonic’s “moral code”. I’m sorry Flynn, this lampshade you’re hanging isn’t quite bright enough :V

Nothing to say about the Eggman vs. Starline fight. It’s brilliant. Eggman is the best he’s ever been since the beginning of the MV arc, if not at all, and I love the way he serves Starline some humble pie <3

Tails is also pretty nice. Of course he’d take down Kit thanks to the Power of Friendship lol, although I hope he’s being genuine and not manipulative. And ngl, I always found Kit’s concept really creepy, so seeing him pretty much shortcircuit because 1) someone is complimenting him for the first time in his life, and 2) he’s being treated as an individual and not as Surge’s lackey... yeah alright that’s good conflict.

“Surge has to destroy Sonic! It’s all she wants! I won’t let you stop her!” nope still makes me feel nauseous. Intended reaction, sure, but still.

"I’ve fought a few folks with the whole ‘the world wronged me so i’m going to destroy the world’ schtick” uhhh chaos, shadow, and?

on a plus side love that Sonic is calling Surge’s whole personality a schtick. Yeah, Surge, you’re just a gimmick, sorry.

We also talked extensively about Sonic’s incredibly self-righteous, holier-than-thou speech. I hate it. It’s awful. Sonic comes off as an arrogant prick who only wants to look good but doesn’t actually want to put the effort into it. Moving on.

Okay, this is just funny. Okay, yes, this is Sonic’s canon mentality.. But after that whole speech, I can’t take it seriously lmao. Especially how Surge keeps mentioning Sonic’s “morals”, that’s way too self aware

The encounter between Eggman and Belle was totally pointless. “hey you wanna join me?” “no” “kbye”. Mayyyybe his delight at how Belle interfaced with Metal’s code is foreshadowing? Not counting on it, but I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt because otherwise boy was it anticlimatic.

Sonic immediately rushed to save Eggman when he was about to fall into the lava in Lava Mountain without any sort of joke or “truce”. just sayin’

i do like how petty surge is though lol

Why do you sound like such a patronizing asshole.

yeah, no one could survive that. right.

Welp. That was it. Underwhelming, but not totally awful. Kit vs. Tails was okay, but only because my boy was done justice and I can’t help but feel bad for Kit no matter how boring he is. Surge vs. Sonic 100% infuriating, I hate this Sonic too much, his conflict is annoying and repetitive and he just won’t learn, only shining point is that I relate to Surge accepting that no one gives a shit about her. Starline vs. Eggman, I need that injected into my veins, oh such delicious food in preparations of how they’ll treat him in frontiers i guess please stick with us emperor eggman of the great eggpire <3

#sonic the hedgehog #fans don't look

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starsofparadise · 2 months

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to her...

to that girl, who single-handedly ruined my life and then walked away with it – because my life is better without her.

i hate you, i despise you with every single part of my body. i feel the surge of emotions running inside me, equipping each and every cell, programming them with the hatred and rage, preparing them for the inevitable battle.

i can’t run from this anymore. you’ve always been like this, you’ve always been judgemental and harsh with your criticism. you think it doesn’t hurt, but that’s only because you can’t see the grimace under the grin i try so hard to keep on, the tears of bitterness forming in my eyes.

it’s as if they’re knives cutting into my chocolate brown orbs, once so pretty, so bright, sparkling with curiosity. but i guess they say the prettiest eyes cry the most tears, and the most beautiful hearts have endured the most pain.

every time you see me, you squish my cheeks, my arms, my thighs, and tell me i’m fat. you might mean it in a teasing way, but i can’t hear the joke in your tone. the knives cut into me every time you do that. every time you laugh at my bunny teeth, i feel the insecurities creeping in.

that isn’t even the worst. the worst is the fact that even my mother compares you to me. she looks at your shiny bright achievements, the shimmering golden plagues handed to you at every single prize presentation. in contrast, my silver medal no longer seems as bright as it actually is. its light is dull as i stand next to you, my extra prizes a blank slate compared to yours.

