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rose-vanity · 3 years

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Filthy HCs For My Faves Because...Why Not? Part 1

We are kicking off this series with my love, Asahi Azumane! ❤️

TW: sex talk (obviously), swearing, mentions of oral and anal sex

Asahi (hubby)

➣ despite his presumably innocent demeanor, he is nasty

➣ dirty minded and always horny

only makes dirty jokes with people he is very comfortable with

can get it up easily; he’s always ready to go

➣ likes to make out

very passionate kisser -- the type to make you go weak in the knees due to lack of oxygen

kissing him is enough to get you wet, tbh. he is that good.

➣ d o m i n a n t

most people think he’s a sub because he is timid. no ma’am.

he’s a soft dom though

he is always attentive to your needs/pleasure

he will manhandle you -- not too roughly (he doesn’t want to hurt you), but expect to be forcefully pushed, pulled, and turned whichever way he pleases

you’re usually sore the next day

“Asahi, I can’t feel my legs”

he immediately blushes and apologizes profusely

carries you to the bath and makes you tea

➣ neither a boobs nor butt man; he just loves your body

likes to smack your booty -- he is surprisingly very handsy, even in public. he somehow finds a way to discreetly squeeze one of your buttcheeks, giving you a cute smile afterwards.

sucks your nipples until they are hard and oversensitive

sticks his fingers in your mouth when he is hitting it from the back or when you’re riding him

*rubs your vagina* “mmm, such a pretty p*ssy”

kisses up and down the length of your legs while caressing your thighs

➣ 🎵 switching the positions for you 🎵

he’s gonna fuck you in at least three different positions every session

he likes to play with angles in bed, just like he does on the court

not flexible? you’re gonna learn today

get tired quickly? start jogging to build your stamina. mans is not playing 🤷

➣ speaking of stamina, Asahi has a lot of it

multiple rounds

“go drink some water and bring that ass back”

you trip on your way out of the bedroom; he thinks it’s cute

also, multiple orgasms

sometimes he accidentally overstimulates you (he’s really sorry)

➣ KING of oral sex

tongue game is ridiculous

he licks, sucks, nibbles, and kisses your lady parts

basically makes love to your p*ssy with his mouth

likes to finger you at the same time for extra ✨ pizzazz ✨

you don’t have to ask for it, he will do it because he wants to

ride his face? absolutely

won’t eat the booty like groceries, but he will lick stripes over your hole (anus) when he’s eating you from behind

will also stick a thumb in your butt when doing doggystyle

➣ mutters dirty talk and praises in your ear

“you like that? yeah?”

“so good...fuck”

“take this dick baby”

“i love you so much”

➣ Asahi is a sensual lover

he’s gonna fuck you good, but also make you feel loved and important

holds you close when he’s nearing orgasm

loving gazes

professes his love/adoration

”you’re so beautiful”

“no one else makes me feel this way”

➣ not into cum play or bodily fluids (bc it’s gross)

➣ believe it or not, he does NOT like for his hair to be pulled

but he will tug on your hair every now and then when you’re being bratty

➣ he has a big dick (we been knew, sis)

he’s a little self conscious about it the first time (he doesn’t want to hurt you)

thought you would be turned off or freaked out because he is bigger

you took it like a pro and he has not held back since

“you like when I stuff you full of my cock huh?”

➣ he loves blowjobs

likes to watch your pretty lips engulf him

pulls his length out and slaps it on your tongue a few times

secretly wants to fuck your throat, but knows he won’t have enough control to not hurt you

likes it wet, but not sloppy

drives him crazy when you moan while blowing him

guides your head with a hand tangled in your hair when he’s close, but otherwise likes to watch you perform

➣ mutual masturbation 👍

➣ not that into anal, but will try it if you really want to

➣ good aftercare -- reverts back to a giant teddy bear once it is over

always checks to see if you are okay with what happened

cleans you both up once he comes down from the high of his orgasm

post-sex cuddles

forehead kisses and interlocked fingers

“you were so good for me, pumpkin. i love you.”

playful cuddles and kisses in the shower while you wash up

#asahi azumane #azumane asahi #headcanon #asahi x reader #asahi x you #i love him so much #why can't he be real #asahi smut #haikyuu!!#hq

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koutarouthighs · 4 years

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『 soft cotton 』

S U M M A R Y ― sometimes out of necessity, sometimes out of desire, and other times out of convenience, you end up wearing their clothes.

post type ➺ headcanons fandom ➺ haikyuu!! characters ➺ tsukishima ⧾ iwaizumi ⧾ terushima genre ➺ fluff rating ➺ t+ tags ➺ established relationship; clothes share/swap; nudity if you squint (bare thighs); party environment described but not in explicit detail; word count ➺ 2.8k request ➺ [YES/NO] ↳ request status: OPEN

⤭ tsukishima is confused the first time he finds you in one of his shirts. before his brow wrinkles in that telltale way of frustration, you hold your hands up in surrender and explain that while you were helping his mother in the kitchen, you spilled soy sauce on your white top and she offered to clean it for you while dinner was in the oven. ⤭ after that, you don’t end up giving him that shirt back. it’s an old one, that doesn’t have much sentimental value, but there’s something jarring about tsukki seeing you in his clothes; an out of body experience, almost. he doesn’t understand why anyone else would want to wear anyone else’s things - isn’t that why you buy your own clothes? ⤭ and he has to ask the other guys about it. why does she wear my shirt to bed? why doesn’t she just give it back? and boy, do they have a field day with him. he can be so dense sometimes. doesn’t he see? you wearing that shirt is like you carrying a piece of him with you, even when you’re far away. ⤭ his clothes engulf you, absolutely dwarfing your frame due to the height difference between you. tsukki has always thought of you as tiny, not fragile, but now, seeing you swimming in the fabric that makes up his ratty old tee, he thinks he has begun to understand why you like to wear this shirt over any of your more expensive, more fashionable ones. ⤭ he might be an asshole about it, but tsukki finds ways to gift you more of his clothes indirectly. he accidentally spills soda on your shirt one night when you’re staying in, watching a movie and eating pizza. another day he grabs at the hem of your shirt when you’re walking away and tears a hole in it. somehow, you still haven’t caught on, but he doesn’t ask you for the shirts back anymore. in fact, when you start to return them, he gets almost as irritated as he did when you had to ask for the first one out of pure necessity.

