#I finally decided to improve my commission infos | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thechekhov · 4 years

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Hi Chekhov! Really enjoying your white diamond au! I had a quick art question: How do you start comissions? I've been improving my drawing skills and thinking about drawing for others after having fun in artfight, but I don't know where to start? How much to charge, how to get paid, etc. Do you have any tips? Hope you're doing well! :)

Alright, since a few people have asked, I’ve decided to put together a few things about how to get started on commissions - what you need, what you should make, and how to keep things organized.

This will get a little long, so I’ll divide it into 4 main sections:

1) Draw Art - Getting started

2) Get Commissioned - Making a commission sheet, Advertising

3) ??? - Communicating, Setting Limits, Running the Business

4) Profit - Pricing Yourself and Getting Paid

* Disclaimer: I’m an artist, so this How-To will be illustration-focused. I’m sure many of these tips can apply to ANY types of commissions, but I will be focusing on the type I know best. If you are proficient in other types of commissions for other types of art - music commissions, photography, etc - feel free to chime in and leave a comment or make your own tutorial!

1) Draw Art

I think this is probably the most obvious part, but it needs to be said:

Before you start making art for other people, you must first be comfortable making art in general.

I’m not saying your art has to be Disney-quality, or industry-level! Not at all.

BUT! You must be comfortable creating what you sell. If you try to sell something you have little confidence in, you will stress yourself out and possibly end up losing time AND money.

Don’t shoot for the moon if you haven’t landed on it even once. Sell what you know you’re good at. Your commissions don’t HAVE to include full-body illustrations if you don’t know how to draw feet/solid stances. Limit yourself to what you can do.

Things you need to should probably have before starting commissions:

1. Access to art materials or a fully downloaded art program

DO NOT - Use a free tutorial version that will expire in a month and leave you without a way to draw! If you are having trouble finding a program, try free ones like MediBang Paint Pro.

2. Free time to complete the amount of commissions you want to take.

DO NOT - Take on or offer commissions if you KNOW you’re going to be overwhelmed with school or personal life for the next 2+ months. Pace yourself, otherwise you’ll burn out, get stressed, and get discouraged.

3. A reliable way to communicate with your customers like a commissions-only email

DO NOT - Use your friend/family/college email. It’s hard to keep track of things as it is, and creating new emails is easy and free. And keep it professional if you can! Not many people will reach out to dong-wiggles20434 to ask for a design. Ideally, your email should be close to your brand - however you want to brand yourself. Usernames are fine!)

DO NOT - Use Instagram/Twitter/Tumblr to collect commission info unless you are ready to do the organizing yourself. Some people make it work, but in my experience, if you use these SNS sites to communicate with friends and network... you’re going to be losing commission inquiries right and left and accidentally ignoring people. Email is much easier to organize and sort into folders.

4. A portfolio or at least 2-3 pieces of each type of art you’re planning to sell.

DO NOT - Advertise commissions without having any examples of the art you plan to sell. People will find it difficult to trust you if you can’t even give them a vague idea of what sort of drawing they’ll be getting.

Disclaimer: These are not hard ‘do not’s. If you have had a different experience, I respect that. I’m simplifying for the sake of streamlining this advice.

2) Get Commissioned

So - you have your art, you have your art program, and you’ve got all the time in the world. That means.... that’s right! It’s time to let the world know you’re taking commissions.

One of the most common ways artists signal to their audience that they can do commissions is by creating a commissions sheet. There are MANY ways to make this - and they range from simple and doodly ones to VERY complex designs. For example, here’s mine!

There are many ways to organize a commission sheet. At its core, a commission sheet should display the types of art you WANT to be commissioned to make. Let’s go over a few ways they can be done!

#1.... Body Portion Dividers!

This sheet is most common with those who want to capitalize on drawing people and characters. If you want to draw lots of characters, this is a great way to offer several tiers of pricing based on how much of their character your customers want to see.

#2... Complexity Scale

If you’re open to drawing many things but want to base your pricing off of how complex something is, you can split your tiers into done-ness. This type of commission is popular with those that draw characters AND animals, furries, etc.

#3.... Style and Type

If you’re more on the design side of things, or if you have various niche art styles that you can’t quite lump together, display a variety of your skills alongside each other! It helps if all the ones you have can be organized under a common customer - like those looking to advance their own business and get logos, websites, or mascots made for them!

3) ???

You got your first commission... what happens now???

Well, ideally you have the time, tools and motivation to make things happen! Now all you have to do is... sit down and... draw.......

I’m going to say something that may be a little controversial:

Commissions aren’t fun.

No, no, hear me out: I have fun doing commissions! I genuinely enjoy drawing characters and coming up with designs. But even with all that said, commissions are, first and foremost: WORK

I’m not saying this to discourage you, I’m saying this to keep things realistic. When I first began commissions, I thought it would be just like any other type of drawing. I would sit down, imagine a thing, draw it... it would be fun!

But then I realized that I couldn’t just draw what I wanted - another person had an idea in mind and had asked me to do it. I stressed over getting the design correct from descriptions. I stressed over not having the right reference for the pose the commissioner wanted. I stressed over not being able to draw the leg right in the way I had promised I would do. I stressed about billing. I stressed about digital money transfers. It was difficult, and time-consuming, and I did not enjoy it. At all.

And a part of that is definitely on the commissioner - we, as artists, NEED to demand proper references or descriptions. We, as artists, NEED to limit the amount of changes we’re going to make at the flick of a finger. We NEED to demand clear instructions and set boundaries. That’s also super important.

But also - don’t be discouraged if you find yourself exhausted drawing your first commission. MANY artists go through this. Adjust your rules, fix up your limits, practice putting your foot down on finicky commissioners who expect you to read their mind! It does get easier, but you have to communicate and put in the effort and act as your own manager AND your own customer service AND your own accountant. That’s what you’re looking at.

Good limits and boundaries to set:

Limit the amount of changes a person can ask to make. “I want blue hair.” Next email: “No wait, yeah, make it red.” Next email: “Actually I changed my mind, can I get the blue but like, lighter?” Next email: “No, not that light.” ... At some point, we have to stop. I personally allow 2-3 changes on the final stages of a commission before I start refusing or start asking for extra money.

Demand clear instructions and/or references. If something isn’t described, you have to take artistic liberty and design it, but that’s difficult! And if the customer is not happy with it but can’t tell you more? That’s not your problem - the burden of reference is on THEM. You cannot read their mind, and that’s not your fault.

Get at least half the payment up front! This is a good balance between the ‘pay before art’ and the ‘pay after art’ conundrum that will limit the amount of woes between artist and customer. (I’ll touch upon this a little more in the Profit section.)

Organization:

Where possible, create good habits! Tag your emails and organize your folders. I have a tag on my emails for active and finished commissions. I also keep my emails on Unread until I have time to sit down and properly look at/reply to them.

My Commissions in the folder are also organized chronologically and I mark down which ones are paid and which ones are not.

(I understand not everyone can do this, but if you want to give it a try, it does make things easier in the long run. Again, this advice is just what I have found personally helps.)

One last thing - I do not want to shame ANYONE for taking their time with commissions! Commissions are complex, and they take time and work. You can draw in 8 hours, but some things take research, materials, etc. Some illustrations realistically take up to half a year, or, depending on what’s involved, several years!!

THAT BEING SAID - it’s good manners to be upfront with your customers about how long you expect the commission to take. If you think you’re busy, just say that! Explain that you have a lot going on, and you will probably take (insert time period here).

And if your commissioners are worried, work out a system to keep them updated! I send my commissioners updates when I finish the lineart/flat colors/etc and I try to be clear about how long everything will take. I try to estimate with a +3-5 days buffer to give myself extra time... and recently I’ve been using it. Always say a bigger number than you think you’ll need.

If someone wants a rushed commission... make them pay more. If ANYONE wants a commission done ‘by the end of the week’ - that’s an automatic rush-job for me because I’m juggling an irl job and several commissions at once. I WILL charge a rush fee and I won’t feel bad about it.

If someone wants a commission within 24 hours...... Well, they better be paying you 3x your normal amount, or more. And remember - you CAN refuse! It’s perfectly reasonable to say ‘No, sorry, that sort of turnaround time is not realistic for me.’

Food For Thought - Invoicing

Many artists I’ve commissioned in the past have not used Invoicing, but I’ve recently begun to fill out invoices and file them in my Commissions folder just to keep track of things. It’s not necessary until you start getting into the Small Business side of Freelancing, but it’s not a bad idea to get into the habit early in case you might need to do it later for tax purposes.

Here’s what my Invoice looks like, for example.

I’ve optimized it to help me remember who, what, and how much is involved! It also contains important info for my customers like where to send the money.

Which brings us to...

4) Profit

One of the hardest things for artists is pricing themselves. I’m not going to tell you which way is BEST - there is no BEST way, only the best way for YOU.

One of the options available to you is pricing by the hour. It includes averaging out how long it takes you to draw a specific type of art (whatever you’re offering as a commission) and multiplying that by an hourly wage you’ve decided on.

When you do this, I stress - do NOT price yourself below minimum wage if you can help it. When you first start out, aim for the $15/hour mark and adjust accordingly.

Other ways to price your art:

- Per complexity: Portraits vs full body should be scaled based on how difficult you find one vs. the other. You can also easily decide on a price for a sketch and double it for lineart, triple it for full color, etc.

- Per type: Look up for industry prices for website design and logo design. They may surprise you! You don’t have to charge that much, but it helps to keep things in perspective.

It’s okay to change your prices! Keep your commission sheet image handy so you can update the amounts as you grow. :)

Payment up front or after completion?

Some artist take full payment up front. Some only demand payment after they’ve finished and sent out the piece. I personally think these are both risky for everyone involved.

I recommend doing at least HALF of the payment BEFORE you start the commission. Calculate your full price and ask for half before you start working on it in earnest, to make sure the person can actually pay you. Then, when they receive the full piece and are satisfied, they can complete the payment.

I personally work in this structure:

> Someone emails me with their idea/reference

> I send back a rough draft sketch that shows the idea/pose (only takes me 10-20 minutes so not a huge loss if they ghost) and quote them a price

> They can pay the full thing upfront OR pay half

> I finish the commission and send updates when I do the lineart/colors to double check anything so they have multiple chances to spot any errors

> If the person paid only half on completion, I send them a low-res version of the finished thing, they finish up their payment and THEN I send them the full-res version plus any other filetypes/CYMK proofs, etc.

Many of the people who commission me pay me up front even though I offer they pay half - and I’m really flattered that they trust me that much! Because of that, I feel encouraged to update them frequently and ask for their input as I work, so they have the peace of mind knowing I’m actually doing their commission.

Great, but how do I get PAID????

There are NUMEROUS ways - these days money is relatively easy to transfer over digital means, and you have a few options.

Paypal is perhaps one of the oldest digital wallets and is geared towards businesses. By setting up a PayPal and connecting it to your debit card of bank account, you can tunnel a pathway from your online business directly into your hands in a matter of days.

Paypal also offers Invoicing - you make an invoice, price it and send it to the person’s email and they can pay whatever way they need! (It also allows partial payments.)

Pros: transfers from PayPal to bank account are free, and take a couple of business days. It also has no upper limit to the amount of money you can move in/out each month. It can force refunds due to the nature of its business-oriented payment system.

Cons: Because it’s used by businesses for larger transactions, PayPal may demand a more rigorous proof of your identity. It may also take longer to set up and be harder to get used to. I’ve also heard that they can be a hassle when it comes to closing your account.

Venmo is another type of digital wallet that acts much like paypal, except for a few key differences - it is NOT made for businesses (so depending on whether you’re officially registered as a freelancer, you may not be able to use it). I personally don’t use venmo, so I cannot speak to its usefulness, but I know a few people that use it for casual transactions. It’s easy and quick! :)

Keep in mind that you cannot force a refund over venmo! The transactions are final.

