#also hi yeah i make art still sometimes. no i do not understand colouring at all can u tell

[freetheworms]

EVERYONE PLS GO READ “Downloading to Paris” THE FANFIC MY DEAR FRIEND @sevdrag IS MURDERING ME WITH SO HARD I HAD TO MAKE ART. GO NOW

[enwoso]

Could you do a leah x child!reader?

ADORE YOU — leah williamson x child!reader

navigation

your mummy for the past five months has had a big ouchie on her knee, meaning she had to have a big operation on her knee and has a big white bandage on it for months.

that had meant she couldn't do most of the things she did before her big ouchie. like she couldn't carry you for long periods of time, she couldn't sit down and play with your toys with you without putting her knee up on a bunch of pillows, she couldn't race you up the stairs when it was bath time or bed time and ultimately she couldn't do the one thing you both adored and that was play kick about.

you could still play but it wasn't the same when your mummy was watching from the side, clapping and shouting your praises and you could still watch it with her but it was never the same as actually playing football with your mummy.

the person you adored, and she adored you just a much if not more. it saddened leah when she did go down with her injury, thinking how she was going to come back from this but also how she was going to still be able to be the best possible mum to you.

your sad little smile of understanding replayed in leah’s mind daily — from the day when she told you it would be awhile before she was back playing football. you while clearly upset putting on a brave smile as you vowed to your mummy that you would help in any way you could to help make her big ouchie knee better.

and while there were things that had to be adjusted, like your small games of races up the stairs, or how she read your bedtime story. leah found herself missing the little bond you had both created over football.

it was obvious since the first day that you were going to be a football fan and an every bigger arsenal fan just like your mum, and from the day you first were pulling yourself up on the furniture leah had a ball at your feet.

teaching you everything you knew to this day, while she would love you to be a little footballer like her she also had to remind herself sometimes with the help of her own mum that one day you may not want to do football always letting you try others sports like gymnastics and swimming.

however nothing came close to playing in your back garden, your arsenal jersey with your name on the back, and your boots on passing the ball to your mum while throwing a few tricks in there.

both leah and you were longing for the day that you could play kick about with your mum again, and to you waiting had felt like a few years already.

however the day was closer than you thought.

"hi bug! did you have fun at nursery?" your mum asked as you ran in her arms a huge grin on her face, your backpack swinging from side to side as you held a piece of paper in your hand which was blowing in the wind.

"yes! i drew dis for you!" you smiled, holding up the picture to your mum as she took it off you admiring you little art work as you walked out of the school gates and following your mummy to wherever she had parked her car.

looking at the photo which she guessed was you and her the background coloured green and a football. some of the lines squiggly as you tried to stay within the lines. your name written at the top neatly most likely by one of the staff members in black marker.

"oh this is beautiful bug, i'll put it onto the fridge when we get home yeah?" leah smiled as you nodded waiting for your mum to open the car. her taking your backpack from you and placing it on the backseat before lifting you into your car seat.

"arms up!" your mum sung out as she leaned over to buckle you in, a small giggle coming from you as your mum kissed your temple. leah shutting your door before getting into the drivers seat, and beginning to drive.

you watching out the window at the surrounding, as you chatted away to your mummy about your day. from what you did the moment that leah had dropped you off this morning to moment that you were putting your coat on to leave.

the drive coming to a stop as you looked our the window, the surroundings very familiar as a puzzled look drew across your face. wondering why you were hear as you never came here after nursery.

"why we here?" you asked innocently, the arsenal training ground building standing tall as you looked at it out of your window. a place which you knew so familiarly.

"just got a couple of jobs to do bug, we'll not be here long" your mum smiled, as she got out of the drivers seat to get you. opening your door, your seatbelt was unbuckled as you jumped the small step from the car to the gravelled ground.

"is the girls here?" you asked finding your mums hand her car keys jingling in the other as you walked through the entrance.

“they should be”

walking in and hearing the familiar buzz of laughter and chat filling the hallway many staff members walking up and down, as well as few of your mummy’s teammates present as the two of you got closer to them.

“oh and we have ourselves williamson squared this afternoon!” beth joked as you giggled and leah rolled her eyes at her comment, as you waved at viv and lia who were a sat down a bit further away from where beth was.

“hi beffy” you grinned as the english girl bent down to hug you.

“how is my favourite little williamson?” beth beamed, making sure to exaggerate the favourite part, leah ignoring beth’s attempt to wind her up instead greeting viv and lia.

“good!” you smiled as beth began to ask you about your day at nursery, you telling her ind depth what you did, you little arms flying around as your told her. the english forward bringing you to the table where lia and viv were sat.

your mummy had been sat getting last minute treatment on her knee before the game at the weekend, talking over with physios about if she was able to play and if so how long she could play for.

you had sat content, you had your colouring book and pens which leah kept in her cubby for when she needed them to keep you entertained and when you weren’t colouring you sat cuddling or playing with winnie, beth coming to join in when she had a free couple of minutes.

“c’mon bug!” your mummy called out as she waited holding the door open which lead to the indoor astro, saying a quick bye to winnie, you left her with her toys as you ran towards where you mum was stood waiting.

going under her arm which was holding the door open with and into the indoor astro. “can you go and get me the football that’s over there?” she asked as you nodded rubbing over to fetch the ball as leah placed her keys and phone down at the side.

you running back towards the blonde with the ball at your feet, stopping just a few inches away from your mum. not really knowing what to do next or why you were even on the astro in the first place.

“pass it to me, please” leah smiled as you bent down to pick it up and pass it to her, “no bug, kick it to me”

you shot back up standing straight again, confusion taking over your small facial features, “but- but what about your knee-“ you stuttered a little, a bigger grin appearing on your mums face, your confused frown only deepening.

“it’s okay bug, just go easy on me, yeah?” your mum asked, your face lighting up as you nodded kicking the ball towards her. leah taking a touch or two before passing it back to you.

the process carrying on as you both moved around the astro, playing how you always would before your mummy got an ouchie on her knee. a grin never leaving your face as you played kick about with her. it warming leah’s heart watching your little smile grow with each touch of the ball back to her.

you were both back doing the one thing you adored. with the person you adored with your whole heart.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

hello hi!!! grfhvhghr i am in love with your artwork so much you cant believe-- i wanna ask if you have any tips on how you lineart and colourpick?? no pressure to answer tho, have a great day/night!! again, love your art <33

hi!! thank you for your kind words!! since i got asked about these a lot, im answering this for all the other ask asking about lineart and colour tips too! You can see some previous post here.

also i could only give out tips that work for my drawing style - which is heavy lineart / colours pop up the line (believe it or not it's American comic book style. ppl cant understand why my art doesnt really look like usual anime/ Asian webtoon style, even though it is still clearly anime / Asian webtoon style, but when i told them it's because im drawing these by studying American comics, no one believes it either lmao.

i do study but i do my own things too, so most of my art inspo is really unexpected to ppl, but they r really where i learn things from, cuz i dont even go to art school TT_TT).

Changing the brush size will help you achieve thick/thin lines better without having to put pressure on your wrists. Keep your hold relaxed and let bigger brush size give you the thick strokes.

I like messy sketch, to me the sketch is just an outline shape to fill details in when i do the line, it also gives more freedom to wriggle as i draw! cuz i dont really plan out everything from the start, just wing it as i go, so a lot of my work is actually very spontaneous.

that leads to this point: when you do the lineart you should start deciding which colour style you want from it to adjust the details amount. the ink shadow blocks in my art aren't there randomly, i adjust them to best complement the shape language and colours.

for piece where i want the line/shadow to...idk hit (?), the colours are almost flat with textured brush adding depth to them, so the inking is the shading, thus there are more details in the lineart / ink blocks.

for the video above and piece like this where i want the colours to be clear and pop out, the use of ink blocks are minimized and i do the shading during colouring process. but! the ink blocks can still make some places pop very nicely! just use in moderation!

when doing the base it's good to keep the colour on the left side of the colour wheel (low saturation), but as you do shading and lighting, try to spread out evenly so it won't look washed out.

toggle around with hue and saturation slider as you go! the key is always adjusting! you're making hundreds of decisions at once, being conscious of your choice in why a line or a colour should be in a certain way will help improve your process a lot! (i think you can tell which art i turned off my brain and just draw for stress relief ........ which is also a valid way to draw and sometimes the result might surprise you! but for more serious stuffs i try to be aware of most of the move i make. it's problem solving, yeah?)

i find that one way to keep your art from appearing too...yellow in the end (which is sth that haunted my ass for a long while) is always aim for cold tone, so if you accidentally make it warm either way in the end it won't be too warm (and yellow :cry:)

well that's all the stuffs i can think on top of my head. sorry i can't give more advice on colour picking cuz it's sth i don't really know how to give advice on???? i think my colours now are still pretty lame haha........ if there are still any questions i'd gladly answer within my ability, though im very slow to answer ask ( i do read and be happy at all of them tho!)

[le-trash-prince]

adding another ask into our rotating collection sorry.

so I had a dream last night where [a person I love] was tenderly doing my nails and it got me thinking, because everything I think of these days is pit babe and because Kim (well Benz but you understand) has SUCH nice nails: one of his boys doing his nails. filing, shaping, smoothing, painting. maybe a little hand massage.

the act of service makes me think Kenta (he'd be so gentle and careful about it) but also Dean wears rings in a way that makes me think he understands the importance of nice hands. plus the opportunity for praise: doing a neat and tidy job, when he picks a nice colour. maybe he learns how to do cool designs?

(the only part of the process winner is interested in is the scratches that can be left with said nails)

idk it's just Very Important to me that Kim is well-cared for 🥺

🥺🥺🥺 Please don’t apologize for blessing me with this ask. This got me choked up because YES, Kim deserves to have his boys taking care of his hands??? Taking care of him???? And good god yeah his nails are so pretty wtf

I can see the little crease between Kenta’s eyebrows from concentrating so hard on doing a good job 🥹 But oh yes, Dean strikes me as someone who could really get into doing nails! He’d do it with a smile on his face because it’s something he finds fun (and yes praise kink), and he’d think about Kim when he’s out at the store and sees a color that matches Kim’s jacket. And nail art yes! Little black and white checkered racing nails 🏁🥺

Honestly I can see him and Kim doing each other’s nails on a regular basis, but if I think too much about how competent Kim would be at doing someone else’s nails and him touching Dean’s hands I might swoon AGDHFJJF (Inserting this clip of Benz here for the domestic visuals BECAUSE JUST LOOK)

which of the four do you think has the most sensitive hands asking for reasons

(can you blame Winner honestly. Im thinking about how he probably loves being marked up and im yelling)

Yeah Kim deserves to be pampered like royalty! 🥺 Why else would they always be kneeling at his feet. What a lovely dream and a lovely thought!!

I know exactly what you mean about associating everything to Pit Babe 😩 I was at the store earlier and I saw a dartboard and IMMEDIATELY envisioned Winner and Kenta smoking and playing darts at the bar!! Kim and Dean join in sometimes (and those are the loudest and most entertaining games), but it’s usually just the two of them and it becomes a little bonding ritual of theirs.