more below the cut ↴

“i’m sorry, kei,” you brush the fabric free of wrinkles as it settles at your mid thigh, covering the shorts that are currently adorning your lower half. you slowly look up at him, a warmth on your cheeks that signals your shyness, “i’ll bring back this one with the others next time i see you, okay?”

a scoff leaves his lips and he’s tugging at your wrist, pulling you forward on the couch until you’re tumbling down to meet him. your knees settle on either side of his waist and he watches as the fabric of the shirt pools around your thighs, “don’t worry about it. your washer makes them smell like old lady anyway. i don’t want them back.”

the way you tilt your head to the side, cocking an eyebrow and dropping your lower lip in confusion never ceases to amuse him. tsukishima reaches up and brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, inhibiting your speech even as you ask, “i-i can wash them over here, if you want, kei.”

he’s shaking his head again, snagging at you until you’re flush with his chest, your face tucked against his neck. it’s not necessarily odd behavior for him to want you so close, however it is strange that he’s not asking for his clothes back. he used to put up so much harder of a fight.

“nah, they were shitty shirts anyway,” he sloughs off the string of words like they were meaningless, however you know the weight they hold. you also know better than to tease him too far, rather to take the prize you’ve silently won through heckling and hard work. the shirt on your shoulders feels warmer, somehow, with the knowledge that you have his blessing to keep it as if it were a gift from him in the first place.

your hands run up the length of his shoulders until you are hooked around him entirely, clinging to his lanky body like a koala. he smells so good, especially after a shower and a shave, which you suspect he’s done earlier today based on the scent of his aftershave still lingering on his neck. you nuzzle your nose further against his jugular, feeling the way his heartbeat pounds the blood in his veins. a low hum escapes your lips without your permission, but tsukishima must not mind your slip of the tongue, but instead is encouraged by it, sneaking his chilly fingertips underneath the hem of the familiar item of clothing until he finds your ribs.

he’s practically lulled you to sleep with the ministrations of his fingerprints mapping out each of your ribs, in tandem with the warmth he provides and the skin-on-skin contact you’ve beseeched with your own hands. your eyelids cannot stay pried open any longer, and so you allow them to shut. somewhere between now and then, tsukki drags a blanket over your shoulders, angling his body to be in a more comfortable position without jostling you too much to the point you’re far too awake to fall back asleep.

just before your mind is consumed by that dark realm of slumber, you hear a low murmur in your ear, “they looked better on you anyway.”

⤭ iwaizumi would not admit it in the beginning of your relationship, but there was something about seeing you in his clothes, namely a t-shirt with his old high school jersey number on it, that just made him feel a certain way that he could not explain. ⤭ it starts with you forgetting to wear a jacket on a date one night, but you don’t ask. iwaizumi sees you shivering and wordlessly removes the bomber jacket from around his shoulders and places it on your own, waiting until you’ve slipped your hands into the sleeves before he grabs for your hand again, interlocking your fingers at the knuckles. ⤭ after that, you start to become more comfortable asking him for his hoodies and even though he gives you a bit of a frustrated comment after you accidentally take one home, when you stop asking for his jackets, he gets confused and concerned. ⤭ with iwaizumi’s job, he gets a lot of free merchandise from the team(s) he works with. and by proxy, you get a lot of t-shirts and hoodies and other items passed down to you because he would accumulate too many things otherwise. ⤭ you refuse to wear anything the first time, though. because without iwa wearing it around the house at least once, it won’t smell like him. he thought it was weird at first, but eventually you started noticing more clothes piling in on your side of the dresser that you’d seen him wearing a few times. and then, when he sees you step out of the bathroom after your shower with that team japan long sleeve shirt on, if you catch him quickly enough, you’ll notice a small, fleeting smile on his lips.

﹢

“hajime?” your call comes from the kitchen, and iwaizumi can hardly hear you from his place in the bathroom, showering after a long saturday of practice games. he rubs the towel against the top of his head, drying his hair before responding, “yeah, just a minute, babe!”

when he steps into the kitchen, you take him by surprise. you always do, even now, years after your first date. settled on your shoulders is an old seijoh promotional t-shirt he remembers having to wear to a fundraiser. but the seafoam green fabric settles against the tops of your thighs, exposing the remainder of your legs to the chilly breeze coming through the apartment windows. you always crack the windows when you’re cooking or baking; something iwaizumi noticed when you first moved in.

“iwa-chan?”

iwaizumi has to blink once, so harshly that he sees stars on the backs of his lids, before he can focus on you. he tilts his head and licks his lips, “yeah, sorry. what did you say?”

that laugh that rings in his dreams floats across the space between the two of you, and he fights a smile so he doesn’t look like a dope while you’re trying to ask him a question. he steps forward on the guise of hearing you more clearly, and then reaches out to push your hair behind your ear, his fingers itching to brush against the stitches of the fabric holding the shirt together on your pretty frame.

“i asked if you wanted the spicy steak tonight, or if you wanted me to reign in the heat,” your voice comes easy, simple and soft, and iwaizumi catches himself turning gentle at the sound of you. your palms abandon the cookware for a moment to extend towards his body, slipping beneath his top to rests on his hips. your thumbs brush over the warm skin, still slightly reddened from his time in the shower.

he’s so lost in the primal, territorial sensation he gets that starts as a prickling in the base of his neck, seeping down his spine and curling around every bone in his body. he wants to kiss you, to show you how he feels rather than telling you, and so he does.

iwaizumi has never been one to deny how he feels.

your breath is stolen from your lungs when he lurches forward to capture your mouth with his own. his palms are rough as they search your torso for somewhere to land, settling on your shoulders so he can keep your upper body pinned to him. you release a small squeaking sound from the back of your throat, but he’s already swallowed it before you can feel self-conscious.