There’s also CashApp, GooglePay (which could load gift cards but also allows peer-to-peer transactions) and I’ve heard good things about Due, though I’ve never personally used it.

Other ways to pay: I’ve had people pay me over Patreon by upping their pledge, and I’ve had people pay me over Ko-Fi by donating a specific amount.

Many people even use Etsy - the website specialized for independent small businesses selling art - by listing their commission sheet and offering up several ‘slots’ of commissions, which allows you to track taxes AND allows your clients to pay using whatever they feel comfortable with.

If you’re in Canada, you can even pay by emailing money directly from bank account to bank account - check whether your country offers this type of service! There’s no shortage of ways to move money in the digital world.

Just like everything else, there’s no singular ‘Best’ way. It just depends on what works for you.

I think that just about wraps it up! I can’t quite think of what else to put here - but I’m sure other artists will chime in with their own advice. :) I’m very sorry this became so long but I hope it was helpful!

Obligatory Disclaimer: I’m not qualified to give legal or accounting counsel. Please double-check the laws in your own country/state in regards to taxation of freelancing work and do your own research. If you are underage, DEFINITELY get an adult’s permission before you start doing commissions, and have the adult help you through the process.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

OTHER POSTS YOU MAY FIND USEFUL:

An Extended Post on Pricing Yourself for Commissions

Dealing with Imposter Syndrome/Feeling ‘Not Good Enough’

Growing Your Audience

Advice for Starting Digital Art

#Anonymous #long post #commissions #how to #infograph #how to do commissions #arting #art tutorial

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dontloseyourpants · 3 years

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Stripped on Stage

A commission I received from @gaystripstories! You can also find him on Twitter here. And you can support him by buying his stories on Amazon here.

I'll out the actual story below the cut. It's about a cocky young Broadway bound hunk who has an embarrassing incident on stage during his big debut. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

Before the Show:

Hey, just wanted to stop by and wish everyone a great show!

A sea of blank faces stared up at him, but he kept plodding on to get the reaction that he desired. Walking further into the crowded dressing room, he finally stopped right behind me.

I miss the camaraderie of being packed down here with everyone… it’s so lonely having that dressing room upstairs all to myself. I usually just spend time before shows lying on my couch until first call.

Looking up, I saw his face forcing itself into what he thought was a genuine smile. For someone who was apparently a much better actor than our poor little show deserved, he really had such a hard time hiding his true emotions.

Roger Stilton had quickly made a name for himself on Broadway. A Julliard grad just like his rich father, he headed straight to Broadway and began booking any role he wanted. With leading man good looks, his slicked back dark hair, and a jawline that could cut steel, Roger actually could have earned his roles without daddy’s donations.

As I continued looking up at him, I realized two things. First, his blush was much too heavy for a theater as small as this one.

Roger, sit down- let me help you out a bit. Quickly standing up in my boxers and undershirt, I let him plop into my chair before wiping a makeup wipe across that beautiful face. Here’s a tip when you’re not sure how strong to make your blush- you have to see what it should be naturally and then add two swipes.

Quickly taking hold of the bottom of his t-shirt, I ripped it over his head to expose that chest to the whole room. His perky pecs and six pack abs were to die over, but for some reason, even with all of that narcissism, he didn’t like showing off his body.

See- that’s the color you want.

I saw his eyes connect with his reflection to see the blush covering his cheeks, and I added a bit of my powder onto his face to match. Grabbing his shirt, he just awkwardly held it in front of him before walking back out of the room with his parting words flung over his shoulder.

Well, let me let you get back to getting ready… I just love having a great ensemble behind me on stage.

I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. At least not for another week. He’d joined our show after workshops, and even if I wouldn’t admit it, he was the reason we’d gotten our residency at our off-Broadway theater. He was already booked for his next role in a few weeks in one of the larger theaters, but if I had anything to do with it, I wanted to put his name in the news for another reason. It was time to confirm the second thing that I realized once Roger walked in here.

Listen up. Every head turned back towards me this time, but unlike Roger, I could tell that they wanted to hear what I had to say. I had a couple of decades on all of the younger actors

around me, and they looked up to me since I’d give them actual advice. We’re a go for tonight. Raise a hand if you’re in.

Smiling to myself as I saw every hand quickly raise into the air, I knew that this would be one show that Roger or the critics in the audience would never forget. I don’t know if Roger knew that we’d picked up on it, but there was a lot of info that he gave away. He was using us as a launch pad for some serious acting cred, and we were using him just as much. And for weeks of workshops and performances, we existed together, but the last month had been different. He’d starters treating us as disposable ensemble members even if the small cast all had named roles. So, tonight, on the most important night of his run, we decided to get back at him. Looking up at the timer on the ceiling above us, I realized that it was almost time for our first phase of the plan.

Act 1:

Look at him- if he wasn’t such a huge ass, he could really be the next big thing. Sorry- all I heard you say was huge ass, and I got distracted.

Playfully slapping Sam on the arm, I kept watching Roger act as we waited for our cue. Our show was a new take on the classic murder mystery, and each night, Roger dramatically died on stage. The twist, the reason that we’d made it out of workshops, was that a new killer was chosen each show. The audience could return night after night and still get a new experience since we improved a lot and only kept core scenes consistent.

This was one scene that was always the same, so Roger felt confident enough to ham it up as he looked at the two women in Row 2: The New Yorker and New York Times. They of course had names, but Roger only knew them as the critics that he needed to impress. And he truly was acting his ass off… and that was quite a challenge. Those dark gray slacks were barely

stretched over that ample peach of a bottom, and I was reminded again that I was happy with the game plan. And as he placed his glass of water back on the table, it was time for round 1.

Natasha and Joslyn entered from stage left as Sam and I appeared from stage right, and in a flurry of motion, we began bombarding him with questions.

Sir, would you like the dinner menu?

Please.

Sir, would you like a wine list?

That’d be delightful.

Sir, would you like your water glass to be topped off?

Certainly.

Bending down, I poured the contents of my pitcher into his glass and across his chest. Oh monsieur, I am so sorry- let’s get you out of those wet clothes immediately.

Patting him down with the hand towel, Sam walked behind him and began unbuttoning Roger’s shirt. In utter shock, Roger just sat there staring at the pitcher that I’d laid down in front of him- the one that looked completely normal. In every other show, a special prop had been used that only held half a cup of water, but tonight, it looked like I’d grabbed the wrong pitcher from the props table accidentally.

There we go- we’ll have this dried and steamed before you even get the dessert menu… not that it looks like you eat dessert often.

He tried to cover his exposed chest as we left stage, but the tiny menu couldn’t cover much. If he pulled it down, he exposed his perky pecs with his dark brown nipples shining under the harsh lights, and if he pulled it up, you could see the happy trail disappearing into his pants. As we all stood offstage in one giggling group, we watched the switch flip over in his head. He

had just made the choice- he could either be embarrassed about being half naked on stage, or he could continue acting so that the critics would write about how he powered through adverse conditions. And he chose the second option… at least for now.

Act 2:

After improving some line about remembering that he had a spare suit in his car, he quickly walked off stage with his muscular back facing the audience. Once he disappeared into the curtain, he began quietly yelling for the prop master, but he was nowhere to be found. Also gone was the random rack of clothes that had been hiding in the wings for decades, so as he rushed around, Roger only had time to grab someone’s suit coat and walk back on stage.

Darling! Is it my birthday already? I thought I wouldn’t get my present until tomorrow.

With her quick change successfully completed unlike her costar, Natasha was in a skin tight dress and now playing Roger’s girlfriend. Walking circles around him, she began to massage his tense body, and it seemed to be having an undesired effect on his lower half.

Can I unwrap my present early?

I’m so sorry love, but the weirdest thing happened at dinner earlier. I had time to grab a spot of food before coming here, and then…

As he began to sit down, the small blazer completely ripped down the middle, and the ruined fabric fell in two pieces down each arm. Natasha was really hamming it up now as she jumped up from the prop bed to kneel in front of her blushing boyfriend.

I was joking before, but what else is about to come off? Did you somehow trade outfits with a stripper?

That time in the gym must have really filled out my shoulders.

Then flex for me, Romeo. Let me see that body that’s all mine.

Doing as told, Roger stood up and began to flex his muscles as he faced the audience. His tanned chest seemed to glow under the lights, and I heard the audience getting into it more now. If there were any repeat customers here, then they knew what normally happened here. Natasha would have her birthday party, and in the commotion, Roger would meet his demise. But that always happened fully clothed.

Roger’s biceps were glistening in sweat, and his trimmed chest hair was as well. He was breathtakingly gorgeous, and if only he wasn’t so cocky, we would have all adored him. As I saw that blush spread further across those beautiful cheekbones, I wondered if there was something more human under there. Just maybe…

Oh, I just can’t resist anymore- come ravish me!

With strength that I didn’t know she had, Natasha pulled Roger towards her as they fell into the throes of passion on top of that bed. The audience was losing it as Natasha’s legs comically kicked into the air before wrapping around Roger’s ample ass. She was kissing him all over as Roger tried to break free for his cue.

Oh honey, that special suit jacket wasn’t the only birthday surprise that I had planned. In fact…

And this is where everything went so, so right. Roger lunged into a standing position without even feeling Natasha’s fingers hook into the two small holes that had come undone on each side of his tearaway pants. I don’t know how he hadn’t noticed earlier that we’d swapped them out before the show, but they’d stayed together right until they were needed.

In comical slow motion, the back half of his pants fell to the floor as the front stayed gripped in her hands.

You got me exactly what I wanted!

As Natasha jumped to meet him, we all started streaming on stage, holding balloons and shooting party streamers into the air. The only one that was still was Roger who was somehow so very, very visible in the middle of all of this chaos. With his pants gone, he was now standing there in only his shoes, his nylon socks held up with leather garters on those strong calves, and an impossibly tiny pair of baby blue bikini briefs that were trying their hardest to stretch over his large frame.

We all took a cue from the audience and focused on Roger as he stood petrified on stage. His hands hung limply at his side, too embarrassed to even move them to cover up his impressive bulge and thick pubes that were showing over the stretched waistband. You could have heard a pin drop in the eerie quiet before one camera flash went off from the audience followed by several more. I saw our one underpaid usher try to stop the cameras, but it was too late.

Finally urged into action as he saw how many photos of him would soon end up online, Roger finally spun around to try to find his pants, his jacket- just anything to cover himself up with. Seeing the bed sheet that had been flung into the floor, he reached to grab it, but I was too quick and stepped onto it to keep him from getting it.

Standing back up, he had rage in his eyes as he looked at me, and he had no idea that even more photos were taken now of him. From the back, his tiny briefs had been wedged between those glorious cheeks, and he was exposing almost every inch of skin that he could.

It was you- you’re the one that did it!

He was about five minutes early with that line, but Roger’s embarrassment had finally taken over his need to impress the critics. That was usually what he said when he discovered who the killer was right before falling to the ground, but now, he was saying it to me even though Joslyn was the one who’d dropped the ‘poison’ into his pasta in the previous scene.

What are you talking about? It’s me- your best friend!

A best friend wouldn’t do this on the most important night of their life!

Reaching forward, he grabbed onto my shirt and yanked it apart. Buttons went flying as my own chest was exposed to the crowd. My mouth was trying to hard not to break into a smirk behind my trimmed salt and pepper beard as I backed away from Roger. Following me back under the lights, he just kept going.

You’ve always been jealous of me- my career, my body, everything! Do you know how hard I’ve fought for this? Do you?

He truly believed the words that he was saying even though he’d never had to go to an open casting call in a crowded building downtown. He’d never had to squeeze into a borrowed pair of LaDucas and dance for hours just to be told that they’d gone in a different direction. Oh no, Roger had never felt rejection like that which is what would make what happened next even sweeter.