but she doesn’t know the black, ugly heart under those gold medals, those certificates saying you’re a chess prodigy, saying you’re a piano prodigy, proof of you receiving a full scholarship to the most expensive school to ever exist. these achievements mean nothing to me as i know you, but they show you’re a genius at violin, the always perfect child who’s good at everything.

maybe i’m not as good as you are, maybe i’m not as smart. maybe i don’t know how to play an instrument, and don’t have dozens of medals in duathlons. maybe i lose every round of chess i play. but at least i have a good heart. at least i try. at least i can debate because i have more proof than you do.

i’m better than you inside, even if people don’t know. you pride yourself for your ‘logicality’ and ‘lack of emotions’, and even you say i’m ‘too nice’.

apparently, when you first became friends with me, i was kind, practical and understanding. also apparently, i’m not those things anymore. but maybe you were the one to judge me when i was lenient with you, when i tolerated you.

you spoke out against my best friends. you spoke out against the people i genuinely liked, but little did you know they were all better people than you had ever been, even the ones i told you i ‘hated’.

you said you got to know someone understanding and kind. and she still is, just not with you. because you hated that side of her so much, you forged her into another person, the personality created just for you. with you, she’s calm, level-headed, and doesn’t let her heart get over her. maybe you think this side is better, or maybe it’s worse. you said she changed since she left primary school. but she only changed with you, and kept her warm heart for everyone else. she shielded the best part of her from you. did that satisfy you?

but it doesn’t matter, because your judgement doesn’t matter to her anymore, and you can’t expect her to be kind, caring and understanding when you’re not the same in return. as for the practicality, maybe cutting ties with you was the most practical thing to do.

#past #friendship #cut ties #judgement #heart of gold #contrast #pain #fallout #gold #silver #satisfaction

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9223372036854775808-1 · 6 months

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10 Sep, 729 A.C. 15:05

Northlands High School, Outside Newcastle City

Manhattan pushed open the door of the classroom where Brooklyn often stayed after school. Inside, Brooklyn sat facing the windows on a desk, her eyes lost in the bright sunlight and blue sky outside. The windows were all open, and a gentle breeze came inside and brushed against her soft, golden hair, letting it sway lightly. Brooklyn was pretty for a 9th grade girl, but there were things that attracted Manhattan towards this girl even more.

Manhattan sat on a chair near the front of the classroom. This part of school was quite old and already seldom used, so the classroom was sure to be theirs for as long as they wanted.

The autumn breeze blew in the sunlit classroom. Manhattan spoke first: “So, how’s it going?”

“Do you really have to greet me with this sentence every time?” Brooklyn joked next to Manhattan. At least it was supposed to be a joke. Manhattan realized that she just didn’t get the point of more “modern ways of greeting people, let alone using them. Using weird and awkward gestures was just the start of this endless black hole of socializing, and Manhattan, unlike many other girls, seldom cared about the beauty of fashion, so she couldn’t go around praising others for their tastes in fashion and stuff to start a conversation. Someone as cool and ordinary as Brooklyn, she thought, was good-looking enough. “Maybe. Wanna go for a walk outside after I finish with my homework? Maybe… you know, walk to the usual ice cream place, maybe.”

“Did you notice that you just said three maybes in one sentence.”Brooklyn said. Manhattan realized another thing that made her think that Brooklyn’s appearance felt good: her face was expressionless most of the time, even when she said something funny, in contrast to everyone else, including Manhattan, who had to put on either a smile or an exaggerated expression all day long. Manhattan sat closer, and their eyes met. Brooklyn was short and skinny, so even when she sat on the desk, her head was not much taller than Manhattan’s. Manhattan looked into her eyes from the side. “Maybe. My life is full of maybes anyway.” Then Manhattan looked to the ground.

Maybe she would be happier and make better friends at a better school, maybe a private school rather than a public one. Maybe she should watch more anime and read more manga to stack up her knowledge of the plots instead of being such a bookworm. Maybe she should really try to improve her sleep habits and quality so that she wouldn’t fall asleep every time on her first class of the day. Her problems may seem small to others, but when there’re too many of them, her whole life just gets more and more messy and all tangled up, like what happens to earbuds after you put them into your bag and shake the bag.