“haji,” you gasp when you feel his fingertips dig into the muscle of your shoulders, and a laugh follows suit when his lips withdraw from yours and you can see the intensity in his gaze, “wh-what’s gotten into you?”

he’s not really sure, if he were to be honest with you. maybe it’s the nostalgia of the color fabric of the tee that you’re wearing. maybe it’s the way he wishes that he’d continued to play volleyball in a more direct way. maybe it’s the way the shirt falls just far enough to keep you from exposing anything too tantalizing.

or maybe...

“it’s just you,” he answers, pulling you by the thighs so he can pick you up and deposit you on the counter top. your legs sashay, ankles brushing his legs, and you can’t help yourself from twirling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. iwaizumi takes a deep breath before repeating himself, as if saying the phrase again might solidify the statement, but this time he adds: “it’s just you, in my shirt. you’re absolutely beautiful.”

your whole body burns at the compliment, and you bashfully blink downward, but iwaizumi is quick to lean in for another kiss. before too long, he’s got you drowning in his affections, his palms beneath your shirt to map out your skin, and the dinner you were previously preparing has been completely forgotten.

“iwa,” you murmur between the clacking sounds your teeth are making as they collide, “d-dinner, what...”

you feel his chest reverberate with a growl and then his mouth is on your neck and his fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt, “forget dinner.” his voice is rough and his touch is gentle, “we’ll just order out tonight.”

⤭ terushima is the one to ask you if you want to wear his clothes from the very beginning. he loves seeing you wearing his flannels and tees and hoodies. he always tries to find one that pairs well with your outfit so that way he can reason you into wearing his clothes whenever you go out. ⤭ if he comes home to see you curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies, just absolutely engulfed in the warm fabric, it makes his whole body tingle. he goes and changes after work and will definitely slip underneath the blanket you’re hidden under to wrap his arms and legs around you. ⤭ when he asks you for clothing advice, at first you wonder if it’s because he’s trying to change up his look. but, after a few strangely specific questions, you finally realize that he’s trying to tailor his wardrobe to be something that you could always find easy to wear. ⤭ the desire to see you in his clothes is partially from being territorial, but mostly because he just thinks you look hot as hell when you’re wearing his clothes. you always manage to make his clothes look ten thousand times better, mainly because it’s you wearing them. it never fails, he will always make a comment about how good you look wearing just his big tee to bed, even if your hair is all mussed and your face is still shiny from your skincare. ⤭ sometimes you’ll catch him stealing your clothes, too. you wear big tee shirts that are comfortable, and sharing is caring! he loves to pick on you when he wears your clothes, pointing out the designs printed on the shirts and how adorable you are for wanting to wear such cute little things.

﹢

“god, pretty girl,” his voice is rough as it runs ragged against your ears, his hands on your waist from behind, “you know how it makes me feel to see you in my clothes.”

and of course you do. yuuji is no quiet thing when it comes to how you make him feel. so, you lean into him, if only to egg him on until he’s begging you to head out of this little house party. his fingers slip into the back pockets of your jeans and you find yourself stumbling into his chest, palms fumbling over his torso to try and clutch at his shirt to steady yourself.

“teru,” you chide, pinching his cheek before leaning up to kiss him. you pull away before he’s gotten warmed up, leaving him following you by craning his neck. a chuckle escapes your lips and you press your index finger against his pursed mouth, “we came here to celebrate kiyoko and tanaka. can you keep your hands to yourself for just a few more hours?”

“baby,” he’s whining in your ear now, all needy with his lips pouted and his irises widening, “you can’t be serious! you know that’s my favorite shirt to see you in! i think you did this on purpose!”

his fingers tug on the material of the flannel that’s draped over your shoulders, pooling around your hips and framing your body just perfectly. you watch as his irises struggle to focus, pupils dilating as he looks down at you. his mouth twitches in expectant words, but he’s interrupted by someone else who steals your attention.

while you’re busy talking to one of your old friends from high school, terushima is given the opportunity to take in your appearance for the first time since he met you at the party earlier, and the sight of you engulfed in his flannel and a pair of his crazy socks that peek out from the cuffs of your jeans makes his chest constrict so much so that he grasps at his shirt with his fingertips, barely curling his digits around the fabric of his tee before he realizes what he’s doing.

a slow, gentle blinking of his lashes brings him back to earth, where he can stare at you some more, all unbeknownst to you. he doesn’t mind admitting to anyone who wants to know that he loves to watch you when you’re just existing. he likes to notice the little things about you, to catalog them in the back of his mind so he can remember them on days when you have to be apart for longer than he wants to be.

your attention is diverted when you feel his palms against your hips, his chest brushing your back as he leans forward to kiss your shoulder, “i’m gonna get a drink, yeah? you want anything?”

“water,” you nod, reaching back with one hand to run your fingers against his undercut, “thank you, teru.”

another kiss is deposited to your cheek before he unravels himself from you and heads towards the kitchen, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. and you tilt your head so you can take in a deep breath of the collar of the flannel that you’re wearing, and somehow it feels like you’re there with him despite the distance between you.

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toraodwaterlaw · 3 years

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An End and a Beginning

Having survived Minion, Rosinante is reassigned to East Blue, where he and Law will start their new lives. 1700 words, CoraLives!Au, mild hurt/comfort, found family

“I’m ready.”

Law was seated on his bed, a full length mirror in front of him and a scalpel in his right hand. Neither was strictly necessary- neither the mirror nor the scalpel- but he insisted they helped. He really only needed to feel out the lead with his powers, not to see anything, but Rosinante could understand how weird it would feel to work blind, more or less. That he could still operate with everything flipped in the mirror only proved what a remarkable doctor he might have been had life been less cruel. Perhaps he still would be. Rosinante certainly hoped. Law would have his whole life ahead of him once this was finally over.

As for the scalpel, well, apparently it worked as a sort of focus for the Ope-Ope to work through. It made Rosinante wince, made the whole thing seem more like a normal operation, but it was infinitely preferable to the sword Law had first suggested using. Apparently the boy already had ideas on how he might use the Devil Fruit to fight. Rosinante had to draw the line at practicing that on himself. It was bad enough Law had to operate on himself.