He lunged at me, and we fell in a heap on the floor. The audience, even the return viewers, probably had no idea that anything had gone wrong. Everything we’d done had been in character, and only one thing would be able to prove to them that this show had gone off the rails.

Roger’s body was gyrating around on top of me, but he never landed a punch. He wasn’t angry enough for that, but he was too flustered to even know what to do. He couldn’t handle this humiliation, and he was just lashing out. And then, it all stopped. As we tussled, we both heard the pop and froze. It could have been anything, but we both knew exactly what it was.

The Final Bow:

And the award goes to Roger Stilton!

The cameras all swung towards him as he tried to duck down into his seat. This is not how he wanted awards season to go. He had just lost the Best Actor award for his starring role in Thoroughly Modern Millie, and he was about to go to the bar until he heard his name called again. Looking up at the big screen, he saw the category that he didn’t even know that he was nominated for- Best Quick Change.

With the DramaDesk award in hand, the late-night talk show host who had no business being here walked on stage. I was sitting on the side in the cheap seats, but I could still see everything. The last time that I’d seen Roger was when I’d been lying shirtless beneath him. I watched as he sat motionless in his chair, and he only got up once the screen started playing a video from that night.

He was kneeling on top of me, and as we wrestled, the tiny strap on the right side of his bikini briefs popped right off. With his ass aimed right towards the camera, his pendulous cock fell into view between his legs, and he tried to cover himself unsuccessfully with his hands. As he moved, the rest of his underwear fell apart and landed on my chest leaving him completely

naked.

Standing up, he kept spinning around, turning one way and then the other to hide his embarrassment. His hands were clasped over his manhood which left that ass completely exposed. His tight waist made his bubble butt even more impressive, and the untanned skin acted as a beacon for everyone’s eyes and cameras. I’d watched this scene dozens of times from the comfort of my own apartment, but as Roger walked on stage to confront the host, I realized that he probably had tried to forget this ever happened.

When Audra Macdonald won earlier, she serenaded us with a few bars. Roger, what do you plan on showing off to this crowd?

The crowd was going wild, but unlike that fateful night, the crowd was over five times bigger and full of people that Roger wanted to impress. He tried to put on a fake laugh and grab the award, but even from this far away, I could see how strong that blush was as the host kept going.

No seriously, I think we need you to show it off! What does everyone here think?

I let my cheer join the crowd as we egged him on, but he still wasn’t budging. And then, the host looked right at me, and I pinched myself to see if this was all a dream.

Do we need your old costar to come help out? He knows his way around this stage since he’s performed here a few times. Come on up!

The spotlight hit me, and now it was my time to feel a little shy. I’d been a background dancer here in a few awards show opening numbers, but I’d never been up there individually. Would my big break come decades later than it should have?

Stepping on stage, I saw Roger’s heart drop, and my nerves suddenly vanished. He let the host turn him around, and I realized that he was petrified again.

Make me change my mind, Roger. Why shouldn’t I expose you again for how you treated us on that show?

Tommy, please, don’t do it.

I could have been nice and joked around with him as we walked offstage to pretend like this was a planned bit. But, he messed up.

Roger, you didn’t even learn the names of your costars. My name is David- Tommy worked the sound board.

And before he could react, I grabbed onto those tuxedo pants and yanked them to the ground. The button ripped off easily, and they gave me no resistance before sliding down to his ankles. He’d learned his lesson from earlier and was wearing a pair of black trunks, but I still had a little bit of humiliation left to give him. I could and should have stopped there, but I didn’t. Grabbing onto his waistband, I pulled his undies to the floor and stepped back to let him have the spotlight all to himself like he desperately wanted.

His half-naked body was projected onto the big screen again but in real time now. His ample, untanned ass still jutted out from his athletic body, and as he tried to bend down and grab his pants, it jiggled with every movement.

Looking down into the audience, I somehow made eye contact with Jan, the critic that Roger always referred to as The New Yorker sitting not too far from where I’d been seated. As she began typing onto her phone, I realized that Roger would get that big headline after all.

#story

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rhomsfanfic · 2 years

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A Warden’s Worries

[My Commission Info] | [My Ao3] | [Ko-Fi]

Another awesome anonymous commission! Thank you so much for sharing your awesome Warden with me, it was a pleasure to work with you!

Characters: Zevran Arainai (Dragon Age Origins) x Erielle Amell (Warden) Words: 7359 Genre/Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Rated Lemon!

A deep breath in.

A deep breath out.

Her shoulders rising and lowering, Erielle looked up at the dark night sky, a cold breeze rustling through her robes and hair. Everything seemed so unreal. This whole evening was passing her by as if it was a dream. And yet, feeling the wind sting on her heated skin and the burning in her eyes, she knew it was reality. Being thrown into this mess - the Wardens, Blight, fighting for her life every day - she never really had the time to think about how much her life resembled a book story of a hero who’d save the world.

But that night, she didn’t feel like a hero at all.

Glancing across the camp, Erielle eyed her tent longingly. It would have been nice to lay down, close her eyes, and let this day simply pass. Be stronger in the morning and leave the worries and confusion behind in her dreams. At the same time, Erielle doubted that she could fall asleep with the turmoil inside of her, much less feel rested enough to carry on tomorrow. A quiet sigh fell off her lips, and she brought her hands up to rub over her tense muscles and exhausted eyes, but it was no use.

Giving a shy glance over her shoulder, she watched the small flame illuminating Zevran’s tent that she just left. Erielle felt foolishly relieved that he didn’t seem to fall asleep right away, but at the same time, she scolded herself for being glad that Zevran wasn’t unaffected by what happened. It had been a lot. Feelings were churned and hurt. Leaving without even saying a word of goodbye or resolving the problems she initiated was probably one of the worst decisions she had made in a long time.

For months now, the group was on their way from village to village, town, and city. It was ridiculous how many important decisions had been allowed to be made by her - a new, young Warden with as much experience of the world outside of the circle as maybe a loyal dog had. And yet, she faced all of them head-on. Of course, she had input from others and the occasional time to think about it, but in the end, it was her word that would decide how to proceed.

It was scary. If she had to describe it in one word, then scary. Those decisions would keep her awake all night as she went over them again, thinking of alternatives and how to improve the situation even after the decision was already made. Every day, monsters were hunting her, both in reality and her dreams, making her fight for her life even when Erielle felt at her lowest. And when she finally thought she was on the right track, people of the past would come back, making her question herself all over again just like Jowan did when she found him in the dungeons of Redcliffe Castle.

No one, not even Erielle herself, thought that there was anything in these harsh times that would be able to give her a feeling of comfort and would be able to ground her from the high she was riding on, constantly wired and hyperalert. Being on her own and shouldering so many responsibilities and duties, she always thought that until the matter of the Blight is resolved, she would not find a moment of peace - especially not one that came with the arms of a certain Antivan assassin. Part of her believed that she’d be able to do it all on her own. That, while grateful for her comrades, she’d be able to withstand it without falling for the allure of a silver-tongued rogue, and at first, she had every reason to be skeptical of him too.

No one really understood where this loyalty came from when they first met Zevran. There had been a lot of opinions voiced on whether to spare him or end him before he could wreak havoc on the mission they were on. Most of them had been unfriendly and hostile, but when Erielle looked into his eyes, she saw a will to live no matter what it would take. Two more daggers that were fighting for her cause were better than nothing, and so, she decided to let Zevran tag along, always keeping a sharp eye on him.

Perhaps that’s why they grew so close in the first place. His attitude was obnoxious, but deep down, Zevran was clever and knowledgeable. He had insights into the shadows of this world, which Erielle lacked, and despite his reputation and slyness, he turned out to have her back even in the worst kinds of fights. In his own way, he was admirable, even if no one would dare to tell him that in fear of boosting his ego. And so, the slightest bit of affection could bloom from long conversations and working together closely. Erielle couldn’t help but soak in his tender touches, chuckle at the superficial compliments that grew more meaningful the more they learned about each other. Only he could free her from the burdens that came with her duties, even if it was just for a few hours. In these times, she wasn’t the Grey Warden nor the magi. She was just Erielle, and he accepted her as such wholly.

Nothing ever made her as happy as laying in his arms, no words needing to be spoken between them.

Naive or kindhearted as she may be, Erielle wasn’t stupid. She knew that getting involved with Zevran wouldn’t be without repercussions. Nonetheless, most of her companions voiced their worries before shrugging, appearing indifferent about her choice of lover, and giving her the freedom to do as she pleased. Perhaps, they felt pity for the poor, young lass who carried the world on her shoulders. That was, except for one.

Just thinking about the disappointed, disapproving, and almost belittling expression on Wynne’s face as they spoke about Zevran, gave Erielle a headache. For better or for worse, she had looked up to the mage for support and guidance, feeling as if Wynne, of all the people Erielle had assembled, would be most knowledgeable and understanding of her situation. To a degree, she was the mother of the whole camp, and even if Erielle never had that kind of relationship, it was nice to know someone like-minded was with her.

Sighing, her gaze fell off the campfire and towards the forest in the distance. Usually, she would have quickly passed by and disappeared in her tent to avoid being asked awkward questions when she wanted to be alone. But seeing as there were still a few souls wandering around and it was early evening, Erielle didn’t want to risk being confronted at all, even if that meant she would have to wait out until everyone disappeared for the night and the guards took their posts.

It was just her luck that the moment she turned around, Erielle found herself running straight into Alistair. Stumbling, Alistair was quick to react, catching Erielle and steadying her mid-air as she struggled. All while he balanced his dinner plate in his other hand. They found themselves awkwardly holding on to each other, quickly covering it with chuckles before separating again. Alistair made sure to support her until she was ready to stand on her own, and Erielle was glad over being spared the aching pain of falling.

“You’re lucky it was me you bumped into! Morrigan would have let you fall into the dirt for all she cared,” Alistair laughed, and Erielle had to chuckle at his remark. Oftentimes Alistair’s and Morrigan’s hostility could be amusing, but it still wasn’t able to lift Erielle’s mood that day. “Sorry for running into you. I was lost in thoughts and didn’t see you coming.”

She noticed his eyes briefly flit over to Zevran’s tent, his smile withering before quickly being replaced by a new one. She followed his gaze but decided against inquiring about his thoughts. Frankly, it was obvious that he must have noticed the argument the two had, but there had been too much going on that night, Erielle didn’t need another man’s opinion on her relationship. “We all have those days,” he mused, and Erielle agreed with a silent nod before taking a few steps forward. However, there was one question, after all, burning on her tongue, and she turned around halfway, Alistair not yet having moved from his spot on the field.

“Alistair, what’s a good Warden?” she asked him directly, surprised over how easy it was to voice this question. He raised an eyebrow but just as quickly brought a hand to his chin and looked up at the sky while in thought. “A dead one,” he said, deadpan.

“Alistair…” Erielle shook her head, regretting her question but having noticed the jest in his answer.

“I’m not wrong,” he insisted, and to a degree, Erielle had to agree. A dead one fulfilled their duties the best, so much was true but not the answer she sought from Alistair. “I guess a good Warden is someone who believes. Believes in other people, in the cause they are fighting for, and maybe a good ale. All of them believe in the better for everyone, and for me, well… after Duncan, I now have you to believe in and our mission. You’re probably asking for yourself, though, right?”

Even though he caught on to the reason she was asking, Erielle found herself surprised by his answer, and the heat of embarrassment rose in her cheeks as she shrugged off his last remark. “Not particularly…” she avoided, hearing a chuckle from him as he let her off easy.

“But thanks… for believing in me. I’ll leave you to rest.” Erielle’s words were timid, and perhaps he didn’t hear them at all as she turned around and walked off. Alistair never truly confirmed or denied if she was fulfilling her role, instead putting the judgment back into her hands. Perhaps it would have been too easy to ask the only other Warden available for clarification. Still, with a sigh, Erielle had to admit it would have been nice to hear it from his lips. Then again, knowing herself, she might have struggled to believe it if his answer had been a generic yes or no.