Winner doesn’t really stand a chance against Kenta’s precision, but he enjoys trying anyways. One game, he starts catching up, and he’s all ready to start trash talking until he notices that Kenta’s aim has been drifting—and when he looks over, he sees the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of Kenta’s mouth, which has Winner swearing at him (he’s still smiling though) coz he knows Kenta did it just to get on his nerves, because Kenta can go easy on him and still win. (And if Kenta shakes in silent laughter, will Winner’s poor heart even survive)

Anyways it just makes Winner decide to show Kenta how he really likes to win—sabotage (feeling Kenta up while he tries to stay focused).

[k00299539]

Animation Brief 01 - Week 1 - Mini Me

Above: Femto of the God Hand

The next step in our "Word Building" project was to design and create a "mini-me", essentially a kind of avatar of ourselves which will then be used as a basis for learning about lip-syncing in animation. I knew two things immediately: 1. I shouldn't make the it out of clay because it's a time-conscious medium and thus problematic for such a short project. And 2. I was definitely gonna make it out of clay anyway.

But first I had to decide how I wanted to represent myself in miniature and as you can undoubtedly see from the above image, it got weird. The important thing to understand here is that I hate self-portraits, and over the course of the last two projects I'd somehow already made 12! One clay sculpture, two 3D prints, nine ceramic casts, (and a partridge in a pear tree, etc.)

So needless to say I wanted to do something different. I guess I'd say I wanted to represent my reluctance to make a self-portrait, something that would represent me in a more abstract, less literal way. Plus I wanted something that would seem at home with the Tove Jansson inspired background art I was making for the project. The next step was gathering reference.

Above: The inspiration

I actually hadn't put too much thought into the mini-me 'til I showed up on Thursday morning. I'm showing this whole moodboard of visual reference now but while sketching out this idea all that information remained locked in my head.

The second pic of Gorillaz drummer Russel Hobbs, wearing a rain-poncho with a witch-like hood is forever burned into my head for some reason, I just love designs like that. Thus that pic was my mental jumping off point. I also just like Russel's character in general and his particular trait of hiding his face.

It was after sketching it out and trying to figure out how a hood like that might work in 3D that I turned my attention toward Raven from the 2003 Teen Titans series, another character I'm fond of for similar reasons. Glen Murakami's character sheets include a full turnaround and the show itself has plenty of reference for the hood at odd angles. I also love the way her face is cast in constant shadow.

The last bit of reference is the Tove Jansson inspiration. I love how she drew Snufkin as such a disheveled little weirdo. I guess at this stage it's obvious I relate to introverted characters. What I took in particular from Snufkin was Jansson's ability to capture so much character and personality using simple shape design. You really get the sense there is a soul behind those eyes.

Above: The design

Yeah... I really didn't experiment much with the design at all. If I'm being generous I could say I knew what I wanted, but really I just knew I was on a timer. You can see a couple of alternate ideas I had in the third sketch, but the whole witches hood plus obscured face combo was important to me.

Actually I started to get a little worried around this point. First that an all black face might look like, well, blackface. And second, that if left white, the pointed hood might have a KKK connotation. Sometimes with art, intention matters less than reception. A lot of online racists hide behind the idea of "plausible deniability", with work that acts as a dog whistle for those with similar ugly beliefs. I really don't want anyone to think there's a bigoted undertone to anything I make.

Thankfully that problems lies mostly in how I choose to colour the piece, so I can cross that bridge when I come to it. Honestly had it crossed my mind earlier I might have gone back to the drawing board entirely, but we're here now and I can only make the best of what I have.

I don't know, even having written all that, I'm still conflicted over it.

Above: I should've taken more progress pics...

I was basically just stalling on the design part, I knew the gist of what wanted but I didn't have particularly good plans on turning that design in a clay sculpture. I actually started to contemplate just going home that Thursday to put a model sheet together and then come in again Friday.

Obviously this was a bad idea for a lot of reasons and eventually Gemma convinced me to leave aside the planning and just start working with clay. Probably the best advice I could've gotten.

I rolled out a couple of slabs and after leaving them to firm up a bit, I used a template to roll one into a cylinder. This would serve as my base. Gemma helped me out a bit here too, suggesting how I create the shoulders by attaching a slab as support and draping another over it. After that it was mostly just scoring and slipping, creating the silhouette bit by bit with slabs. I wanted to have it mostly done as I knew it'd need to be fired on Friday. And on Friday the kiln is loaded at 12:30.

Above: 12:30 on a Friday

Anyway, I got it done as much as I could before leaving it down to be fired. I would probably have spent more time on it had I not been under pressure, but being honest I'm the kind of artist who spends 90% of their time trying to make things 1% better. I doubt it'd have made much of a difference.

What probably would've made a difference was having more of a plan before I started. It was really one of those things you have to do poorly once to learn how to do right, if that makes sense. There's certain changes that occurred en-route I'm happy with, like the kid of abstract, geometric look to the whole thing. But other changes I feel could be improved upon include the overall size and shape of the hood and especially the length of the head in general. The hood is tall and top heavy when it really should be the opposite.

Overall though I'm happy with how it turned out ... as long as it doesn't explode in the kiln.

[loveandfictionforall]

Hi, if you still do them, I'd like to have a Supernatural Match Up. I'm a 20 year old bisexual female. I dyed my hair black and got a wolf cut which I absolutely adore. I have a black nostril ring and I'm thinking about getting a helix. I also have a tattoo and I plan on getting more. For me it's like art. I dress in dark colours and in an goth/alternative/ dark academia style. My body type, well I'm medium sized, I have hip dips, thicker thighs, little bit of belly fat and stretch marks. I'm trying to like my body and I getting better at it but I still have issues sometimes. I have 3 best friends who I trust with my live and I don't like having too many people around me, only on certain occasions. When I'm around strangers I'm usually calm, but also anxious sometimes. But I'm also capable of standing up against people or telling them what I think (usually it's against homophobes or idiots who think it's ok to harass women) When I'm around my friends, I know I can be how I want. We usually laugh or make random (also sometimes sexual) jokes or just dance around. I love playing horror games and I adore horror movies. My music taste varies, I like almost everything. I own two cats but I also want a dog sometime in the future. I can enjoy parties if the right music plays but don't rely on me to drive home because I'm totally drinking not too much but I don't want to drive home after even one glass. Next, I had a shitty past, I was SA'd by a guy when I was just 10. We lived with him for 6 years. So I have a problem with building trust. I either don't trust someone at all or I build it too quickly and get hurt in the process which already happened a few times. Now moving on from that: I'm interested in the Supernatural. If I had the physical strength I'd be a hunter but I don't have it because I'm kinda too lazy to work out a lot. I'll stick to research. That's about it. Looking forward to your match up :)

Hi there! I finally got to your request, sorry for the long wait!

I ship you with Crowley!

I think the vibe between you two would be totally awesome!

While the others may be put off by your jokes or do not understand them (Castiel), Crowley would laugh and gladly join in. I mean, he made a deal to get more dick length, do I even have to say more?

To be honest, it will take a long time and much flirting between the two of you until one of you had finally enough.

Crowley would worship your body and personality, trying to give you everything you need to statisfy your needs and wishes.

Even though you do not have a a lot of strenght, he will teach you some basic things just so he can know that you can survive until he is there.

And believe me, he will not hesitate to brutally murder anyone who dares to lay a hand on you.

Oh and if someone flirts with you? Yeah, you will never see that person again...

(He loves tracing your tattoos 🤭)

[lovemesomesurveys]

[chasingghosts @ bzoink]

What can you smell right now?   I smell my coffee energy drink that I just took a sip of.

What was the last thing you bought online?   It’s been awhile since I’ve done any online shopping since I just haven’t been in a shopping mood. It’s not fun when you spend all day at home in bed to go shopping for new clothes or accessories. I want to be able to wear them out somewhere, ya know?

If you drink coffee, when was the last time you went a day without having one?   I drink coffee daily, which for the past several months I’ve just been having a Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink. While I was in the hospital last year for 3 months I couldn’t eat or drink anything due to a breathing tube, later on trachea tube, so those definitely felt like the longest 3 months of my life.

Do you have any appointments coming up?   Not this month. 

Do you put appointments in your phone's calendar app to remember them?   Sometimes, but for the past several months my mom has just been writing them on the marker board calendar we have hung up in my room. She’s the one who typically keeps track of that stuff for me right now.

Will you be visiting anyone's house in the next week or so?   No. I won’t be going anywhere. 

Have you ever been to a petting zoo? What animals did you pet?   Yeah, as a kid. I remember there always be goats. 

What was the last movie you saw in theatres?   Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness last year. I didn’t know not long after I’d be admitted into the hospital. 

Do you know anyone who has done a PhD?   No. My brother recently decided to go back to school for his master’s and just got accepted into the program, which is amazing.

How many unread emails are in your inbox right now?   Omg, like well over 1,000. I used be on top of my emails and kept my inbox clean, but I got lazy with it for some reason. The notification used to bother me and help me stay on track; I don’t know what happened.

What four apps do you keep on the home bar on your iPhone? (Sorry, I'm not sure if Android has an equivalent!) Contacts, call, messages, emails.  

Have you ever used Tumblr? Do you still use it today?   Nope, what’s that?

Are you tired right now?   Very. One of the things about the edibles I found that seems to be helping my anxiety also makes me extremely tired. So, I’m napping more but whatever. What else am I doing?

What's your favourite day of the week and why?   I don’t have one.

How far away is the nearest major city?   A few hours.

Do you own an electric kettle?   Nope.

Are your eyebrows wispy or bushy?   Bushy.

Have you ever lost your wallet or purse? Did you have to replace a bunch of things?   No, thankfully. 

Where are you right now? Describe the room or place to me.   I’m in bed in my room. It’s a small room with a closet, dresser, tv, window, canvas art and posters hung up, marker boards, bulletin board, a side table, an office chair, and a shit ton of medical supplies. My room is small and cluttered and I hate it. 

Do you prefer big dogs or small dogs?   As someone in a wheelchair, I personally feel most comfortable around medium sized dogs.

Are you good at understanding heavy accents? Which accents would you say you're the best at understanding?   I admittedly have a hard time sometimes, it just really depends.

Have you ever played on a real life pinball machine, or just on the computer?   A real one, yeah. 

Do you have a lot of word documents or notes on your computer?   No.

What's your favourite Ben & Jerry's flavour?   I don’t really have a particular favorite. When I was younger I loved the Phish food one.

Have you ever been to a school reunion? How was it?   No, and I have no interest in going to one.

How many nights a week do you generally cook at home?   I personally don’t cook at all.

What colour are the street signs in your neighbourhood? Are they the same all over town or do they vary?   They’re green.

Do you have good grammar and punctuation skills?   I believe so.

Have you ever tried vegan chicken? Did you like it? No, and I gotta say... it doesn’t sound appealing to me.

[aeoki]

Machina - Deus ex...: Chapter 1

Location: Cafe Characters: Mika, Shuu, Sora, Makoto & Natsume

< Sometime later. >

Sora: Oh, so that’s what happened.