“Ready,” Rosinante repeated. He nodded and looked down at Law a moment more. He wouldn’t stay. He never did, not after the first time. Law insisted that it didn’t hurt but Rosinante couldn’t bear to see him like that. It looked too close to dying even if it was more like the opposite. “Right. I’ll be guarding the front door like always. Just right out there,” he said, knowing all the while it was more a reassurance to himself than to Law who was seemingly unfazed by the whole process. “If you need me, all you have to do is call for me.”

Law rolled his eyes. “I know, Cora-san.” He waved the scalpel in his hand menacingly. “Now get out of here. You’re distracting.”

Rosinante nodded and promptly tripped over his own feet on the way to the door. He caught himself on the door handle and smiled sheepishly back at Law who only scowled in return. He found his usual seat outside the room with a heavy sigh. One more operation and this would all be behind them.

For as much as he himself had told Law that the fruit wasn’t magic, he’d somehow imagined this would be over with one miraculous wave of the hand. Law would awaken to his new powers, find the lead in his veins and pull it all out in one go. Instead, it had been staggered over the course of weeks. Law had needed to learn how to use his powers and then they’d both found just how much energy it all took. The real delay came, Rosinante would admit, had come at his own insistence. He hadn’t been around for the first attempts at operating, since he’d been held up on Minion while Law went ahead to Swallow. Law himself had been tight lipped about how that had gone but from what he’d gathered from the other boys that had been there, there had been blood loss. Just how much he’d never know. In his opinion, any was too much.

Rosinante shook his head to get that particular image out of his head. He patted down his pockets until he found his cigarettes. He flicked at his lighter with a trembling thumb and nearly caught his hair instead of the cigarette with the resulting flame. He sucked in deep and let out a long, smoke filled breath. His eyes slid closed. He needed to focus on the positive. This would all be over soon. Already, life was coming back with a flush in Law’s skin. It would be a while before the patches in his skin would be gone completely but sunny Windmill Village was doing a lot to help vitality along. Law was healing. They both were.

He’d have to find a way to thank Sengoku and Garp. Maybe he’d just send food and drink along under the guise of souvenirs. At least Garp was likely to accept. Sengoku was still pretending that sending a Marine Commander to such an out of the way posting was a punishment. Rosinante knew, though, just how many strings the Fleet Commander likely had pulled to get him here. As important as the rulers of the Goa Kingdom might consider themselves, they didn’t really merit a strong naval presence.

“I’m done.”

The voice was quiet and weak enough that he nearly didn’t hear it but he was on his feet in an instant. He gripped the wall to keep upright and then stumbled in through the door. Law was seated just as he’d been before. If Rosinante didn’t know any better, he’d think nothing had happened. He did know better, though.

“Done? All done?”

“That’s what I said, you stupid clown,” came the expected reply. There wasn’t nearly as much bite in the insult as there once had been. Law fell back onto his bed. Rosinante took a worried step forward before he saw the smile on Law’s face. “But yeah, it’s all done. Not a trace of lead left.”

Of the two of them, Rosinante had most definitely been the more optimistic one about this whole process. Yet, here he was, unable to quite believe it. The past weeks had been so hard and the six months before that had been harder still. It felt impossible that they’d both survived it all and now would get to simply get on with their lives.

Law opened one golden eye and fixed it on Rosinante. “You think I’m lying to make you feel better or something?”

Rosinante gaped. The forgotten cigarette dropped from his mouth. He stomped it out with a yelp before anything was burnt. “No!” he insisted. “It’s just—”

How could he explain? But Law was smart. He got it even without words.

The boy sat up. “See for yourself.” He extended a hand and was surrounded in a sphere of shimmering blue. “Scan.”

That blue light intensified and shone in a path that followed the careful sweep of Law’s hand. Rosinante knew from previous experience exactly what Law was showing him. There was nothing. No lead. No lingering illness.

Rosinante’s face split into a wide smile. He could see Law biting back on a smile of his own as he threw himself back down into the bed.

“Told you, idiot. I thought you crammed that fruit down my throat because you believed in my medical skills.”

“I did. I do! But after everything…”

“Yeah. I know.” Law chewed on his lip and a complicated expression crossed his face. Whatever it was about, when it passed, there was only a smile left in its place. “I might’ve scanned three or four times before I called you in. Just to be really sure.”

“But it’s over.”

“It’s over.”

How many times would they have to repeat that before either of them believed it?

Law had let his eyes drift shut again. Rosinante took the opportunity to really look at him. He wondered what changes the next months and years would bring. Law was still rather small for his age. Rosinante knew he was hardly the best judge given he was, as Law would point out, rather larger than average himself, but the boy hardly had the look of someone on the cusp of adolescence. Hopefully without the constant strain on his body, he would be able to catch up with where he should be. Perhaps he’d never be as tall or as bulky as he might have been but only time would tell. Rosinante chose to hope for the best.

And then there was his skin. Amber Lead Syndrome was blessedly unheard of all the way out in a rural corner of East Blue but Rosinante knew Law was still self conscious. Every curious look or question about the white patches made him pull into himself. Although the people of Windmill Village had overall been very kind and accepting, Law would undoubtedly be more comfortable when his skin was clear of any lingering paleness.

Rosinante’s heart swelled thinking of that future. Maybe Law would start to open up more, find friends even. He knew Garp’s grandkids were about somewhere. And that was only the start of it. Law was smart, he was strong, and now he was healthy. The future was practically limitless.

Rosinante threw himself into the bed next to Law, causing the boy to bounce up into the air with a yelp.

“Oi! Watch what you’re doing, you giant oaf.”

Rosinante could only smile. He ruffled a fond hand through Law’s unruly black hair. “We should start looking at what medical training is available. There might not be anything somewhere so out of the way but there’s plenty of time. We can find you the best training. Go anywhere you want.”

Law rolled his eyes. “Give me a few seconds to breathe, would you? I only just finished getting rid of the lead and you’re already planning out my entire future.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll try not to get carried away. But…” Rosinante hesitated. He knew this was a sensitive subject given all the time Law had spent convinced he was going to die. Still, the boy needed to start looking ahead at some point. “Have you thought at all what you might want to do now?”

Law was silent a moment and Rosinante thought he had perhaps pushed too far. Then Law smiled. “I was thinking…” Rosinante propped himself up onto his elbows and waited. Law’s smile only grew. “Maybe I’ll become a pirate.”

