#I was just really delighted by the fact that I already had art ready to go for this actually

[exgirlfiend]

im with myf riend and i saw your podt about calling your boyfriend your swain & i laughed so i told them about you to explain why i laughed. and then eventually i said 'i love Swaine and their fursona' & he said 'Swaines fursona...'. do with that what you will?

FUNNY YOU SHOULD SAY THAT I’ve actually drawn him as a furry twice before in my sketchbook I just never posted these. realistically I think he’d be a boar to fit with Hamelin’s whole deal however my friend and I also like to joke that he looks like a crusty little dog so there’s a dogboy swaine too. also marcassin is here

[coffeeandbatboys]

The Art Of Stupidity (Peter Quill x Fem!reader)

In which Peter nearly gets killed because he's a dumba** so you do a lot of screaming at him.

Warnings: swearing (whaa ikr?) Injury, insult to injury, Rocket being himself, Peter being an idiot (aka himself) mebbe some slight foreshadowing for vol. 3 but it ain't a spoiler if you don't think too much about it.

"Rocket, where's Peter?" You gasped.

In your glorious retreat back to the Bowie, you'd lost him in the chaos that he caused. How does the idea of stealing a heavily secured antique piece of junk sound now?

"He had to go and get the damn Zune he dropped in the hallway of that security station."

"He told me he was down to one blaster!?" You shrieked, realizing that this was not, in fact, going well.

"And he's the lazy asshole who didn't charge them up!"

"You didn't think to, I dunno, COVER HIM?" You flapped your arms in disbelief.

"Hell no, you're the girlfriend!." The insufferable Raccoon snarled. "If you wanna go get Star munch, he's all yours missy."

You muttered under your breath as you turned to go get your boyfriend. "That stupid Zune is gonna be the death of him someday I swear. Thanks a lot, Yondu."

You readied your blaster and dodged bullets in the space between the ship and aforementioned security station, before kicking the door open to find an incredibly absurd sight.

The Doobie Brother's 'What a Fool Believes' blasted from the ridiculous object he went back for, as he was trying in vain to fight off the security droids. Sighing, you stepped in and blasted to your heart's delight, until the two of you (or, mostly you) successfully eradicated the rest of them.

"Thanks, babe." Peter offered a sheepish smile and you just rolled your eyes in frustration.

"Let's go before these guys blow a freaking hole in our ship!" You growled.

His eyes widened and the smile dropped. "Ohh ok yeah you're like really mad."

Once again you we're crossing the distance back to the ship, only this time, you didn't dodge one of the bullets as it lodged itself in your calf. You were already frustrated beyond rational capacity, and physical pain just added insult to injury. But you were too hyped up on adrenaline to care. Tumbling into the ship, Peter in tow, you sat down and glared.

He wasn't sure whether to apologize or leave you be, when he noticed your leg trembling. That's when your world went fuzzy and you sorta just, checked out of reality while somehow staying conscious.

"Shit! I need a med pack and a pair of tweezers." He hollered for anyone in earshot as the ship lifted off and set out for Knowhere. Soon, the bullet was pulled out of your leg and the med pack placed over the hole.

And this...this, is where you snapped back to reality.

"You asshole!" You screamed, "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

Kraglin, who had brought the medical supplies, just cringed and stepped away, leaving you two alone.

"I'm sorry, y/n..."

"Sometimes I feel like that stupid thing is more important than any of us!"

You regretted the statement as soon as it left your mouth. The Walkman was one of the only things he had left of his younger years, and when his father had destroyed that, the Zune was all he had left of Yondu.

His eyes fell and your heart broke. He moved to stand up, but you stopped him.

"No—wait. I'm sorry. I shouldn'tve said that. I'm sorry." You repeated.

He relaxed and sat back down, giving you a lopsided apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry I freaked you out. I wasn't trying to get killed back there. I feel like it was my fault that you got shot, too."

"Its fine, baby." You smiled sadly. "If I hadn't been seeing red, I probably would've payed more attention."

The med pack needed a bit more time, and Rocket was calling for him, so he kissed your forehead, then your nose, before finally catching your lips in a sweet, tender kiss.

One that would take priority over anything else.

Star Lord fics are back in business baby!!

[miguelsfangservice]

BEYOND THE SPOTLIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!Famous Idol Reader

Warnings: Negative and positive stereotypes about the industry (idk, probably later in the story), and not the best english lol (sorry in advance). Summary: It doesn't matter he's at HQ trying to keep the multiverse afloat, your face, your voice, your smile and laugh follows him everywhere. No, he is not loosing it (yet); it's just that its kind of inevitable when most spiders under his command are... how did Gwen called it? Ah-staning you? Well, he can't really complain, it's his girlfriend,after all.

“The first time you hear it it may seem shallow, but I’m telling you,bro,when you pay close attention  it’s one of the best pieces of art depicting the oppression of individuals for expressing their sexuality, y’know what i mean.”

An awkward silence settled in the room before Pavitr and Miles let out some nervous chuckles.

“I thought it was a love story” Miguel's ears hurt just by hearing Pavitr retort with his mouth full of god knows what..

“...I’ve listened to it a couple of times and I have to agree with Pav.”

Before Hobie could open his mouth to reaffirm his earlier claim, Miguel slammed his fists on his desk.

“Do I need to remind all of you we are trying to have a serious discussion here?”

Silence. For at least a few seconds before Pavitr can’t resist anymore and turns to Hobie once more.

“What part of the song are you referring to, because I think-”

“It’s specially obvious at 1:30 when she sings-”

“Get out- If you’re not taking this problem seriously,OUT”

“ But I'm…” Miles tries to argue back, but at this point and with how exhausted Miguel is, he just doesn’t care about whatever they have to say.

“THE THREE OF YOU, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT”

While leaving his office, Hobie and Pavitr still have the absolute audacity to continue their discussion in hushed voices (mostly Pavitr, Hobie does not care if Miguel hears him”; Miles doesn’t speak again but Miguel can see him trying to hide his amusement.

If Miguel had eaten anything, if he had gotten enough sleep or, most importantly, if he had seen you at least once today, he miiiiiiiight’ve been in a better mood to confirm that yes, Hobie was right, it was kind of your intention to convey those themes in your last single.

He would know, he was there giving you feedback  and taking care of you when you put your heart and soul into writing that song.

Also, even if he had the mood to discuss it with those kids, he wouldn’t try his luck and let them get suspicious enough for them to put everything together and figure out he’s been dating you for over a year now.

Miguel wouldn’t hear the end of it if any of the spiders knew about their huge and scary boss dating the “pop divinity”, the “fan´s delight”. Besides, it would get a lot harder for you to sneak into the HQ to spend some time together after your rehearsals or just when about every spider went home.

Although, he couldn't deny he was getting tired of keeping the relationship a secret; he hated hiding to every person he deemed close to him the fact that he wanted to spend the rest of his miserable (and probably very short) life with you.

But he knew you were not quite ready yet. Not until you were able to live with the fact that yes, your boyfriend is Spiderman, and he’s not only putting his life and sanity at risk in your universe, but also putting an unimaginable burden on his shoulders by trying to keep several other universes safe.

You already had a lot on your plate with the sudden burst of fame and all the work you were putting into creating your first solo album.

Sometimes, Miguel kinda wished you were still doing activities with your girl group, it put a lot less pressure on you and your health. But he felt guilty just for thinking about it.

This was your dream, having your own solo activities, showing the world your songs and what you were capable of. And he was so proud of you, so happy to see your face light up after you finished writing a song or when you learned a difficult choreography. 

Miguel O’hara had the heart of steel to do a lot of harsh things, to take the decisions no one else wanted to take for the sake of hundreds of universes and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to see your sad face if he ever questioned what you were doing to achieve your dreams.

“Lyla, I'll be calling it a night. Got to get home.”

Just when he was about to exit, she appeared right in front of him with a huge magnifying glass in which he could see her eye getting bigger, examining him; Miguel grunted and tried to brush her off as if she was a bug

“This early? Who are you and what did you do with my boss? I’m gonna put the emergency lockdown if you don’t answer me right now-”

“I’m trying to recall at what point of your creation I made you this damn noisy.” he hissed, walking faster and then swinging away from her. “Besides, no te hagas tonta (don't act dumb), you know damn well where I’m going and with who.”

“And I appreciate the trust you put in me by telling me your secret–” she started saying, solemnly.

“We both know I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“But, as your best friend and the one who knows you best–”

“Firstly, I don’t have a best friend and secondly, the one who knows me best is Y/N, not you!” Miguel interrupted and pointed a finger at her, trying to poke her, but his complaints were ignored as Lyla continued with her ramblings.

“I think I have enough authority in your life to give you some well needed love advice” Miguel couldn’t help but snort at the ‘authority’ affirmation.

At this point he decided to completely ignore her voice and focus on getting to your shared home; it had been a long day and all he wanted to do was bury his face in your shoulder and try to sleep with his girl by his side.

❃❃❃❃

A/N: Well, this is my first fanfic for the fandom. If you liked this, please, consider following, leaving a comment, like or reblog, I would really really appreciate it, specially cuz I'm not sure if anyone would like to read more about this.

[fourseasonsfigs]

A Pair of Devils

Since I already spoiled these two figs in my two previous posts, let's move on to them!

The name of this fig set comes from the Scorpion King's line in Episode 11, when he wonders:

You'd never guess, Scorpion King.

These figs are of course not wearing their Episode 11 outfits - they're wearing their full Episode 1 regalia, where they are in fact in their most devilish personas - Ghost Valley Master Wen and Tianchuang Leader Zhou Zishu.

Neither of them look too happy about it, either. Unlike me! I'm absolutely delighted by these figures! I couldn't wait for them to arrive.

This is the absolute best rendition of Wen Kexing's red robes we've seen to date. It looks fantastic. He is of course holding the walnuts we see him rolling around in his hands in our first sight of him in Episode 1. The red eyeliner is of course totally on point.

Zhou Shouling is no slouch either, looking every inch the shadowy assassin civil servant leader.

I love this angle! It looks like they are ready to go head to head in the most epic end boss smackdown ever. When in fact, they're mostly going to be just flirting, snacking, and drinking their way together together through the first few episodes.

Now it looks like they've had a good discussion and are walking off together. Delightful!

Both of their hair styles look fantastic. We have the Ghost Valley Master crown, which we never really see in fig form, and the straightlaced yet elegantly sophisticated "it's murdering time" Tianchuang updo.

Speaking of elegance, we also have Ghost Valley Master Wen's signature young master hand-at-the-small-of-the-back pose. Zishu is all business here with Baiyi ready to go.

This is a particularly good angle of Wen Kexing - this heavy bangs hiding his face is exactly the kind of shot we get in Episode 1.

They do look miserable. All I can think of is Zhou Zishu on his knees before Prince Jin, saying "My will is broken...my bones yearn to go home".

They're a beautiful pair of devils though. The fig maker did a lovely job on these.

These figs stand up just fine - Ghost Valley Master Wen stands up superbly, thanks to his long trailing robes. Zhou Shouling leans a bit to his right side, no doubt the weight of his sword pulling at his soul.

Here's a great view of both of their headpieces. Such wonderful detail.

The box cards and the box card art is quite lovely! We have each of them with their respective colors.

Material: PVC

Fig Count: 359

Scene Count: 24

Rating: Diabolical indeed!

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 7: The Way Out of the Mountains

People, the fact that I'm using a generic image here is a failure on the part of the fandom. There should be art of this incredibly tiny chapter and its delightful moment! But Google finds nothing. This is outrageous! Great news, everyone! The wonderfully talented @pien-art did in fact make fan art and is even willing to let me use it on my silly little post. My unspoken plans to balefire you all are hereby put on pause. Please go check out their blog for more art!

Also, if you hate spoilers, this whole post is outrageous because I'm going to spoil everything about The Wheel of Time because I can!

This chapter starts with a Flame of Tar Valon icon because Moiraine goes fishing.

Lan spent most of his time scouting their path on his black warhorse, Mandarb, following Rand’s tracks as the rest of them followed the signs the Warder left for them. An arrow of stones laid out on the ground, or one lightly scratched in the rock wall of a forking pass.

Lan and Mandarb get all the more impressive when you consider that in addition to leading the way, he's probably also doubling around them (unnoticed by Perrin) and clearing out the signs he leaves behind so no one else can follow.

Her reply was always very much the same. “If you cannot move any faster than this, perhaps I should send you off to Myrelle before you get any older. Well, perhaps that can wait, but you must move us faster.”

Moiraine, I love you but what the fuck? Lan is doing an incredible job and you're joking about sending him off to get raped because it's not good enough for you.

“No day soon,” Lan said, and surprisingly, there was open anger in his voice. “Never, if I can help it. You will outlive me long, Moiraine Aes Sedai!”

She probably will, but how much longer, I wonder. Did the Finn steal her longevity when they stole her strength, or will she still age according to the power level she was born with? If the former, then she might not even have two centuries of lifespan in her. (Also note how touchy Lan is, to use such a formal address.)

“As difficult as that?” Moiraine murmured. Her hands slipped into the water—and a moment later came out with a splash, holding a fat trout that thrashed the surface. She laughed with delight as she tossed it up onto the bank.

Perrin thinks it's luck because Perrin is very, very silly. Also he doesn't know that she's best friends with a former fisherwoman.

Perrin thought about reminding her that whoever took the fish was supposed to clean them, too, but just at that moment she caught his eye. There was no particular expression on her smooth face, but her dark eyes did not waver, and they appeared to know what he was going to say, and to have dismissed it out of hand already.

Perrin, be grateful that the nice witch caught you a huge dinner. Another problem with not communicating is that of course Moiraine is probably doing useful magic tricks like this all the time with exactly as much fanfare and while effortlessly keeping her composure so Perrin has no idea that as far as the party dynamics are concerned, he and to a lesser degree Loial are the potential dead weight.

“I doubt she sees it that way. First she had to put up with Rand arguing with her all the time, and now you’re ready to take over for him. As a rule, Aes Sedai do not let anyone argue with them. I expect she means to have us back in the habit of doing what she says by the time we reach the first village.”

Loial's probably got a point too about Moiraine's Aes Sedai pride influencing her behavior. She likely strongly feels that she fucked up by giving Rand too much independence (even though really the boy needs as much as he can get) and is aiming for damage control by being extra shitty about things to Lan and Perrin as well.

Loial gave in to it as inevitable, but not Perrin. He tried refusing, resisting, but it was hard to resist when she made a reasonable suggestion, and a small one at that. Only there was always another suggestion behind it, as reasonable and small as the first, and then another. The simple force of her presence, the strength of her gaze, made it difficult to protest.

Perrin is getting worked over like he's saidar and it's a little funny.

He accused her of using the One Power on him, though he did not really think that was it, and she told him not to be a fool.

It is indeed very unlikely that she's Compelling him when she's just so good at social engineering.