Grumbling as she took a seat in front of a large tree, Erielle found herself aching. It had been a long day, and with all the wandering and stressing she had done, it was no wonder that she felt tense. Normally, she would have been able to relieve some of it with Zevran, but she caught this thought quickly before it could expand, a sense of shame coming over her like it hadn’t in a long time. She was far from being in a position where she could think about Zevran this way, especially after their falling out. Instead, she sighed, shaking her head at herself, wondering how it could have come this far.

The wind was rustling calmly through the leaves above her, and in the distance, she could hear cheerful voices, talking and laughing. If not for the pending doom that was to hit the lands around them, they could have been mistaken for a bunch of silly travelers, and Erielle smiled at the thought of better times. Not everything she had done and decided could have been so wrong; after all, it brought all of them together for the better or the worse. But what if Wynne’s words were true after all?

Surely, if Duncan had been alive, he’d have made a better leader than Erielle ever could. Just like Alistair, she wanted to believe in herself, but the doubts that came over her while knowing Wynne was questioning her capabilities were nothing but hurtful to her confidence. Erielle always tried to do the best she could with the situation on hand, but she couldn’t deny that not every decision may have been the correct one.

Of course, she could always justify it with her age or knowledge, but it wouldn’t change the fact that she had as much blood on her hands as anyone else in the camp. Strangely enough, Erielle never questioned them as much as she did herself. Furrowing her brows, she heaved a deep breath. So much to her leadership qualities.

Maybe, so Erielle realized, that was what Wynne had criticized. Perhaps it hadn’t been Erielle’s relationship but who she was with. Not giving that person another second thought before letting him warm her bed.

Zevran and Wynne didn’t get along well, avoiding each other if they could. Conversations between the two always ended with one of them being unhappy, so they ceased to talk to each other outside of delivering messages or planning further steps. If any of them made it out of this whole Blight-thing alive, then Erielle was sure that Wynne and Zevran would go different ways without missing the other.

Of course, one of Wynne’s worries was that Erielle might become negligent of her responsibilities, but it wasn’t like Erielle knew where those began and ended anyway. She also doubted that Wynne knew more about Grey Wardens than even the two Grey Wardens present, so how could either of them know if Erielle was ditching any of them to be with Zevran? No matter how hard Erielle thought about it, she couldn’t remember a responsibility that was put into her hands that she didn’t take seriously, and she also didn’t feel like this would become a problem in the future. Was it wishful thinking of her to believe that she was a person who could separate her duties and her private life? Or were those worries of an old woman who disapproved of the person Erielle was with?

Erielle wasn’t discarding her duties in favor of love either. While what she felt for Zevran was genuine - but hard to admit - at the end of the day, she kept it to herself and carried on, always putting the fight against Darkspawn first. She had countless opportunities to tell him, but not knowing how Zevran felt about her in return, she feared rejection and preferred to keep things as they were. However, out in the world, her thoughts weren’t filled with sweet thoughts, but the reality she had to face every day.

It was hard to understand why she couldn’t even have that little bit of pleasure and comfort in return for all the discipline and work she brought forth every day.

Fidgeting with the skin around her nails, Erielle didn’t notice much what was going on around her while she was going through her thoughts. Not the people by the campfire slowly disappearing in their tents, not the guards starting patrols and standing watch, not even Pyrrhus, her Mabari, digging a hole to rest in for the night. And not the silent steps of an elf approaching her, covered in shadows but without the ill-intent that came with his job.

“There you are,” Zevran stated, factual, giving Erielle a slight scare. She scowled at him briefly for approaching her without a sound and making her flinch, but seeing the awkward, apologetic expression on his face in the dim light of the campfire shining over to them, Erielle was quick to avoid her eyes and look down again.

“Here I am,” she mumbled, and it grew silent between them, awkwardness hanging in the air.

“May I?” Zevran asked, pointing towards the space next to her. Erielle hesitated. Was she ready for this? After all that she threw into the room in their last argument, would she be able to speak with him normally? Was he angry at her? Still, she tugged away her robes, freeing some of the dirt and roots for him to sit on, and Zevran did so without any hesitation or complaints.

Neither of them uttered a word after he took place, his eyes fixed on the sky while Erielle only ever looked on the ground before her and her hands. It had gotten a little chilly by now, and even Zevran’s presence next to her didn’t help. Pulling her sleeves into her palms, Erielle hugged herself, sighing quietly as she couldn’t find any comfort in the gesture.

“Do you need something?” she inquired, part of her wondering why he’d come to find her after she pushed him away so roughly. Then again, deep inside her, she knew Zevran didn’t come for any other reason than to resolve or at least clear up things between them.

“No, Alistair told me you’d be here, and ah…” Realizing that it sounded as if Alistair sent him, Zevran stopped talking mid-sentence, rubbing the back of his head while trying to think about how to phrase his true intentions better. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Erielle tried to not smile as she heard the concern in his voice, a hint of happiness crossing her heart, knowing that he cared for her. But having his eyes examining her, Erielle quickly looked away, composing herself. “Good…” she lied, adjusting her seat and leaning against the tree behind her casually, pretending she was doing just fine. “I’m good.”

Her plan of feigning how she felt was quickly discovered, and Zevran chuckled, his voice tender as he called her out on it. “You’re a bad liar, you know?”

“I do,” she sighed, defeated, knowing that to others, she was probably an open book to read.

“It’s not a bad thing. Not everyone needs to constantly lie and do bad things. There are assassins and nobles for that.”

Chuckling at his remark, Erielle finally looked up at him. His expression turned enamored, a big smile on his lips and one of his hands reaching out towards her cheek, though he never went as far as to touch her. Instead, he let it sink into his lap again, biting back on his wish to be close and clearing his throat. “So now, again, and if possible, calmer: What’s wrong, my dear?”

A lot, is what she would have liked to say. Erielle wasn’t even sure where to begin or what to bring up. She had thrown fragments of her problems at him before, but now that they both had calmed down, it would have been a good time to makes sense of them. However, Erielle couldn’t help but fear Zevran’s reactions. What if this would end with him rejecting her? What if he realized that he didn’t want to have to do anything with the person she had to fear she was?

That was until Zevran took courage, reaching for her hand as he noticed her struggles. With a silent gasp, she felt the warmth emanating from his skin, immediately seeping into her tense joints and muscles and working its way up from her hand to her skin. Unbeknownst to either of them, his presence alone was calming to her. Oh, how she missed it, being able to feel him and this unique warmth that only he could spread inside of her.

Erielle couldn’t help but entwine their fingers, lacing them together, and prompted by her acceptance, Zevran slid closer, their shoulders touching. She had yet to learn to lean on anybody with her worries or simply for the sake of comfort, but having him close at least stopped the loneliness from spreading that she felt ever since she left his tent. He didn’t have to come and find her. He didn’t need to ask her about what was going on. But he did, and that was almost enough for Erielle to start crying, knowing that someone cared about her.

“Do you think I’m a bad Warden?” she asked timidly, rubbing her eyes quickly in the dark before he could notice the tears collecting. “Be honest.”

Zevran took a deep breath at that and letting it out loudly, implying that he had a hard time with the question. “I haven’t met many Wardens on my adventures. At least, none I remember. Alistair worried me they’d be all like him, but you gave me hope that they are a decent bunch. So, yes, I think you are a good Warden.”

“Wynne-- Someone,” Erielle quickly corrected herself, not wanting to stir up trouble, but of course, Zevran heard. “--told me I might be negligent of my duties, and I’m not sure if it’s true or not. I-” Erielle sighed.

“I’m afraid to do something wrong.”

Her confession was met with silence as Zevran thought. His thumb circled comfortingly over the back of her hand, and he squeezed it tenderly, encouragingly. “Wynne did? I wasn’t aware she was such an expert on the matter. The old lady just loves getting into your business, I noticed.”

His head turned towards her, though Erielle had a hard time looking him into his eyes, instead focusing her gaze on their hands. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

Eyes widening, Erielle bit her lip. She wasn’t aware Zevran would piece it together so quickly, much less that he’d bring it up. But her silence was answer enough, and much to her despair, he pulled his hand from hers, leaving only cold behind where his warmth had been. “I know it’s because of me. I generally do not care for the opinion of others, but I’ve been around you long enough to know you worry about them. And… I care about your opinion, strangely enough.”

It took him a moment to overcome his own hesitation as he surprised her with an unexpected question. “Did I… do something wrong?”

“No!” she denied vehemently, noticing herself how forward her reply had been, taking both of them aback. “No… no, you didn’t. I- Well…”

“I’m sorry…” Erielle whispered, feeling the crushing weight of rejection and disappointment. It made her want to run away again, cry in her pillow, but she barely found the strength to stand up at that moment. If she even made Zevran think that he was doing something wrong even though the problem was all hers, then what good was she? Zevran was a - at times overly - confident and chipper personality. If she made him question himself, then was it right to want to stay with him when all she did was tearing him down?

“Don’t be, I understand.” His words were worse than the piercing daggers he had directed at her before. He took it with much more grace than Erielle could ever imagine herself do it. But he wasn’t finished talking, much to her surprise as the situation seemed so final to her. “What do you think? What do you want to do?”

Lifting her head, Erielle turned it into his direction for the first time they were sitting there. She was holding back the tears, squinting her eyes, and having a hard time sorting through her thoughts. “I want to be a good Warden. I’ve only ever done the things I was supposed to! But now… Now I want to be with you as well. There’s no saying how all of this will end. We might be dead by tomorrow night, or we aren’t. As such, there is so much to lose it almost seems stupid to not enjoy what we have.”

“It does,” he chuckled, and Erielle nodded affirmatively, wishing she could reach out and hold his hand this time as he almost sounded sad. She knew it was harder for him to talk about his feelings, but the smallest hints he was leaving gave her hope that he felt the same as her. “We can’t be sure,” he sighed, pausing briefly before looking at her and lowering his gaze again right away. “We don’t know how the future looks, but if you are worried about whether or not I will be there in the morning, I told you I would be with you as long as you need me. And if it doesn’t work out… we can still stop seeing each other when we decide it’s right. Or not?”

His pointer finger reached out over to her hand resting on her knee. A simple, curious gesture if she was open to his suggestion. Lifting her palm welcomingly, he slipped his hand beneath hers again, and this time it was Erielle who squeezed him reassuringly. “If there’s a time you feel like your neglecting your duties because of me, you know you can come and tell me. We can figure it out. Together.”

Their eyes met, and a small smile crept back over Erielle’s lips as she saw his confident expression, unwavering. An inspiration to her. “Not everyone will like what you do, but everyone will try to get into your business. Especially because you are who you are, there will always be people that will question you and try to push their opinions on you. Should that stop you from doing what you want? No! ’Cause life isn’t worth ruining yourself to please everyone.”

Gripping her hand tightly, he let go of it once again, scampering to his feet and stretching out with a groan. “You said you want to be with me, yes? Is it okay to assume that I make you happy then?”

Turning around, Zevran gave her a cocky grin, but knowing he had hit the nail on the head, Erielle could only roll her eyes jokingly at him, noticing the hand he held out towards her. “I firmly believe in doing things that make you happy. And following this logic, you should be doing me--”

“Zevran!” Erielle called him out before he could finish, putting her hand in his without much hesitation. He helped her up, and the two shared a long stare into each other’s eyes before Zevran lowered his voice, speaking more serious this time. “You know, I’d not suggest anything without my uttermost respect for you, so it is up to you. I won’t deny what I want to do with you if you come with me, but I won’t be pushing myself on to you if you don’t feel like it. In contrary to others, I trust in your decisions and that you will do what is right in every situation, my dear Warden. And I will follow you until you tell me to leave.”