Rosinante’s eyes widened. “What?” He swatted at Law, only to be easily dodged as Law hopped over him and off the bed. “You brat! You aren’t going to be a pirate.”

Law threw back his head and laughed as he continued to dance out of Rosinante’s reach. It was a boisterous, youthful thing that the blond couldn’t help but love the sound of. Law was still a brat. He would probably always be a bit of a shit but there would really be time ahead for him to grow. Mature. There was finally a future that both of them could see and Rosinante couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment whether that included Law turning pirate or doing anything else he might imagine.

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #donquixote rosinante #donquixote rocinante #corazon #one piece corazon #fic #one piece au

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justiceraffles · 3 years

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"Hey, what if MK was a horribly written telenovela with a poorly conceived mystery storyline that's tied together in the most precarious of ways with nonsensical plotpoints and was also endgame Hakukai" So here's the start to my Hakukai longfic! I have a lot of things to say about this story so I'll just ramble about it at length beneath the cut if anyone's interested in my nonsense notes. Otherwise,

Read Here

I've been working on this thing on and off for a year and a half now, it lives rent free in my head every day and has been editted, restructured, and rewritten a lot. I've been very apprehensive about sharing it. ...To be honest, I still am! It's a chaotic story where I just allowed myself to write the most self-indulgent thing I could muster. This entire plot is an amalmagation of random things and ideas I like. It feels like a niche concept that is very messy and ???¿¿¿¿??? why did I make this

But, I guess that also makes it a very "me" story, so having fun with it and writing something that just brought me joy is what matters most, ultimately.

(aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

I'm very thankful to everyone who has read the outline and concept for it or just listened to me ramble about the incoherent plot and characters or cheering me on when I've been kinda anxious about it— it's thanks to that support despite this being such a specific and ¿¿¿ idea that I've found the courage to actually share it. I'm very grateful and I hope you guys can enjoy something in it o)-(

So, about the fic,

It's a story about Hakuba! I think we are all well aware that jokes about his long absences and infrequent appearances are very commonplace (where in the world is hakuba saguru??? TT) and it unfortunately leads to him being forgotten and overlooked often. The initial concept that inspired this fic was "Hey, what if Hakuba stopped showing up for real?" and explore the implications this would have on the MK storyline (and Kaito, by extension). I wanted to make a plot where he was allowed to be the protagonist of his own story, highlight his worth as a detective, his role in the main narrative, and the depth of his relationship with Kaito. It's a Hakuba Saguru Appreciation fic, first and foremost!

So, the romance itself is very slow burn. There is a lot of plot, because I have a lot of fun with ridiculous, contrived stories haha. It takes a while for the story to be fully set up, and Kaito doesn't make a proper, official appearance until the end of Chapter 2.

Chapter 1 is rather lengthy and sets the context and plot from Hakuba's POV, Chapter 2 focuses on establishing where his relationship with Kaito (as well as Aoko and Akako) stands at the moment, and Chapter 3 onward starts seeing the first proper developments in the relationship.

It's a bit rocky at first and they have a lot of ups and downs but I promise they work it out (I promise!!! I swear!!!) I tried my best to maintain a balance between the fluffy and angsty moments, but I have to admit it's quite dramatic at parts lol I enjoy stupid, trashy drama a lot sometimes— this is the reason I'm calling it a bad telenovela.

Despite the fact that this is very plotty, their feelings for each other are the guiding force behind the storyline, and their relationship does take center stage later on. The romance is in no way secondary, it just takes a long while to fully develop. They most definitely get a happy ending, but you can expect this to be 95% pining.

The story starts out some years after the current events in the MK manga. Pandora hasn't been found yet, and KID is still active. On the other hand, the DC canon is used very loosely; the conflict has long since been resolved. The BO was taken down years before the start of this story.

The two plots aren't too deeply intertwined here, they just intercept at parts. References to DC events appear here and there and some elements and character interactions overlap, but they tend to be minor for the most part. This is primarily a MK story and I wasn't too worried about completely integrating both plotlines (or staying 100% accurate to the DC plot, for that matter).

Of course, because this is MK-centric, Aoko and Akako are involved with the overarching story and have major roles to play.

In terms of DC characters, Masumi, Shiho, Heiji and Shinichi play semi-prominent roles in the story. I've tagged Masumi from the getgo because she appears in the first chapter, but I'll add the others when I get to the little arcs they show up in. Save for some specific contributions they have, they aren't too deeply involved with the overall plot progression, but the interactions Hakuba has with them are important for his character development and his better understanding of his relationship with Kaito. Basically each of these characters gets some sort of little story arc in which they interact with/help Hakuba in some way. I arbitrarily chose who I wanted him to interact with, lol.

Speaking of arbitrary decisions— Miss Masumi!!!! She's the first character that shows up in this and interacts with Hakuba. I understand this is probably a strange choice. Because I really wanted to flesh out Hakuba's detective methods and life in London a little more, I decided to use the very what if headcanon of Hakuba's maternal family and the Sera family being acquainted with each other. Like I said before, I didn't really want to connect DC and MK plots thoroughly, so the Akai family plotline isn't at all relevant here beyond a couple of passing mentions. I was mostly interested in Hakuba having an MI6 connection without the need of using another OC and I just wanted to imagine what a hypothetical dynamic between him and Masumi would be like.

And then, OCs. There's a couple of OCs with pretty major roles here as well. Really major— probably in equal measure to Aoko and Akako. I apologise in advance! I really needed them to properly build the detective/mystery aspect of the plot, and the more I wrote, the more they became involved with the story and relationship progression TT I really enjoyed writing them a lot, and I'm satisfied with how they turned out here. I understand OCs with prominent roles aren't everyone's cup of tea, though. Even though I enjoyed writing them, I'm a little self-conscious about how relevant they ended up being when they were originally just going to be there as a plot device to kickstart things ;;; Hopefully someone can find enjoyment in them nonetheless. They are most heavily involved with the story after the midpoint, but they appear all throughout.