At least Manhattan had her one-and-only best friend by her side for now. Spending time with Brooklyn made Manhattan forget about her problems for a short while, and Manhattan always felt good that way since Brooklyn was optimistic and never really cared about anything.

Brooklyn came off the table and sat on Manhattan’s laps. It was something they often did together, and Manhattan felt nice about it. She almost never got to get so close with a human, not even her own parents, after she entered middle school. She hadn’t even hugged anyone for many days. With Brooklyn sitting on her laps, she felt the warmth of the human body that she longed for, and it felt heartwarming. She slowly stroked Brooklyn’s soft and nice golden hair, letting it flow off her fingertips. Brooklyn blushed a bit. Although she was not the type of person who would express it all on her face, she blushed a lot every single time, especially in the summer or after PE. Of course. Manhattan knows that this time it was because of something different.

“Hey.” Manhattan seemed to remember something.

“What?”

“I think up till now I have told you a lot about what I’m thinking every day, right? But you never told me about your thoughts.”

“Mm-hum.”

“I kinda want to hear about it now. You’ve been a great friend because you really listened to my thoughts, and I think listening to you will be something good for, like, thanking you. Or whatever.”

“You really want to hear about them? They won’t be pleasant to hear.”

“Yeah… but what I think every day are not exactly pleasant thoughts, are they? Nothing positive in there. Plus, you are my best friend, so if you feel anything disturbing, you can share it with me so that you’ll feel better.”

“I know, but it’s not you… I’m afraid that I might not be ready to tell you yet.” Although Manhattan would share everything about her with Brooklyn because she was able to feel accompanied by friendship this way, Brooklyn seldom seemed to reveal many aspects of herself. She lay her head below Manhattan’s for a while, seeming to enjoy the moment. Somehow Manhattan knew that her head was thinking fast about it.

They sat for a while, enjoying the blowing breeze and the setting sun. Silently, Manhattan worked on her homework, and Brooklyn thought.

When the sun was not so bright anymore and it was cool outside, Manhattan patted Brooklyn on the head. “Hey. I’ve finished. Wanna go now?”

Brooklyn opened her eyes, and Manhattan found that she actually fell asleep. Though it wasn’t something uncommon; it seemed like Brooklyn was falling asleep all the time throughout the day. (It was the opposite at night, as far as Manhattan knew.) “Okay, I guess I’ve decided. I’ll start telling you these things about me starting 5 minutes later, when we get to the ice cream place. But promise me that you won’t tell anyone about these kinds of things, alright?” Brooklyn lifted her head so that her face nearly touched Manhattan’s left ear. Her voice was down to a whisper. “I don’t want anyone in the school to know about them.” She then stood up and started walking out of the classroom. Manhattan followed her.

#yuri #oc #fanfic #writing #girls who like girls #original character #original post #cgdct #new user #why

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kentolove · 2 years

Text

All he has ever seen is you. In high school, in college, and now, he revolves around you.

or in other words, Akaashi shows you just how much he loves you during a high school reunion.

From across the room, you can feel his eyes on you.

Piercing, loud, calculating. He's observing you with a vigor you can only categorize as admiration.

From beside you, Bokuto calls his name.

“Akaashi!” He screams, “come over!”

The man is as loud as ever. You missed this, his vibrant voice that draws attention from all those in a room. It's a stark contrast to you and Akaashi’s timid personalities, and he's always worked as a vessel between the two of you.

A bridge, you like to call him. The man that introduced you to your lover. Showed you the beauty that is Akaashi Keiji and let you cross the path into his best friends heart.

A part of him will always feel indebted to Bokuto, for there is no greater gift than you. No jewel, no dish, no craft will ever shine as bright as you do.

He loves you. You love him.

He walks towards the two of you with that thought in mind. A crowded room filled with his old high school classmates, but all he sees is you.

“You’re so loud, Kou,” Akaashi hears you softly scold his friend. There is no malice in your tone; everyone is captivated by Bokuto’s vibrancy.