The wolves should not have been there. Wolves avoided places where men were, but Perrin could still sense them, an unseen screen and escort ringing the mounted party.

The wolves are of course sticking around because Noam's also in the area.

Short chapter, huh? Next time: Fourteen hundred weddings and no funerals!

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Festival (Part 3)

Start here if you'd like!

Harry genuinely cannot remember the last time that he was this nervous.

He stood outside the address Draco had given him for the gallery opening and watched as other people wandered in and felt like maybe he should have dressed differently. Maybe settling for a band t-shirt tucked into his jeans, and a suit jacket thrown on top was too casual. Maybe this had been some sort of test that Draco was setting for him, if that was the case he was destined to fail spectacularly.

"Hey," a voice breathed next to his ear a moment before he apparated away to change his clothes.

He turned to see Draco standing there wearing a pair of skin tight black leggings that tapered into thigh high lace up black boots; a black button up shirt with billowing sleeves, top four buttons undone; and a pale pink lace corset that emphasized their narrow waist.

"Sweet Merlin," Harry breathed, eyes raking over Draco's body once more before taking in their hair. They'd done an elaborate plait, smaller braids twisting together before collecting into one. "You-" he broke off and shook his head at a loss. "You look fucking gorgeous."

They preened, tilting their head down demurely so that Harry caught the hint of glitter that graced their cheeks and collarbones.

"I feel like an absolute troll."

At that, Draco looked up, head tilting as they took in Harry's appearance. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes, "I should-"

"Are you comfortable in the outfit you're wearing?"

Harry shrugged, "I guess, but I feel like I should have dressed up-"

"You look perfect," Draco interrupted. "If you feel comfortable in your own skin, that's good enough." They smiled and trailed a finger along Harry's jaw. "You," they said, "just as you are, are good enough."

His jaw clenched and he had to look away, eyes stinging.

"Did you need someone to tell you that?" they asked, softly, gently. "Harry," they murmured and he glanced up at them. "You're enough."

"Thanks," he whispered.

Draco's mouth quirked into a small grin, "pleasure," they replied. "Ready to go look at some art?"

"As I'll ever be," he replied dryly, feeling more out of his depth by the minute.

Their smile melted a little bit, brow furrowing, "You don't have to do this. I'm sorry if I made you fee-"

"It's not that," he protested quickly, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I'm just feeling really-" he broke off searching for the right word, "Insecure?"

"You are Harry fucking Potter," Draco said fiercely. "You've slayed dark lords, and fought in wars, you actually died," they added. "And you sassed back at teachers who used their power over you to treat you badly."

He blinked, unsure what to say.

"Who are you?" they asked. "How did this happen to you?"

"I like you," he blurted.

"And?"

He shrugged, "I feel like you are significantly cooler than I am."

The corner of Draco's mouth turned up, "I'm not. I just really don't care what people think of me."

"I care what you think of me," Harry clarified.

"Good thing I already like you, then."

He ducked his head, smiling down at the sidewalk, "thanks."

"Don't mention it," Draco said, looping their arm through Harry's, "it's tremendously good for my ego."

Harry laughed and allowed Draco to lead him into the gallery.

----------------

When they emerged, two hours later, Harry was still laughing. Draco had spent the majority of the time talking with Harry, teaching him about art but not in the boring way that other people did. They knew funny facts about history, techniques, and the person who'd made the art in the gallery. And Harry was beside himself with giddiness.

"Thanks for coming with me," Draco said as they wandered down the street with no particular destination in mind.

"My pleasure," he said. "Genuinely."

Draco's shoulder bumped his, "you don't have to be nice."

"I mean it!" he protested.

He glanced over to see a small, pleased smile curling the corner of their mouth and he couldn't help the way his own lips curved in delight.

"Have a drink with me?"

Draco looked over at him, "I don't drink."

"Oh?" he asked, "Alright-"

"It's not about you," they said quickly.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I didn't think it was," Harry smiled at him.

Draco's shoulders relaxed a bit, "Oh."

"Would you like to get a cup of coffee?" he asked instead.

They nodded, "Thank you," and the genuine way they said it told Harry that was a boundary that hadn't been easy to hold.

"I like you," he said, not quite what he'd meant initially but the sweet flush that bloomed on Draco's cheeks was enough that he couldn't mind the slip. "A lot," he said. "I don't care where we go, I just want to get to know you better."

"There's a coffee shop I know," they offered, "they're open late. There's a corner with some cozy armchairs."

He grinned, "Sounds perfect."

Harry followed Draco's lead, letting them wax poetic about the art they'd seen, about the streetlamps, and the people out smoking. And Harry became impossibly more besotted with them.

They found their way to the chairs in the corner, cups of coffee in their hands, and snuggled into them to chat. Before Harry knew it, one of the baristas was making her way over to let them know they'd be closing in ten minutes.

Draco checked their watch, "Circe," they said, "has it really been that long?"

He stood and stretched, chuckling at the look of incredulity on Draco's face. "Time flies and all that," he said. "Can I walk you?"

Draco looked up at him, "That's awfully chivalrous."

"What can I say?" he grinned, "Gryffindor and all that."

Draco laughed and their hand tentatively brushed against Harry's, finger curving over his knuckles.

With a little burst of bravery Harry tangled their fingers together.

"Gryffindor indeed," they murmured, a pleased smile curving up their lips.

He walked several blocks until they reached an apparition point.

"This was really fun," Harry murmured.

Draco dipped their head, nodding a bit, "it was."

"I'd like to do it again sometime."

They smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind their ear, "me too." Then before Harry could say something more, Draco continued, "I've gotten the sketches done for the kitchen."

"Oh," he said, surprised that Draco had finished them so quickly.

"I could come over tomorrow, if that would suit?"

"Yeah," he replied, nodding for emphasis. "Yeah, whenever you'd like."

"Lunch time?" Draco offered. "I'm trying to finish up a sunrise series right now-"

"Lunch is perfect," Harry said, "and if you're working on a sunrise set of paintings, you should definitely go to bed now since sunrise is in-"

He started to look at his watch but Draco beat him to it, "about 5 hours."

"Five hours," he repeated, "Sorry I've kept you so late-"

"It was my choice," Draco replied, catching under Harry's chin with their pointer finger and tilting Harry's face up, "I wouldn't change a thing."

"Tell me how you feel about that in the morning," he said with a little laugh.

Draco hummed softly then leaned forward to press a quick kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth.

Before Harry could so much as move, Draco was spinning away and making their way to the apparation point. "See you tomorrow," they said as they disappeared.

His fingers drifted up to trail over the tingling spot where Draco's lips had been a moment before. He was so far over his head, he had no idea where this was going, but he couldn't be arsed to care. He was too happy.

------------------------------

Part 2 | Part 4

Read more of my gentle July ficlets

[capricornwriter5]

OUR SEESAW - Chapter 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female OC

Genre: idol au, Suga X female OC, smut, fluff, angst, college romance, friends to lovers, exes to lovers, happy ending. ⚠️Warning: mentions of mental health affections, soft drugs

Summary: Music was in charge of introducing them, in front of a piano they fell in love, and in front of it was their farewell. Min Yoongi, a low-income but talented pianist, and Emm, a wealthy and outgoing law student, did not hesitate to risk everything to pursue their dreams together. For years they grew up together and unconditionally loved each other until life's adversities forced them to break up. Ten years later, and in the most unexpected way, they meet again. Their loyal friends Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, and Jung Hoseok supported them before and will do it again without really knowing what the future had stored for them.

Words: 3k

Disclaimer: I named the female character Emmy (Emm for Yoongi 🥰) because it’s easier if we want to see Suga saying cute names (it’s sweeter than just Y/N, I think 😅) but you can totally picture yourselves in the story, that’s the idea!

Chapter 1 - Crystal Snow

That winter the cold pierced the bones of those who dared to leave the comfort of their homes; however, not everyone had the privilege of staying in their residence with the heating on or sipping hot tea, some people had to go out to work and rely on the thickness of their clothes to withstand the low temperatures.

Min Yoongi was one of those unlucky individuals, and with the laziness and even pain that anyone could feel in a morning like that, he got out of bed ready to go to work. It was Thursday, he had no classes, so he worked from before the sun came up until his body gave out. First, he would have to spend part of the day in a radio booth, or at least that was what he wished. His job as an assistant forced him to do everything, and "everything" included even buying food and drinks from his bosses. In fact, he rarely worked directly with music, although he had entered there pursuing his dream of working in the music industry, the reality was different. Even further from his dream was his second job as a food delivery man, which was a nightmare in that winter in which with costs and he managed to stay warm enough to move. His third job was a little better, at least there was no risk of freezing to death since it was in a restaurant.

He tried to be as stealthy as possible, but upon reaching the kitchen, he found his roommate already awake.

"Good morning, Yoongi." Said a guy taller than Yoongi, with brown hair, and a friendly smile. “Do you still have time before you go? I'm finishing making breakfast, the coffee is almost ready, don't go out without eating again."

"This is a surprise; you never prepare breakfast. Why did you wake up so early? Do you have a rehearsal?"

"That's right, I'm the protagonist, I can't be late."

Kim Seok-jin was the name of his roommate, who was in the third year of his university studies. Since Jin was a kid, he had loved acting, as far as he remembered, he has always formed part of the theater club; therefore, it was not a surprise for his family when he decided to study dramatic arts. 

After more than a year of living together, Yoongi was used to seeing Jim leave early to study his scripts; however, that morning was particularly early even for Jin.

“This damn cold won't let me sleep and I thought that if I cooked something it would warm me up, but the only thing that got warm was the room when I entered.” He joked laughing heartily, but because he laughed so much, he dropped the egg he was holding in his hand, making a mess in the kitchen.

"Take that as a divine sign to stop your lame jokes," Yoongi said helping him clean up. "Better sit down, I'll take care of breakfast today."

Jin beamed with delight at the thought of his roommate preparing the food. Truth be told, the two of them cooked deliciously and had come to an agreement to share all meals. While Yoongi was responsible of breakfast for being the first to wake up, Jin cooked dinner. However, almost every day before leaving home, Jin found that Yoongi had also prepared lunch and even packed it for him.

Yoongi was such a good cook that Jin had no regrets as he sat comfortably on the couch while his friend took care of the rest. Even though Yoongi had his back turned, he knew perfectly well what Jin was about to do and warned him to stop.

"Don't play with the guitar, last time you broke a string."

"It was unintentional, besides you didn't get mad at me." He said taking it anyway.

"The difference is that this time I don't have money to buy a new package of strings."

“Do they still not pay you on the radio? You work non-stop, you go every damn day and still don't get paid on time, you should find another job."

“The pay isn't bad.”

"The pay doesn't exist."

"Just don't play with the..."

Yoongi's words were interrupted by the scandal caused by the instrument hitting the ground. Jin had dropped it and while he apologized a thousand times and made sure there was no damage, Yoongi just took a deep breath and continued cooking. His patience was one of his greatest attributes, as well as the enormous musical talent he had with practically any instrument that fell into his hands.

"At least the strings are fine," Jin assured with a nervous laugh, but his friend didn't make a sound.

After a while, they both had breakfast in silence, or at least Yoongi tried to do it, for Jin kept talking and making those jokes that only he found funny.

As Yoongi was about to leave, Jin remembered something he would say to his friend earlier in the day, but he practically had to shout it out, as Yoongi had just put on his gloves to go out.

"Some friends invited me out tonight, will you join us?"

"I have to work."

"You can come later, I'm pretty sure we'll see the sunrise there."

“Why would I want to freeze when I could be in my room? I have classes early tomorrow.”

"You could socialize with the rest of the world like a normal person, you know, communicate with real people, not just with your piano and guitar." Yoongi ended up laughing and shaking his head negatively. “You better go, I'll be waiting for you! And as compensation for what happened today, I'll pay all you drink.”

"Are you sure that's a promise you want to make?"

"Damn, I forgot you're a sponge."

"What?"

"A sponge, yes, because of your ability to absorb alcohol."

Yoongi didn't finish listening to the rest when he had already closed the apartment door, it was too early to hear Jin's jokes.

That day everything went normally, Yoongi had to do a thousand things at once, so he barely had time to eat. Fortunately, in the evening his payment arrived; yet, his balance would considerably decrease, since not only did he have to pay half of the apartment's rent he shared with Jin, but he also owed the tuition for that semester. That's without counting what he would spend on food, there was little left at home.

A sigh escaped the musician's lips as he looked at how much money he had left free. "Well... let's continue, better days will come," he said to himself closing the bank application on his cell phone and getting on his motorcycle.

When he got home, he fell into his bed, Jin was not there, but he had the kind gesture of leaving dinner ready for him. It was typical of Jin, especially when he'd made a mistake, like hitting Yoongi's guitar earlier. That was how Yoongi was able to enjoy dinner, but suddenly he felt an enormous desire to drink something with alcohol.

"Shit," he said after making sure there were no more bottles of soju left in the apartment.

He remembered his friend's invitation. On another occasion, he would not have accepted, since spending his Thursday night in a crowded place was at the bottom of his favorite things to do. In addition, his social skills were not the best, he was an extremely quiet and introverted boy, most of the time his mind was lost in musical arrangements that he could make of all the compositions he had made. At first glance, he seemed like an indifferent and cold person, and although it was part accurate, the truth of the matter was that Yoongi had a very fixed goal in his life for years: he would succeed as a composer and live as comfortably as he had always dreamed of. 

However, that night his appreciation for liquor made him leave his house again and go meet Jin.

After greeting Jin's noisy friends, Yoongi sat in a corner and, looking as nonchalant as ever, began to drink. The musician did not pay any attention to what was happening at the table, his mind and eyes were outside the bar, thinking about how to convince the radio people to let him work with the music mixes. He had already tried but had only managed to get his bosses to send him for more coffee. Yoongi was used to it, it wasn't the first time he had been told no or his job was rejected, but his disciplined and hard-working nature, plus the armor he had created from so much rejection wouldn't let him give up.

“So, how was your day? I was sure you would end up coming.” Jin said handing him another drink.

"As always." He said taking the glass, but suddenly he coughed in such a way that his friend looked at him worried.

"You're still sick, you should get some rest."

“Says the same person who’s serving me alcohol.” The musician joked.

“Yoongi, why don't you ever listen? You can't go to work like this."

"It's no big deal." He assured.

"If it's nothing, then you might be interested in meeting a friend." Jin raised his eyebrows gracefully. "At 3:00."

"Huh?" Yoongi asked making a sound.

“I already told you, 3:00”

"I literally have no idea what you're talking about, Jin." Yoongi was about to continue looking out the window when Jin laughed and hit him on the shoulder.

"You're so funny! I'm telling you it's the girl sitting on the other side of the table, the one with the short hair."

"Forget it, the last time you introduced me to one of your friends she chased me not only to work, but I couldn't go to the park to train because she was there."