I'm really nervous about the choices to have Masumi and major OCs in this story...I understand it is likely these things will make this story a little too niche. But!!!!!!!!! Again!!!!!!!!!!!!! Having fun with it is what matters most Raffles!!!!!!!!!!!!! Get that through your thick skull!!!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also, please expect the most convoluted explanation to Pandora. There is a lot of made up lore I had a blast writing but it's all probably needlessly complicated.

In summary, it's a detective story starring Hakuba that somehow ended up reading like a dramatic post-breakup/getting back together soap opera.

A significant portion of this has been prewritten, so my (ideal) plan is to have weekly or biweekly updates (but hmmmm let's see how long that lasts until I decide to scrap and rewrite everything out of embarrassment— this is very likely, I second-guess myself a lot)

I keep dragging it through the mud, but I've actually had a blast writing it, even though there's A Lot going on and I'm not very confident in it being decent enough to share.

With all that, I hope someone else can maybe find some enjoyment reading it.

#Refutation of time #my writing #DCMK #magic kaito #hakuba saguru #hakukai #sagukai #dcmk fanfic #this is the most rafflescore way to take over the MK plot #says my beta #ohdearohboyohgod #i need to pee #I have read the first chapter like 50 times over its not even funny #(passepartout voice)#GAAAAAAAAAAGH THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING

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m3kuroshirt · 3 years

Text

Sharp Darts and Wilting Flowers

GrimmIchi Weekend Challenge 3

Challenged by @kuroosden

Genre/trope: angst with a happy ending

Required words: grey, flower

Word count: 3551

Posted to AO3 as well, under the same title, on this account: M34GS

Warnings: some graphic description of injury and pain, death

The only thing he remembered was a wilting flower and the colour grey. Ichigo blinked, looking about the room he was in. It appeared to be a well-decorated elevator. The floor was covered in a plush red carpet and the wall panels were the colour of mahogany. Gold trim lined the edges, but whether it was solid gold or just gold-plated he couldn’t tell. All at once, the elevator jolted and Ichigo realized it had stopped…though he hadn’t known it was even moving at all until that moment.

A small, bright ding! and the doors slid open. Ichigo stepped out hesitantly. He scanned the room he stepped into; a modern-looking place in direct contrast with the old-fashioned elegance of the elevator. The lighting was tinted blue, and all around he could see empty chairs and tables. Turning to his right, Ichigo could see another man, tall with blue hair and piercing blue eyes, who looked just as confused as he felt. Something about the man seemed familiar, but try as he might, Ichigo couldn’t quite remember his name.

“Uh. Hi,” he greeted the man, hoping that would lead to conversation, where he could learn something. The man tore his gaze from the scenery and locked his eyes on Ichigo. And damn. DAMN. That was not an unpleasant gaze to have fixed on him. Ichigo swallowed and smiled nervously. The other man narrowed his eyes and panic seized Ichigo for a moment before the blue-haired man spoke.

“…Do I…know you?” his tone wasn’t angry…it was wholeheartedly confused, maybe even frustrated. As if he was struggling with remembering things, just like Ichigo. Ichigo shrugged.

“I, uh, don’t know? I don’t remember much of anything…I have no idea how I got here or even where ‘here’ is,” he mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Way to sound like a freak in front of the hot guy, he chastised himself. I should’ve just said no. But to his surprise, the other man relaxed.

“I’m not the only one, then,” he muttered. He stopped looking at Ichigo and glanced around the place. “…place is fucking creepy as hell,” he continued.

“Eh? And here I thought it was really nice,” a lilting voice cut through the tense atmosphere. Both men started and whirled around to see…a person. They were standing there, dressed in a beautiful, flowing gown, blue and shimmery. Their hair was jaw-length and trimmed to frame their face, and they smiled at the two men. Ichigo felt suddenly self-conscious. Is everyone here hot as hell? He wondered. He shifted awkwardly on his feet. “I rather like the colour blue. And don’t you find the theme…entrancing?” the person asked them. Ichigo blinked and looked around again, finding himself wanting to please this beautiful person.

“Uh. I…uh, yeah,” he replied very intelligently.

“So, you own this place?” The blue haired man demanded. “You know why we’re here then, how we got here?” He stepped forward, standing right next to Ichigo now. And Ichigo felt the urge to lean against the man, almost as a reassurance; as if no matter what this stranger had in store for them, he would back up this man with his life. And the strangest thought came to him that maybe, just maybe, the blue haired man wouldn’t mind. But he stopped himself when he caught the stranger in the dress smiling at him with what had to be a knowing smile.

They know something about me. The thought slid into his brain unbidden, and, try as he might, Ichigo couldn’t seem to dispel it. His fingers twitched at his sides and his mouth was dry.

“If you really want to know,” the stranger answered as they turned and gestured for the men to follow, “then come over here.” The stranger turned fully away from them and started to walk toward a bar. Ichigo exchanged a look with the blue haired man.

“Do…do you think we should?” he asked. The blue haired man frowned.

“We don’t have much choice. Unless you got any ideas?” Ichigo shook his head and the other man nodded grimly. “I thought so.” He ran a hand through his blue hair and Ichigo snuck a glance at his forearm. He could see the faint outline of veins, and his heart gave an odd little leap. “Grimmjow.”

Ichigo blinked. “Uh?”

The other man rolled his eyes. “It’s my name, dumbass. I think we can be on a first name basis, given the situation. Plus, if shit goes sideways, you’re the only one I think I can trust here,” he clarified. Ichigo blinked again.

“Oh. Uh. Nice to meet you, Grimmjow. Uh. I’m Ichigo.” Grimmjow’s name seemed to roll off his tongue with an easy familiarity, but Ichigo couldn’t quite figure out why. Grimmjow just nodded after Ichigo introduced himself, then stepped forward to follow where the prettily dressed stranger had gone. Ichigo fell into step behind him, feeling oddly much safer than when he’d been alone in the elevator.

They found the stranger at the bar, perched on a barstool and sipping from a martini glass. Another person stood behind the bar, a bald man with sharp, angry-looking features, sporting red eyeliner that only seemed to make him appear more fierce. The stranger in the dress motioned for them to sit, so they each took a seat. The man behind the bar looked each of them up and down for a second, before speaking.