Moved by his words, Erielle squeezed his hand, looking at them. Zevran, too, believed in her, which already made two. Two were more than one - herself - and she once again noticed how this trust was given to her by all her companions and the people she met so far. It far outnumbered her doubts and the ones Wynne’s had. Even if it wouldn’t be able to solve all the problems she caused for herself, knowing that Zevran was open to try and believe in her decisions no matter what they would be greatly improved the self-perception she had of herself. And it also reassured Erielle to know he’d have her back now and in the future, just like he always had. Hearing that there was someone who’d work with her on problems she might face was more than she could hope for, for her future.

In comparison to her first encounter with him, Zevran didn’t want to harm her anymore. He wanted her to stand in for herself and what she was doing; have her belief in herself, and live without the doubts that all of them might experience in a lifetime. Regrets were unavoidable. They came with the time that passed as if nothing ever happened, even if tragedy struck. But it wasn’t worth getting worked up over problems that hadn’t even been created yet. That’s what Erielle wanted to believe he was telling her. That was the conclusion she came to, even if it would be hard to let go of her old, worrying habits.

Zevran wasn’t pushing her to do something she didn’t want nor pulled her where he wanted to. He waited, patiently, for her to give him the signal to go. She brushed by him, pulling him along instead, their hands tightly united, and he only needed a few steps to catch up with her. It was her answer, and she decided to believe in the things he made her realize. Believe in the cause she was fighting for, as well as in the budding relationship the two had. After all, no one else came for her when she felt at her lowest. It was Zevran who gave her back the strength when no one else did, and Erielle wanted to believe that this meant more than even words could.

His fingers left their invisible marks on her skin. Marks of warmth and affection; desire and teasing. She felt them tickling even without the need for scratching, simply because Erielle wanted it so much. One hand fondled her breast, playing with her nipple with fingers circling over them, giving them twists and tugs and releasing them much too early. With his other hand, Zevran had long started teasing her pussy, making it ache for bigger, faster, and more that filled her.

From his lips, honey-coated words fell, too many to recount, and yet, every one of them made Erielle’s heart jump higher and beat faster as if this was a contest. Zevran clearly was winning. She couldn’t fight him in a battle he was much more knowledgeable about, and she found herself enjoying letting loose as she succumbed to him. Exactly like she thought, this way, she was able to release the tension all throughout her body, only falling into the soft cushions of making sweet love with the person she adored.

She could feel his member brushing against her rear while Zevran worked up a heat in her loins, and Erielle instinctively reached back, wishing to share the pleasure with him. An appreciative chuckle fell off his lips as he nibbled on her ear, tender bites exuding a tingle down her spine. “You’re such a fast learner. I’m very proud of you.”

Though his tone was teasing, there was no sarcasm. Perhaps Zevran truly was able to take pride in what he had taught her, her hand stroking his cock like he instructed her before. In comparison to her, Zevran had never been shy, guiding her to his favorite spots on his body and showing her the ropes while the two were still figuring out the same for her. With nothing but patience and a tireless curiosity, he never stepped away from the challenge of making her feel good, and it was all the more reason to appreciate him.

Gliding her hand up and down his shaft and gently rubbing it over his tip, Zevran soon enough let out a pleased melody in the form of hums. Erielle encouraged him to do more, so much so, she found herself biting her lip to suppress the sounds she wanted to make. Her hesitation in voicing her pleasure didn’t go unnoticed, Zevran’s hand straying from her breast to her mouth, inquiring as to why she was holding back so much. “Don’t bite too hard, love. Why don’t you sing for me like before?”

Embarrassment flushed over Erielle’s expression, enough for Zevran to know. He furrowed his brow, his hand below coming to a halt. “Erielle,” he spoke firmly, not knowing what was going on. Concern was written all over his face, not the expression one should make when in the middle of sex. However, Erielle’s well-being was more important to him than the fun they were having - especially if it wasn’t fun for her anymore.

“It’s… It’s just…”

Erielle felt incredibly embarrassed to voice it. Wynne’s words returned to her mind as the older mage awkwardly tried to convey to her that she was way too vocal, everyone being able to hear her from afar. “What if someone hears?” she whispered, pressing the words through her clenched teeth while nervously looking at the walls of the tent. “Oh dear,” Zevran sighed, chuckling. “So what if they hear?”

“Well, you know... What if we wake someone? What if I am too loud?”

At this, Zevran’s brows furrowed anew, and he laid his head to the side questioningly. “Did Wynne say that too?”

Erielle didn’t need to answer. He knew solely from her expression that it was true. “Oh, that hag--” Zevran cursed under his breath before quickly regaining his composure, knowing it was a sore spot. From his position spooning Erielle from behind, Zevran climbed on top of her, reaching for her hands and lifting them over her head, holding her down with one hand. “We can stop if you like,” he offered, his free hand brushing down her arms lightly, barely touching her and leaving the sensation of a feather running down her skin. “But I truly believe she is jealous.”

At this comment, Erielle couldn’t help but snort before laughing loudly. “No, no, you don’t understand!” Zevran laughed, a bright grin on his lips after seeing her cute reaction. “She probably hasn’t gotten the chance to get laid lately. Or ever. I’d know some guys who’d love to get a chance with her, though. Maybe she is missing the sensation?”

“Okay, okay,” Erielle laughed. “I don’t want to imagine it if I am honest.”

“That is fair. However…” Leaning in, Zevran was close enough for a kiss but kept his lips free to speak. Observing her for a moment, he waited for Erielle to try and lean in, keeping her at bay just so he could tease her a little. “Don’t you want to make her even more jealous? Give her a taste of what she is missing out on?”

Holding back, Erielle pursed her lips, still waiting for a kiss. Zevran replied quickly, letting her taste the sweet affection of his lips, together with his eager tongue, before dragging both of them down her jaw and neck. “If you have nothing to say, I will continue now. Can’t promise that you’ll be able to keep your pretty mouth shut all throughout the night, though.”

Zevran settled his legs in between hers, slowly pushing them apart, and Erielle didn’t stop him. Wynne was still nagging in her mind, but knowing the wonderful sensations and fantastic experience she was about to have, it was hard to say no. Zevran was right, implying that there were no serious repercussions for their actions, aside from maybe ‘making Wynne jealous’. But he wrapped his words in a way that would not let her fall back down her spiral. Perhaps she just had to do her best to keep quiet, but Erielle didn’t want to stop Zevran either. He had been her first and only man to ever make her feel her body so vividly, and it still took her breath away whenever she thought back to the nights they had spent together.

His tip poking against her entrance already made her melt in anticipation, and his mouth working his way back to her breasts left hot trails of saliva behind, causing the colder air around their bodies to tickle her pleasurably. No one ever taught her how good anticipation could feel - given if it was the right one. Zevran, however, was a master in lifting the expectations and fulfilling them as well.

Slowly, his hips pressed into hers, gliding in effortlessly after all the preparations he had made to ready Erielle for it. There was no stinging sensation or dry rubbing, her walls spreading welcomingly for Zevran’s cock, just like they were used to. Immediately, Erielle was made speechless from it, only gasping for air. But when his face peaked up over her, her lips curled into a smile, and the two shared a deep kiss while Zevran began to move.

Erielle couldn’t understand why people shunned a sensation as great as sex. They adored masterpieces of art and symphonies of orchestras. Still, they couldn’t accept how good it felt to be completely united with someone you like and desire. To lay in the arms of the person while they filled you, both in your heart and down below, their touches tender and their kisses showcases of their devotion for you at that moment.

Erielle didn’t even realize a moan slipping out in a vulnerable moment, none of it covered or hushed by anyone. “More ~” Zevran breathed. “Tell me all about it.”

Digging his arms under her back, Zevran lifted her up and, letting himself fall back, put Erielle on top of him. She was surprised by it, but he didn’t leave her any room for questions, rocking his hips continuously into her. “How does it feel if I touch you here?” he asked, running his fingers down her spine. Erielle sighed blissfully, cupping his face and leaning in for a kiss before answering. “It feels wonderful. You’re hands feel amazing.”

“And here?” he continued, palms over her hips and fingertips pressing into her flesh one after another. Heaving another blissful sigh, Erielle felt how her muscles reacted under the pressure while she was penetrated by his cock. Surely, Zevran felt it as well as her inner walls clamped around him, holding his shaft tightly when he found the right spot. “G-Good!” Erielle moaned, unable to hold back even as she brought one hand in front of her mouth.

Inside of her, Zevran was not finished exploring her spots. By straddling him, he had much more room for different movements, his tip reaching new depths and leaving new sensations in her core. The electric waves of pleasure weren’t new but just as impactful on Erielle as they had been on their first night.

“You’re like a goddess,” Zevran mumbled against her skin, his lips leaving fluttering kisses all over her collarbones and shoulders. Places Erielle didn’t know could be so sensitive before meeting Zevran. And yet, they caused shudders, tension, and release all over her. She embraced Zevran, pulling him even closer, wanting even more. He didn’t disappoint.

Unlike before, Erielle was coached into working her hips, her body much more sincere and knowledgeable than she might admit to herself. Deep down, she knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted him. Zevran. Her mouth couldn’t stop making obscene noises, but with Zevran encouraging her, pushing harder every time she moaned, she willingly let herself appreciate sex. It was so much more pleasurable and easy to simply give in to him, hold his warm body in her embrace and run her hands over his soft skin and strong muscles. Relying on his strength to hold her and not let her fall was such a relief to Erielle, both literally and figuratively. She knew he’d be there to catch her if push came to shove, no matter how their relationship would continue.

“Zevran--” she gasped, looking into his beautiful amber eyes glowing in the dim light of the lantern. She didn’t need to tell him what she was feeling at that exact moment, his grin revealing he knew right away. Pride and confidence were mixing with the adoring gleam of someone who encouraged her whole being in his gaze, adoring her. “Come,” he incited her, “Show me that pretty face when you do.”

Shuddering, she held on tight as Zevran pushed in once more, their hips so perfectly aligning with each other while Erielle moaned uncontrollably. Even when he kissed her, Zevran didn’t discourage her from being loud, letting the unified sounds vibrate on their lips. Erielle felt the pleasure build and disperse throughout her, from her toes to her forehead, fogging her mind temporarily. However, Zevran got her, holding her gently in his arms while managing his own desires. A few last pushes before he pulled out, finishing on her stomach with hot spurts of semen and deep, happy groans from him.

Laying her back down into the warm, soft furs now that their bodies were cooling down, Zevran left kisses on her cheeks and brushing his lips to her forehead, making her giggle. He was so careful and tender as he wiped her down, inquiring her help to do the same to him. “How are you feeling?” he asked, playing with strands of her hair after he pulled the blanket over them and inched closer to her to keep warm.

“I’m good. And you?”

“Oh, I’m very good!” Zevran replied with no hesitation whatsoever. “I feel like you and I are really getting the hang of it!”

“We sure do,” Erielle chuckled, gladly receiving another kiss on her forehead. She would have loved to drift off to sleep just like that, but it seemed like another question was lingering on Zevran’s mind before they could do just that.

“No bad aftertaste, I hope? I’d simply hate it if you’d regret this amazing night.” His voice was lower now, head resting next to hers on the pillow. “I don’t. I don’t think I could ever regret this,” Erielle mumbled back, cuddling into his chest. Zevran embraced her, memories of his touches being replaced by new, tender ones all over her body.

“Good. Me neither,” he whispered quietly, more to himself. Still, Erielle’s lips curled into a smile as she nuzzled her face into his warm body, glad that all those things that had worked her up all evening now came to an end. Falling asleep in his arms felt like a good decision. One, that solved her problems and that she could believe in for as long as they lived.

No matter what anyone might think, this certainly was not a bad judgment on her part.

“So… about our previous conversation.”

Wynne’s voice tore Erielle out of her thoughts as the group marched towards the next town on their list. They hadn’t talked much beyond greetings and instructions, so having Wynne approaching her surprised Erielle.