“Hey,” he moves his body over to yours and captures your body in a side hug. The position is a bit awkward, but why would he care? When he feels your warmth bleed onto him, he finds no error in the world.

“So many people came up to [Name] to tell them how pretty they got,” Bokuto teases.

“Is that so?” Akaashi looks over to you, rubbing a hand over your shoulder.

“Eh, he's just trying to make you jealous,” you smile and lean into his touch, “only two people did.”

“They’d be right,” he places a kiss on your cheek, “you’re as stunning as ever.”

“I’m still here!” Comes the shrewd cry from your friend.

You laugh at his disdain and Akaashi holds you tighter. He doesn't mind the eyes that linger on the two of you. They could stare and stare, yet you would be the only one he sees.

“Ah, I’m exhausted,” you cry. A loud oof! sounds through your shared bedroom, and Akaashi turns to look at you.

He makes small steps over to you, “Love, you need to change.”

He's knelt in front of you soon after. A hand moves over to stroke your cheek, and Akaashi holds the world in his palm.

“Too tired,” you roll closer to him.

“Do I have to put on your pajamas for you?” There is a slight groan in his voice, but you know he's simply joking. There's nothing that he loves as much as taking care of you.

“Please? Meeting all those people drained me.”

He smiles. Slowly by slowly, he takes each garment off you. Your shoes, your trousers, and your fancy dress shirt (that he makes sure to fold with care).

“Happy?” He asks, as he pulls one of his shirts over your head.

“The happiest.”

You pull him into your chest and breathe in his scent. It's a calming one, so familiar and so alluring. He sighs against you.

“I’m glad I met you.”

You hug him closer at his words.

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allthingsarmin · 3 years

Note

nerd!armin x popular bimbo girl!reader?

the reader needs a tutor so she asks the smartest boy on campus and they have a “study session” in the library

Thank you for your request! I hope you like it! (ALSO: I’m so sorry this took so long to write omgmgg please forgive me) ~ I also would like to write a better version of this later. Though I'm in love with this prompt, I feel I didn't write the smut part that well.

Minors DNI! NSFW below the cut. Fem!Reader, FemBodied!Reader.

_________________________

At this point, Armin’s legs were burning, his heart racing and hands uncontrollably shaking, while you were practically out breath, your lungs tightening as you released yet another hearty laugh and not caring about the sweat running down your forehead. Neither you nor Armin expected to be running away from the librarian at 2am in the morning on the cold, campus sidewalk, your hair and makeup questionably messy and his shirt noticeably unbuttoned with hickeys staining his neck. However, the thrill of it all was something you didn’t know you both needed…

Earlier:

“Y/n?” Armin questioned, waving his sharpened pencil in front of your face. “Are you paying attention?” He awkwardly laughed as he scratched the back of his neck. You look up at him, battering your mascara-covered eyelashes at him. “Ahh… I have no idea what’s going on,” you sighed.

Armin wanted to bang his head against the library table. He knew it would be difficult teaching the ‘campus bimbo,’ but he didn’t know it would be this hard… yet there he was. 1am on a Thursday, the test tomorrow, and you still couldn’t grasp the basics of quadratic functions.

“Why don’t we take a break?” he suggested, loudly dropping his pencil on the table, leaning back in his chair, and adjusting his disheveled collar poking out of his blue sweater.

“Okay!” you giggled mindlessly, turning to face him in your chair as you twirled your hair in your fingers. “Even though I’ll probably fail the test tomorrow, thank you for teaching me!” you exclaimed, fiddling with your compact mirror and checking your dolled-up face.

Armin tensed up at your backhanded words. Pushing his hair back out of frustration, he cursed the fact he was wasting his time with such an ai-headed girl. “Y-you’re welcome,” he hastily said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Why didn’t he say no to your study session - if you could even call it a study session - ? Even though Armin was the school nerd, it’s no surprise to him that you came and asked him for help because, well… Everyone does that - always taking advantage of Armin - only talking to him because they want to use his neat, color-coded notes, only inviting him to parties so that he would later help them study.