The reason why Mika-chan-san had such a sparkly “colour” while working on his art was because of that, huh~ Sora understands now!

It’s true Sora was the one who invited Mika-chan-san to the “Test World”.

But that was what he wanted… It’s not the kind of scam you’re thinking of, Shuu Nii-san!

Shuu: It’s new technology so there’s bound to be merits and demerits. You say it’s not a scam but there’s not enough security.

Even if Kagehira and I are always criticised as artists even if we don’t use such technology, don’t you think there’s no need to cross over a dangerous bridge?

Natsume: Hehe. I see you truly care about Mika-kun’s welfaRE, Shuu Nii-san.

But is it really fine for you to reject a new kind of technology you know little to nothing aboUT? It does appear as though you’re forcing onto us an established interest in the name of aRT…

Shuu: I’m aware there will be that sort of criticism, of course. However, art needs context.

What sort of background does one have? What concepts do they have in mind when they’re making it? Those things are left out when it comes to digital art.

If someone uses innovative technology to create art, that doesn’t mean they’re skilled in it. They’re two independent matters and fall short of a rebuttal.

Those things should be held in exhibitions. Making life richer with new technologies is something art does not play a role in.

Natsume & Sora: …………

Shuu: Also, it’s not a good thing to say to someone, “When you know little to nothing about something”.

Naturally, the digital art scene has also made an appearance in Paris. I cannot stay in the dark forever.

Will you help me separate Kagehira from “SSVRS”, Natsume?

That technology is dangerous. I must make Kagehira wake up immediately.

Natsume: Dangerous, hM…?

AlrigHT. If that’s how you feEL, then I’m sure nothing I say will change thAT.

Can you help us oUT, Sora?

Sora: Yes. Sora feels sorry for Mika-chan-san, but if he’s so absorbed in the game to the point it can make the people around him unhappy, then that’s not good~

Sora will call the game company now.

If we take the “Test World” away from Mika-chan-san, it probably won’t just be his issue.

Shuu: ……? What do you mean, Chibisuke?

Sora: HaHa~ It means exactly what those words mean!

Mika-chan-san doesn’t just belong to himself.

If we’re going to separate Mika-chan-san from “SSVRS”, we need to make the appropriate arrangements~

< At that time. The “Test World’s” main street. >

Mika: ♪~♪~

Makoto: Kagehira-kun, Kagehira-kun! The results of the auction are out!

Mika: Ngh, it’s that time already? I completely forgot since I was concentratin’ on what I was makin’. Thanks ♪

But still, you didn’t have to come all this way to tell me in person.

Makoto: It’s fine. I thought the notifications were kinda annoying so I ignored it, but I realised something once I saw the results and the notifications stopped.

It seems the people who know that digital art in the “Test World’ is a hot topic right now are taking part by investing and the value of the “VL$” has skyrocketed.

Ohh, the exchange rate for the “VL$” has hit the maximum amount just as I said that…

Mika: Umm. I don’t really get it but how much is one “VL$” worth right now…?

Makoto: You probably won’t believe me if I told you, so take a look yourself. It’s displayed on the exchange screen.

Mika: One, ten, a hundred…

Wait, the digits are different than I remember!

Which means this is the same for the Japanese yen… Ngh, a-a hundred million!?

Makoto: Yeah. Someone has bid an amount in the hundred millions of Japanese yen on one of your auctions right now. Honestly, I can’t quite believe it myself…

I suppose this means your art has basically the same worth as some of the renowned artists from around the world…

Mika: Huh?

WHAAAAAAAAAAT!?

← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[appreciatingtokrev]

hello, i am happy that you're back and feeling better! ^^

er, i am a bit disappointed but since time had passed, i have realised it was the right move. that is sad but if both parties naturally drift apart, there is always a chance for it to rekindle later on even if it is years on in the future. but moving on does tend to be the less messer route despite it being hard.

i did that too for HSR, all players are probably guilty of that lol. i believe most fans prefer GI over HSR and there is a lot more GI contents on here. i've never played HI so i don't know the fight mechanics 😭

that sound like such a long system ;-; on my end, you could complete a five year degree (like medicine) and be finish before 24/25 or do a three years degree and a master on top before 23/24. at least you still have time to figure things out.

that is true and a part of koko probably died after the fire incident, he probably just needed mikey's approval to join though.

tbh, i just realised his colour palette (outfit/appearance) is really nice too and does contrast xiao's one. maybe, browse online for inspiration? or go to the hair salon and ask the staff? i did that for dying my hair, they said i need to bleach it 4 times where i went lmao.

but i've heard the anime/manga merchandise is pretty cheap in Japan? that is a nice start to your collection and i'm sure the tokrev dolls will be a nice finishing touch when you feel motivated enough. but don't force yourself. i think if she was a kpop fan, i would found it less shocking because they are something else lol. that is a sensible idea and others may mistake it for a bell's bike? if it jingles that loudly and you're walking behind them. i hope you are ready then, styling wigs does seem to be a craft of art in making.

have you found your birthday twin yet? or am i still the closest one? and i actually gave up on makima. the fanart is something else but you can't help but feel intrigued like you said. i dislike her for the same reason. that's great! have you tried taking it to a tailor and get the sleeves shortened? i did it for a blazer and it worked.

ah i’m glad, me too! :) <3

i very much understand. it hurts, but sometimes the right thing to do just isn’t what initially makes you the happiest,, and it’s still for the best.

hm, true. maybe one day lol. rn we see each other maybe twice a year, and go visit a museum together. it’s nice, but certainly not how i pictured my life a few years ago haha. tho i’m content with our relationship the way it is, i think.

understandable understandable lol. i think my pref for genshin does stem from me having played it for longest by far + it being the game that got me into gaming, which both ends in an obvious bias. but hsr has been v fun so far as well! honkai impact fight mechanics are more similar to genshin than to hsr, but the controls for the whole game don’t involve the mouse, only the a, s, d, w, i, j, k, and l keys (if i remember the keys correctly- the point is you only need a keyboard to play) lol. makes it easier to play it in class.....

okay tbh i did repeat/got pushed back more than once 😭 most people here probably are finished with a five years degree at 24/25 too, but a bunch each year will be one/two years older bc they had to repeat. and i’m gonna be one of those lol. but yeah, i’m glad i’ve still got time to decide on what to study bc there’s too many things i’d like to do... omg i used to have a classmate who’s a kpop fan, and she pretty much made her locker at school into a kpop shrine plastered with photos and filled with merch lol. she also was the one to introduce me to kpop funnily enough.

true. i’ll figure out how to make it make no sound before wearing it in public, then i’ll be fine. bc i do think the earring looks funky even when silent hehe.

i have a (bad?) habit of thinking i can do anything i want to, so... wig styling can’t be that hard, now can it..... and there’s a first time to everything anyway.

no birthday twin for me, you’re still the closest. if i ever do find one, i’ll make sure to tell you dw lol.

no, i haven’t been to a tailor yet, but i might try that once! i just hope it wouldn’t be too expensive afhjfdj

[insertinterestingusernamehere]

What Is Life Without Action?

Fanfic based on the Harbour Town AU by @cupcakeshakesnake !

A.N. : So I discovered the AU a couple days ago and I was obsessed- It’s a gem to all of humankind, and I love the art ahahah- So this also gave me a few ideas for a new fic? Because I was like : ah yes time to write a wholesome fic for once... 

For the record, Theodore Groves is an overly enthusiastic and chill Science teacher because I just... that just fit the vibe- Gillete would be like the English teacher who just needs people to hand up work.. And I am convinced James Norrington is an animal person- these were just the couple of stuff I came up with, and my interpretation of how OST went in the AU... @cupcakeshakesnake I hope that’s alright haha- Well then, on with the story!

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

Summary : James gets outplayed by Theo... or does he?

Working as a teacher and minding a whole class of children was bad enough. It hardly helped that his particular class of children were, in fact, ones with wild imagination and even wilder roleplay lore that he could barely understand sometimes. It hardly helped as well that they tended to bring chaos and trouble. Everywhere. Plus, he could hardly trust his longtime friends to keep them in check. Because they tended to partake in the chaos as well. James Norrington had hoped, more than ever, that whatever shenanigans the class was up to, he would not have to be involved. 

That perhaps this week-long camp would go without incident, yes? Fate- Well. On this day, fate appeared to be laughing down at him. He was, as always, once again reminded that sometimes, he had to always make precautions. Every time. 

“You did what,” Norrington stated, dragging a hand down his face as he took in the as always, overly enthusiastic Science teacher before him. The latter had burst into the staffroom in a flurry, taking a few moments to regain his breath and brush off the stray Nerf bullets still clinging onto his staff ID. The brown-haired man currently being addressed had a feeling that this was not going to end well.

“Listen- It’s going to be easy enough! Just go out and get water- from the drinking fountain!” Groves gestured to the door, which was practically all that stood between them and fresh water. 

“Bottled water exists,” James sighed, taking a sip from the plastic bottle, only to cough and splutter, stifling a string of colourful words. 

“They vinegar-ed it, James, you have to go get water!” His colleague’s hopeful face signalled the oncoming of another headache.

“And you played no part in this.” Groves fiddled with a pen nervously under the mildly disappointed green gaze currently pinned on him. 

“Well… I may have told Jack where the water was?” “Wonderful,” James rebutted sarcastically. 

“Remind me again that I cannot, ever, trust you with any responsible adult duties.” Theo opened his mouth to protest, but James simply beat him to it. 

“Remember that time I left my phone unlocked on my desk when I went to teach a class? Yeah I came back one hour later to realise you- You used all the ammunition I stockpiled,” James paused to draw in a breath, in which his friend cut in. 

“It was only in World of Warships! Surely you’d know of the statistics of how only one shot lands every hundred shots, I’d argue that I proved to have better odds-” He was about to go into a full length explanation of his shining luck and all, but was interrupted by James. 

“You made my fleet unplayable for one day, Theo. And you robbed me of a million (in-game currency) in terms of shell cost,” Norrington deadpanned, recalling his agony at attempting to repair the damage Theo had managed to do in one hour. 

Groves crossed his arms with a frown, defending himself. “It was only one incident!” 

James raised an eyebrow and cast him an unreadable look. 

“Okay. Then what about Tortuga?”  

“Well I think that one went pretty well,” Groves countered. “Sure….” James drawled, laying on more sarcasm this time around.

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

A few winter breaks ago.

The brunette’s gaze flicked up for a moment, back down at the computer, then back up once more, his eyes widening slightly. Leaning over the countertop, two incredibly familiar faces peered up at him. If it wasn’t Gibbs and Sparrow. The duo’s excitement waned slightly the moment they recognised him, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly. 

“Fancy seeing you here. Enjoying your winter break, I hope?” The two of them blinked, at a loss for words for a few moments before Gibbs offered a greeting, stumbling over the words a little. 

“Oh- uh- Hi, Mr Norrington.” 