“Wanna drink?” he asked them casually, his voice much more rough than the smooth sound of his companion’s. Grimmjow gave one shake of his head, and Ichigo followed suit. No telling what would really be in the drink if they took one.

“We want to know why we’re here,” Ichigo countered, doing his best to appear intimidating and not as nervous as he felt. The man nodded. He wiped down the bar counter with a towel.

“To play a game,” he answered simply.

Grimmjow slammed a hand on the counter. “Don’t fuck with us! ‘To play a game’?! The hell does that mean, you fucker,” he snarled. Ichigo watched with wide eyes. The pretty stranger sipped their drink, not even fazed by the reaction. Behind the bar, the bald man glared.

“Shut the hell up and listen then, idiot,” he snapped.

Oh good. Two hot-heads in the same room. This will go well, Ichigo thought dryly. Grimmjow quieted but continued glaring at the baldy. Unexpectedly, it was the pretty stranger who spoke up.

“You two will be playing a game where your lives are at stake,” they stated, as calm as if observing that Grimmjow’s hair was blue and Ichigo’s eyes were brown. “You will play against each other in a game that is chosen at random, and the loser will die.” Ichigo felt his brain come to a screeching halt.

“Wait. What?” he demanded. He slid off his seat and stood towering over the pretty stranger. “You want us to play for the right to live? That’s fucked up! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The stranger stared back at him without even blinking, their eyes a dark and mesmerizing slate grey.

“If you don’t play, you both die,” they answered simply.

“Bring it. I’ll fucking take you both down,” Grimmjow snarled, standing now as well, shoulder to shoulder with Ichigo. The bald man rolled his eyes. Before either of them could react, a gun barrel was pointed at each of them; one held by the baldy, and one by the pretty stranger.

“Unless you want to both end up stone-dead, you’ll do as you’re told,” the pretty stranger replied with a sly smile. “My name is Yumichika, and this is Ikkaku,” they gestured to the bald man behind the bar. “We’ll be your hosts tonight. Now come, it’s time to choose your game.” Yumichika waved to a small roulette wheel Ichigo hadn’t noticed before. On it were game titles that sounded like what a child would play in a cheesy horror movie. Death billiards? Really? He thought to himself bitterly. A faint part of him wished, hoped, dared to believe that this could be a dream; a nightmare.

A button was pressed and the wheel jumped to life, spinning in a flash of colour and light. Ichigo felt his throat seal shut, as if this somehow made it more real than the guns did, more real than the heat of the man standing next to him. This was not a dream.

The wheel stopped. Ichigo blinked and read the bright shining title. Death Seven Darts. He’d barely comprehended the words when there was a quiet rumble. The floor ahead of them split and two dart boards rose from the ground. Along with them came two little trays, each with seven darts. Ikakku stepped out from behind the bar.

“The rules are simple,” he stated, his tone rather indifferent. “You each start with 500 points. You throw the darts and points are deducted from your opponent according to the score you get. The one with the least points when all the darts are gone is the loser.” Ichigo felt a shiver run down his spine. The dart boards were decorated with grotesque images; a picture of human organs adorning each possible space to hit. He really wants us to be constantly thinking about how one of us will die, doesn’t he? Ichigo thought with a frown. We could both refuse to play. We’d be killed…but that’s better than the other option…survivor’s guilt or being sentenced to die by the only person in the same situation as me…

As if reading his thoughts, Grimmjow bumped his shoulder. Ichigo blinked and looked up at him. “You got something to live for?” he asked Ichigo, his blue gaze burning into Ichigo’s own brown eyes.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t remember,” Ichigo answered, fear sliding down his spine and spreading along his nerves like oil; slick and gross.

“Then that means you must have. Whatever they did to us…they wouldn’t have messed with our heads if it wasn’t important to their little ‘game’,” Grimmjow reasoned. He glanced to the dartboards and ran a hand through his hair. Then he looked at Ichigo with resolve. “Don’t hold back.” Grimmjow turned away from him and walked over to one set of darts. Ichigo felt his heart sinking. They were really going to do this. His stomach churned and he chewed his lip as he walked up to his own set.

Grimmjow picked up one of the darts. Ichigo couldn’t stop watching him as he inspected it, probably checking to see if it was some sort of trap. Then he took aim…and launched the dart. It hit the board, and pain burst in Ichigo’s skull, behind his left eye. He screamed and grabbed at it, the pain piercing through his head. Ichigo sank to his knees, barely hearing the shout of his name, barely feeling the arms wrap around his shoulders. The pain blossomed into an aching throb and he choked on a sob.

That’s when the images started.

An orange lily in a vase, beautiful but wilting. A warm, inviting kitchen, one he instinctively knew was his. And warm arms wrapped around him. A low voice murmuring in his ear. And Ichigo was smiling.

Ichigo was not smiling when he came back to the present moment. He was on his knees, leaning forward, someone holding him from behind to support him. He gasped, the shock of pain pouring over him once more like cold water.

“-Chigo…Ichigo! What’s wrong?!” the voice that shouted was familiar and yet strange and the thought made Ichigo dizzy. He frowned as the pain faded to a dull ache, finally able to think and speak.

Ichigo looked up to see the indifferent faces of Yumichika and Ikkaku watching them. He glared at them. “What…” he gasped out, still catching his breath, “what the…fuck…did you do to me?” They watched him with unchanging faces. Grimmjow’s arms tightened around him.

“The fuck is this bullshit?” he growled. “I thought we weren’t dying until the game is over.” Yumichika raised an eyebrow.

“Are you saying he’s dead? And yet, isn’t he talking to you?” they asked in their low sultry voice. The arms around him squeezed once more, and Ichigo reached up to rest a trembling hand on them. He felt Grimmjow stiffen and then release him.

Ichigo turned around to see him offer his hand. He took the offered hand and Grimmjow helped him stand. “Sorry,” the blue haired man apologized. “I didn’t mean to go overboard…but when I saw you were hurt…I reacted without thinking.” His voice was low and his cheeks were pink. He refused to look Ichigo in the eye. Ichigo swallowed.