You felt bad for Armin. Though you couldn’t deny he was way too uptight, everyone did make fun of him for every little thing; the way he dressed like a professor, how he was always so punctual, the way he was the first to raise his hand when the teacher asked a question, how he came extra prepared to class with extra pencils.

But being so close to him now, this was the first time you realized how handsome he actually was. His turquoise veins protruding from his soft, pale skin… his slender fingers gently holding his flashcards, his toned muscles peeking their way through his rolled up sleeves and making his clothes just a little tight, the sharpness of jawline contrasting with his kind, bright smile, the way his ocean blue eyes stared intently with such passion, and his thick, golden hair growing to his eyebrows, allowing his cute ears to shyly show themselves while his undercut beautifully shaped his face… he was beautiful.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you suddenly asked.

Armin was taken aback by this question. No one had ever asked him this nor did any one seem to have any interest in his personal life whatsoever.

“No,” he paused, “I don’t have time for that stuff…” he trailed off. Armin never had a girlfriend, and thinking about it now, he never really had any crushes. He was way too busy keeping up with his grades, extra curricular activities, and student council. It would be practically impossible for him to keep such close relations with his kind of responsibilities, but that doesn’t mean he’s not lonely… his arms aching for someone to hold, his heart cold due the absence of warmth of a person he loves.

Armin didn’t bother asking you if you had a boyfriend. You were the most popular person on campus, partying with countless dudes every weekend, hanging out with a large group of girls at the mall nearly every day, your phone buzzing so much during class that your professor told you multiple times to turn it off, and you were pretty - your hair was always done in a pretty style, your makeup (though a bit slutty) always brought out the best features of your face, your nails were always painted, your skin was smooth and silky, and your perfume scent was addicting. Not only that but your clothes showed off your body so well; your skirt that was just a little short allowed people to see your cute panties when you bend over to pick something up, and your shirt that was barely even a shirt was always cropped above your waist and showed off your bouncy, plush cleavage… so of course you had a boyfriend. But even though Armin was an incredibly focused nerd, he couldn’t deny that your sweet smell, tight clothes, and lipstick-covered lips made him lustful.

“Too busy for that stuff?! Aren’t you lonely? It’s like you don’t even know how to have fun,” you chuckle, jokingly hitting his shoulder which happened to be really muscular underneath his sweater.

“Haha yeah,” he said, seemingly uninterested in where you were going with this.

“If you’re so busy, does that mean you don’t have time to masturbate?” you giggled, covering your plump mouth with your hand and fluttering your eyelashes at him.

Armin became extremely flustered as tints of red washed over his body in waves.

“W-what?” he stuttered. “Why are you asking me these questions? We are supposed to be studying!” he quietly shrieked, looking away to break eye contact with you and playing with the watch on his wrist.

“Haha, I am just joking. You’re such a nerdy boy, just want to make you blush,” you sincerely smiled.

“W-well I am a young college student, so obviously I - I do that from time to time thanks to p-porn,” he stammered.

“Woah woah wait. Someone as uptight and rigid as you watches porn?” you harshly laughed, genuinely shocked. You scooted your chair closer to him and leaned into his neck, your hot breath caressing his skin and your hair resting upon his shoulder. “What kind of porn does this nerd like to watch?” you inquired, widely grinning as you saw how embarrassed Armin had become.

On the inside, Armin was fuming, mostling frightened that he had gotten himself into an embarrassing loop with no escape that would most likely be gossiped about amongst the popular students, but mostly angry that some dumb, slutty bitch was wanting to pry into his personal life, not even appreciating the fact that he spent countless hours in the library helping you study to no avail because you couldn’t pay attention if your life depended on it… that this same dumb, slutty bitch was just getting her fun from teasing some nerd who is taken advantage of and forgotten by everyone… angry that you - with your pretty makeup, plump lips, short skirt, and overflowing cleavage - weren’t paying the price for your teasing.

Suddenly, Armin sat up in his chair, his muscles tensing through his clothes, and an aggravated look forming across his face, wrinkling his brows. He quickly takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you close to his face, allowing you to see the different shades of blue in his eyes and his soft, blond eyelashes. His innocent, geeky look is nowhere to be found on his face as he intensely stares into your eyes.