“Uh-” On his left, Jack’s eyes were wide, his mouth opening and closing- Of all the places, they had not expected their teacher to be working at Tortuga Arcade- 

“Well? Do you need to top up the cards?” That. That seemed to snap Jack out of his mild panic-slash-horror at meeting his homeroom teacher who just so happened to be working at an arcade… anyways. 

“Uh… There don’t happen to be any more teachers here, eh?” He questioned weakly, glancing around the neon-lit space and bustling crowd. 

James opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by an enthusiastic shout of “Gibbs! Jack! The two of you here to play too?” Groves’ voice came from the nearest station, where he was currently battling the pinball machine. 

“...Mr Groves?” 

“I suppose that answers your question,” James sighed, shaking his head. The two just looked between their homeroom teacher, clearly doing his job, and their Science teacher, who most decidedly, was not. Jack just offered an awkward wave, unsure what to make of it all.

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

Present Day.

“I was conducting routine maintenance!” Theo protested, shrugging.

 “You were not,” James snorted. “I’m amazed you didn’t get caught slacking off on the job.” His long-time friend simply gave him a sly grin, replying, “Well then, that’s where practice comes in.” The brunette huffed, well aware of the fact that Groves was highly enjoying this teasing banter. 

“Oh for the love of-” He scowled, resigned to glaring at Theo instead.

The science teacher shook his head, pouting ever-so-slightly. As much of a carefree soul as ever, James mused wryly. Theo really hadn’t changed since they met in middle school. 

“James, do procure the water, or I’ll have no choice but to hoard Clover and Jazz to myself when we return to the apartment.” Hints of a devious grin were starting to surface on Theo’s expression, and James was dragged out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes. 

“You would never- They’ve been most affectionate with me.” It was true, the pair of rambunctious kittens were now full of energy, far from the sorry sight the class had presented him with a few months ago- There would be time to dwell on that later. Currently, he was still trying to figure out how exactly Groves planned to force away the two fluffballs retaining his sanity. As if on cue, he raised a packet of cat treats, James’ eyes widening- 

“You would not.” 

“Is that a challenge?” Groves countered, knowing he’d won this argument, however childish it might have been. What he held was the Holy Grail, of sorts. The only thing that could steal the kittens away from James. Clearly, he knew that, and a resigned frown settled on his features. 

“Oh very well. Do tell what happened.” 

Theo grinned victoriously, settling down on the other chair opposite James and launched into his tale.

A good twenty or so minutes later of excited gesturing and recounting on Theo’s part, he was now more than convinced that said Science teacher had the mentality of a child sometimes. His gaze flicked to the door, and, beyond that, the drinking fountain. He could faintly pick out the voices of the children. 

“So Gillete attempted to get the water first.” 

“Well. Yes, but he didn’t really get far,” Theo reiterated, recalling the exact events he had watched.

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

Literally half an hour ago.

“Alright that’s it- I’m going to get the water,” And so Andrew grabbed his water bottle and headed out towards the drinking fountain. Theo simply watched as he was nudged by one of the children, nearly fell onto Barbossa who, under threat, pushed the English teacher away with decent force, and the rest protected their drinking fountain, Nerf guns blazing and foam swords drawn. Needless to say, Gillete was driven back to the safety of the room in no time. 

“Beaten by a group of role-playing students, hm?” Groves fought back the urge to laugh as he took in his colleague’s miserable form. 

“Oh shut it. You try then,” Andrew answered grumpily, before leaving to sulk and likely search for alternate sources of water. As though there were any more. They were in the middle of a forest. In summer camp. Theo simply shrugged. Hey, what’s the worst that could happen? And he did just that, of course, adding on his energetic Science teacher flair.

James looked at him with bemusement. “So you’re telling me, that you took your staff ID-” 

“Yes.” 

“Went out of the room and ran to the fountain-” 

“Yes.” 

“Whipped out the ID and proclaimed loudly that the fountain was now under the name of all the teachers.” Groves nodded, and James sighed once more. (A.N. I wish I had a picture of what Groves did lmao)

To be exact, after Groves’ loud exclamation caused the students to pause in their activities, one of the Spanish kids glanced at the teacher before them, mentally deciding that he might as well take the shot. He lifted his Nerf gun, and fired. The pellet hit Theo with amazingly large force, and caused him to falter slightly. 

“Sorry Mr. Groves!” Jack offered before the rest opened fire, pellets and foam bullets chasing him all the way to the staffroom. 

One quick glance back showed him that the Spanish kid had declared, “Make a note of that teacher’s bravery- But now, the Aqua le Vida is ours!” 

“It’s the Fountain of Youth, and no, it is not!” Jack protested. Theo shook his head as he ducked into the safety of the staffroom, slightly resigned that he had been chased from the fountain by the students. 

“That is pretty much what happened,” Theo summarised, James pinching the bridge of his nose as his shoulders sagged. 

“Seriously.” 

“Seriously.” 

The two teachers stared at each other for a long while before James exhaled, trying to make sense of it all. Of course Groves had done that, being well, Groves. 

“Alright- Fine,” James relented, though reluctance crept into his voice. 

“Great!” Theo perked up considerably at that, sliding over a bottle of coffee as an olive branch - a peace offering, obviously, to sweeten the deal a bit more for his disgruntled friend. 

“So- that makes you dead in their roleplay lore, I’d assume,” James commented dryly, accepting the coffee gratefully.

“I would suppose so… what about you then?” Groves frowned, casting a curious look at James. Believe it or not, both of them found the storyline the students played with rather… interesting. Boring as their lives were, this did bring in some light to the dreary days. 

“Died a long time ago, after I applied for sick leave the other semester.” James recalled wryly, when he had bumped into the group of children and overheard Elizabeth lamenting his unfortunate death. Took him a few minutes to realise they were just playing. 

The two lapsed into silence for a while, before James decided to finally get the water. He made a move towards the door, only for it to slam open and he jumped back, met with the sight of a certain few scruffy, role-playing children. Before he could even open his mouth to chide them for not knocking, one of the Spanish kids took it upon himself to hesitantly address the teachers.

“Señor profesor… The fountain… it… it broke.” Oh of course it did, His mind mumbled snappily as he took in the multiple guilty faces staring up at him. Jack looked positively terrified. Theo walked out to stand beside him, looking towards the direction of the drinking fountain, which looked pretty beat up. He frowned slightly. 

“You all broke the fountain?” He questioned lightly, looking towards Will, who nodded sheepishly. Turning to face James, the other’s disappointed gaze softened slightly. Ah well. Kids would be kids. 

“I shall… inform the campground maintenance about the broken fountain. For now, do take these bottles of water,” Their homeroom teacher addressed the clearly regretful students, before vanishing into the room and reappearing a moment later with a box of water bottles. Not filled with vinegar this time, mind you. Jack blinked mutely, exchanging a glance with Hector, who stared back with equal chagrin. 

“Yes… I knew about the little prank. I did, however, make precautions. Since there is only one day of the camp left, this should hopefully be enough,” James stated, allowing the faintest hints of exasperation to leak into his words. The students took the water with mumbled thanks before turning to leave, which was when James tactfully reminded them to ‘reflect on their actions’ before he and Theo watched them scurry back to their cabins.

He had gone easy on them, Groves knew that, but currently, he was more curious than surprised. As the two of them entered the staffroom once more, they were interrupted by Gillete, who exclaimed, “Well that would be a new one! Breaking the drinking fountain! Seriously James, only your class would be capable of that,” he laughed, shaking his head, the effects of his defeat earlier having ebbed away. 

James simply sighed in response. Perhaps- no. This was definitely enough chaos for today. Noting Theo’s look of surprise that he’d been unable to wipe off, he allowed a small smirk to surface at Theo’s loss of words. 

“How- How did you-” 

“Well then, that’s where practice comes in,” He replied easily, turning Theo’s own words against him. Andrew looked between the two, not quite sure what to make of all this. 

Inwardly, James laughed at their confusion. At the very least, teaching this chaotic class had taught him some things. 

Number one : Be prepared for everything.

And number two : Perhaps sometimes, life without action could get pretty boring. Perhaps.

END

A.N. (again?!) yeah- that’s my first fic on this blog done lol- hope everyone reading this enjoyed it! I sure had fun writing this one.

[inkykeiji]

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao  uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

        ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰          ✰          ✰          

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰          ✰          ✰          

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”  

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

[funtimebunnyblog]

Always remember Pillarmen-lovers and followers alike, no matter what you like to wear or what you like to put on your body; you are absolutely stunning! 😍😍😍 You rock those tattoos, piercings, whatever you wear; wear them with your head held high! 😇🥰😘 Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

The Pillarmen with a Female s/o with tattoos (who also gets unwanted comments about them)...

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• At first, Kars doesn't quite understand the exact appeal of tattoos.

• Sure, some of them admittedly looked nice and they were art in their own respect, but they were also known to be quite painful for Humans not to mention they were something very permanent to put on the body...

• He doesn't really understand why someone would go out of their way to get something so gaudy imprinted on their skin.

• You'll have to forgive him because when you're first getting to know him as he openly looks down on you for having some of your own; especially since you're a Woman.

• He states that you should treat your body like a temple and not "graffiti" it with something so "manish" and "distasteful" which you of course simply shrug off.

• You've heard this enough times to not care.

• However, after you give him some time and he's heard any stories you happen to have behind your tats or perhaps once he sees how truly harmless it all is, he comes around.

• Kars comes to realize that they're just another piece of what made you "you" and he supposed that you could be into far worse things than just simple pictures drawn on your skin...

• Besides... he has to admit you look very beautiful with them.

• From that moment on, if anyone happens to say anything negative about your ink, he puts haters and nay-sayers alike in their place.

• "You know, it's not very ladylike to have tattoos." You could feel the sneer of the Woman behind you as she let her poisonous words drip off her tongue but you didn't turn around.

• This wasn't the first time this happened and it was better to pretend you didn't hear.

• Kars, on the other hand, didn't miss a beat. "It's also not very ladylike to make bitchy comments but it appears that would just be your whole personality." He commented, cocking an eyebrow at the now gawking Woman from over his shoulder.

• You couldn't contain the snort of laughter that burst forth, Kars smiled softly as you clung to his arm with a wheeze. The offending Woman didn't make anymore comments.

• Kars was sure that if he could open his mind to see the beauty of tattoos and learn to accept them, others should do the same.

Esidisi:

• Hands down, Esidisi absolutely ADORES your tattoos!

• He thinks they're a beautiful form of art to display on the body and that they are something definitely to be admired.

• Most especially since they're on you!

• Even from the first time you two met, he wanted to see every single one you had and hear any stories you happened to have behind them.

• Even if the stories happened to go along the lines of "I got really drunk with some friends and--"

• For quite a while he's wanted to get tattoos of his own but never really found the time, not to mention something worthwhile to get.

• Millennium ago, tattoos were in fact quite time consuming to get done (they required not only a steady hand but the patience of a Saint as well) and he couldn't waste much time when on the hunt for the Aja afterall.

• However, once introduced to the modern tattooing art and with lots of time to spare, you were what inspired him to step up and finally get a few of his own done!