"That's because of your fatal charm." He said pushing him again and making Yoongi regret leaving the house. "Come on! What can go wrong? I mean, after Yujin, any date will be a good anecdote."

Yoongi didn't need to say anything, just with the gaze he gave his friend and how he looked at the window again, Jin understood that he didn't want him to keep bothering him.

As he continued to drink in silence and watch the snow fall, Yoongi spotted a couple. It was a thin boy dressed extravagantly, his winter clothes were so colorful that he ended up catching Yoongi's attention. To tell the truth, the musician ignored if it was the clothes or the fact that the boy had stopped and started dancing in a very funny way. Yoongi thought that he had gone crazy until the girl who accompanied him imitated him and danced the same way. The musician could not see the girl's face, but he was amused to see that strange couple, he ended up laughing from his chair, it was more than evident that these two did not care what people thought, much less didn't mind being ridiculous, apparently, they were having a great time, the boy's laughter was even louder than Jin's.

When they finally stopped dancing, the girl turned around and took off the hat she wore for the cold. Her long dark hair fell freely on her shoulders, despite getting it wet from the snow, the girl didn't seem to care, she hadn't stopped laughing and looking at the boy who was with her. From where he was, Yoongi admired her face, or at least what the distance allowed. He was struck by how authentic her smile looked, in fact, it was the first time he had seen someone smiling with something other than their lips, everything from that girl emanated joy.

“Yoongi, you came!” said a male voice and soon the musician felt a pat on his back.

“Namjoon? What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”

“What am I doing here? Jin invited me, didn't you read the messages? I said they gave me the night off because of the snow.” He clarified sitting next to his friend.

Yoongi turned back to the window, just for a second, but the couple was gone.

"Well, what are we drinking today?" Namjoon asked with a smile.

*********

Despite having spent some quality time with his friends, Yoongi came home that night and couldn't sleep well, because although he had pretty thick skin when it comes to criticism and life's adversities, the truth was that on certain days it wasn't so easy to handle how difficult it was to create his own path. Sometimes Yoongi wondered if everything he was doing would be worth it and if he would ever be successful, but when he realized the kind of thoughts he was having, and when he felt the threatening shadow of anxiety approaching like a stealthy enemy, the musician tried to think of something else, and if he couldn't, he ended up composing music or writing songs. After all, if there was one thing Yoongi feared more than not being successful, it was the havoc that anxiety could wreak on him.

As expected, that night he did not rest well. The next morning, Yoongi left again extremely early, but seeing that his motorcycle had no gas, he decided that it would be better to walk, at least if he walked, he would warm up and forget about the cold. Obviously, that was not the case, and he was freezing while walking.

A few streets before reaching college, he passed a music store that he used to visit, or rather admire, at least once a week. Yoongi could see through the window a piano that he dreamed of buying, his was not so new, besides the wood was not of the best quality, even so, he had a special affection for it because it was the first significant investment he made. However, he couldn't help but wish the one looking out the window, it was simply beautiful, unlike his brown tone, the one in the store was totally black with certain silver details that Yoongi loved. Unfortunately, the piano was worth a fortune, and he carried more important debts, so he sighed and continued his way. Once he was successful, the first thing Yoongi would do would be to buy it.

A few minutes later, Yoongi was entering the music department of his university. Being so early, no one else was there, just an old janitor, who was used to seeing him at that hour. Since his first year, the boy had been taking advantage of the fact that the practice rooms were empty during the mornings.

"Kid, there's not even natural light," commented the janitor when Yoongi greeted him with a kind smile.

"The earlier the better"

"Go in there, I just finished cleaning for you, I assumed you would come early again."

With a slight nod, Yoongi thanked, but before leaving, he took out something from his backpack and offered it to the man.

"I made soup"

Touched by the gesture, the old man put down his cleaning supplies and smiled at Yoongi. "You're going to spoil me, what am I going to do when you graduate and stop bringing me breakfast?"

"We'll worry about that later." Yoongi commented with a wave of his hand before entering the practice room.

"Wait, wait! Aren't you going to join me?"

"I need to practice"

"Oh, come on, it'll be just a couple of minutes, I'm starving."

Since there was no one else there at that time, there was no problem in going into another room so that the old man could eat.

As always, what Yoongi had cooked was mouthwatering and in a matter of minutes, everything was gone. However, although Yoongi kept doing the same thing every day and pretended that he wanted to be alone, he really enjoyed those little moments in the morning when he talked to the janitor. Maybe it was the fact that he reminded him a bit of his father, or that the old man had a very warm personality, whatever the reason, Yoongi had a close friendship with him.

"Still can't find a better job?"

"Everything remains the same. But it's okay, it's a matter of being patient."

"Sure, you're young, you can say that. Although you don't think like a young boy, you're an old man trapped in a body of a cool musician. Is that why you're growing your hair out? If you continue like that, you're not going to find a girlfriend." He said pointing to Yoongi with his index finger and making him laugh. "But you know what? Girls like bad boys, and you have that vibe."

"Did you make me stay just to talk about my hair?"

"Hair is always important, kid, one bad hair day and everything goes wrong." That comment made Yoongi laugh even harder. "But tell me, have you thought about the offer the director made you? If you teach others, you’ll earn good money. He's even offering you to be an assistant, in all my years working here, I've never heard of anyone being offered that. It is the students who beg for that opportunity."

"You know I don't want to teach, I don't want to work with others, I prefer to do it by myself."

"Are you gonna continue singing the same song, kid? Don't be foolish and stubborn, that won't do you any good. It's too hard to do everything alone, you have to accept help and don't be proud."

"Harabeoji, it's not a matter of pride."

Look, what happened to you is..."

"Well, time to go," the musician interrupted getting to his feet. "I need to practice before I go to work."

"Oh, no! You're not doing the same again, come back here."

"Close the windows of the rooms you need to clean, this winter is not a joke. The last thing you want is pneumonia, if they hospitalize you, I won't be able to bring you food."

As Yoongi walked out the door, the janitor yelled, "And cut that hair, you can almost braid it!"

With a grin on his face at the old man's insistence on his hair, Yoongi headed to the rehearsal room. He could spend hours when he was in front of a piano, really in front of any instrument, but the piano will always have a special place in Yoongi's life. Hence, it was no wonder that he had to run out of the practice room when he realized he was late for work. If all went well, the shift would end early, so he could practice a little more. Normally, he would do it at home, but his piano had been sounding different and he had to send it in for repair.

Yoongi couldn't even suspect what his long hours of practice in that class had done to someone, but he would know soon enough.

To be continued... 🐱

➳ Next Chapter

[profound-yet-trivial]

1.

Immersing myself in classic literature and philosophy has been, not merely delightful, but an essential part of my maturing as a human being.

I think, in particular, that those studies helped me to dissolve several psychological knots I was tied up in, knots which weren't going to be addressed by mathematics. Those fields are my particular favorites, but of course history and visual art and music and poetry etc can unlock the same vistas.

Cultivating and following one's curiosity is the equivalent of physical fitness, and if you don't try anything outside one field, you're skipping leg day.

2.

The first truth is being weaponized into a really stupid debate, framed as "Humanities majors connect with the breadth of human experience, unlike the uncurious STEM automatons". The posts making the rounds within our bubble are pretty clearly insults hurled in the other direction, "STEM is pinned down to concrete facts, unlike the humanities, which allow bullshit".

To the humanities-leaning: Curiosity about the sciences tells you meaningful things you can't learn from the humanities: primarily, how to not take the way the world is for granted - to look a mirror, and figure out not only what mirrors mean to humans, but why a mirror reflects you left-right instead of up-down, and why silver reflects visible light, and how the atoms "know" to emit the light at the same angle it arrived. All of these answers will expand your way of thinking, not just about mirrors, but about what it means to be in this universe.

Forget the people arguing about STEM vs humanities online. Find someone in your life who's excited to show you something in the sciences (and knows you well enough to guess what you might like and what you're ready for). Trust me, it will be way more fascinating than your algebra tests were.

To the STEM-leaning: yes, there's bullshit in parts of the humanities, and if the discourse isn't pitched at a general level then it's impossible to tell what's bullshit and what's real. But the same goes for the sciences- an expert can lie to a non-expert on any topic the non-expert doesn't already know something about.

Forget the people arguing about STEM vs humanities online. Find someone in your life who's excited to show you something in the humanities (and knows you well enough to guess what you might like and what you're ready for). Trust me, it will be way more real than your English essays were.

3.

Credentialism is an entirely separate topic. I had the opportunity to attend a great college because my parents could afford it, so I didn't need to carry massive debt through my graduate studies (which I didn't have to pay for because STEM departments at big universities have enough money to pay their grad students).

A PhD in math has got my foot in the door for more interviews than it honestly ought to (given how often I've then failed said interviews). I know what kind of privilege that is.

In many cases, taking a humanities major means choosing a harder path to career fulfillment than taking another major. It's absolutely fine to decide that's worth it for the years of immersing oneself in what one treasures, within a community of peers and scholars.

But it's still trading that experience for money (both present and future), and that's the context where we can ask (in economic terms) how much to count it as consumption and how much as investment. (It's not a binary question.)

With respect to career success, it's mostly consumption: you are spending money to enjoy life more and to become more the person you want to be, in a similar sense as if you took a year to travel the world and find yourself. Consumption doesn't mean anything bad, in that sense.

Sometimes it's investment - someone brought up the example of their aunt and Nicolas Cage being in an acting class together. It is worth saying that in a world like acting, where the ratio of applicants to jobs is insane, some investments aren't great ones. That person's aunt was probably making a poor investment compared to Nicolas Cage, who already had the advantage of being Francis Ford Coppola's nephew.

On an individual level, it's a tough decision to put on the shoulders of a teenager - to pick between things one enjoys various amounts (and even then, the upper-division classes are often so different than lower-division classes that they may as well be a different field - definitely true in mathematics, where you've never actually experienced mathematics until you've gone beyond the classes taught for other departments' requirements), with little knowledge of how career paths look beyond the diploma (let alone how those may change).

[exyandotherobsessions]

can you write about andrew calling neil captain as a joke but he likes it so much that andrew regularly call him it in bed

~~~

���Just shut up unless you want ten more laps.”

“Damn Neil,” started Nicky, making a gesture of zipping his lips up. “Didn’t know you were as bad as Kevin.”

“Fifteen.”

“Shutting up now.”

Sighing, Neil brushed away the curls of hair falling in front of his eyes before leaving Nicky to his lunges. With Dan and Kevin on some sort of promotional trip for the day, Neil was left to lead the foxes’ training. Granted, the idea sounded much better as just that— an idea. But no one could deny⁠— he was effective.

Blonde and black on orange caught in the corner of his eye, and with a quick jog, he arrived at the other end of the court.

“Having fun?”

Leaned against the goal was Andrew, plucking at the net of his racket with a disinterested look on his face.

“Actually, yes,” replied Neil. They’d barely started, yet Neil’s shirt was already sticking to his torso with sweat. “Are you planning on doing anything?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Just a few rounds?”

“Hope must be a blinding thing.”

“Fine,” said Neil, pulling a light scowl. “But you’re covering the goal so the rest of them can practice.”

“Yes captain.”

The word was barely uttered, yet Neil heard it loud and clear over the chatter behind them. His face flushed a deep red and for a split second he froze. To his embarrassment, Andrew seemed to have picked up on it, raising an eyebrow.

“Flustered much?”

“Shut up.”

“Or I’ll get ten laps?”

Neil simply replied with a glare.

~~~

For an strenuous hour (though they’d all have sworn it was two), Neil went on yelling orders to the others. If they were being honest, practice was slightly irritating, possibly because of Neil’s favouritism to a certain blond goalkeeper. But no one could deny; it was almost the most effective they’d been in weeks.

That being said, they were still exhausted, practically dragging themselves out of court. And after a tiring morning of practice, Neil would have been perfectly content spending the rest of the day on Andrew’s lap, or skimming through a math textbook that Nicky had once threatened to burn.

“Wait— Neil hasn’t been to the ice cream place on fifth street, has he?”

But apparently, Nicky had other ideas. Neil sighed redundantly.

“Really?” Asked Matt, frantically turning to face Neil. “Have we seriously never taken you?”

“No, but I don’t really⁠—”

"Well, would you like to⁠—” started Renee, quickly interrupted.

“We’re going now! And you,” emphasised Nicky, pointing directly at Neil, his finger just falling short of Neil’s chest. “Are coming with us.”

With a helpless look on his face, Neil turned to Andrew for some sort of help. But Andrew merely shrugged and turned to Neil. “Have a problem, captain?”

After almost missing his step and falling flat on his face, Neil resisted the very strong urge to roll his eyes.

“As a matter of fact,” started Neil, making deliberate eye contact with Andrew’s unbothered face. “No, I don’t. We’re going.”

That seemed to elicit some sort of reaction from Andrew, even if it were only his eyebrows twitching up slightly in surprise. Neil took it as success, though his satisfaction was quickly wiped away by the rest of their smiling faces rushing him to the car.

Though he wouldn’t admit how contagious their excitement was.

~~~

If Neil was being honest, the place wasn’t half bad.

With bright blue walls and an overenthusiastic waiter, it was practically trademark to the underclassmen, and came with no surprise. Squeezing into a booth, he was grateful for the way Matt next to him tried his best in a feeble attempt to give Neil some space. Neil threw a glance at Andrew, who seemed surprisingly void of regret.

“No, shut up Neil,” started Allison.

“I didn’t— ”

Aggressively, she shushed him with a finger to her lips. “I’m ordering for you. Because a plain vanilla ice cream is not an acceptable choice.”

The way she said it, you’d think Neil had committed a war crime.

“Don’t worry about Allison—” said Nicky, waving her off. “This place is her lifeforce, just smile and wave is my advice.”

Neil noted the way he seemed to have perfectly mastered the art of ignoring Allison shooting daggers with her stares.

Daggers turned to smiles as the waiter came over to the table. As if on script, each person recited their order on cue— except for Neil, whose pleading look was unfortunately not enough to bag a choice.

With a glance, Neil observed as Allison sent a wary glare to Andrew, waiting for his order. And he watched as her look went from wary to puzzled with his dry response.

“Tell the captain to choose for me.”

No words in any of the numerous languages Neil knew were strong enough to describe the feelings that flew through Neil, all at once.

The emphasis on a certain word was obvious, and Nicky’s stare was uncomfortably knowing. And Neil certainly wasn’t the only one blushing faintly.

Only Renee seemed utterly unfazed. “I’d suppose that’s Neil?”

At Neil’s scowl she responded, “…as he’s the captain of the team for the time being, of course?”

Watching tense faces melt slowly, Neil sent a much more grateful look, for which he was rewarded with a glowing smile.

“The same for him, please.”

“So…” started Nicky. “Practice was hard, huh?”

“No,” mumbled Allison. “The captain was.”

“Well I for one have no doubt that Neil would make a delightful captain.”

Neil passed a small smile to Renee.

“As long as we’ve all graduated before.”

“Well, Allison,” started Neil. “It’s not my fault you were sloppy on your—”

“It’s not my fault you left us too tired after warm ups to actually play anything decently!”

“I agree with her, actually,” added Nicky.

“Oh really? Because you weren’t perfect eith —"

“I was glowing, thank you very much.”

The deadpan stare on Neil’s face was answer enough. Allison tried to hide her grin. Something about a riled up Neil was so easily entertaining. And somewhere at the edge of the seat, Andrew shared a glance with Renee, silently thinking the same thing.

Eventually amongst the bickering, came a voice. “Your orders are here, ma’am.”

The waiter looked baffled— so baffled that Neil had to let out a chuckle. Placing down the ice creams that looked too large to be real onto the tables, he disappeared almost as quickly as he came.

“Well,” started Renee, trying to break the silence. “What are Andrew’s thoughts on practice?”

Perking up ever-so-slightly, Andrew said smoothly. “I was just obeying the captain.”

And with that, he ignored the almost flustered breath Neil took in as he shot a world-class glare. If looks could kill, almost everyone at the table would certainly be in danger. Most certainly Andrew.

But his stare was as blank as ever.