“It just so happens that this nerd likes to watch useless, empty-headed bimbos like you get their pussies abused,” he said, dominance seething from his teeth as his mint breath hits your face. Before you even have time to think, Armin unbuttons his slacks and practically forces your mouth on his hard, pretty cock.

Watching you gag and choke on his cock with saliva dribbling down your chin made him laugh. “You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, slut, we’re in a library remember?” he coos. He abruptly pulls you off his cock, taking in the sight of his lipstick-stained tip and the mascara tears streaming down your face. His treatment was so harsh and so sudden, making you miss the ‘nicer’ and ‘quieter’ Armin, but you couldn’t deny his sudden dominance made your aching cunt flood with arousal.

Before doing anything else, Armin scans the library, making sure no one is around. Grabbing your wrist, he forces you to sit on his lap, facing him on top of the library chair. Everything happened so quickly, barely even leaving you time to think, barely leaving you time to think that Armin was using your body to relieve his anger and frustration, not leaving you time to realize how sopping wet your needy cunt actually was.

Sitting atop his lap, he spreads your plush, soft thighs, exposing the fact that you didn’t wear any panties to this study session, causing Armin’s eyes to widen.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised that a whore like you wouldn’t wear anything underneath your short skirt to our little ‘play date,’” he snickers. He leans close to your ear, softly biting your neck. “It’s almost like you were asking to be fucked by me.”

You don’t know what to say. Your mind is so empty, fuzzy, and shocked that the only thing you can do is comply when he demands that you ride his cock. Armin lets out a low groan from the bottom of his throat as your tight, warm pussy encloses his thick cock. You let a pathetic whimper as he begins to thrust up into you, and Armin gives you a glare, reaching up and tightening his hands around your throat. “Remember, you have to be quiet, or are you too dumb to remember that?” he sinisterly smiles.

Armin begins to harshly thrust into you as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto dear life as he deeply penetrates your spongy, sensitive walls. He slithers his slender hands into your shirt and starts toying with your nipples and pinching them when you’re being too loud.

Groping your ass, he whispers in your ear, “you know, I don’t even know why you’re in college… you’re so dumb. Why don’t you just drop out and be my little slut for when I come back after class, huh?” You sink your head into the crook of his neck, embarrassment coming over you at the same time as pleasure fills your walls when he tells you those mean words.

He grabs your hair, forcing you to look at him. Your hair is a tangled mess, your makeup completely smeared, and your eyebrows furrowed as your innocent-looking eyes beg for some type of release.

“F-fuck, you look so dirty,” he groans, leaning his head back.

“And you look like two students who are going to be in so much trouble…”

Both of you tense up and look behind you to find the librarian staring daggers into your souls.

Immediately, you hop off of Armin’s dick, gathering your things as he struggles to pull up his pants. Both of you at an ungodly speed bolt out of the library doors. Yeah, getting potentially banned from the library would suck, but maybe it was something you both needed. Armin needed to learn to loosen up, have some fun, and you needed to learn to take things seriously and maybe just put in a little more effort.

“Ya’know, it’s kind of late. We can go back to my dorm, and I can help you study for maybe another half hour… if you want,” Armin shyly asks as you both continue running down the sidewalk.

“What about the other half hour?” you questioned.

Armin’s face grows red. “We can finish… chemistry…”

#armin arlert #armin x reader #armin smut #aot x reader #aot smut

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yeojaa · 3 years

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

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

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

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

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

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

wc. 7.6k.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you take walk-ins?”

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

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

One breath. Two.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is it. Right here.”

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

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

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

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

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

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

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

“I think so too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what’re you thinking?”

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

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

“I think so.”

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

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

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

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

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You’d been mistaken.)

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

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

“Leaving?”

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

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

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

“Gonna miss me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

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

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

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

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

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

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

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

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

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

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

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

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

“That’s what I said!”

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

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

“Don’t be rude!”

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

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

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

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

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

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

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

“Should I have expected it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Same difference.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, so?”

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

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

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

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

You can do this.

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You say yes anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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