“It came to my attention that I might have offended you with what I said the other day, and I want to apologize for that.”

For a moment, Erielle had to think about what exactly Wynne meant, but she quickly remembered the evening where the mage accused her of being unfit for the position she was in. “Oh…” Erielle mumbled, being made aware of all that happened back then. However, after she resolved everything with Zevran, she had another long talk with him the following days, and his words stuck with her enough to resolve the uneasiness she felt. “Yeah, it was...” Searching for words, Erielle took heart, taking a deep breath. “It was inappropriate, Wynne, and I hope we don’t have to talk this way to each other anymore.”

It was probably the most firm she had spoken with any of her group, making her hope she wasn’t too rude. At the same time, it felt good to get it off her chest and not letting Wynne have the upper hand over her again. “I know how you feel about him, but Zevran… I think your thoughts on him are misguided by his appearance. He and I�� we just click, and I like him. A lot. Which doesn’t mean it would get in the way of our cause, ever.”

Wynne nodded in understanding, and though Erielle couldn’t read her mind, she liked to think that Wynne simply accepted what she said. She wouldn’t have to like it. No one needed to. All that mattered was that Erielle was satisfied with the decision she made, and at the end of the day, laying next to Zevran, she was more than satisfied.

Looking back over her shoulder, she caught the eyes of her lover, smiling brightly at him as if to say, “I did it! I stood up for myself!” and Zevran seemed to understand, returning her smile. He winked at her encouragingly, and suddenly, Erielle realized it must have been him who told Wynne about what she had done. Erielle looked back at the path before her, always going forward, feeling her face heat up as she found out Zevran had gone out of his way for her to settle the things that were bothering her.

How lucky she was that there was someone in her life who’d walk this path with her, support her and encourage her.

Someone like Zevran.

#zevran arainai #zevran #zevran dragon age #dragon age #dragon age origins #DA #fanfiction #scenarios #scenario #headcanons #headcanon #drabbles #writing #imagine #imagines #oneshot #writing blog #Commission

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kawasaki-division · 3 years

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Two Types of Acknowledgement - Part 1

All good things come to an end. It’s just that Kosuke didn’t expect for things to end so quickly. Within a day, Kosuke’s newfound paradise was turned inside out, and now... he can only go forward

——————————

The ringing and vibrations in Kosuke’s pocket drew his attention away from his talk with the rest of the TDD members. Seeing the caller ID, he got worried, because it was his father.

“Sorry, I gotta take this.” He excused himself from the table and left the room, and braced himself for whatever brought his father to call on a Friday.

“You mother and I are at your place.” Kosuke felt as if he was having an attack, but no, he was simply panicking. His parents had never come over to his apartment and so his art supplies and books were everywhere. The phone call ended straight after his father spoke and Kosuke just stood outside for a few moments as he tried to calm himself down. Once he came to terms with what might happen, he went back inside.

“Hey guys, I have to go early.” The slight concern on the others was visible as they nodded, and so he left.

Walking home, Kosuke felt a decade younger than he was. Like an elementary school child walking home with a bad grade, which he might as well have been. Going up the stairs was like walking the plank and unfortunately for him, his parents were not outside his door, meaning they were inside.

Kosuke braced himself and opened the door, the lights inside already on and showing his art supplies and parents at the kitchen table.

He could only sit down and look at them in the eyes, hoping that he could somehow reason with them.

“Kosuke, you know that we encourage hobbies, but this has gone too far.” His mother stated in a grave tone.

He was meant to nod and agree. He was supposed to toss his supplies away, then pursue something like engineering. He wouldn’t. If there was anything that being around the TDD had taught him, it was to fight, or at least try.

“I won’t throw them away.” His father’s extression tightened at his statement.

“It does you no good! Artists don’t make a living!”

“I have to try.”

“Try what?! Not only is it art, but this is paint we’re talking about! Do you want to collapse?!” Kosuke was well aware of how his paints would occasionally irritate his throat and breathing, but he loved his works, even the ones that he deemed not good.

“I know-”

“If you know then stop!”

“But-”

“DON’T START WITH YOUR BUTS!” Kosuke couldn’t help but flinch as his father’s booming voice. He was almost an adult at seventeen, but yet he still trembled at his angry father's voice. His father, who he was taller than, but also who allowed for him to live in the very apartment they sat in.

Kosuke said nothing, holding back tears that he was too old to spill in front of his parents. How had they even found out? He had Ichiro help be his alibi for the weekdays when he went to his cram school, and the students and teacher at said cram school never knew his parents, so how were they there? His parents weren’t the type to randomly drop by unless they had a purpose to and even then they called ahead of time. Nothing added up, but that didn’t matter.

“We’ll be taking these, and you will stop wasting time and money on a pipe dream that threatens your health.” Kosuke wanted to scream about how it wasn’t a waste, how it was one of the few things he poured his heart into without any prompting. But he couldn’t speak, he could barely even breathe.

“We’re incredibly angry with you Kosuke. You can’t let your hard work go to waste for a passing fancy. And that’s not all.”

“We’ve seen the news. You have to leave that rap group.” So his parents also knew about the Dirty Dawg. It wasn’t surprising, but at least now, he was also fighting to be able to smile with his friends.

“They’re my friends. And look at Jakurai-sensei.”

“He is still a poor example! Runnin a free clinic? How long until his business goes under?” His mother argued.

“You’re hanging out with a yakuza and a delinquent. They are not good influences. You know that! You’re limiting yourself so much!”

“I’m not! I’m expanding my horizons!”

“Listen to yourself! Why are you acting like a toddler?!”

“Why can’t you let me take a shot!l

“You only have one, and you’re throwing it away!”

“If you keep this up we’ll cut off money for rent!”

There it was, a threat. One that would cause serious implications for Kosuke’s future. He would either have to throw his heart away and live with the argument, or throw away his stability and live with the argument and live with it. Kosuke made his choice in an instant.

“Go ahead and do it.”

“Say that again?” His father asked, some of his anger turning into disbelief.

“I said go ahead!” Kosuke continued, raising his own voice.

“Cut off the money! I’ll do commissions! If I can’t pay rent, I’ll find a sharehouse! Or I’ll live with the other TDD members! I’ll get into Gedai and I’ll keep hanging out with my friends! So go ahead!”

The shouting match that followed went on for a few more minutes, before both of Kosuke’s parents stormed out. Ripping the art history books he had, and taking his supplies and several canvases with them as they stormed out. Slamming the door behind him. Leaving Kosuke alone in the kitchen area.

In a creepily composed manner, Kosuke got up and went to his room, and opened the closet to reveal the several hidden boxes in the back. They were probably the only reason that Kosuke wasn’t in hysterics at the moment due to their contents. Opening three revealed several things, back up supplies, including old newspapers to prevent paint from getting onto the ground, and unused paint and brushes. One was filled with 12x12 canvases, brimming with colors, ready to be shown to the world. Finally, one of his treasures, the box containing his oldest sketchbook, it’s cover worn and well loved, filled with his mistakes and improvements. Kosuke knew he would never give up after looking at the sketches, yet for some unfathomable reason, he started to cry.

Kosuke quickly closed the boxes so that his tears wouldn’t ruin their contents. He cried endlessly, with an onslaught of hiccups to accompany the tears and his occasional sobs. He thanked whatever higher power made him fall asleep at the time. Later, he would curse it.

When he initially woke up on the floor, Kosuke had no idea what had happened, only registering how puffy his eyes were, which brought him back to his senses. Getting up and taking a shower, he felt as if he was crying again, not that he could really tell. The sun had yet to rise, but it was morning, so Kosuke decided to quickly get to work on his computer. His parents would go through with their words, and so would he.

Kosuke’s phone seemed to have died over the night, but that wasn’t his priority yet. He went to make a simple website along with a new email address. On the website were three tabs. One was a homepage featuring a few photos of his works that he put up for sale, the next was for commissions, and the final was contact info. The commission prices were based on the size of the canvas and so far he only offered paintings, but it was a start. Then there was social media, but that was more Ramuda’s forte.

Oh wait, I haven’t contacted them. The others might be worried.

Charging his phone, Kosuke waited, only to be greeted with messages telling him the The Dirty Dawg had broken up.

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #Kosuke Furuhata #Kosuke #ichiro yamada #samatoki aohitsugi #ramuda amemura #jakurai jinguji #tdd ichiro #tdd samatoki #tdd ramuda #tdd jakurai #drama track #tdd era #ocs

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jenwhitner · 3 years

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( ADELINE RUDOLPH. SHE/HER. CIS WOMAN ) Did I just see ( JENNIFER WHITNER )? This ( TWENTY SEVEN ) year old ( VETERINARIAN ) has been living in Chicago for ( EIGHTEEN YEARS ). Some say that they are ( TENACIOUS & COMPASSIONATE ) as well as ( VOLATILE & INSECURE ). If they had a theme song, some might say that it would be ( ALL THE TIME by MOOSE BLOOD ). All I know is that I can’t wait to see what they bring to the Windy City.

hellooooo, it’s lauren, back with my second character. this is jennifer! she’s one of rowan’s older adopted siblings, and she’s one of those people that acts super tough and a little distant at first, but she’s a sweetheart really, i promise. @hocstarters

‏‏‎ ‎

INFO:

full name: Jennifer Ahn Whitner

birth name: Ahn Ji-hyun

nickname(s): Jenny, Jen

birthplace: Daegu, South Korea

birthday: 25th June 1993

age: 27

zodiac sign: Cancer

gender & pronouns: cis woman, she/her

sexuality: Heterosexual

physical: 5′6, brown hair, brown eyes

occupation: Veterinarian

‏‏‎ ‎

PAST:

( tw: death; car accident; child neglect; bullying; mental illness )

1993, Daegu, South Korea. Ahn Ji-hyun was born to a newly-married couple, who cared for her well and loved her dearly. Her early childhood was great, and she had plenty of friends. She showed a love for animals and nature early on, and developed a habit of picking up and bringing home any injured animals she found, wanting to help them. She also loved literature and art, spending hours covered in paint or listening to her mother tell her stories.

But, tragedy struck when Ji-hyun was 5 years old, and the family were involved in a car accident when returning to their home after a meal out. All the members of the family were rushed into hospital. Unfortunately both of Ji-hyun's parents eventually succumbed to their injuries, but, Ji-hyun managed to pull through. She spent a few weeks in the hospital recovering from her minor injuries. Somehow she had managed to walk away with only cuts and bruises, a concussion and a few broken bones. The couple had no other family that were able to take care of the now orphaned young girl, and she was taken to a foster home. The memories of the accident haunted her, and she had night terrors regularly, waking up in a cold sweat and gasping for air. It caused her to withdraw, and she became quiet and reserved. She was placed into therapy to try and help her deal with the loss of her parents, and eventually she began to show signs of improvement. Art was one of the things that helped her to express her grief and loneliness, and she continued to improve her painting skills over the years as she used it as her main emotional outlet.

When Ji-hyun turned 7, she was adopted by an American couple. Knowing absolutely no English, Ji-hyun was terrified of leaving Daegu and her friends behind to go to a completely new country. She begged the adults in the foster home to not make her go, but they promised that she would be safe and have a happy life, and would have more opportunities in America then she would have in her home country. So, reluctantly, she moved to Rockford, Illinois with her new family. Her name was legally changed to Katie, but she continued to refer to herself by her Korean name.

But, things didn't turn out the way that Ji-hyun had been told they would. She was enrolled in school, but the language barrier proved to be too much. Despite having special tutoring in English, Ji-hyun couldn't seem to learn fast enough for her new parents liking, and they were disappointed in her. Thus began the neglect. Because they couldn't communicate properly, her parents began to ignore Ji-hyun out of frustration, adopting another child and spending all their time and affection on their new son. Her teachers soon began to notice that Ji hyun was turning up to school dirty and hungry, and called social services who then got involved. By the time she turned 8 years old, Ji-hyun was back in foster care, this time in Chicago.