~~~

If Neil knew how the evening would turn out, maybe he wouldn’t have pushed himself to exhaustion during training.

Sprawled over the floor with his math book laid out in front of him he flicked through the pages, skimming the pages disinterestedly. Every couple seconds— though he wouldn’t admit it⁠— he stole glances of Andrew, staring vaguely into the air. Numbly, his mind was going over the events of the day, and Neil couldn’t help a certain, faint blush that overcame certain moments.

When the keys jangled, and Nicky left the house, a small glance was shared between the two. Funnily enough, the bed seemed awfully empty all of a sudden.

It started out with small kisses. Andrew’s lips were soft against Neil’s— something that he was grateful for, what with being thoroughly exhausted.

Fingers trailed over bare skin, and with every small touch, Neil felt his breath quiver. With sudden contact, Neil felt his back against the wall. Letting a heated breath out, he felt Andrew’s lips travel over his neck and collarbone, exploring his skin. With Neil’s elbows resting on his shoulders, he let Andrew lead the way.

Soft kisses gradually became more passionate, until both of them were ready for more. Meeting Andrew’s eyes, Neil pushed back ruffled strays of auburn hair.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes, captain.”

The sigh that escaped him was answer enough.

[userjoel]

[ ♡ morning kisses ♡ ] ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

[ prompt ]

‘‘i’m not going to kiss you.’‘ ‘‘why?’‘ ‘‘because if i do, i don’t think we’re getting out of bed today.’‘ followed by the character placing a playful kiss on their lover’s mouth as they get out of bed (via)

[ pairing ] : tom holland x reader

[ warnings ] : a lot of kissing, they kinda sorta get a little handsy? it’s just very fluffy and i’m still trying to figure out what exactly warrants warnings so some kind feedback would be very appreciated...!

[ word count ] : 1.5k

[ note ] : this is my first ever fic, and it’s been a minute since i wrote...anything really? so i have no idea how this is going to read for others, but!! i had fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy!

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

You wished every morning could be just like this: eyes coaxed open by the warm rays pouring through the windows, your frame safely tucked against Tom’s body with his arm draped over your waist.

Once you manage to blink away the sleep, you roll over to face him, being careful not to wake him in the process.

And he looks perfect. You lie there and run your eyes over him—it feels a little surreal to take him in this way. Just several hours ago he was on a plane coming back home to you after an excruciating month of being apart. But now, here he was — physically, actually here — lost somewhere deep in his dreams. By a rare stroke of luck you’ve woken up before him. So naturally, you're gonna use those valuable seconds by trying to memorize every little detail of his face.

Nothing has felt more relaxing. A little too relaxing, in fact, but you fight the sleep that threatens to creep back, fixating instead on the way the sunlight licks at the tips of his unruly brown curls, slowly inching down his features. And if the sun were allowed to touch him, weren’t you, too?

You hold your breath as your index finger reaches out and delicately traces along his brow bone.

When it seems clear the action hasn’t stirred him from his sleep, you continue to ghost across the surface of his skin, taking your time as your finger trails down his cheek bone, to the bridge of his nose, and to his lips. Then it lingers there for a second too long.

“I think I quite like this sort of wake up call.” 

Your whip your hand away like it had just touched something hot, eyes blown wide in surprise.

“You’re awake.” The sentence comes out more as an observation than a question, and you can feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“I... may or may not have been up since I felt you turn over earlier.” His eyes, still sanded with sleep and exhaustion, finally open to meet yours. But his ever-present, boyish amusement doesn’t fail to glitter from behind the chocolate orbs.

And it had always been these minor things that made your heart glow with warmth for the boy in front of you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you,” you mumble, a pout forming at the end of the sentence as you caress his cheek.

Tom hums in reply, leaning into your touch as he shakes his head, as though to tell you not to worry. His arms reach around you to pull you closer to him. “No, I’m glad you did. I reckon I should probably get ready anyway. What time is it?”

“No. Nuh-uh. C’mon, I just got you back!” Your hand comes up to cover his eyes, shielding his vision from the clock by your bed. “Unless by ‘get ready,’ you mean ‘get ready to spend all day with your loving girlfriend and not go to work’?”

“Y/N/N,” he groans playfully, shaking his head side to side to try and remove your hand, but you persist, a grin decorating your features. “The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can wrap up and come back home to you love, hm?” He turns his head slightly, just enough to give the inside of your wrist a quick peck. “Give me my eyes baaaaack.”

Reluctantly you concede, but by parting your fingers just enough so he could peek between the gap. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he finally sees you, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance to give you the first kiss of the day.

It’s deliciously soft and lazy, purposeful and loving. The feeling sends a kind of shock through your veins, reaching down to the tip of your toes. His lips move against yours with ease in the same way they’ve done a thousand times before, effectively bringing all your guards down — your hand comes down too, slipping behind his neck to toy with the hair on his nape. Your leg innocently tangles with his, bringing your bodies even closer together, and you feel his hand delicately moving from the your lower back to your ass, giving it a small squeeze.

You hum against his lips for more; but that’s the exact moment he decides to pull away. And as much as you hated it, you knew as well as he did that one second longer and that would probably mean neither of you'd likely have a very productive morning. Not that that would be so bad for you, necessarily.

Tom rolls you over on your back, peppering your cheeks, neck, and collarbone with feathery kisses that you knew translated into an apology. He nestles his head on your chest with a quiet sigh, consumed by the silence and the rhythmical thump of your heartbeat.

“Wish I didn’t have to go to bloody work.” He mumbles against your skin, cuddling even closer against you as your fingers gently comb through his hair. "Wish I didn't have to leave you again."

But you both knew it went without saying that Tom loved what he did; how he couldn’t imagine being anything else but an actor. The physical and mental demand of his work, the exhausting, erratic hours, the different types of people he had to deal with on a daily basis — he could handle all of that, and then some. But when it came down to being away from you not just in the early hours of the morning but for weeks, and sometimes even months at a time… That was the hard part. Those were the moments when he dared to invite the addictive ‘what-if’s and tempting fantasies of an alternative reality where neither of you had any obligations to tend to, no urgent work messages to check on the phone.

“Duty calls, right?” You can still feel your lips tingle from his kiss. “At least you don’t have anything on your schedule tomorrow. Means I’ll get to have you all to myself.”

At that, you suddenly feel the weight of your boyfriend removed from your body. Tom props himself up a bit to lean over you, hands on the bed by either side of your head. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, suggesting something both sinister and delightful.

“For once you’re wrong, darling.” He grins. “I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow and a fairly good feeling that you're going to love what I’ve got planned out for you.” 

You raise your brow. “'That right? Thirty-something days apart and suddenly you’re so cocky.” With a teasing smile, you drape your arms around his neck, gaze lingering on his inviting lips for a moment before lifting back up on his eyes. 

“But fine," you begin, your voice just slightly hushed. "What if...you show me a little, tiny sneak peek, baby...and I can tell you...what I think of your little schedule so far?” With each passing syllable you pull him down closer to you –– bit by bit, and sneakily enough, you tell yourself. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating what’s to come, but the kiss never lands. You feel the teasing tickle of skin on skin instead.

“Y’think I don’t know all about your antics, don’t you?”

“‘Antics’?!” Your open your eyes again with a frown. “I think some would call that the art of flirting. Or teasing. Or both. But I guess you wouldn’t know that even if it were right under your nose.” Your finger pokes the tip of Tom’s nose for emphasis.

He tuts and shrugs in acknowledgement. “Well tough luck, babe. I’m still not gonna kiss you.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, one hand leaving your side to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Why not?” You huff.

“Because if I do, I don’t think either of us are ever going to make it out of this bed.”

“But—” Before you can fully protest, you’re caught off-guard with the very kiss you were denied just moments ago. And maybe that was why, but somehow, it feels even better than the last. Your chin cranes up to hold his lips for as long as you possibly can, melting under his touch and savoring what you could.

He reluctantly tears away, much sooner than you’d like. He leaves you with a final peck against the tip of your nose.

“I love you. So much.” He rests his forehead against yours again. “And I’m sorry we can’t spend my first day back together, darling. But I’ll make it up to you, hm? I promise.” 

“Pinky swear?” You hold up your finger between your two frames, and he doesn't think twice before looking down to loop his finger with yours. The pads of your thumbs press together to seal the deal, and he brings your interlocked hands up to gently press it against his lips.

It was a gesture frequently shared between you two — a secret handshake, if you will — but only for private moments like this. 

“Pinky pinky swear.” He reassures, giving your hand a small squeeze before finally removing himself from the bed. “I’m gonna go shower now. Be good.” The mattress echos your groan as your boyfriend disappears from your reach and into the bathroom.

Your eyes glance over at the clock, frowning at the time and blaming it for the outcome of what had been, at one point, your perfect morning. It already felt like a distant memory.

[90stvshowgoth]

—BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: after dabi was seen leaving your apartment complex last week, the commission has sent a lesser known hero to help guard the building until new cameras are installed. however, no security measures in the world could keep dabi out.

w/c: 5064

tags: dubcon, cuckolding, creampie, voyeurism, humiliation, exhibitionism, arson

a/n: this is the final chapter to this little duology, and the reason why its so much shorter is because the first one was really supposed to stand on its own, but i got so many requests for a sequel i couldn’t help it. so i just took the kinks i didn’t get to use last time and pay off some setup and voila. however, just ‘cause this is the last chapter of this story doesn’t mean i’m not gonna write a fuck ton of other stuff for him. ily burn man. plus i’m working on a huge, multi-chapter fic for him while i post smaller one-shots >:) that being said, enjoy.

The impact Dabi left on your life was far bigger than you thought it would’ve been on the night you snuck him away from the law. As he was running from the cops someone saw him climb through your window, and a different person also saw him climb down the fire escape. With witnesses like that, the other tenants were downright furious.

You almost felt bad for the landlord, it wasn’t his fault you were insane enough to willingly let a villain come inside both you and your apartment.

Your landlord and the police department came up with a solution. The apartment complex would be installing new state-of-the-art locks on all fire-escape adjacent windows free of charge. This wasn’t exactly an issue with seeing Dabi again, since all you had to do was purposefully leave yours unlocked.

It would take two weeks to install all the cameras, but until then, a community-assigned hero would be stationed to guard the complex.

His name was Kao, a middle-ranked hero with bright orange hair and a winning smile framed with dimples. At first you thought he might’ve been one of the better heroes, waving you off to work and walking you there the other day, but recently he’d begun to creep you out. The friendly conversations about a tv show you both enjoyed began to turn into invasive questions about your love life.

A week of lingering glances and uncomfortable prying culminated that Friday as he had flat out asked you to dinner moments prior.

“C’mon, I just— I said that wrong, lemme try again,” He stuttered, keeping pace with you as you marched towards the building.

“No, Kao, look, you’re cool and all, but I’m really not looking to date anyone right now.” You huffed, striding into the doorway and towards the elevator. That might not’ve been the whole truth but you obviously couldn’t tell him that you had the hots for a terrorist.

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well you just got off work, right? I remember which room you stay in, maybe I can swing by tonight?”

You whirled on him, your jaw slack in shock at the insensitivity of his words. The reminder that he knew where you lived sending a shiver down your spine, “Kao, this conversation is done. I don’t want you following me around anymore, hero,”

Deep down, your words sounded familiar. If they were raspier and said behind a thin veil of indifference, you might’ve realized that you were talking like Dabi.

“What is that supposed to mean? We’re the good guys!” You slammed your fist down on the close-door button, your mouth a thin line, daring Kao to make a move and stop the doors. He didn’t, and soon the reassuring pull of the elevator set your shaking body at ease.

‘Who does he think he is?’ You were bitter, rightfully so, you think.

You were so frustrated that you had difficulty inserting your keys into the lock, twisting it with a growl and throwing open the door, ready to collapse onto your pillow and vent to whoever was online about your heroic stalker.

When you noticed the scent of cigarettes in the air.

“Hey, doll,” Warmth surged through your chest at the sight of him, the villain’s feet kicked up onto the coffee table.

You were hanging your coat on the hook before moving beside him to the couch, “What took you so long?”

“Not happy to see me? You seem a lot bitchier than I remember,” The crude edge of his humor was a breath of fresh air compared to the stifling niceties of work, and you smiled for what felt like the first time that day.

Shaking your head, you toed out of your boots and made your way to the frayed couch, “I’ll tell you all about him,”

That got his attention, “Him?”

“A hero,” Dabi’s frown worsened, an accusatory look in his eyes, “before you ask, no, you idiot, I hate this guy, there’s not a chance I’d sleep with him.”

The tensity in his shoulders relaxed, bring the half-finished Newport to his lips as you continued, “Since you broke in last week all my neighbors lost their shit. They threatened to sue if my landlord didn’t assign a hero to watch the building for a bit. I thought he was cool, but I’ve just decided that he’s a total prick.”

He hummed, nodding understandingly, “Want me to kill him?”

You gaped, hitting him on the chest, “Wha—No, Dabi, what the hell?”

He just shrugged, the intensity of his words almost funny to you, and as you recounted the last twenty minutes the ashes of Dabi’s cigarette fell to the floor. The dying lights of the sun streamed through your window, the smoke oddly beautiful in the glow as he handed you the last hit of his cheap cigar.

“You know why heroes are like that?” You shook your head, enjoying the numbing calm of tobacco, “It’s cause they’re spoiled. They go their entire lives being praised for everything they do so they don’t know how to take no for a fuckin’ answer,”

Apparently your smoking buddy was feeling talkative, much to your delight. His words made you pause, remembering the relieved faces of your neighbors whenever they’d see the gaudy costume Kao wore as he strode by.