• What he really wants is to get his arms covered in intricate patterns and pictures.

• In fact, Esidisi is the kind of person to want to get a matching tattoo with you or at least one with your name somewhere on his body.

• Of course, he does not stand for anyone saying anything hurtful or negative about your own tats.

• "Hey!" The yelling of the guy calling out to you from his truck as you walked down the street instinctively made you freeze for only half-a-second. "I'd fuck you if you didn't have so many tattoos, bitch!"

• His words made an ickyness swirl up from your gut to your throat. Though disgusted, you kept your face carefully neutral and tried to keep walking.

• Those kinds of deragatory comments just weren't worth the effort of fighting back.

• Esidisi, however, wasn't one to stand back and let someone disrespect you like that.

• "Yeah? And maybe somebody would actually fuck you if you had some, dickhead!" He called back, grinning as the guys mouth immediately snapped shut.

• The Pillarman's quick clap-back was enough to make a huge smile stretch across your face; only fueled by the massive hand wrapping around yours as you both kept walking.

• With Esidisi around, you would never have to waste time or energy on derogatory comments ever again.

Wamuu:

• Wamuu had only seen these "tattoos" a handful of times in his life.

• He was well aware of the art and the practice took to create them but never had them done on himself or seen the action up close.

• The very few times he had seen tattoos on someone, it was for battle purposes.

• Most often worn by great Warriors who had fought many fights and had them done to commemorate victories won or even lives lost.

• Upon meeting you and spotting your ink, Wamuu was immediately under the impression that you were a Female Warrior (a rarity) and wanted to know everything about the tapestry of "victories" on your skin.

• "This tattoo, what is its symbolism? Was this to commemorate a fight? Battle, perhaps?" He questioned, a calloused finger poking you softly in your flesh as he spoke.

• You could only blink stupidly, not quite sure what he was going on about. "Wamuu... that's Hello Kitty."

• When you explain to him that your tattoos hold no great "symbolism" or "battle tributes" it takes a while for him to wrap his head around it.

• People nowadays did this... for fun? Simply "because"? Sometimes they did it to show love or appreciation to something?

• It was a strange phenomenon but he eventually finds himself nodding his head in understanding.

• If anything, even if it isn't for a Warriors devices, he finds all tattoos unique and something to behold.

• He even starts thinking about getting one of his own simply "for fun".

• What he still doesn't understand is why there are so many people who were so closed minded concerning these things, especially towards Women like yourself.

• He doesn't appreciate it when people are rude or disrespectful to the things you like; this being no exception.

• "Ugh! You should really cover those up!" You turned your head to find another Woman pointing accusingly at one of your tattoos, an ugly scowl etched into her face. "I shouldn't have to see something so distasteful!"

• You opened your mouth, prepared to tell her to mind her business and keep going about your own when suddenly Wamuu appeared right behind her. The massive man sternly pulled a bag right over her head, completely covering her face.

• "If you do not like the look of them, then perhaps you should simply cover your eyes, Human!" He growled, leaving the rude lady to try and pull the bag off her head as he took your hand and proudly walked off with you.

• Now if only everyone could live that philosophy, life would truly be peaceful for you. Until then, you were just happy you had Wamuu to spread those words of wisdom for you.

Santana:

• Upon first meeting you, your tattoos intrigued Santana more than anything.

• He had never really seen anything of the like before encountering you.

• At first, he thought that they were simply a born pigmentation to your skin. Perhaps you were a different kind of Human alltogether? Did this hold some sort of direct link to your kind attracting a Mate?

• If the latter by chance, he had to say it was working.

• You couldn't help but laugh, watching as he traced his fingers along the shapes and pictures of your ink; he was absolutely mesmerized by the artwork stretching across the canvas of your skin.

• This was definitely MUCH more preferable than someone looking down their nose at you for having them.

• However, once you explained to him that you had them physically drawn onto your skin with ink and needles it only intrigued him more.

• He wanted to know everything about these "tattoos" including just how they were done and why exactly some people took time to get them.

• This resulted you dragging him along to a tattoo parlor so he could watch and learn first hand; which then lead to Santana getting his first tattoo shortly after on his thigh.

• "Aww, now what's a pretty girl like you doing with something so ugly like that on her skin?" The lady behind the counter who was ringing up your items smiled almost sickeningly sweet as she spoke, making you only want to roll your eyes even more.

• Oh boy, here it comes. You just couldn't walk to the store to get a bag of chips and a drink without someone making a comment, could you?

• "You know, not a lot of men like those on a pretty girl, sweetie." She continued, as if unable to see you had no interest in what she had to say what-so-ever. "Maybe you should think about that if you ever want to find someone decent, hmm?"

• Santana's wild head of hair appeared out from behind the chip rack as she spoke, lips twisting as his eyebrows narrowed. He approached the counter with a huff, snatching the bag from it as he full on glared at the cashier.

• His eyes fell onto your bare skin, to the lovely shapes and colours that sparked all these unwanted comments. "Her skin is beautiful." He said, before his eyes fell onto the cashiers bare skin, his lips only pushing further downwards. "Your skin is boring, primitive."

• The look on the cashiers face after he said that only made your snacks taste even sweeter as you sat cuddled into the Pillarmans side back at Home.

[mahizli]

Reckless (There Is No Chaos, There Is Harmony)

Beautiful art that can be found here, and that shows what happens *after* and not *during* this story, that is also Part 3 of Threading The Way.

26 BBY.

“Why don’t you ever say something nice to me?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Anakin…”

“See what I mean? It’s never enough for you, is it?”

“Now don’t pull that card on me, Padawan–”

“No, you don’t get to Padawan me!”

Anakin paused, out of breath, cheeks flushed with rage, facing Obi-Wan whose eyes had started to brighten as well but still stayed infuriatingly calm. He had crossed his arms, though, fingers twisting the fabric of his tunic, meaning even perfect-and-tidy-Master-Obi-Wan could get upset. And Anakin wanted his Master to get upset. He wanted him to feel just as angry and betrayed and hurt as he was.

“You don’t get to tell the Council my actions were a bit rash. I saved your kriffing life, Master, I prevented a whole building from collapsing on you, and just because you’re too weak to do the same, you don’t get to be jealous of me and belittle me and call my actions rash in front of stupid Master Windu!”

He was as tall as his Master now. And he would get taller than Obi-Wan, that much was obvious, because he had already outgrown him in matters of boot-size. Meaning he was on eye-level with his Master. Meaning he had a full view of the whirlwind of emotions blossoming in Obi-Wan’s stormy eyes, and the way every bit of colour left his Master’s cheeks.

Obi-Wan’s fingers tightened around his arms, and for a few seconds, even the Force felt still around them, leaving Anakin quivering with rage and something uncomfortable feeling a lot like shame.

“Master Windu is not responsible for the way you feel about me”, Obi-Wan finally managed to push out, in a somewhat breathy voice.

And the angry beast deep within Anakin raised its tail again, clawing its talons deep into his chest and belly.

“No, because you are”, he spat out, and of all the things he could have done, his Master blinked.

It made Anakin even more angry. He wanted Obi-Wan to roar, to stand up against him, to yell at him, to call him names, to fight. Not to stand there looking like a small, breakable thing that could be crushed in an eyeblink, if Anakin wasn’t watching – and Obi-Wan had not a clue, Obi-Wan never had a clue…

“Anakin, my intention never was to belittle you.”

“Well I don’t believe you.”

Something in Obi-Wan’s face closed then, and Anakin felt his Master’s shields slam shut, leaving their bond blank, like the aftermath of an explosion. Obi-Wan’s hands left his arms, and then his Master simply walked past him, leaving their sitting room for the kitchen.

It was always the same, whenever Obi-Wan felt overwhelmed. He would simply stop talking, leaving the argument like he would leave a room, and it drew Anakin nuts.

“What are you doing?”, he asked, angrily, watching his Master open a cupboard, fetching a sponge and an old cleaning rag, without even using the Force – sometimes Obi-Wan seemed to forget it even existed.

“I’m clearing the dust”, Obi-Wan rasped, in that strangled tone of voice he had whenever Anakin had pushed every possible button to draw him ballistic. “It’s been weeks since we’ve been here, and I’m not sleeping in a dirty room.”

“Have you listened to a word I said?”

“Have you?”

Strange, how Obi-Wan’s fierceness could sound so much like sadness. Strange, also, how luminous his eyes could look whenever he finally chose to stand up, to fight back – and he didn’t even use his lightsaber, just some ratty sponge and rag, wiping the table with enough strength to wipe out every possible stain.

“I’m clearing the dust. I suggest you do the same, literally or metaphorically.”

“Typical.”

And with that last insult, hissed like a fire-breath from whatever nasty beast was feasting on sadness and hurt behind his chest, Anakin left their quarters, slamming their door shut, heading straight for the hangers where droids and speeders were waiting for him, and could do nothing but agreeing with him.

It had been six years. Six kriffing years, since Anakin had arrived at the Temple, had heard Master Windu tell him he would never become a Jedi, and yet there he was. There he was, going on missions with his Master, flying their ship, fighting alongside Obi-Wan and saving the day whenever his Master’s disturbing habit of talking them out of trouble backfired on them.

And yet, Anakin could not shake the nagging feeling that no one really wanted him there, that they were all watching him with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to slip up, to prove them they had all been right, no matter how hard he tried.

And Obi-Wan did not help. Not anymore. He was trying to reign Anakin in, instead of letting his power grow, instead of letting him prove himself, talking about balance and reason and mindfulness, when all was just a piece of rubbish.

“How is mindfulness going to keep you from getting crushed?”, Anakin muttered, teeth gritted around a nut he was determined to screw deep within the speeder’s core.

His hair was soon matted with dust and oil, and his skin salty with sweat. He was about as far he could get from Obi-Wan’s notions of cleanliness, and it felt so deeply satisfying that the beast behind Anakin’s chest finally quietened.

He spent enough hours under that speeder to get hungry, but it was out of the question to go back to their quarters and to Obi-Wan – because going back was almost like apologizing, and Anakin did not want to.

So he did what he always did, whenever he fought his Master and wanted to vent about him. Master Quinlan was useless in such cases, getting all stern and serious to the point even Aayla was beginning to look worried – but then, Master Quinlan was always a bit overprotective of his friends, so…

No, the best person whenever he wanted to talk, and explain just how betrayed and misunderstood he felt was Master Luminara, who somehow always managed to calm him down, and to silence the beast within him.

“Hello, Padawan Skywalker”, she greeted him, night-like eyes sparkling with unspoken fondness. “I see you have made it back from your mission.”

“Hello, Master Luminara. There is no need to Padawan me, you know.”

“Oh, I know. But I, too, do enjoy a tease every now and then. Do come in.”

“Thank you. Oh.”

Master Luminara’s usually impeccably tidy rooms were crowded with two empty shelves, what looked to be parts of a desk and two mechanic droids adding to the mess and bustle.

“Don’t tell me you are dusting as well”, Anakin muttered, dejectedly.

“Because Obi-Wan is?”, Luminara asked, cheerily, moving to the kitchen to brow themselves a cup of caff.