The experience left his distrustful of other people, and she kept herself very guarded, not speaking to anybody about personal matters and never showing signs of any emotion unless she was safely locked away in a room by herself. Her faith in humanity was gone, and left her bitter and cold towards the world even at such a young age.

A year passed, and Ji-hyun settled back into the routine of a foster home, until one day a new couple came along. A few weeks after meeting them, the news came that the Whitner's were going to adopt Ji-hyun. Yet again, she was scared and dubious. In her head, before even going to the family, she was expecting it not to last long, so she was stand-offish with the couple and with their other adopted children, not wanting to form any connections out of fear that they would end up being severed in a short time.

It wasn’t until a few months into this new chapter that Ji-hyun finally realised that she was now in a safe and loving home, with people that cared about her and wanted her to have a good and happy life. The realisation came from such a small gesture on the Whitner’s part, but a huge one for her. They asked her what she wanted to be called. So, not wanting to completely lose touch with her birth name that had become her only sense of identity over the years, and the only connection she had to her biological parents, she chose the name Jennifer. Her parents agreed to her keeping her surname, using it instead as a middle name. Thus, Jennifer Ahn Whitner became her legal name.

Despite knowing that she was finally in a safe space, that didn't change the struggles that Jennifer dealt with during school. The Whitner's did their best to help her learn English, but the kids at school picked on her because she was different and because she couldn't communicate with them properly.

Nevertheless, Jennifer was very intelligent and excelled in all other areas of her education, and eventually she became good enough at English that she could hold a full conversation, thanks to her parent's consistent tutoring and support, and the help of her adopted siblings. Once she got to high school, language was no longer an issue, but her accent was still prevalent. Kids were cruel, and the bullying continued. This drove her to develop depression and anxiety, and she became withdrawn and quiet. Throughout her dark times, she carried on painting, finding solace in art. Yet again, she began therapy and threw herself into her studies, deciding that she wanted to become a veterinarian. She went off to college, and here she flourished. As she grew older, she became more confident in herself and her abilities, and finally started to develop a bit of a social life again. But, she still kept herself guarded, a defence mechanism that she just couldn't bring herself to let go of. It was hard for her to make friends because of it, but those who persevered and finally broke through her tough exterior are still close friends of hers to this day.

‏‏‎ ‎

PRESENT:

Recently graduated from veterinary college, Jennifer lives in her own apartment and works at a local animal clinic. She still keeps in contact with her foster parents, visiting them regularly and also maintaining strong relationships with her foster siblings.

She has continued on with her art, but only ever as a hobby. Her friends continue to push her to try and pursue it as a full-time career but she loves her job working with animals, and doesn't want to give that up. Despite that, she does commissioned work for people on the side, but because her job is so demanding already it's a rather rare occurrence.

‏‏‎ ‎

PERSONALITY:

At first, Jennifer can come across as rude and uninterested, but this is just her way of avoiding letting people get too close. It will take time to break down that tough, uncaring exterior she puts on, but once it's done, her true personality will come through. She can be volatile and insecure at times. She struggles to trust people and let them in, and rarely talks about her biological parents or her first foster family. The memories still haunt her from time to time, but she does her best to focus on the positives.

She returns to Daegu to visit her family as often as she can, and still speaks in her native tongue often, finally being proud of her Korean heritage and wanting to celebrate it rather than hide it to save herself from other people's judgement.

Her temper can change quickly when she feels vulnerable or threatened, and can be quite harsh when she's in a bad mood. She bears grudges for a long time, and if anybody upsets her she won't ever forget about it. She may forgive, but the relationship will never be the same again. At times she is also overly-sensitive, and small comments made can stick with her for a long time and cause quite a big impact on her, and leave her questioning her worth and abilities.

But, Jennifer is very compassionate. As seen from an early age, she has a very nurturing personality, and will look after anyone and anything that needs help. This quality is what makes her so good at her job - her caring nature and love for animals combined makes her a brilliant veterinarian.

With strangers, she can struggle to initiate conversations and it takes time to gain her trust, but once it’s done and she lets people see the real her, they will have a loyal friend and someone to lean on and be loved dearly by.

She is also incredibly tenacious, and once she puts her mind to something she will see it through no matter how difficult it may be at times.

Reassurance and small gestures of affection are her love language, both for herself and for others, so she will go out of her way to remind the people in her life how loved and important they really are.

‏‏‎ ‎

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

closest friend(s) - these will be the people she’s most comfortable around and can be completely herself with. they probably know a little bit about her past, but not the whole story

colleagues - fellow veterinarians, or other staff at the clinic

neighbours - she has her own apartment, so there’s a few options for neighbour type connections

ex-boyfriend - will have been during college years, can have ended on good or bad terms, could even still be feelings there if we wanna get real angsty with it

past hook-ups - again, probably during college years, can be awkward or not, i don’t mind

enemies - people that she doesn’t like or don’t like her, or someone from her past that did something to really upset her and she’s holding a grudge still

#hocintros

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missjanjie · 4 years

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I Could be in Love (with Someone Like You) | Jankie

this is a commission for @moniapossenti99 which is the dramatic conclusion of the ‘jankie in australia’ journey

Ship: Jankie (Jan Sport x Jackie Cox) Word Count: 1.7k Rating: T

comission info | ko-fi

In the weeks following the final day in Australia, Jan and Jackie did their best to put what they had behind them, but it was easier said than done. Both of their partners were complaining that they were distant and detached, and they had to offer excuse after excuse, neither of them willing to confess to the affair.

And at times, hiding the truth was easy. They both traveled more for shows, meaning less time at home to raise suspicion. The obvious downside, of course, was that many of these venues booked them together, often with their other season twelve sisters.

The first post-Australia show they had together was as uncomfortable for them as it was for everyone around them. Jan did his makeup in the bathroom, making poor Heidi run back and forth whenever he realized he needed something from the dressing room.

“Does she have the runs or something?” Heidi remarked as he returned to the dressing room after his fourth makeup run.

Jaida shrugged. “She better pop an antacid before the show,” while Heidi and Crystal laughed, he noticed that Jackie was noticeably silent, and looked over at him. “You sick too?”

Jackie frowned. “I’m not sick just because Jan’s sick. We haven’t even seen each other in weeks,” he didn’t mean to jump right on the defensive, but it came out before he could stop himself.

“I don’t think that’s what she meant…” Crystal quietly chimed in before deciding to drop the subject entirely. None of them were used to seeing Jackie in such a foul mood, so they all decided the best course of action was to leave him alone and just make it through the show.

Things didn’t improve as shows continued, and whichever queens they were with were picking up on it. And now they were starting another tour, that of course, Jan and Jackie were both on. It was them, Gigi, Nicky, and Jaida, and while the five of them normally got along well, the tension had only built up more and more as time went on.

It was only by their second show that the issues became too obvious to ignore. Jackie had shown up to the venue in full drag instead of getting ready with the rest of them, something that had caught them all off guard. Everyone knew Jackie to be warm and personable, to want to hang out with his friends.

The only thing more unnerving was Jan’s attitude. Jan normally carried himself with a high level of energy and enthusiasm long before he needed to be onstage. It had never been an act - he was really that bubbly and friendly. But this was a different Jan, a pouty, moody Jan that was alienating himself almost as much as Jackie had been.

“We should talk to them, right?” Gigi said to Nicky after the show. “I feel like we should talk to them. You get Jackie, I’ll talk to Jan,” and before Nicky could object, Gigi was already making a beeline towards Jan.

Gigi sat next to Jan, burning a hole into the side of his head with a pointed stare.

Jan sighed and finally faced him. “What?”

“Jan, I’m only saying this because you’re my friend and I love you,” he paused for a beat. “What the actual fuck is up with you?”

Jan bristled at that, sitting upright. “What do you mean?” he asked stiffly.

Gigi rolled his eyes. “You’ve been aloof, cranky, dismissive… literally the opposite of how you usually are.” Even though he saw Jan start to reply, he continued. “If something’s wrong, you can tell us. We’re your friends and we want to support you and-”

“Fine! You wanna know the truth?” Jan snapped, making Gigi recoil, startled, but nodding nonetheless. “Jackie and I had sex in Australia. Multiple times a day sometimes. And we were going on dates and sharing a hotel room and…” He sighed and looked down. “And we caught feelings for each other. Way too many feelings. But we decided that we didn’t want to ruin our respective relationships, so we’ve been keeping it a secret.”

“So you let your relationship with Jackie get ruined instead,” Gigi concluded.

Jan stared at the vanity table silently for a moment. “I guess so,” he reluctantly agreed. “I didn’t want that either, but maybe it’s for the best.”

“Explain.”

“I just mean… If we’re not even friends, we won’t be so, you know, tempted…” Jan felt his cheeks flush red. He had been actively avoiding acknowledging any lingering feelings he might have had. “It’s not even worth harping on. My relationship is already being held together with chewed gum and scotch tape.” And with that, he got up and started to leave, only to stop and turn back to Gigi. “Don’t… Don’t say anything to Jackie. Just don’t.”

Gigi hesitated, but nodded. “I won’t,” he promised, and watched Jan leave. He could keep that promise, because nowhere in it did he say he wouldn’t say anything to Nicky. He quietly made his way towards Nicky and Jackie, and had gotten there just in time to see Jackie walking away with the same dejected expression his paramor had.

Nicky looked over and spotted Gigi, motioning him over. “How much did Jan tell you? Because I knew that they wanted to hook up in Australia, but not…”

“Not that it was basically the only thing they were doing when they weren’t on stage,” Gigi finished. “Yeah, Jan told me everything. He’s pretty beat up about it, and it’s pretty clear that he isn’t over Jackie. Which makes sense, it sounds like they never got closure.”

Nicky nodded. “I don’t know if they need closure or if they need to have break up sex, though.”

“Break up sex could be closure.”

“You’re not totally wrong,” Nicky conceded, “but you’re not right either.”

Gigi rolled his eyes. “So, what do you suggest?”

Nicky tilted his head in thought. “You live near here, right?” He knew Gigi had mentioned it offhandedly when they arrived in Los Angeles, but he would be lying if he claimed to have been listening and not shit-talking with Jaida.

“Yes. Where are you going with this?” Gigi asked, his interest piqued.

“You bring Jan, I’ll bring Jackie. We get them to your new apartment and lock them in your room until they learn to play nice. Yes?”

Gigi nodded slowly as he mulled it over. “How are we going to convince them to come if the other is gonna be there?”

“Simple, you tell Jan it’ll be just you two, I tell Jackie that Jan is spending the day with Jaida,” Nicky explained.

He shrugged. “I don’t have any better ideas, let’s see what happens.”

Nicky knocked on the door to Gigi’s apartment, standing with Jackie and trying not to seem anxious. He wasn’t trying to win an Oscar, he just needed to keep acting long enough to stave off Jackie’s suspicions, but even that wasn’t easy for him.

“Hey guys,” Gigi was much better at acting nonchalant, letting the two of them in. “So yeah, it’s pretty empty in here, you should see the bedroom, though,” he motioned for them to follow.

The next few moments were quick and chaotic. As soon as Jackie had stepped into the bedroom, Gigi slammed the door shut as he and Nicky scrambled to barricade them in by pulling the couch in front of the door and putting whatever heavy objects they could find on it to weigh it down.

“What the fuck is happening?” Jan asked, having been sitting idly on the bed the whole time.

“I have the sneaking suspicion they want us to talk to each other,” Jackie murmured. “You know, considering how you decided to ghost me while we were back in the city.”

Jan jumped up at that, face flushed red with a sudden surge of anger. “Ghost you? Jackie, this was what we agreed on! We said we’re gonna go about our lives with our boyfriends and put what we had aside.”