“Shit... guess you’re right,” You mumbled into his side, not minding the ever-present aroma of burnt skin and smoke that clung to Dabi’s coat.

He scoffed, “I’m always right, baby,” His words earning him a pinch on the arm.

“No, you ass, just about the hero stuff,” He grinned, the staples on his dimples taut against his skin as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Careful, doll, you’re starting to sound like a villain,” The drop in your stomach sent heat down your skin, yet somehow you were still shivering under his predatory gaze.

You shook your head, trying to will away the red that dusted your cheeks, “No way, my quirk isn’t strong enough to be a villain,”

He raised his eyebrow expectantly, broadly gesturing for you to go on.

“Well...” God, why is this embarrassing? “I can give people headaches.”

You didn’t know if he would laugh at you or belittle you for your meaningless quirk, but he did neither.

“Think you could practice it more? Get better at it?” He was serious, staring at you and expecting an answer.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, “I mean, maybe? It’s not hard to do, I guess,”

Dabi smirked, pulling you onto his lap. It felt as if the week hadn’t happened at all and you were right back where you started, your face flushing at the memories of that night. He dragged you close, eyes dark as he whispered something into your ear...

“Think you could split someone’s head open with a migraine?”

Your gut wrenched, flinching at the gory idea and making you sit up in Dabi’s lap. The atmosphere in the room hadn’t changed, his stare as menacing as before.

That is, until he started to crack up. Louder than you’d ever heard before, his fit filled the apartment until he had to cup his stomach from laughing too hard; the wheeze in his rough throat echoing around the room as your blush spread all the way down your neck.

“Oh, you asshole!” If anything, your shove against his chest only made him more giddy. The panic-fueled adrenaline was still surging through your body, unwillingly making the wetness between your thighs spread, even as you tried to wrap your head around the fact that Dabi had been fucking with you.

Your legs shook as he held on to you for balance, his cackling dying down but the shit-eating grin never leaving his face, “You were so freaked out, huh?”

“Yeah, no shit!”

He hummed, running a hand through your hair and suddenly yanking you forward, basking in the sharp yelp it brought from you, “You’re cute when you’re scared,”

You’d missed the way his scabbed lips felt on yours more than you’d ever admit. There was something about him that left you breathless, eager and questioning your life choices. Groaning into his mouth before pulling back and laving your slick tongue along his disfigured lower lip, you rolled your aching heat against him to force a truly pornographic moan from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck—” One of his hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass through your jeans, “Fucking hell, you missed me that much?”

You nodded dumbly into his shoulder, pressing chaste kisses along the ragged skin as he slid his finger past the band of your jeans, cupping your dripping sex with wide eyes.

“Goddamn, s’no way you’re this wet for me already,” His eyes were scrutinizing, trying to figure out why you were hiding into his neck, “What’s got you so worked up, doll?”

You couldn’t come up with a good excuse in time, Dabi thinking back to how your thighs had tightened up when he asked if you could kill someone, your eyes were frightened back then, yes, but there was something else. Something you wouldn’t tell him.

When the realization hit him, it hit hard.

“Holy shit, you get off on being scared?” He couldn’t believe his luck, the embarrassed groan you buried into his shoulder confirming his suspicions.

Dabi ran a hand through his hair, a childish wonder over his features, “Aren’t I fuckin’ lucky?” He sneered, pulling you back til you were at eye-level again.

“I’m gonna try something, baby,” there was an edge to his voice as he settled one hand on the small of your back, pressing your tits against his chest as he held your bra strap back with the other.

“What are you… Dabi, what are you doing?” The scent of fire and burning fabric filled the air, the ends of your bralette smoking between his fingertips, embers turning to ash and sprinkling down the couch until it was flimsy enough for Dabi to rip free, teeth sinking into your neck as he held you still to keep your skin safe.

It was jarring and a bit terrifying to be restrained against someone like Dabi without knowing his intentions. But nothing in you could deny the blinding rush of pleasure it ripped down your spine.

“It’s all starting to make sense, doll-face, I guess I was right the first time,” His hands tossed the smoking bra into hallway, reaching between you and torturously pinching and pulling on the rosy blush of your tits, “you do have a thing for villains,”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight pussy again, doll,” Without warning he shoved your torso forward, your body bouncing against the couch, his hands flying to the button of your jeans.

“—Didn’t have time to take you right last time, didn’t get to taste you,” his words made you whimper in his grasp, keeping your legs somewhat raised as tugged down the tight denim.

You fully expected him to take you rough like before, make you choke on his cock before having his fill, but as he tugged off your black panties he crawled down the trembling body beneath him, slowly moving over your ribs, your stomach, and finally your drooling cunt.

He never broke eye contact with you as he pulled your thighs closer, keeping them spread wide as the hot fan of his breath on your pussy sent a thrill through your neglected nerves.

“I want you to scream my name,” It was an order, not a request. The unhinged tremor in his hands was unsettling, an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Dabi’s tongue immediately found your clit, mouth wrapping around the glistening bead and sucking all at once, the moan it drew from your lips unholy. He moaned at the taste, hiking up your hips onto his shoulders.

“Christ, you’re sweet, doll, like fuckin’ candy...” He muttered in disbelief, more to himself that to you, licking a wide stripe along your drenched lips, diving into you deep enough to have your limbs spasming around him.

On instinct your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sharp cry that the villain drew. He didn’t warn you before bringing his hand up high and slapping it into the bare skin of your thigh, a scream echoing through the living room. Distantly, you wondered if your neighbors could hear...

“Don’t you dare hide a single sound from me, slut, or this ends now,” his ultimatum was scary but the insult felt heavy in a way you’d never felt before, and you nodded without a second thought, breathlessly bunching one hand into the arm of the couch above you and the other into the ashy black of his hair.

You nodded down to him, silently saying to continue; the villain fixed on watching as your chest swelled in time with your breathing, a rush of blood going to the heat of his cock.

His pace was hungry, nipping at your thighs whenever he thought you were too comfortable, spinning circles into your clit with his tongue and chuckling at the noises it brought, “You gonna cum, princess?” You could only respond with a scream of his name, the plea music to his ears, but he needed you to be louder if he was to get what he wanted.

“Louder,” Dabi called your name like a prayer, moaning into your cunt as you practically suffocated him between your thighs, “Fuck—Louder, baby, scream it,”

“Dabi!!” Your orgasm was hot against his tongue and he drank in every last drop of your climax until you were wrenching away his greedy mouth, your pussy swollen and red from his care.

Just as you started to compose yourself, a frantic banging sounded on the door. Someone from the hallway was slamming down their fist, screaming your name.

“Hey! Did you just say Dabi?! Are you okay in there?” It was Kao.

Horror clawed away any kind of afterglow as you cupped your hand to your mouth, leaning up on your elbow and whispering, “What do I say?”

Dabi’s voice was just low enough to hide behind the pounding of Kao’s fists, “Do you trust me?”

Before you could answer the hero behind the wall called your name again.

“If you don’t answer me in five seconds I’m breaking this door down!”

Your gaze flickered from the front door to the villain that was wiping your slick from his chin.

“Yes,”

Dabi grinned, grabbing your wrists and holding you against his shirt, one hand wrapped painfully around your tits and the other erupting with blue fire in his palm.

“Come and get her, hero!” You made a confused squeal, thrashing around in his grasp, eyes wide and afraid as Dabi shushed into your ear, trying to calm you down.

‘Like hell if you’d calm down, he’d practically just signed your death sentence!’ you heaved against the fugitive, trying to shake yourself free to no avail.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and imagine you were somewhere else as door was jolted in its hinges, the doorknob falling with a distant clang, and before you could beg Dabi to stop whatever stupid game he was playing, Kao ran into the room, eyes furrowed and fists raised as the door squeaked on the loose hinges behind him, blissfully unaware.

“Where are y—“ Kao’s voice paused mid-sentence, you flinched in Dabi’s hold, the heat of the redhead’s stare washing over you, naked and wet, making you tilt your head down, trying to hide yourself from the world.

“Isn’t she cute, hero?” Dabi rasped against you, the heat of his fire illuminated against the sweaty sheen of your trembling body. Kao didn’t know what to do, flustered and struggling to hide the tent in his latex costume.

You knew fighting back against the villain was pointless, falling limp in the strength of his arms as he chuckled into your neck, looking over at the bump in his pants, “You were right, babe, I think he likes you,”

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Kao screamed, diving towards the couch with his fist raised back.

Dabi simply grinned, carefully hovering his flame ever closer to your now bare tits, you couldn’t help but scream at the proximity, and whatever plan Kao had in his mind died before his fist could make impact.

His novocaine laced voice spoke calmly beside your ear, “Any closer and she’s dead,” The hot rush down your legs wasn’t due to his flames, as one hand took to rubbing your sensitive sex, the sounds it elicited from you unintentional and mortifying under the presence of Kao in the room.

“What... what do you want, you bastard?” Dabi laughed at that one, tweaking your clit between his fingers and conducting the most beautiful notes from your pillowy lips.

“I think It’s pretty obvious what I want, don’t you think?” Your name on his lips sent you keening against him despite the inferno roaring inches away from your skin. He couldn’t move without Dabi’s flames hovering ever closer to your heaving chest, and to Kao, you were very clearly about to die. Although you didn’t believe Dabi would hurt you, he had asked you to trust him before he got Kao’s attention, after all, the line between foreplay and conflagration was becoming blurry.

Kao backed up into the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, barely making an effort to try and hide his erection anymore, “I’ll send you to fucking Tartarus for this, Dabi.”

“Oooo, scary,” His unlit hand trailed down your jawline, tilting you to his side until he could slide his tongue into your open lips, humming into your mouth, “What do you think, doll?

“Dabi, please... wait,“ The strength in your voice wasn’t as heated as before, and even you had to admit it sounded half-assed.

Kao’s quirk must be no good for long range because all he could do was stand there, trying to avert his eyes from your drooling cunt in favor of glaring daggers at the coy villain pulling soft mewls from your lips, “I swear... I’ll see you rot in prison for this. You’ll be fucking executed, you rapist—“

“—woah, woah, that stings, hero. Doll, is that really what I’m doin’?” You groaned, not exactly answering because you couldn’t hear the question, your eyes still shut tight in embarrassment.

The growl in his voice sent another soaking rush towards your pussy, as his hand grabbed you jaw, pulling you up, “Look at me,” Your eyes widened at the sight of Dabi so close to you, his chest warm against your back, the aches of your last orgasm fading into something new.

“Tell me to stop, princess, your call,” Time stood still as Dabi kissed a soft pathway along your neck, weirdly gentle as he listened for your response, his clothed hard-on pressed firmly against your ass.

Too flustered to speak, you merely wrenched your arm free from his grasp, carding you hand through his hair and pulling him to your desperate lips. You could feel him tug into a smirk against you as your hips eagerly ground themselves on him despite the audience.

Kao choked on his own spit, stepping backwards, but stopped when Dabi aimed his ignited hand towards the hero who was having difficulty piecing together your actions in his head. “What,” His voice cracked when he called out your name, “are you...?”

Dabi pulled away, a feral glint in the blue hidden beneath his hair as he licked a disgustingly wet stripe along your cheek, chest rumbling behind you as you squirmed at the gross feeling, “I’m still gonna need you to beg, sweetheart.”

Your dignity was hanging by a thread, hinging on whether or not you followed his lead, but the insane buzz your anxiety had stirred up under Kao’s confused stare and Dabi’s aching cock was impossible to ignore. He rut himself into the dripping curve of your ass, his jeans soaked with your slick as you found the courage to speak.

“Fuh...” Carefully, Dabi pressed a loving kiss to your temple, his stare fixated on Kao’s as you strung the syllables together, “Fuck me, Dabi,”

The hero couldn’t believe his ears. She’d turned him down countless times despite his pursuits, yet she was somehow fine with this? Kao briefly thought that perhaps his crush was a villain this whole time, but that couldn’t make sense with her weak quirk.

You felt Dabi twitch beneath you, the shameless way you showed yourself off was as humiliating as it was hot, and he laughed in lightheaded disbelief against the back of your neck, taking your ass in one hand and slipping the other down his pants, tugging off the painful metal zipper until his boxers were pulled down just enough for his cock to finally be met with the soft warmth of your cunt.

“As the lady commands,” Dabi grinned, reaching around your waist to take his pierced dick in his hand, rubbing and tapping his swollen head deliberately against your clit, pre-cum drenching your pussy as you felt boneless in his arms.

“Ah-! St..S-top tea-sing, Dabi!” You babbled, squirming to try and find an escape from his grasp or maybe trying to force him inside you, but all your struggling did was make him harder. But before you could beg, you froze at the sight of Kao a few feet away, his legs bending into a sprinter’s pose. He was going to run?

Dabi was having none of it, a controlled jet of flame grazing Kao’s knee, scalding the skin beneath the latex. The hero cried out into the bite of his fist, collapsing into the wall a few feet away.

“Nah, hero. You’re not leaving just yet,” The villain rearranged you on his lap, “See, the thought of you jerking off to my girl? It kinda pisses me off, actually,”

The color in Kao’s face drained as he had no choice but to sit and watch as Dabi slowly sunk you down on top of him, one hand drawing soft circles into your stomach as you reveled in the feeling of his piercings hot against every part of you.

“Though, I’m wondering, what did you think about, huh?” Kao sputtered, unable to form words just like you, formless noises falling from your lips.

His scarred hands grasped at the flesh of your thighs, raising you up only to shove you back onto his cock, the flames that still extended to threaten Kao suddenly flared up in time with his thrusts, the weight of him felt so much deeper at this angle and it was hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“I... nothing! I didn’t—“ Another whip of fire cut through the room from Dabi’s fingertips, a cast of blue leaving bubbling skin in its wake, pain flashing across Kao’s face.

“Fuckin’ liar,” You yelped as Dabi shoved you down, moaning into your ear as you squeezed against him, sobbing his name into his chest as he picked up a steady pace in your guts.

Kao cried out, stuttering and gripping along the inflamed line of skin, “I-I thought— thought about her... fuck— I just wanted her to suck me off, alright? There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

He must’ve realized the mistake in his words as soon as he said them, squeezing your eyes shut but having no choice but to smell the stench of burning flesh and hear the sound of muffled screaming as it filled your apartment, “Can’t blame you though, her mouth is God,”

Your hands scrambled for balance against Dabi as the screaming of his victim made him downright feral, filling your tight heat so well it had you crying.

“Damn, you’re soaked for me, doll, I just knew you were a kinky fuck deep down. You’re a slutty little girl for me, aren’t ya?”

As much as it hurt to admit it, he was right. He was painfully right, and you told him so. The unhinged, unstoppable force that was Dabi ignited a passion in you that’d never been fed before. He was torturing the hero you hated all while taking your cunt in deep, harsh thrusts, the metal imbedded into his cock and his chest behind you were blisteringly hot against your skin.