“Mhm”, Anakin let out, allowing his long, gangly limbs to cram themselves between the bench and the table, and to let out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh. Sponge or rag?”

“Both.”

“That bad, then…”

She was not laughing at him, though. Master Luminara never was. She always listened to him, and she never judged, unlike Master Quinlan who didn’t hesitate to yell and occasionally even shake him – not that Anakin minded, because it was always somewhat amusing to watch him loose his cool.

“He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how I feel. He thinks I’m acting rashly, that I only follow my instinct and my whims instead of thinking things through, that I rely too much on my emotions, and not enough on the Force. But it’s not true! I’m the one who saved him from being crushed, last mission, and he keeps pulling stunts like that, getting into trouble and then lecturing me because I got him out!”

“What happened, Anakin? DUM, NIK, would you please put those shelves in the spare room – and the desk as well, opposite the bed…?”

“Why are you refurnishing that room, Master Luminara?”

“Never mind now, Anakin. Please tell me, how did you prevent Obi-Wan from getting crushed, exactly?”

And so, Anakin finally got to tell someone about how that building exploded, how his Master was standing just below, having been talking to officials, and how Anakin prevented the building from collapsing, holding it up with the Force for almost twenty minutes.

“He just lectured me. In the med-centre. Of all the things he could have done, he lectured me.”

“In the med-centre?”

“Yeah. I… sort of collapsed, after that. But it was okay. The medics said I just had some Jedi-Force-exhaustion, and I slept it off, and that was it.”

“I see… And how long, exactly, were you unconscious, Anakin?”

Anakin watched the caff swirl in his cup, as he moved it around in small circles, until he finally let out two pitiful words, refusing to look up.

“Two days.”

Luminara let the words sink in, and gently placed a soft, cool hand on his. But she didn’t say a word, just waited for him to rise his eyes and let out a small, undignified breath sounding a lot like a sob.

“I just wanted to make him proud”, he whispered, and Luminara drew him against her, allowing him to hide his burning face against his neck. “I know I should have thought of something else, I even know that he probably would have jumped away, but I… I knew I could do it, and I wanted to save him. And instead…”

“You saved him, Anakin. And I do not think Obi-Wan denies it. I think he was as scared of losing you than you were of losing him. I think that, whenever Obi-Wan calls you reckless, he is chiding himself for not protecting you better. For exposing you. He knows just how many eyes are on both of you. And I think your Master is trying to shield you – to make it appear like he is the one failing to hold you back, whenever you get passionate, so that you can continue to be who you are deep inside.”

Anakin frowned at that, and then he shook his head.

“I’m too chaotic for him. Sometimes I think he’d be better off without me.”

“Nonsense, Anakin. Obi-Wan thrives in chaos, believe me. Quinlan, Master Qui-Gon, and now you – he needs someone reckless enough to draw him out of his shell.”

That made Anakin smile, and unfold from Luminara’s embrace.

“So. Why are you putting those shelves and desk into the spare-room?”, he asked, and he watched Luminara’s face soften in quiet joy.

“Because tomorrow, Padawan Skywalker, I will welcome my very own Padawan into those quarters. I have waited for her to become of age, and tomorrow, we will finally start our apprenticeship together.”

“Your apprenticeship, Master Luminara? You are no apprentice anymore…”

“But I am, Padawan Skywalker. I am going to begin to learn what it means to be a Padawan’s Master and companion – it is not something we are born with, you know… And the Master learns just as much as the Padawan, on their journey together.”

It was late already when Anakin finally left Master Luminara’s quarters. He had helped her move the furniture where she wanted them, and had even managed to empower the droids so as to allow them to fix some of the shelves to the wall, standing one on top of the other. The room was clean and tidy, just like his had been when Obi-Wan had open his door to him – and Anakin remembered, with a sinking heart, just how different things had been for both of them, and just how much time it had taken for Obi-Wan to claim his own room and find the courage to clear it from Master Jinn’s things with him.

He opened their door with a slow, controlled Force-brush, and closed it noiselessly behind him, tiptoeing inside. The sitting room was clean, without a speck of dust, the plants were watered and even the holobooks and holovids had been dusted and put lovingly back into place. The kitchen was spotless as well, spoons and cupboards neatly stored in the cupboards, and even the ground was shiny and smelt of cleanliness. Anakin’s room was untouched though – Obi-Wan having learned very early that Anakin was very peculiar about boundaries, storing treasures and droid-parts – save for the bed that had been made with fresh sheets.

He found his Master in his own room, not even needing to open the door. Obi-Wan had dusted and cleaned his own room, and Valentine was letting out small, regular puffs on the windowsill – her very own way to snore.

Obi-Wan himself was stretched on his bed, feet still brushing the ground and arms circling his face, like someone who had sat down, then let himself fall backwards, without moving ever since. He was still holding the infamous rag in a loose grip, but he was fast asleep, hair still a bit sweaty from exertion, features lax behind the stubble he kept growing to hide just how young he looked.

Anakin shook his head, and took the rag from Obi-Wan’s hand, wrinkling his nose.

“Gross, Master. And ridiculous”, he whispered, careful not to wake him up.

He managed to shower and change without Obi-Wan even stirring – and Anakin realised then just how tired his Master must have been. He had not really noticed, but in hindsight it was obvious. Because his Master never slept whenever he was ill or injured, always hovering anxiously at his side, even pretending not to be.

He came back to Obi-Wan’s room with a data-pad, and had managed to reach level 72 of his newest game, when he finally heard a deep sigh leaving his Master’s chest, and realised Obi-Wan was waking up.

“Hello there”, Anakin whispered – and his own chest felt oddly tight, remembering the dreadful words he had thrown at his Master.

His Master whose first reaction was to smile at him and reach out for his hand, placing warm, loose fingers around his wrist, in an instinctive gesture of love or care that made the knot in Anakin’s chest even tighter.

Obi-Wan sat up, and then only seemed to remember that they had fought and were supposed to be at odds, his face getting all tight and apprehensive once more. But his hand was still around Anakin’s wrist, and Anakin did not let him speak – he just embraced him fiercely with everything he had, hiding his face deep into Obi-Wan’s chest.

“I am so, so sorry, Master. I never meant any of it. I promise. I promise.”

Obi-Wan just breathed out and hugged him back. They stayed like that for some time, and their bond was no longer silent and cold, but simply there, like it had been for six years – tying Anakin to the Force and to his Master.

“Have you eaten?”, Obi-Wan finally asked, ever practical, and Anakin shook his head.

“Shall we, then?”, his Master asked. “There’s pie in the cantina tonight.”

“Wizard”, Anakin muttered, but he didn’t let go.

Not before he managed to ask that very important question, the one that had fuelled the beast’s anger deep within him.

“Master, do you think I’m… too chaotic? Do you think… Do you sometimes think about… how different life would have been… without having to take me in?”

This time Obi-Wan straightened. And this time his Master’s voice was as fierce and powerful as it could get – just like it was whenever he put a stop to all the nonsense the Galaxy allowed to happen during their missions, just like it was whenever he did something so great Anakin could just stand there and gape and think about just how awesome his Master was.

“I don’t even want to begin considering it.”

Anakin’s throat tightened, and he closed his eyes, feeling his Master’s hands on his back, gently tapping him.

“I’d die of boredom”, Obi-Wan whispered, grazing Anakin’s hair with his stubble, laughing silently at his indignant squawk. “Besides, Padawan mine…”

He let go of Anakin, just enough to be able to look at him, and to place Anakin’s braid back behind his ear.

“There is harmony to be found, even within chaos.”

He placed something into Anakin’s palm, smiling softly at him, and watched him discover a small black bead harbouring a beautiful golden streak.

“What is this one for, Master? I… I just yelled at you. I called you… I told you some horrible things.”

“But you also saved my life. And you taught me that sometimes… sometimes I still put things the wrong way, whenever I try to talk to you, and about you.”

“I do so as well, Master”, Anakin whispered, fingers closing shyly around the bead.

“Well then, Padawan… I think we still make quite the pair.”

And we can both become better Jedi together.

His Master’s voice was warm and loving in Anakin’s mind. And so Anakin smiled, and pulled his Master up, determined to pull him towards the cantina as fast as he could.

Because, tonight, there was pie, and after all, Anakin was starving.

[iliumheightnights]

Steve Rogers Fluff ABC’s | Male Reader

Steve Rogers x Male Reader ...

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?) - Steve loves his boyfriend's heart. The pure kindness that radiates out of it. The way he’ll see his boyfriend help others or think of others before himself...it made Steve’s own heart soar.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?) - Yes, Steve would love a family. Steve of course had...a different upbringing and didn’t really have a family, at least not after the death of his mother. He had Bucky of course...but settling down? having a family with the man he loved? His dream.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?) - He's a big spoon. He loves just holding his boyfriend into him. His face will be pressed into the back of his boyfriend’s head just cuddling into him.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?) - Okay but Steve would be a SUCKER for museum and coffee shop dates. He’d especially love coffee shops close to museums. Art museums are his favorite ones to go through.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)) - “You’re my guy, Y/n.” Like...come on just imagine Steve saying that to you while holding you...you KNOW that’s perfect.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?) - For Steve it was probably when he came home from a rather...messy mission and his boyfriend took him into the bathroom and patched him without any questions besides if what he was doing hurt. The feeling of his lovers fingers running along his skin and how he looked worried yet understanding...that’s when Steve knew it. He loved him.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?) - Steve is incredibly gentle. Honestly he’s pretty much a giant teddy bear and loves to hold his boyfriend close. He also likes to sweet talk which...is on a whole other world.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?) - For a while Steve actually didn’t like holding hands,in public at least. Steve was still trying to overcome that internalized homophobia he grew up in. Thankfully the more he spent time in the modern world, the more open and proud he became. Now he absolutely loves holding his boyfriend's hand when they’re out and about. It’s his way of telling the world he was taken.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)  - More than likely Steve met his boyfriend while on a mission for SHIELD. The first time he actually sees him Steve feels his heart beat spike and his breath hitch. He feels like he just saw the most beautiful man ever to walk the earth.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?) - OOOHHH Yes he does! Steve is a big jealousy bean, but he won’t say anything. Steve will just make faces, some are more sad while others are more frustrated, but like in the good way. If his boyfriend still doesn’t get the memo, then he’ll come and wrap his arms around him and give him a kiss.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?) - Deep romantic kisses. The photo of the nurse and the guy kissing at the end of the war? Yeah imagine that with Steve and his boyfriend. It would definitely be Steve’s boyfriend who kissed him first since Steve had no idea what he should do and was too nervous to actually act on it.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?) - Steve does. It’ll be before he goes on a mission that he thinks might go rather bad. So he FINALLY gathers the courage and says it before giving his boyfriend a kiss and leaving. His boyfriend is just standing there in shock with a grin so big.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?) - Okay but like...Steve and his boyfriend TOTALLY recreated the scene from Titanic where Jack sketches Rose. THAT is Steve’s favorite memory and will constantly look back at his sketch of his boyfriend.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?) - Steve WANTS to spoil his boyfriend, but his boyfriend knows that there is more practical stuff to use money on. So they donate lots of money to charities and organizations. That doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t get nice gifts for his boyfriend though, he definitely does.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?) - For some reason Steve always thinks of Yellow. Maybe it’s just the energy he gets from it? But everytime he sees yellow he thinks of his boyfriend for some reason.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?) - Soldier, Cap’n crunch, America’s ass, Steeb, Hot Stuff.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?) - Oh Steve loves sketching and art. He totally loves to lounge around and doodle when he can.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?) - Time to stay in and watch movies! He and his boyfriend will snuggle up on the couch and watch tons of movies. Other times they’ll read books while tangled in each other.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?) - Cuddles, lots of cuddles. Other times the record player gets turned on and Steve and his boyfriend dance with each other. Both just enjoy each other's embrace.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?) - Sometimes Steve just likes to talk to his boyfriend about before he went into ice. What? Steve is a nostalgic man. He also LOVES talking about some new thing he might have discovered recently that got him excited.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?) - A nice cup of tea or hot chocolate, a big blanket and his boyfriend snuggled close to him as music plays in the back. The perfect thing...plus maybe one or two goes at the punching bag.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?) - America’s ASS.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?) - Steve proposes after a year with his boyfriend. With how the world is and the Avengers being at the forefront of it all, he wants to make sure his boyfriend knows where Steve’s heart lies, even though he already does. He proposes by taking his boyfriend back to where he grew up in Brooklyn where a nice rooftop dinner was waiting for them. That’s where he pops the question.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?) - The national anthem.