Jackie crossed his arms. “That doesn’t mean you had to completely blow me off!”

He bit his lip and shook his head. “Doesn’t it though? We’ve made it pretty clear that we can’t control ourselves when we’re alone together,” even now, he couldn’t ignore that Jackie was sexy as fuck when he got angry.

“Doesn’t that mean something to you?” Jackie took a couple steps towards him. “Don’t I mean something to you?” he asked in a much softer voice.

“Jackie, you mean so much to me,” Jan’s voice started to tremble. “It’s just… I don’t… We can’t…”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Jan. Just kiss me.”

And just as he had claimed, Jan couldn’t control himself, acting right on Jackie’s command. He grabbed him by the shirt, kissing him passionately, letting everything that had built up over the last couple of months out flow into the kiss.

Jackie, of course, kissed back. He held Jan tightly, needing to feel every inch of his body against his own to make up for all the lost time. He used up all of the air in his lungs to make that kiss last as long as he could, because kissing Jan was more important than breathing.

But eventually their bodies’ natural instincts won out and they had to break apart. “I can’t do it anymore,” Jan breathed out. “I can’t pretend you’re not the one I want.”

“Neither can I,” Jackie replied, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Is this… official, then?”

Jan hesitated, chewing on his lip. “We should wait until we get back home. The least we could do is tell them in person. It wouldn’t be right to do it over the phone, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“Agreed,” Jackie pressed a gentle kiss to Jan’s forehead, still holding him close. “But, um, does that mean we can…”

“Pick up where we left in Australia?” Jan giggled softly. “You fucking bet we can.” There was a momentary temptation to consummate their relationship in Gigi’s bed as an act of revenge, but he resisted bringing up the suggestion. This was just the very start of them finally getting what they truly needed.

#jankie #rpdr rpf #rpdr fanfiction #fic commission

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raendown · 4 years

Link

I almost forgot today was the start of @narutorarepairweek! This is my entry for the day 1 prompt the moment love hits.

Pairing: SakuraHinata Word count: 2149 Rated: G Summary: Pink is a color that represents many things. Friendship, affection, harmony, love, all of these things and more, all of them perfect for the one who stole her heart. Hinata never imagined that a feeling like this could ever be hers.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Pink

It took hours of walking and a dozen different shops to find the perfect gift. Hinata was glad she’d come out early today, although the guilt still weighed quite heavily that she hadn’t been able to get out and buy anything before now. Usually she was the sort of person to be ready with gifts well in advance but her genin team had been running her ragged these days and time had been slipping past faster than she realized lately. She’d already made seven different mental notes just this past week to thank Kurenai-sensei the next time she saw her old teacher.

When she finally spotted the figurine it was as though her ancestors were guiding her, turning her round and bidding her to look at just the right angle to spot the last item tucked in behind a row of novelty teddy bears. Her hand was moving almost before the rest of her caught up and a moment later she was holding a beautiful porcelain figurine of a rose pink cat, elegant and feminine, yet the beautiful green eyes spoke to her of a certain fierceness. It was perfect. This was just the sort of gift she’d spent the last several hours looking for.

The rest of the shop was surprisingly empty so Hinata made her way to the front counter unhampered. As she set the figure down with careful hands she noticed a sign hanging just behind the bored cashier and smiled.

“Hello,” the man greeted her in a dull voice. “Did you find everything alright today?”

“Yes I did, thank you. Ah, I’m sorry to be of any trouble but I see you offer gift wrapping?”

“Bag or box?”

Shifting her weight back and forth, Hinata gave that some careful consideration. “I would like it in a box, please.”

The cashier nodded and brought out a sheet of thick paper to wrap the item before pressing it inside a small cardboard box. He pointed out a selection of wrapping paper and waited with an empty expression until she chose one with a design of blue and green balloons. In just a couple of minutes he was handing over a beautifully wrapped present for which Hinata handed him back the right change with a small tip that she hoped would brighten his day.

After making sure the gift was tucked away safely in her admittedly oversized purse she checked her watch and gasped, hurrying out of the shop and down the street so fast her hair blew out behind her like a handkerchief waving in the wind. She hadn’t realized it was so late already!

Luckily the streets weren’t nearly as busy now as they had been earlier when she began her shopping. Hinata was able to make it across town in record time, just fast enough to pause on her friend’s doorstep and smooth her hair back down before knocking on the door at precisely six o’clock, exactly when she’d promised she would arrive.

Sakura’s welcoming smile as she opened the door was like a ray of golden sun doing its best to outshine all the rest. As it always did the sight took Hinata’s breath away and left her with nothing but a tiny squeak to give in response. The kind soul that she was, all Sakura did was chuckle a few times and lean in to brush Hinata’s cheek with a gentle kiss, generous enough not to comment on the blush that rose in the wake of such blatant affections.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she murmured.

“Well I promised,” Hinata reminded her. “I…I like spending time with you.”

The two of them traded bashful looks before a young voice called for Sakura’s attention inside and she beckoned Hinata in as well. After nearly a year of pining in silence, believing with all her heart that such a wonderful person could never return her feelings, it was still a shock for Hinata to realize that Sakura did. It had already been a handful of months since that first date filled with nervous laughter and shy smiles and still she woke some mornings wondering if this had all been just a wonderful dream.

“Mama where’s my red jumper? I wanna wear my red jumper!” A tiny face with wide black eyes peered around the corner.

“It’s in the wash, sweetie.”

“But I wanna wear it!” Delicate eyebrows furrowed with childish temper and Hinata bit her cheek to hold in a smile at the sight of Sarada stomping her foot. At four years old she already had enough attitude and independence to rival either of her parents.

Sakura, however, was a good enough mother to take it all in stride. “Perhaps you should have thought about that before you covered yourself in soy sauce yesterday. I’m afraid you’ll just have to wear something else. What about that pretty blue one?”

Eyes narrowed in thought, Sarada weighed her options. A few seconds passed before she apparently decided to forgo having a temper tantrum. Instead she blinked rapidly in Hinata’s direction and then disappeared back around the corner where they could hear her little feet patter away towards the bedrooms, ostensibly to find a different jumper.

“I hope you don’t mind if Sarada joins us for dinner,” Sakura called over one shoulder, walking back towards the kitchen. “Naruto was supposed to watch her for the night but something came up at the office and he’s going to be in a meeting with the elders until well after her bedtime.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind,” Hinata assured her.

“Are you positive? This was supposed to be a nice romantic night for just us.”

“No really, it’s fine!” Slipping off her shoes, she hurried forward without removing purse or coat, following her partner in to the kitchen and meeting Sakura’s eyes with a gentle expression. “I like spending time with both of you – and I was hoping to see her anyway.”

Sakura gave her a curious look but her question was interrupted as Sarada marched back in to the room with all the bold swagger of a model on the catwalk. Odd as it was to see her in any color but her very favorite she did look very nice in blue. And it appeared that she had realized this, making an obvious effort to do a fancy walk as she modeled the pretty outfit she’d chosen to attend dinner in. Hinata clapped her hands appreciatively while Sakura only rolled her eyes with a chuckle.

“You look lovely,” Hinata told her. To her delight Sarada dropped a very off-center curtsy.

“Thank you!”

“I’m glad you’re here; I have something for you.”

With no further prompting Sarada zoomed across the tile floor to hug her around the knee. “Presents!?”

“Just the one. Yesterday was your birthday, wasn’t it? Sorry I didn’t give it to you then. I tried to get us back from our mission in time but Miho-kun wanted to stop and look at some rare insects and I just couldn’t tell him no. I’m afraid he’s too much like his uncle.” Hinata tried for an apologetic smile as she pulled the gift out of her purse and held it out.

Clearly she was forgiven for her tardiness if the squeal Sarada let out was anything to go by. Wrapping paper went flying carelessly in every direction until the birthday girl was left holding a teeny pink cat that stared up at her with graceful nonchalance. Waiting to hear what she thought was absolute torture, not one of them speaking or even moving for several minutes, until finally Sarada carefully pressed the figurine to her chest with dark eyes wet and shining.

“It’s perfect!” she declared. “I love it! It’s like Mama but as a cat!”

“That’s why I liked it too.” Hinata’s lips curled in a relieved smile only to part with a dawning blush as she realized what she had just said. Gaze snapping up, she needed only a single glimpse of the look on her partner's face before looking away again, heart thundering with nerves in her chest.

“Mama look! Look! Won’t this go perfect on my windowsill? I’m going to put it there right away!” In a flash the little princess was gone just as quickly as she had come in to the room.

This time being alone with Sakura felt so much more precarious and Hinata desperately wished that she had a reason to call Sarada back in to the kitchen. She kept her eyes on the floor in the silence that followed, resisting the urge to fold down under the weight of the stare she could feel from over by the stove. The more time passed without either of them saying anything the more flustered she grew, wondering just how much of a fool she’d just made of herself. It had only been a few dates after all. They weren’t all that serious. Had she overstepped some sort of boundary that she hadn’t known about?

Soft footsteps approaching nearly made her flinch. If it weren’t for the years of hard work that had gone in to improving her self-confidence she would have turned tail and run or simply fainted dead away on the spot. It was, she would realize a few moments later, lucky that she did neither.

“You didn’t have to get her anything,” Sakura murmured softly.

“It really wasn’t much.”

“I...didn’t even realize you knew when her birthday was.”

Hinata shuffled nervously. “You mentioned it a couple of months ago and I know I should have started looking for a better gift much sooner but I just always seemed to be busy! Next year I promise that I’ll be more prepared. Do you really think she likes it? I could–”

Whatever other nonsense was about to spill from her mouth was lost to the tender press of pink lips against her own. Hinata sighed and tilted her head instinctively for a better angle. When they parted she found her head fuzzy with bliss in a way that happened all too often around this incredible woman. Sakura smiled, her eyes as wet and shining as her daughter’s had been.

“I love you,” she whispered. Hinata’s jaw fell open. “I know that it’s probably much too soon but- oh I don’t care. I don’t! You listen to me, you remember the little things and the big things, you’re so good with Sarada and she likes you too! Please don’t freak out! And don’t feel obligated to say it back just because I did! No rush! No pressure! I just…I had to say it. Do you know what you do to me?” Sakura lifted one hand to stroke the lines of Hinata’s jaw, reaching out with the other to steady her when she trembled.

“You give me too much credit.”

“No, love, I really don’t.”

“I…I love you too!”

Once more Sakura paused to stare at her but this time Hinata understood that look of awe. She felt quite the same to know that her feelings were returned.

A moment later she had been gathered in to strong arms and her girlfriend was kissing her as though the world were ending around them and Hinata really had no problems with that. Because she also understood the feeling of that moment when your own heart comes crashing down on you and the realization hits that your world would never be the same again. Poets had been trying to capture love in words for centuries. Standing outside of a rundown café with the sun in her eyes watching this woman before her greet one of her young patients with a smile, Hinata had known then that love could never be explained, only felt, cherished, protected at all cost – and most importantly shared.

“Is this too soon?” Sakura whispered, pulling away only far enough to breathe her words across Hinata’s lips.

“No. I don’t think so. Um, it feels right to me.”

Sakura graced her with a smile so bright she could have rivalled Naruto with it. “It feels right to me too.”

From the other side of the house they could hear Sarada squealing over how cute her new figurine looked next to the plants that already lined her windowsill and Hinata thought to herself that surely she would never feel this happy again, this content. It was hard to imagine how anything could be more perfect than holding Sakura close and feeling love brushing against her skin over and over knowing that in only a few minutes Sarada would return and the three of them would sit down for dinner together in a way she had hoped for yet never dared to presume until now.

As a family.

Hinata could think of no family she would ever love more than the ones who had chosen her as surely as she had chosen them.

#rae writes #narutorarepairweek2020 #sakuhina #hinata #sakura #sarada #fanfiction

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