“Tell him, baby,” His question fell on deaf ears, your tongue lolling from your mouth a bit at the pleasure.

It caught you off guard when he drew his hand back and slapped you across the cheek, a blistering red handprint in its wake, saying your name so softly, turning off his quirk to run his hands through your hair, he whispered, “Tell that fucking hero who you belong to,”

The world tipped over as Dabi gripped your shoulders, pushing you onto the wooden coffee table so your ass stuck in the air. In an instant he was on you again, pounding into your cunt with a glazed fervor, your words downright biblical in his ears.

“On-ly... Dabi ca—Ngh, Only Dabi can fuck me this good,” You forced the words from your throat, thankful for the table serving as an impartial shoulder to cry on as Dabi lined himself up with your cunt.

“More, princess,” The snap of his hips had you drooling onto the table, catching sight of Kao’s slumped body in the corner as Dabi’s breath sounded much louder than before.

“Fuck, baby—” You cried, craning your neck back to look at him. Sweat glistened at the crown of his dark hair, steam shading his breath as he took you hard, “Your cock is— shit its so deep in me,”

Your nerves were spent from exhaustion as he railed you, being more vocal than before as he choked at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, his fingernails digging future bruises into your hip dips, “Wanna feel you cum in me, want you to fill me up— Dabi, wanna make you feel good,”

“Fuck, doll, I can’t...” He ground his teeth together, making you squeal as he mounted you from behind, spreading your legs out wide so you had no way to hide yourself, “Gonna fuck’n cum-gonna cum in you- fuck, fuck, fuck—!“

You both hit your highs at the same time, Dabi accidentally digging your face into the wood as he held you as tightly to him as possible, his cum running hot due to his quirk as he pumped you full, that broken cry of yours like music to his ears, humping you a few times to ride out his climax.

You felt warm and safe, Dabi’s weight a comfortable blanket even with your shivering skin pressed naked into the coffee table. However, the quietly groaning hero in the corner made you quickly come back down to earth.

“Dabi... did you kill him?” Your voice was small beneath him, but he just shrugged.

“Nah, not yet, don’t worry,” He kissed your neck one more time, his thumb rubbing circles into your indented stomach, pulling you off the table and back into his arms.

He pulled out of you and grinned at the sight of his release spilling down your thighs, “Damn...” he whispered, taking in the sight with a satisfied whistle, “C’mon Doll, forget about him.”

You were grateful he carried you bridal style to your bedroom, your legs gelatin at this point, and as he laid you down to rest he grabbed one of your discarded shirts that hadn’t made it to the hamper and wiped down the remains of sex from your twitching cunt before leaving the cum-stained top ignored on the ground.

“You doing good, baby? Didn’t go too hard, did I?” His concern was diminished somewhat by the grin on his face, satisfied with the mumbling, love-drunk form he’d reduced you to.

Shaking your head, you burrowed into the warm blankets, peeking your eyes out from beyond the covers in a way that even Dabi couldn’t deny was pretty cute, “No, just... what are you gonna do with Kao?”

His face was unreadable as he leaned closer, “Do you really want to know?”

Truth be told, no, you didn’t, you were just a civilian, far removed from the complex fight between heroes and villains. You were only in this situation because you’d grown to care about Dabi. In some small, sarcastic way, he’d wormed his way into your life, and he hadn’t hurt you so far, only going as close as possible to bring you over the edge again and again.

“No...”

“Good answer,” he stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans as he went back into the living room. You heard a muffled thud and what sounded like Dabi cursing before he reappeared in your bedroom, Kao’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder. For such a wiry guy, Dabi was pretty strong. Moving to the open window he basically threw Kao’s body onto the outside metal grating, his lungs uneven after carrying him.

Just as he swung his leg onto the windowsill you shot up in your bed, hand outstretched, “Wait!”

He turned back to look at you, genuinely confused as to what you could want.

“Kiss me before you go?”

He froze, then grinned, scoffing at the innocent gesture you gave so openly to a murderer like him. There had to be something wrong with his little villain-in-training to make her okay with it, just like him. Dabi ignored that thought for another day, striding forward and finally giving you the goodbye kiss you’d been denied last time, his tongue trying to map out every detail in case he could ever forget before pulling away with a warm softness to his ocean eyes.

“I think I might be starting to like you, Doll,” A feint rush of color fell on his unmarred skin and you’re sure your heart stopped beating for a good three seconds.

His words were a worn record being played over and over in your head long after he crawled down your fire escape, the teasing, sated haze in his voice hidden beneath a rasp of smoke. You weren’t sure how much he meant what he said, but you’re sure that the first thing you said in return was exactly what he wanted to hear; at least judging from the boyish smile that lit up his face when you said it.

“Come back soon, okay?”

“Okay,”

@effmigentlywithachainsaw @touyasfatcock @thicchaikyuuboys @awritersometimes @chey-the-simp

[demonicheadcanons]

Can I get the brothers reacting to finding MCs sketchbook and it’s filled with drawings of the demon who picked it up? All of them are masterpieces and some are angsty or sad, others happy, some just them doing mundane things. When confronted, MC just says “Of course I draw you all the time, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You’re my muse.” Thank you in advance, if it’s too complicated you can skip.

AN: This cute prompt has been sitting in my inbox for far too long. Thanks for sending this in Nonny <3 I love this idea. I tried to keep each scenario short so I could get this done quickly, as you’ve waited long enough for it. Tried is the key word here ;u;

You’re maybe already dating the boys in these? Or very close? They’re not explicitly romantic but have some affection. I also didn’t make the MC say these exact words, or even anything at all in some of these prompts, but the general feeling is still there. I hope that’s alright!

Lucifer

You left the book behind when studying together, rushing off to meet up with Mammon after you realised you were late and would hear hell for it. He notices it sometime later, too busy relishing on even the short period of time he’d gotten to spend alone with you in relative peace.

He picks it up and, curious, with no worries that you might not really want him to look through it, he flips it open to the first page. He realises what it is right away, and continues to flip through the pages until he gets to a drawing of him. Its such a perfect represention of the moment that he can recall exactly when you must’ve drawn this.

You’d come into his room to have a break from all the noise in the rest of the house, and you had laid on your stomach on his bed and worked away at something as he went through paperwork at his desk. He’d wanted to ask you, at the time, what had you so focused, but he hadn’t wanted to ruin the sight.

He continues to flip through the pages, and frowns slightly for every drawing he sees of one of his brothers, but his lips twitch up every time there’s even a simple doodle of him. He counts, unconsciously, and realises you’ve drawn him more than anyone else. Pride swells in his chest, so very familiar and not at the same time.

He hears the tapping at his door and calls out, immediately, for you to come in. He knows that knock, after all, and you’re one of the few members of the house that he wouldn’t hear coming down the corridor. He leans against the front of his desk, holding your book open in front of him, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d looked through it.

The particular sketch he’s looking at is one where you must’ve been close - you’ve detailed in every long, delicate eyelash, his hair falling in front of his face and his lips slightly parted, only the faintest frown on his face as he focuses hard on his work. He smiles as he tips the book forward, watching as your eyes are drawn to it. To his surprise, you only smile, relieved, raising a hand to your chest.

“Thank goodness, I did leave it here after all.”

You walk over and hop up onto his desk, leaning towards him as you try to see which sketch he’s looking at. He slouches a little more to make you comfortable and shows the sketch.

“You’ve drawn me a lot,” he comments.

“Of course. You’re beautiful, how could I resist?”

He presses a kiss to your temple and rests his head against yours, smiling. He doesn’t often like people commenting on his appearance - he was confident enough about it, knew how he looked, but he didn’t need to hear about it all the time. Still, from you, it didn’t hurt. Especially not if you felt inspired enough by it to draw him.

.

[[Other brothers are under the read more]]

Mammon

Mammon had burst into your room and you weren’t there. Frustrated by your absence and unsure of when to expect you back, he decides to pick through your stuff. He wasn’t going to steal any of it - he’d been called out by Beel about that, before, and whilst he’d denied it at the time he knew it was true. He’d much rather steal something for you than from you.

The book is open on your desk to a page full of mindless doodles. It piques his curiosity, and he grabs it and sits down, kicking his feet up on top of your desk. It wasn’t like you were there to tell him not to, and you’d left without telling him where you were going so he was going to do whatever he wanted until you got back.

He flicks back to the start of the book, and honestly his first thoughts are about how you could easily sell these drawings for a lot of Grimm. Sketches of the Devildom, of flowers and creatures you couldn’t find in the human realm, of how the Devildom looked all lit up with the moon overhead, from the highest balcony in the RAD building. He’s in awe, mouth a faint ‘o’ shape as he continues to turn page by page.

The first drawing of him makes him freeze up. He was a model, Mammon knew he must be handsome. But he’d never felt it like he did now. In the drawing, he’s sitting on the floor, cushion in his lap as he plays some game on a controller. His expression is somewhere between frustrated and delighted, his hair fluffy and messy because he’d been running his hands through it.

He remembers - you’d been having trouble adapting to the Devildom so he stole- borrowed a console from Levi, but you were too tired to play. He played anyway, hoping that at least watching him would distract you enough, and to convince himself that he was in part doing it for him too and not to entertain some random human.

You walk in and he slams the book shut, but its too late - you’ve seen him holding it. You don’t seem mad about that, though, and instead glare at how he has his feet up on your desk. He adjusts quickly, fumbling as he tries to put on his confident act, walking over to you as he waves the sketchbook in the air.

“What’s this, then? You’ve been drawing me without asking me first?” he asks, teasing lilt falling flat in his voice. His face feels far too warm, as it often does when he’s around you.

“I couldn’t help it. You’re so pretty I just had to.” You shrug, nonchalant. You swipe the book from his hand and sit on your bed, tapping the space beside you. “How far in did you get?”

Mammon pouts as he goes to sit beside you. “Not far.” As he sits beside you, he grabs your sides and pulls you to lay down, holding the sketchbook open up in the air. He’s desperate for some attention right now, but he wanted to keep looking at your art. “Let’s look through the rest together.”

.

Leviathan

Levi was flustered. You’d been spending time in his room, and he loved your presence but it took him so long to get used to it each time that you stopped in to hang out with him. You’d brought the book you always had with you, and were working away on something, laying on your stomach on the floor with a Ruri-chan plushie in one arm.

He fumbles with his controller and sighs as he misses yet another jump in the game he was trying hard to distract himself with. Every time he glances over, he wants to ask what you’re doing, why you’re here with him when you could easily do your work elsewhere or with any of his brothers, if you were really happy to just sit in his presence like this. His voice dies in his throat and his face flushes when he catches sight of you, so he never does get to ask.

He’d messed up one too many times and was starting to get frustrated when he glanced over and realised you were looking at him, too. Heat floods into his face, and his frustrations die before he can even mumble out his signature ‘this is so unfair’. You smile, going back to your work before dropping your pencil. You wiggle around until you’re sitting, cross-legged, and hold out your sketchbook.

It was a drawing. You’d been drawing, and you’d been drawing him. Levi leans closer hesitantly, wanting to get a better look at it, trying not to think about how giddy and anxious your proud smile made him feel. He works up the courage to take the book out of your hands and looks over the drawing. It takes a long time before he can say anything, too busy focusing on all the little details - how his face is scrunched up from frustration and concentration, how his headphone cord is coiled around his fingers from when he’d been playing with it and hadn’t untangled it fully, how his head was tilted to stop his hair from fully falling in front of his eyes.

“You... its really good, but, I don’t... I’m not this handsome,” he mumbles, face bright red, and he flinches when you laugh.

“You are. More-so, actually, but its hard to capture from this distance.”

Levi can’t respond, just swallows. You sigh, something fond in it, and walk on your knees until you can fall against his side, cuddling up to the Ruri-chan plushie.

“Look through the other drawings. I only draw what I find beautiful. That’s why I drew you.”

His smile is faint, but its enough. He’s hearing your words, even if they’re hard to process for him. He relaxes and flips back to the front page, ready to look at the rest of your work with you.

.

Satan

Books were commonplace in his room. They were part of the furniture - quite literally, as they were piled up everywhere, even on top of his bed, although he’d made an effort to stop putting them there so long as you were spending time with him, so that you had somewhere comfortable to sit or lay whilst you were reading.

And yet, he always noticed when one was out of place, or when a new book had joined his collection without his knowing. Sometimes this happened because his brothers had found something interesting but weren’t willing to say aloud that it had reminded them of him, or that they bought it because he might enjoy it, so they’d simply popped into his room and added it to a stack. It was normal at this point.

That’s why he didn’t question it when there was a new book left on his bed, and when he didn’t hesitate to lay down and open it up, curious as to what story one of his brothers had left for him this time. Instead, he’s met with drawings. Amazing drawings of the Devildom, of his brothers... and of him.

There are notes, as well, few and far between, that allow him to place this as being your book. He knew that scrawl. He felt guilty to look through your sketchbook without your permission, but now that he’d already opened it, he was too curious to leave it be. He’d be honest about it later and deal with the consequences then, or joke about how you’d been drawing him without his permission so you were equal now.

The drawings were beautiful, more detailed that he’d seen for casual doodles left in a book without being shown to the subjects in them. He takes his time to look over each page carefully, each drawing filling his heart with something foreign, sweet and sticky like berry pie. He spends extra time focusing on each drawing of himself, wonders how and why you’d made him look so soft. It was hard for him to get portraits done as his presence could invoke anger in others and leave harsh and angry lines and brush strokes on the canvas, but clearly he didn’t have that same influence on you - instead, each drawing of him was more delicate than any of the others, like you’d put more effort in.

Satan returns it to you later, a smile on his face. He does apologise immediately, for looking at the drawings without your permission.

“Its alright. I’m just glad you found it for me.” You’re completely cheery, not bothered at all, and Satan sighs in relief.

“You’ve drawn me quite a lot,” he notes.

“Well obviously. I spend the most time with you,” you say, smiling when you catch the faint pout he covers up. That wasn’t what he had expected or wanted you to say, clearly. Nor was it all you had to say on the matter. “Also, you’re very beautiful. I wanted to try and capture that and keep a little for myself.”

He smiles now, content, and pats you on the head. “If you want me around, you only have to ask.”

.

Asmodeus

You’d been working away at something as he picked out an outfit and fixed his hair, and he’d been dying to ask but he just needed to adjust a few more strands first - you were going out to Majolish together and he wanted to look perfect. He always did, of course, but when the two of you were going out together he put in even more effort than usual.

When he finally finishes, he jumps up out of his chair and rushes over to you.

“How do I look?” he asks, beaming, full of confidence as always.

“Fabulous,” you say, reaching out to readjust a few strands of hair that had fallen out of place from his quick movements. He sits down on his bed beside you and pulls you up until you’re sitting beside him, hugging you around your waist.

“What were you doing whilst you were waiting? You looked so focused, it was adorable~” Asmo chirps, looking pointedly at the sketchbook. His eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Wait, is that me?”