 Just kidding!..................or am I?

 Nah, Steve’s song is totally “Fight song” by Rachel Platten and he will listen to that song on repeat with no regrets or shame.

 Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?) - Yes he does, see letter W.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?) - A dog. Steve would totally want a dog, they’re just the perfect companions for him. A dog’s chaotic happy energy would just make him so happy.

[alderaani]

prison break (echo x reader)

A valentines gift for @just-some-girl-92 as part of the event being run by @starwarsfandomfests! Thanks so much for putting another one of these together @lilhawkeye3, and I really hope you like this Dell! I think credit for white haired Echo goes to @/amiro-art? That was the first place I saw it anyway, and I’ve really liked the headcanon that it’s like that post-techno union ever since!

Based on this prompt: Character A moves in next to Character B. They have conjoined balconies and A's pet/child wanders into B's apartment.

Fives and Echo are both reunited and well in this because everyone gets to be happy on Valentine’s Day and I said so. We don’t need canon on this blog.

The other side of the wall explodes with noise. 

It makes you pause, looking up from the knitting trailing over your knees to cock your head towards the opposite apartment. You think you hear the screech of furniture legs being pushed along the floor, then the frantic rumble of several male voices speaking over the top of each other, the clatter and clang of things as they are removed and replaced.

It’s odd. When Tith-Mar lived next door, you used to hear it every time he coughed, or swore at that awful old holodrama he used to watch every Taungsday. As much as you tried to stop yourself you couldn’t help but get invested, and that was almost worse. Out of pride you never put it on your own unit, but that just meant you ended up half pressed against the wall, eventually not even pretending you weren’t listening to Capula and Mont confess their love. It had given you something to talk about, anyway, when you went onto the balcony to water your plants and he went out there to smoke the fancy deathsticks he joked he’d live and die by.

In the year since the war ended and Tith-Mar was finally able to move back out to be with his daughter on Ryloth you’ve never quite gotten used to the quiet. There was a strange comfort in knowing that there was someone on the other side of the wall. Maybe it came from the three years of water shortages and occasional outages - or, notably, the rampage of the Zillo beast, which hadn’t come quite close enough to flatten you in your sleep, but had downed enough of the power grid that you’d been locked in your apartment for five rotations. You miss the soft Rylothi folk music he used to play in the mornings, and you miss seeing him sometimes, blowing smoke up into the brisk Coruscant mornings with his blue lek, faded now in old age, wrapped around his neck like a scarf.

You just miss the comforting assurance of having someone else there. If it wasn’t for the sound of the door going, and the occasional thump of something being moved, you’d hardly know that you had neighbours at all now. It’s almost funny to think back on the furore it caused when the Republic bought the apartment for GAR resettlement. It led to the only neighbourhood meeting the building has ever had, and you’ve been very glad for that fact after discovering that a solid faction of your fellow citizens are bigots. It’s something you knew, objectively, but witnessing it from the people you personally rub shoulders with was a harder pill to swallow than having to watch some of the anti-clone protests on the holonews. You’ve not tried to remember the more colourful misconceptions about clone troopers aired by prim soft-handed mid-levellers as they sat in a lobby you can remember the Coruscant Guard clearing rubble from with nothing but their hands. However, you do very vividly remember someone from two floors up asking you if you’d ‘really feel safe’ living next to ‘those walking warmongers’, being young and living on your own. You’d shut that down, of course, and the resulting vote had passed in favour.

You’d honestly half expected the troopers to reject the place after that, and you wouldn’t have blamed them either. 

Everyone had known the day they moved in, had pretended not to watch as a GAR issue speeder loaded with two armoured figures and a meagre quantity of possessions had pulled up on the walkway and made their way cautiously inside. You’d thought about introducing yourself, knocking or something, but concluded in the end that they didn’t need anyone else ogling them. You’d figured that there would be plenty of time for that later...and now here you are, a whole year on, and that glimpse is just about the closest you’ve ever gotten to them. You think they still spend a lot of time off-planet, helping with the reconstruction missions the now-voluntary GAR conducts throughout the Mid and Outer Rims. You hadn’t even been sure that they were home at the moment, actually. 

There’s no doubting it now, as the frantic thumps and raised voices continue. Through your balcony door, cracked open to catch some of the soft breeze the weather engineers have scheduled today, you can make out a little of what their voices are saying, one frantic and forceful, the other softer, but no less worried.

“ - kriffing hell, can’t believe we’ve lost...Rex will have our heads…”

“...can’t have gotten far...can’t even walk!”

“ - already checked the fresher, Echo!”

“It can’t hurt to check twice...knew we shouldn’t have…”

You bite your lip, turning round while debating whether you should offer your help. Then you freeze. The baby on the other side of your caf table freezes too, chubby hand poised to grab the cookie you’d been saving for later. They’re standing on legs that wobble a bit, and there’s a glint of steely determination in the dark eyes that fix on your face. 

“Hello,” you say a little weakly, realising very abruptly what the troopers must have lost.

The kid appraises you for a moment longer, brow furrowed and intent. There’s a huge amount of judgement there for such a small face, those focused eyes taking you in for several very long seconds. Then they huff, and very deliberately turn their attention back to the cookie. You smother an incredulous laugh. 

“Not impressed, huh?” You say, carefully setting your knitting aside and uncovering your legs. “Can’t say I blame you, I prefer cookies too.”

The baby doesn’t dignify this with any attention, instead making a soft crowing noise as their little fingers strike victory and retract with the cookie firmly in grasp. When they immediately move to cram it into their mouth you burst into action, leaning across the caf table to swipe it. Just those mere seconds of contact have made it slightly damp. 

The baby’s face scrunches in outrage, and they let go of the table edge, sinking down onto their padded bottom with a sharp, high noise of annoyance. They don’t cry, but the frown is something spectacular.

“Sorry, kid.” You force yourself the rest of the way up, keeping a hold on the cookie with one hand. Can kids this young even eat solid foods yet? Do they have any allergies? You don’t have any siblings, so the last time you were around a baby was when you were one. For all this one’s bravado, they look awfully breakable. “I’ll hang on to this for now, yeah?”

You don’t think that they’re old enough to understand what you’re saying, but the huff the baby lets out feels extremely pointed. You stare down at them on your rug.

“Don’t suppose you could give me any pointers on how to hold you?”

It turns out babies are wriggly. You put the cookie down long enough to hoist the kid into your arms and attempt to manoeuvre their little arms and legs so that they’re not jabbing into your vital organs, but at the sight of the food being placed far away, the kid lets out a piercing noise, right into your ear, and attempts to kamikaze their way back to it. A body that two seconds ago was ramrod solid and deliberately unwieldy is suddenly boneless and impossible to hold onto. Your brain goes empty of everything but wrestling with several pounds of struggling infant. 

You end up on the floor, eventually, but at least both of you are in one piece. You’re breathing heavily. The kid’s face is thunderous. It’s very cute, but you can’t wait to give it back and appreciate that from a distance. Somehow, you manage to settle them onto your hip.

“What the f - heck was that for?” You ask, purely to make yourself feel better. Even if the kid could answer you, you get the feeling they simply wouldn’t. “Was it because I put the biscuit down?”

The kid makes a huffing noise. You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling. The baby’s dark, just-curling hair is soft against the skin of your upper arm, and their weight is warm and solid against your side. 

“I’m not taking it away from you. I’m gonna let you have it, just need to make sure it’s safe for womp-rats first. And return you before those poor guys tear their place apart, okay?”

You re-collect the cookie and struggle back to your feet, looking towards the open balcony. Visions flash through your mind of the baby pulling that boneless trick out there, with nothing but spacelanes separating them from the ground 50 stories below, and...no. You’re not even vaguely risking that. The front door is definitely the better option, but somehow more daunting, as you stand before the neighbouring apartment with your heart in your throat.

The second you knock, the frantic voices inside cut off abruptly, and then you hear the mad scramble that ensues to reach the door. It wooshes open, and suddenly you’re face to face with your neighbours for the first time. 

They’re less identical than you’d expected. Maybe that’s a stupid thought, but it’s the first one that stumbles, half formed and dazed, into the open void your brain has just become. The second, very unhelpful follow up, is that they’re also much prettier than you’d expected. Not that you’d necessarily expected anything, but - you’ve never seen one of the clones without their helmets before. The Corrie Guard, back during the war, had made a point of never taking them off as far as you’d ever seen. That was apparently a crying shame. One of them has thick, dark curly hair, a tidy goatee, and a tattoo on his forehead. The other’s hair is a sharp, startling white, interrupted by metal nodes of some sort. Some sort of post-war medical adaptation, you assume. He’s slightly leaner all over, his eyes a little larger in his face. But the way both of them sag against the door frame is exactly the same.

“Thank the fucking force,” The dark haired one breathes, clutching at his chest.

The other trooper elbows him sharply in the ribs. “Fives.”

“She’s ten months old, Echo. She’s not gonna repeat it.”

“She just escaped from our apartment after General Skywalker swore up and down she’s not mobile yet. It’s gonna be her first word just to spite us.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself and flush a little when all attention snaps back to you.

“That I can believe,” you force yourself to say. “Hi. I think I found something of yours.”

You hold out your armful of infant and - you presume Fives is his name - reaches out to take her, groaning in relief. 

“Thank you,” he says, fervent, taking a moment to bury his face into the child’s hair. She puts a determined thumb into her mouth and stares at your hand, still clutching the cookie. The trooper turns her in his arms and holds her up at eye level. “You are a menace, Leia. I thought we were gonna have to call in a search.”