You nod, lifting your sketchbook up so that the two of you could see it properly. You’d been drawing him, just little sketches as he flitted about the room doing this and that to get ready. You couldn’t have spent long on each one, and yet they captured him perfectly. He looked elegant in each, determined and beautiful.

You flicked back to the previous page before he could comment, and Asmo’s breath caught in his throat. This drawing was him, it was so brilliant an example of everything that he was. He was looking at you and smiling, and you’d captured the love and admiration in his eyes so perfectly he wondered if this was somehow a photograph.

Asmo tears up and hugs you tighter, burying his face against your neck. You can feel him smile wide against your skin. He stays like that for only a moment before his excitement bubbles up to the surface and he litters your cheek, nose, and forehead with feather-light kisses. He’d do anything for the one who saw him as he was.

.

Beelzebub

Beel had a pretty normal schedule for each day - he’d exercise, go to school, spend time with you and Belphie or his other brothers if they were around and alright with it, and of course, he’d eat quite a lot. You had a good idea of where he’d be throughout the day, and when you had the time for it, you’d accompany him so he wasn’t alone. Whether that meant sitting on the counter as he dug through the fridge, or laying on the sofa with your head in his lap and your feet in Belphie’s, you just liked to spend time with him.

And, a lot of the time, he noticed you had this little book with you. He’d caught you glancing at him many times, but didn’t think anything of it. He glanced at you a lot, too, so maybe it was only to be expected. He’d gotten used to the butterflies in his stomach when you two randomly linked eyes and you grinned, twirling your pencil around in your hand.

A lot of your time was spent together in relative silence, as well, and he was accustomed to hearing your pencil scratch against the paper. But he never asked what you were doing, because if you wanted to tell him you would. He trusted you to do that. And his trust paid off, when you were both watching a show together.

He notices early on that you're paying more attention to him than the screen, and when the episode finishes you tap him gently on the shoulder before stretching out your wrists. He looks to you, tilting his head in curiosity until you hold the book open in front of him.

It was a drawing of him, focused on the screen, odd lighting casting shadows against his form. He had something in his hand, some sort of food, but you’d put more attention into actually drawing him. So much attention that he was sure no matter how long he looked, there would always be something more to notice.

“Its me?” he asks, unsure lilt in his voice. He looks bashful, like he’s done something wrong. “Why?”

You stretch out your arms again, thinking, and finally answer, “Because you looked beautiful, and I wanted to draw you?”

It was neither easy nor hard to make Beel blush, and most of the time it just seemed to happen. You hadn’t caught onto the pattern yet, hadn’t been able to perfect it so that you could make it happen whenever you wanted. But you smile in silent victory now as his ears and cheeks flush a reddish pink, pairing nicely with his wide eyes.

His surprise gives way to a smile, and he leans over to wrap his arms around you, holding you close. All he can manage is a thank you, but with that you know how much he appreciates it, how much he appreciates you.

.

Belphegor

Belphie would often drag you off to the attic, and whilst he enjoyed the times where you would curl up in his arms and nap with him until you absolutely had to get up, he knew he couldn’t expect that of you constantly. You were still human, and you could only sleep so much before you had to get up to stretch or eat or just do something else to occupy your mind.

You’d built up a habit together, now, where if you wanted to get up you’d tap his arm twice and he’d reluctantly let you go. He’d stay awake if you left the room, just enough so that he’d be able to tell when you returned. If you didn’t, he’d have to go seek you out again by himself to drag you back with him and absolutely not just to make sure you were okay. If you did return, he’d go back to sleep and let you do what you wanted, opening his arms up if you tapped on them again to crawl back into his grip. It was peaceful, and though he never said it aloud, he loved it.

Often times, when he did wake up, you’d be sitting nearby in a little bundle of pillows and blankets that you’d made with a book and pencil in hand. You were quick to notice when he woke up, so Belphie could never just watch you to figure out what you were doing, which frustrated him to no end but at the same time it was nice to be known. Still, he was determined to figure it out.

His determination is unnecessary, because one day he wakes up and you’re looking straight at him, smiling contentedly. He woke up too fast, then, heart pounding as he tried to remember that expression. Did you admire him so much to look at him like that, even when he was just sleeping?

“You’re awake,” you say, voice light and cheery.

“And you were watching me sleep, as always,” Belphie scoffs, pulling the blanket up over his face to cover up his blush. “What’s new?”

You pout and stick out your tongue at him, and he lowers the blanket enough to return the gesture. It was hard to remember just how old he was when he acted like that.

“With good reason,” you tell him. He raises an eyebrow, and you smile and hold out your sketchbook. He takes it immediately, trying to act nonchalant as he opens it up and flicks through the pages. You barely catch how his eyes widen, how his breath catches and he slows down, taking in each drawing carefully.

“There are... a lot of drawings, of me sleeping,” Belphie says, swallowing, raising the book enough to try to cover his smile. Too late, you think. You’d caught him.

“You look cute like that. Plus, its the only time you sit still enough for me to draw you.”

“Or you’re just that obsessed with me. Weirdo.” He closes the book and hands it back to you, sitting up to stretch. He keeps his eyes on you, notices when you frown the tiniest bit. Was his teasing too much?

He sighs and slides out of bed, sitting in your pile beside you. He leans against you, like a cat looking for attention without wanting to admit it, and takes your hand in his, playing with your fingers.

“Thanks, MC.”

[fangruninsimp]

1.2k words | Missing Scene | No Angst | POV Yin Nezha | Read on Ao3

Summary: "Challenge sparked in her eyes. Walking to the rack of weapons, she unsheathed a practice sword with a worn leather grip. Its edge gleamed like silver as she swung it around in precise, practiced motions before bringing it down to ready position.

Or: If Rin was going to be obstinate about using Altan's trident, Nezha might as well teach her how to wield it before she killed herself.

---

Nezha strode into the training room on the Seagrim, hoping to find it empty so he could get an hour or so of practice in before dinner. However, someone was already occupying the place, feet pivoting, arms weaving around in complicated motions, over their head and around their body. That someone happened to be a dark girl with a shock of black hair and the impeccable footwork that could only belong to one person.

Rin.

"You know, training is a lot more effective with actual weapons," he called. Despite the fact that they'd gotten closer over the past couple of weeks on the Seagrim, their old rivalry at the academy hadn't really died - he couldn't resist trying to provoke her.

Rin glanced over at him, but did not rise from her third Seejin form, keeping her arms statue-still over her head. 

"Training is also a lot easier when you can actually fight. Which you can't do," she pointed out. Oh, he'd missed their riveting back-and-forth taunts when he'd left Khurdalain - it was one of the reasons he was so glad when she decided to come with the Republic on the Seagrim.

He shrugged off his jacket, pulled his shirt over his head - leaving him in only his close-fitting vest - and stretched his arms, delighting in the way her eyes seemed to follow his movements despite her apparent indifference to him. He came around to face her, but stopped short when he saw the gashes on her front, jagged rents with frayed edges. Even her arms bore scratches, long ones in sets of three.

"Rin, what the fuck?"

She looked down, and rolled her eyes. "Relax. The cuts are on my shirt, not my body. Mostly."

Nezha raised an eyebrow. "And why have you decided to make a shoddy art project of your shirt?"

Rin huffed and jerked her chin at the gleaming trident that lay discarded on the floor a few feet from her. 

Ah. That explained it.

"Guess I can't control that thing," she mumbled. "Yet."

Nezha bit back the urge to say I told you so and goad her into using a sword. It wasn't every day that Fang Runin admitted to lack in any skill, even if that skill was wielding a weapon that she had never been trained to wield. Deciding to forgo his own practice, he approached her.

"What's the problem?" he asked. "I can try and help. Maybe."

Rin raised her eyebrows at him in incredulity, and suddenly he was in Sinegard again, a child playing at war, desperate to prove himself the best fighter in Nikan. "You've had training?"

"A little," he said.

"Show me," she said, challenge sparking in her eyes. Walking to the rack of weapons, she unsheathed a practice sword with a worn leather grip. Its edge gleamed like silver as she swung it around in precise, practiced motions before bringing it down to ready position. The buzz of competition thrummed into Nezha's blood, the kind nobody but Rin excited in him - she had always been the only one in their year who could best him in combat. 

He picked up the trident and passed it between hand to hand, gauging its weight and its reach. It had once been Altan Trengsin's, he thought, with just a touch of reverence. Legend of Sinegard, elite student among the elite, former commander of the Cike. Nezha had seen him training in the garden once, and had made a beeline for the indoor training rooms, too intimidated to even practice in the same place. Altan had always looked so removed and aloof, like his face had been hewn from stone, so Nezha had been surprised when he caught glimpses of the Speerly in Khurdalain, sitting by the fireplace with his motley group, laughing. Rin had been laughing too. 

Shaking the bittersweet memory from his head, he pushed stray locks of hair away from his face and rolled his shoulders in preparation. Whatever happened, this would be an interesting fight. 

Rin nodded. Begin.

He settled immediately into a defensive position, trident held loosely in his hand. From extensive sparring in Sinegard and Khurdalain, he knew Rin's fighting technique as if it was his own. If memory served him right, she'd be more than happy to take the offense, leaving him without the advantage of initiative, but with an opportunity  to study her tactics and work out what his approach was going to be.

Sure enough, Rin lunged at him, feinting a jab at his stomach before swinging upwards to his chest. He blocked both with the length of his trident the way his childhood instructors had taught him to, the sound of metal against metal clanging in the air. Another slice came towards his midriff but he blocked by simply twisting his wrist, wincing at the jolt it sent up his arm. In his mind, a plan was forming: use the trident as a staff until Rin tired and left gaps in her defenses, and then fight back. It was simple, but the simplest strategies were often the most effective. 

Again and again and again she attacked, her sword nothing but a metallic blur in the air, a relentless force pushing him back, back, back. Thrust, swipe, jab, lunge, repeat. He gritted his teeth against the onslaught as his heart pounded in his chest, unsure how much longer he could keep to this plan. Even if he wanted to attack, to get a good move in with the trident he'd need distance, something Rin refused to give even an inch of, and it was wearing him down. But to his relief, Rin's breath soon began to escape her in short pants that belied her exhaustion, and her attacks became marginally slower.

Any moment now.

Rin stepped around him and aimed a thrust to his face. A clever move - but not clever enough. He'd seen her feet shifting before she turned, and had anticipated her strike. He lunged forward, caught her blade between the prongs of the trident and twisted hard, throwing his weight onto the instrument, causing her sword to clatter out of her hand and onto the deck. Taking advantage of her momentary surprise, he swept her legs out from under her to send her sprawling flat on the floor, put his knee on her stomach and lodged the tips of the trident a hairsbreadth away from her neck, close enough to touch but not close enough to kill.

She was tense for a moment before the fight drained out of her, and she relaxed into the wooden floor.

"Fuck you," she huffed, chest rising and falling with her quick breathing. Her eyes darted around quickly, probably checking if the sword was still in reach. He had made sure to fling it far away when he disarmed her though, and her eyes eventually closed in exasperated defeat.

Nezha grinned as he caught his breath. He lowered the trident but made no motion to stand.

Her eyes flickered open. "Get off me, idiot."

Nezha ignored her, and instead moved up, causing the hair that had spilled from his knot to fall in a curtain on one side of his face. 

"How mad would you be if I kissed you right now?" he asked.

He could tell Rin was trying to pretend she was pissed - but her face broke into a grin, and she couldn't any longer. He felt her hands feather from by her sides to twist into his hair.

"Very," said Rin. "But I think I'd get over it."

----

[ladymercysletters]

A Hint of Gossip // Benedict Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Part 4 of the If You’ll Have Me Series

Word Count : 1614

A/N: I’ve collated A Gentleman’s Eye, A Second Chance and An Artist’s Touch into a series called If You’ll Have Me (link above) this is part 4 to that and I’ll post a final part soon :)

You’d never really liked Society. You’d always blamed it for your marriage to your husband, the late Duke of Pembrokeshire, but after your year of mourning and six months of sculking in the shadows of London Society you thought it best you re-emerge now lest gossip start. That, and Benedict had badgered you mercilessly about how boring evenings were without you there. So, you donned one of your favourite gowns, a simple deep plum silk with a fine cream lace, fixed your diadem and steeled yourself for, no doubt, the whole of the Ton’s glare.

You arrived at the Viscount and Viscountess Frankland’s ball purposefully as the first dance had already commenced as to not garner too much attention. Unfortunately, as you entered the ballroom you could hear the audible gasps of gossiping mama’s; whipping their heads around as you turned to look at them. Taking a turn around the room you diligently avoided the gazes of everyone you walked past, stopping at the food table to grab a glass of lemonade and inspect the canapes.

“Y/N! Darling!” you heard a smug, haughty voice bellow towards you. You turned abruptly to see Lady De Vere barging several poor ladies out of the way to reach you. “Lady Cynthia, how nice to see you again.” You gritted out, trying your best to mellow your displeasure. “Oh you poor thing, it was simply dreadful to hear that dear Percival had died.” She seemed to announce to the entire room making you rather suspect that if Baron’s wife had not been her destiny a life on stage might have been a calling. You smiled and hummed in general agreement as she continued to gesticulate wildly, blithering on about god knows what. A crowd parted behind her and you looked over her shoulder to see a formation of Bridgerton’s gliding towards you; lead by Benedict with Violet coming up on his flank, looking ready to take the boisterous Baroness out.

“Your Grace.” Benedict crooned, bowing to kiss your hand with a smirk. The Baroness was quickly shuffled out of the way with a glare from Violet. The Bridgerton siblings greeted you as one, sharing matching smiles as they glanced sideways to see Benedict still smiling at you. “Delighted to make your acquaintance Your Grace, Benedict has spoken very highly of you.” Violet smiled “I understand you met at an art exhibition: Benedict has always loved to draw, I understand you commissioned him for a portrait not too long ago?” she continued, wrapping her arm in his so he could not escape.

“Mother.” Benedict scolded. Their interaction made you smile and you rather suspected that the Dowager Viscountess was playing matchmaker for her son. Little did she know that she needn’t bother: Ever since those wonderful two weeks Benedict had spent at Pembroke House you were sure that you would not let yourself be courted by any other, should anyone decide to. The conversation continued around you and whilst you were glad of the company your eye couldn’t help but drift to Benedict. His eyes were already on yours and he held your gaze coyly as you shared fleeting glances over your party. “Mother” Benedict interrupted suddenly “I wonder if I might steal Her Grace for a dance. If you wouldn’t mind Your Grace.” He bowed again, holding out his hand before leading you to the floor and taking you in his arms as the music started.

“You look lovely this evening.” He growled out lowly, just into the shell of your ear as he spun you through the crowd. The shiver that ran up your spine when his hot breath hit your ear made you arch yourself into him. His warmth surrounded you, feeling it though the arm of his jacket and gloved hand cradling your lower back.

“So do you.” you smiled at him, looking up at him to see his trademark smirk on his face. You danced smoothly together around the ballroom, discussing the accepted subjects for a ball; the weather… yesterday’s weather, before you started to notice eyes on you. “Lady Cowper is staring at us.”

“Let her.” His deep voice becoming more serious as he turned you so you weren’t facing her.

“and Mrs Featherington… they’re all talking about me aren’t they?” your grip on his arm tightened as you became more aware of yourself again. It was well known that your marriage was not a loving one. You were the second daughter of a minor viscount with little dowry and a scandalous mother, and your husband was almost three times your senior with no other family: it fed the ton for months. Now you were back and it looked like some of the mama’s still remembered you.

“They do not matter. Whatever they say they cannot touch you now.” His soothing tone settled within you, calming your mind a little as you saw their glances and whispers from behind their fans.

“They can still talk.” After that you settled into a comfortable silence for a while. You let yourself get lost in the music, and in Benedict’s arms.

“Thank you for coming this evening.” Benedict said suddenly. You looked up at him to see his kind eyes already staring down at you, smiling before straightening back up again. “I would not have put you through this but marrying you would be most difficult if you were still in mourning.” He finished.

“Ha. I think mourning is a bit of a strong word for … Marrying me?” you said shocked, your head turned like a whip to see him smirking into the distance.

“If you’ll have me?” He whispered, spinning you in time with the music. The world seemed to blur around you as you just looked at Benedict. If you weren’t in the middle of a ballroom floor you were sure you’d jump into his arms that instant. Your whole heart felt so full at his smile: It had been so long since your heart had felt anything you were almost certain that it wasn’t beating anymore – but Benedict had brought you back to life in more ways than one.

As the music came to an end, Benedict had his answer and bid your leave with a kiss to your hand as he departed to inform Anthony of your news. You took this time to seek out a glass of lemonade at the buffet table. You were just inspecting the selection of hors d’ouvres when you saw Lady Cowper approaching from your side vision, Cow being the operative word.

“Lady Portland!” her shrill tone turned your blood ice cold and you plastered on a false smile once more before turning to face her. “or is it still Your Grace? I do apologise but your situation is an odd one” she laughed. Her insults were always obvious but just underlined enough for her to feign ignorance. Your brain whirred, trying to come up with some smart reply to send her one her way when you noted Lady Danbury approaching.

“Your Grace.” She curtsied minimally, holding her cane. You nodded a smile in her direction as she turned her sharp eyes to Lady Cowper.

“Lady Danbury.” She said rather shocked, knowing she’d been busted. “How lovely to see you, and what an exquisite evening it is.” Trying to change the subject.

“Thank you, Lady Cowper, and may I suggest always showing deference to the superior rather than presuming an equal, in polite society. It is always wise to remember one’s place.” Lady Danbury never missed a beat with her remarks and you struggled to stifle a giggle under the glare of Lady Cowper.

“Of course, Lady Danbury, I was merely asking. If you’ll excuse me.” She curtsied politely before drifting off to fuss over her daughter. Lady Danbury turned back to face you.

“How are you my dear. I see the second Mr Bridgerton is easing your passage back into society.” She smirked, looking over to see Anthony and Colin clapping their brother on the back.

“I am very well Lady Danbury; Mr Bridgerton is a fine dancer.” Your voice petered off as you followed her gaze, a broad smile coming to your face as you watched him smile.

“He painted your portrait did he not?” Danbury continued “Two whole weeks at Pembroke House?” her tone caught your attention and you turned to look back at her, stumbling over a response.

“Oh, um … yes.” You blushed. Just as you were trying to make her words sound less sordid Benedict returned to your side, greeting her with a bow as he placed a subtle hand on your lower back to calm you; thumb rubbing gently.

“Ah. Mr Bridgerton, I was just saying to her grace how chivalrous it is that you’ve taken it upon yourself to see her back into society.” Lady Danbury smiled, her knowing look clueing Benedict in to her inference. His brow raised as he nodded between the two of you and you heard his breath hitch subtly at her words. If Lady Danbury were to guess anything, she could quite easily cause a lot of trouble. A fact which, you were sure, she knew. She took in the silence from the both of you, enjoying the mixture of shock and discomfort on your faces as she eyed you like she was picking her next meal. After a moment or two of enjoying your distress she took a step closer, making sure only you and Benedict could hear her. “Just make sure, that when you send the invites, I am on your list.” And with those quiet words, she bid you good evening and turned to leave you both, sweating but relieved.

[abybweisse]

💬 Can I confess that, once I knew about the Victorian trouser etiquette, that I assumed the reason Ciel wears shorts, is bc he still has the body of a 10yo? I know it's just Yana's choice, but suspense of disbelief made me think that's a good enough reason. He looks like a 10yo, which makes people view him as even more childish, and even less of a threat. And if he looks like 10, but dresses like an #Adult in the streets, people might focus more on him, than him just wearing childs wear.

💬 for random chat

It’s difficult to reconcile all of that with how our earl is trying so hard to be seen as an adult. And his shorts are about the only truly childish thing in most of his outfits. He’s got heeled shoes to add a little height, and he’s not wearing much of the brighter, more childish colors.

Most of the fancier outfits we’ve seen him in are from official art that’s never seen in the manga itself (fancy cover art outfits don’t count as canon within the storyline). Those strike me as Yana-san just wanting to make fantasy outfits for him — ones he wouldn’t really be okay with wearing otherwise!

The main culprits here (within canon) seem to be who’s dressing him up like he’s a doll: Sebastian literally chooses his outfit for the day and gets him dressed; Nina designs and makes most of the clothes (including the dress for Druitt’s party); Lizzie also plays dress-up with him by buying an outfit she sees and basically forcing him to wear it (ch2). There’s even a later scene (after the circus arc) where Sebastian says some of these clothing choices have gone too far, arguing with Nina to say her choice of ribbon color (red for his necktie) is too childish looking. Since Nina likes to design for women, as well as for boys under 15… and because she’s a personal fan of wearing shorts… she’d probably want to keep our earl in shorts as long as she possibly can. It’s a delight to her that he’s not growing (and that his waist size actually went down).

Truth is, sons of the British royalty and aristocracy are expected to wear shorts until they are 8.

So, he’s being dressed most of the time more like he’s 7, thanks to the shorts… but with some styling details that are more mature.

The oddest outfits (for him) in the manga canon (not including the party dress) are probably:

The one that Lizzie buys. It’s more like the fanciful outfits that Yana-san puts him in for official art, but they are never part of the manga canon. But where on earth did she see an outfit like this, as ready-wear, and decide to get it for him? It might be one of the things Yana-san wishes she could change about the early chapters, before serialization, but the mere fact Lizzie saw an outfit like this… for boys his size… hanging in a shop… suggests that some designer thinks this is good fashion for an aristocratic kid his size (not necessarily a kid his age), but Lizzie sees nothing wrong with dressing her (then) 12 year old cousin like he’s… 10? 7? So she picks it out for him as a gift.

The one designed by the tailor working for the demon cultist who buys the twins. And that gives me the eeriest feeling that it’s this same designer and tailor who later has a shop, where Lizzie sees the outfit for ch2, a couple years later. Both outfits are made for a 9/10 year old boy (size), and both have details that wouldn’t be typical of boy’s clothes… at any age. Perhaps Yana-san knew exactly what she was doing with that other outfit in ch2? In January 1886, that demon cultist is killed, and his tailor no longer has this wealthy client who appreciates their skills and designs. Just like Nina works for the Phantomhives but also has her own shop, this other tailor might have already had one, too. Still, a major client has been lost. The outfits for ready-wear might be a little less flashy than the ones the cultist ordered, so that they will better appeal to the general population… but these are still unusual fashions.

It’s no wonder, to me now, how our earl got so angry in ch2, particularly over the ring… when he’s wearing an outfit that might give him vibes from the night of horror we finally saw in ch135….

Keep in mind he dresses more appropriate for his age when he goes to Windsor to receive his title (11 or 12) and again when he’s at Weston (13). Even Nina gives him longer shorts (in ch66) than usual, so the long shorts and tall boots make that outfit completely cover his legs.

Seems to me that our earl particularly enjoys making Sebastian wear odd things, or at least placing him into situations where he has to change out of the butler uniform. He was too embarrassed by what Lau had for him to wear to be able to get a laugh at Sebastian’s expense. Everyone with our earl was forced to wear clothes they aren’t used to. But there are at least three times he’s had the chance to really turn the tables on the demon: 1. Lizzie shows up with a pink hat with fake strawberries hanging from it (ch2), 2. Lizzie shows up after the Campania with the nightgown, slippers, and sleeping bonnet (extra chapter), and 3. Nina makes Sebastian try on a bunch of outfits, and some of them are just bizarre (ch116). That last one has our earl even asking what the demon thinks about being treated as a doll.

I think that, most of the time, our earl just puts up with the clothing decisions made by others, and I’m not sure why these other people (particularly Sebastian, Nina, and Lizzie) think it’s a good idea to dress him up like a little kid, instead of the titled earl he’s supposed to be. People probably think he’s just very eccentric, because he should be wearing full trousers all the time now.

My, my. Methinks their creator is the one who really wants to play dress-up. No wonder the god of their world is smiling when misfortune strikes….

Anyone else think it’s weird that Finny also usually wears shorts, even though he’s a servant and working in the gardens? He’s wearing short trousers, that end just below his knees, and long boots that go up to the shorts. He should have full length trousers with knee patches.

[mindofharry]

in which harry and florence think you’re beautiful <3

Harry and Florence first saw you at an art museum. 

It was your first day working as a tour guide, but everyone seemed to love you. You had on the brightest dress, it was short, yellow and full of flowers. Your hair was curled and framed your face perfectly, if you looked close enough you could see the freckles dotting your nose and the small mole just above your upper lip. How cold anyone dislike this ray of sunshine? The couple didn’t know you but they just knew they had to. You were something special, an enigma. And Harry and Florence just had to talk to you. So after that day, they came back. Specifically asking for the girl in the yellow dress, today you were in green but the other tour guide knew exactly who they were talking about.

You had been working at this museum for a week now. You’re in college studying art and history, so this job was the perfect fit. You would’ve been happy with any other job, you know anything to pay the bills and put food on the table, right? But it does help when you actually like the job. The people were nice, the tourists were incredibly kind and you just really loved talking about art. If you got to do this for the rest of your life, you’d be pretty okay with that.

“I’m looking for a the tour guide in the yellow dress?” Harry asked and your manager, Craig, nodded smiling to himself. He walked into the back room and pointed in the couples direction.

“You been specifically requested. Do you want me to tell them to wait or?” He asked and you grinned shaking your head, clearing up your lunch. “I’m done my food, wouldn’t want to them waiting while i’m just sitting around in here!” You said putting your trash in the bin and walking out of the staff room.

Even though you had been working here a week, you had made friends with a good few regulars. People loved your bubbly personality and your energy, so they started requesting you. It’s a definite boost to the ego, but your delighted people are happy with your service. It makes you happy that they’re happy.

You walked out of the staff room with a glint in your eyes and a skip in your step. The couple smiled to themselves when they saw you, this time your dress was bright green — still with flowers though. It suited you and your personality.

The couple were beautiful. The woman had blonde hair, and it was done in braid resting on her bare shoulder. Her eyes were wide and gorgeous. She had the prettiest smile, and you couldn’t help but think she was the most gorgeous girl you had ever seen. If she hadn’t been in a relationship, you probably would’ve asked her out. The man, oh god. He was tall, maybe 6ft and had tattoos all down his arms. His hair was brown and curly, and complimented his forest green eyes. They were both tanned, like they had just gotten back from a holiday. God, they were a good looking couple.

You held your hand for them to shake, your grin only widening. “Hi, I’m Y/N your tour guide. Nice to meet you both!” You said shaking their hands. “I’m harry and this is my partner florence” Harry said and you nodded, slightly surprised at the accent. You pulled yourself away from your daydreaming and clapped your hands.

“Have you been here before?” You asked walking a bit a head of them.

“Yeah, actually. We were here last week” Florence said and you smiled sweetly at her. “Ooh! I love people who love museums! Now we can have a proper chat about these paintings” You said winking at them.

Harry and Florence were enamoured by you. They looked to each other and nodded, silently agreeing on what to do next.

“This is my favourite piece. It’s called the birth of venus” You said and stood in the middle of the couple.

“It’s beautiful” Florence nodded and harry agreed. They were both standing very close to you, you blushed at the thought of it. The thought of harry bending you, while florence stripped down your dress. You thought of how harry would kiss down you back, while florence licked up and down your clit.

You cleared your throat as the couple smirked to themselves.

“Sandro Botticelli is one of my favourite artists. A fun fact actually, the nudity in this painting was rather daring and usual for that time” You said and they both nodded.

“You’re smart” Harry said and you shrugged. “Thank you, just know a lot about art. I’m studying art and history in college, so kind of have to remember some of it” You teased and florence giggled to herself.

“Hey, we’re about to go out for a bit of food. Would you like to join us? We’d love to get to know you better seen as we’re going to be visiting more often”

You bit your lip and your eyes widened. We’re they asking you out? And visiting more often? Your mind (and vagina) were on overdrive. You never had people asking you out, let alone two at a time. But you weren’t against, you were open to trying new things. And florence and harry seemed nice, and you were getting a little peckish.

“Yeah, that sounds nice”

Florence smiled and harry smirked to himself.

“Hey, i hope this isn’t too straight forward, but we like you. We saw you here last week and couldn’t help coming back. You’re a cutie” Florence said and you flushed smiling to yourself. “You guys are too kind. Lunch and compliments? Take time to bed already” You joked, but you saw the glint in the couples eyes change slightly.

“Oh, we plan to” Harry said holding onto your hand and pulling both you and florence back the front so you could clock out.

“Hey, Craig! I’m gonna clock out early, if that’s ok?” You asked grabbing your stuff from your cubby hole. He nodded quickly and stood up. “No problem, it’s not too busy today and you have no other guides to do. I’ll call you back in if i need you” He said and you smiled gratefully waving at him before leaving.

“You ready?” Harry asked slipping his hand into yours again. You nodded and let him pull you out of the museum. A black range rover was parked out front, you could recognise florence in the drivers seat. She waved and winked at you.

“This is a nice car” You said hopping in the back. Florence pouted at you sitting alone in the back, but you just smiled at her. You liked the space.

“Brand new.” Harry said messing with the radio. “Ok, so where too ladies?” He asked and you bit your lip leaning foward in your seat.

“How about we skip the lunch and get straight to the chase, huh?”

Harry and florence smirked.

“And what’s the chase?” Harry asked and you trailed your finger down his arm.

“You fucking me, or i don’t know florence eating me out?” You said and the look in their eyes got darker. Your panties were drenched, and your lips were pink because of how much you were biting it.

“Yeah, we can definitely do that”