It’s nice to have a name for that little displeased face. Leia regards the trooper for a moment before sticking her hand into his face. His eyes are impossibly warm as he pretends to gobble her fingers, and it is, quite frankly, cute as fuck. He turns his attention back to you, but just as he opens his mouth, the sound of a comm going off somewhere behind them cuts through the moment.

“That’ll be the General,” The white-haired trooper laughs. “You better take her and show him, before he raises down half of Coruscant trying to get here.”

Fives nods, flashing another blinding grin at you, before he and Leia are gone. The trooper you’re left with blows out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face. 

“Well,” he says, his mouth crooking into a wry smile. “That was exciting.” 

He sticks his hand out, and when you take it, his palm is rough and his grip firm. You give him your name without thinking about it, staring into the kind, golden depths of his eyes. They crinkle at the corners when he grins. 

“I’m Echo. And - I know Fives already said it, but seriously, thank you. Where the shab did you find her?”

“Trying to steal biscuits from my caf table,” you say, laughing openly when Echo drops his face back into his hand and groans with embarrassment. “I think she got in through the balcony door.”

“Force, we didn’t even think of that. What a first impression, you must think we’re idiots.” 

You shake your head, enamoured by the faint colour you can see rising in his cheeks. He brings his metal hand up to his face and presses the cool prosthetic against his skin. 

“Not at all. You should have seen the look she gave me when I found her, she knows she’s in charge.” 

Echo smiles bashfully. “It’s the first time we’ve ever won the lot to babysit the twins, our Company would have crucified us if we’d lost her.” 

“Then I’m very glad to have provided a rescue.” 

There’s a short silence as you fidget with your sleeves, strange anticipation churning in your gut. There’s no reason to keep standing here now that the pleasantries are done with, the baby exchanged, but...some part of you resists it, almost looking for an excuse to stay. He and Fives are the first new friendly faces you’ve met in a long time, soothing a sting you didn’t know was there.

“I - um -,” Echo begins suddenly, shifting a little. The colour in his face deepens. “I really like your plants. I’ve always meant to say something. We keep trying to guess what they are.” 

“Oh!” Your heart turns over in your chest and you wouldn’t be able to stop the smile bursting onto your face if you tried. Those damn things are so hard to keep alive through the unpredictable engineered weather. You don’t think you’re particularly house proud, but you do preen a little that he’s noticed. “Thank you, I, um, I water them every morning. I could...go through them with you one day? If you like?” 

Echo’s head dips an assent. “I’d really like that.” 

You linger a moment longer, a pleased thrill still lingering in your belly, but there’s no putting it off now. “I suppose I should let you go. But...please knock if you need anything.” 

Echo smiles. “Hopefully not in pursuit of any more babies.” 

You’re just about to turn away when you remember the cookie in your hand, slightly smushed now. “Oh! Can you give this to Leia? I wanted to make sure she could eat them, first, but I promised. Seemed only fair, since she went to all that trouble.” 

Echo huffs, his expression softening, taking the cookie with careful hands. “I’ll make sure her highness gets it.” 

Then you go back to your quiet apartment, somehow deflated when faced with the monotony of your knitting and your music. You hear a few more sounds from the other side of the wall, faint laughter, perhaps a child squealing, and find your curiosity has not been sated at all.

It’s a wonderful surprise, then, when two days later on a clear, sunlit morning, you slide open your balcony door to water the plants and find Echo waiting, his face tipped up to the brightening sky. There is a packet of cookies resting on the duracrete by his feet, and two steaming mugs of caf on the railing by his elbow. 

It feels like something special...It feels like a beginning. 

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @battletales @bad-batch-of-fics @iscream4clones @majorshiraharu @snippytano @missinashkin @808tsuika @eries45 @dom-i-nic // 

[shouldntcryoverit]

Fireworks

Dad!Rex x Jedi!Reader

w/ Padme, Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi wan and the Skywalker twins ;)) they’re all very much alive and happy.

After the war, with no order 66 because I said so. This is my first time ever writing children, a weird milestone i know, but I hope I did okay let me know! I was gonna give the 501st boys a mention or a scene, but it didn’t feel natural and I couldn’t squeeze it in - so if you want them there, they’re there <3

Also I decided on the name Mira as ‘mirjahaal’ translate to ‘peace of mind’ in Mando’a, and I just know that Rex would name his kid after something like that. (also i felt smart with the whole deeper meaner situation)

taglist -> @pinkiemme

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“Da!”

Rex swivelled his head to the table he had been called from. He still reacted to ‘Captain’ as a variation of his name, but for around three years now ‘Da’ had caught his attention far quicker.

“Yeah C’yare?”

Perched on the edge of the table was his four year old daughter, Mira, smiling smugly as she puffed out her chest and straightened her back just how she’d learnt from Cody. She beamed as her father walked over and pressed a small kiss to the top of her head.

In a short check formed out of habit, he recognised her now braided hair, which had been partitioned into two dainty lines down her blonde head. He had gotten better at doing hair for her sake, but not that good; Leia must’ve gotten ahold of her. Whereas Luke was becoming so much like his father, Leia already had the willpower and strength that mimicked her mother, though that was no bad thing.

Her dress, again courtesy of Padmé, was a beautiful blueish pink colour, and it matched in harmony with the rosemary hue of the sky that bled through the wide windows behind them. It was almost night, and somehow there was an undeniable peace in the air. Perhaps it was something about the time of day, or perhaps it was purely because nowadays there were hardly any reasons for it not to be peaceful.

“Tell Unca Ani I’m right!” Mira spoke with surprising indignation for someone so small. That had always made people laugh.

“I’m not wrong!” Anakin proclaimed, appearing to be hurt by the child’s comment, but failing to hide his grin.

He was rested against the kitchen counter, still slumped like he always did. He perked up slightly as the ‘argument’ began again.

Jaida was near enough to have heard most of their conversation from where she sat beside a dozing Ahsoka. She was mostly focused on the datapad in her hands: lists of still uncompensated troopers that still needed to be helped, but she was far more inclined to listen to the sounds behind her. She smiled distantly at how Anakin acted around her daughter. He softened, even as Mira babbled away.

As Rex and Mira sat and stood respectively, Anakin found it almost laughable how much they were alike. She looked so much like her mother, but her blonde hair and honey eyes were the exact copy of his, that was undeniable.

“Unca Ani say that on Flucca plants glow in tha dark!” Rex smiled sweetly at his daughter’s awe “But that’s imbossible!”

“It’s not!”

“Nope!” Mira popped the ‘p’ like Jaida always did. Anakin laughed at that. It was a solid argument.

“Well, then we’ll go to Felucia. You can see it all for yourself.”

It was a promise Rex was happy to make, especially as Mira lit up at his words.

“Gotta be careful though, sometimes they bite!” Jaida teased from behind the sofa back.

As Mira giggled, a knock sounded from the door to the apartment. Ahsoka stirred up in her light sleep, though Jaida hushed her and moved instead. She pushed off the couch beneath her, winking at the grinning toddler before she made it to the door.

As it opened, Padmé and the twins were revealed, both looking perky behind their tired faces. Luke looked half asleep in truth, but Leia was tugging the senator along with a fist she’d latched onto a few fingers. It had been a long day; no words were needed for Jaida to understand that.

“Hey! You all look so tired what happened?” Jaida laughed lightly as she welcomed them into the room.

“Yoda went bonkers.” There was a hint of remorse in Luke’s voice.

The Jedi chuckled, “What’s new?”

Padmé watched with kind eyes as her children weaved off, and laughed as Ahsoka only just managed to reposition her posture before she was attacked by them both. Luke and Leia were only a year and a bit older than Mira, but they matched each other in energy.

It took them no time at all to close the door and cross into the kitchen where Anakin, Rex and Mira were. Mira had resorted to asking about the different planets, to which Anakin found himself wishing to remember the answers. Rex couldn’t help himself from laughing at the exchange.

“Is the Senate in disagreement again?” Jaida asked as she grabbed a mug for Padmé’s tea, and judging by how she rubbed her temples she suspected she was right.

“Not entirely; it’s just this new vote. Some of the Senators are too focused on the expenses of it all, and I can’t blame them. It won’t be cheap, but it needs to be done.”

“This that liberation bill Cody was talking about?” Rex interjected.

“Yes, it should be simple enough. Only they’re just some people who I can’t seem to budge on it.” Padmé sighed, but didn’t hold that annoyance for much longer. “But anyway I didnt come here to discuss even more politics, how long until they start?”

The reason for their gathering. It wasn’t often that coruscant had fireworks, but when they did it was always something spectacular. The cause for this celebration was particularly important; the 5th anniversary of the end of the clone wars. The senate had decided without much debate to introduce the idea of fireworks, Anakin even joked that it was the quickest they’d ever decided something, yet it was still exciting nonetheless.

Ahsoka got up from where she had been talking to Luke and Leia and grabbed a fruit from the bowl. She laughed along with what conversation had been happened, and grinned at each joke and jibe.

“It’s a shame Obi-wan couldn’t make it back in time.” The togruta spoke after his mention.

“It won’t be the last time we have something like this, and plus, I think Mandalore have something planned as well!”

Ahsoka shrugged in agreement at Padmé, taking a bite at the same time.

“Oh, look!” She spoke between mouthfuls. They all followed the line of her outstretched hand, looking towards the window now beginning to light up in disarray.

“It’s starting!” Luke interjected. He pushed through to the front with Leia hot on his tail. And indeed it was, the beginnings of bright crackles started to compete with the stars behind them. The fireworks were just above the senate building, bemusing the gathering with small, golden splashes of light in intricate patterns. It wasn’t loud, the apartment being so far away, but the distant sound of bangs made Mira jump a few times.

Rex comforted her, taking her up in his arms. She relaxed as soon as she knew she was safe with him; he kept her safe. That was the promise he’d make a thousands times over and more if he could. Jaida met his eyes, and hugged his arm with her head rested on his shoulder. Everything was right; real. The war was over and they had won. The fireworks were a beautiful touch, but nothing could displace the satisfaction of watching your own life grow into something you never even imagined it could. Rex had endured enough, and now he could honestly say it was worth it. He kissed Jaida’s forehead as she melted into his side.

The smaller, yellowish bursts began to grow: feeding into the sky as pinks, oranges, blues and greens spiralled off from their sources. Each pop of colour that continued into circles or stars had it’s own mind, yet still unfolded as if it were puppetry. Some shot straight up and exploded after a minute of delightful teasing, and wove between themselves like missiles. They were the ones that made Luke squeal in excitement the most.

Others whirled in spirals, endlessly collecting momentum and continuing in their talented hast; or shattered into millions of personalised sparks you couldn’t choose which one to follow. They tumbled down in rains of coloured stars, settling as if the art they’d shared with an entire silent city was only fiction. Their message was received in awe, and Jaida held a teary gaze even as they faded. Luke and Leia clapped, Mira laughed, but the adults shared pregnant silence, a moment for what they had found for themselves. Children, family, peace. Love.

The war weighed heavily, it always would. But it was over, they had lived, and a new life had begun.