“No…it’s alright. I, uh,” he started but hesitated and glanced at Yumichika and Ikkaku. Ikkaku spoke up.

“Whatever you say, we won’t be intervening,” he stated shortly. His voice was rough but not mean. Ichigo licked his lips and started again, facing Grimmjow now.

“I think I got a memory back. When the pain came on. There was a flower…and someone behind me. It was brief but it felt important.”

Grimmjow blinked. “…is that so?” Ichigo nodded. Grimmjow’s lips twisted as he thought, his brow furrowed. For some reason, Ichigo wanted to press his fingers to Grimmjow’s face and smooth the creases away, help him relax. He did not give in to that urge. Grimmjow gestured to the tray holding Ichigo’s darts. “Your turn.”

Ichigo grimaced. “I…don’t want to,” he mumbled quietly. Grimmjow tensed.

“Yeah. But it’s the only way one of us is getting out of here alive. And,” he paused, as if mulling over his words before plowing on, “and I’d like to see one of my memories. If I’m able.” Ichigo nodded once. Then he picked up the dart, aimed, and threw it.

There was a shout and then Grimmjow doubled over, clutching his left arm. Ichigo was torn between staying away out of guilt and rushing over to him, even though he knew running to Grimmjow would do no good. There wasn’t a thing he could do to ease the pain. Yet he ended up running to the other man’s side.

“Grimmjow?” he called hesitantly. There was an answering grunt and Ichigo reached out a gentle hand to rest on his shoulder. Grimmjow turned his gaze upward, still hunched over, curled protectively around his hand. Ichigo wet his lips absentmindedly as he stared into those intense blue eyes. “Did it work?” Grimmjow gave one nod, his grimace easing, and straightened his posture.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded choked, almost broken. And Ichigo had a feeling it wasn’t the pain.

“What did you see?”

There was a beat of silence far too long to be comfortable. Then, “I think I was going to propose to someone. I saw a ring.”

Ichigo felt his stomach plummet. Violent emotions swirled inside his head. Anger. Fear. Jealousy. Guilt. Resignation. He removed his hand from Grimmjow’s shoulder. “You should win.” Ichigo wasn’t even aware he’d thought the words before they were falling out of his mouth unbidden. Grimmjow shook his head.

“Nuh-uh. You aren’t going to throw this game to give me the win. No fucking way, not with both our lives on the line,” he snapped.

“You have someone important!” Ichigo argued.

“So do you! Someone who bought you flowers! What if you’re already married? Are you going to say your actual spouse’s feelings don’t matter as much as my possible spouse? Huh???”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Ichigo was the one to look away. “Alright. Fine. I won’t throw the game for you,” he muttered. Grimmjow nodded with satisfaction. Ichigo gestured to his tray. “Your turn then.” He braced himself as Grimmjow picked up the dart.

From that point on, the game was a blur. They rotated between bursts of excruciating pain and blurs of memories. Ichigo did his best to piece them together.

A wilting flower. He wanted to get more. He wanted to go to the florist and pick up some more and maybe some nutrients for the water this time. All he had to do was convince someone…

***

Scenery flashed past them as they drove. It was a city, that much he was sure of. The sun shone down brightly and kids ran along the sidewalks. Something warmed his hand and when he looked at it, it was another hand holding his. Strong, rough, but gentle, the hand squeezed his own while its partner rested on the steering wheel.

***

A voice was talking, and he tried to hang on to every word. ‘A special night’ and ‘reservations’ but Ichigo couldn’t pick out all the words; distracted by a shadow to his right.

***

Someone was screaming. Who was it? Who was screaming? There was red everywhere, scattered and splashed among grey pieces of metal and plastic on dark asphalt. And a spot of blue. Who was screaming?

He was. Ichigo was screaming. The blue across from him came into focus and he could see now, the blue hair, blue eyes, a hand that reached for him, covered in blood, mouth open, trying to speak…

And then the loud sound of squealing brakes.

Turning. Slowly. As if stuck in molasses.

A semi truck careening toward them with no chance of stopping.

Darkness.

Ichigo felt tears slide down his cheeks as he came back to the present.

“Ichigo! What’s wrong? Did you see something else?” Grimmjow’s voice cut through the buzzing in his ears. Up to this point, they’d been sharing their memories with each other, finding they had both been in similar situations…never once had Ichigo imagined they’d been going through all of it together…and that they were…

“…dead,” the word tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. Grimmjow froze.

“What?”

Ichigo turned to Yumichika and Ikkaku. He hoped he was wrong, gaze pleading as he looked at each of them. “We’re already dead, aren’t we?” Yumichika nodded once.

“What? That! That’s impossible!” Grimmjow protested, but even as he spoke Ichigo turned to him and saw the realization steal across his face. The last memory sunk in for him too, then, he reasoned.

“When people die,” Yumichika stated calmly, as if teaching a course in a university, “one of two things happens to their soul. They either go to the void, to be lost forever in darkness, or they are reincarnated.”

Ikkaku stretched his neck from side to side and continued the speech. “Sometimes, when two people die at once, they get sent here, to play a game and be assigned either the void or reincarnation, according to the judgement of the arbiter. I am the arbiter.”

“So, you’re going to judge if we go to the void or get to live again?” Grimmjow asked slowly. Ikkaku gave a short nod.

“That’s right.”

Ichigo frowned. “If either of us is reincarnated…would we lose our memories of each other?” he whispered.

“That is correct,” Yumichika confirmed. Ichigo felt something snap inside his chest, like a string that was tugged until it broke.

He turned to Grimmjow. “I…Grimm…I just got these memories back…I don’t wanna lose them.” His voice was ragged with the tears building up and his throat ached the more he tried to hold them back. Grimmjow shook his head.

“You think I’m gonna let you say you want to go to the void, dumbass? Like hell I wanna see your soul lost in darkness forever. Think about what you’re saying, you idiot,” he answered, but there was no bite to his words, and he walked over to Ichigo and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. Ichigo curled into Grimmjow’s arms.

“But,” he mumbled, “what if only one of us can be reincarnated?” Grimmjow tightened his arms around him and for a fleeting moment Ichigo felt safe and secure. That came crashing down with his lover’s next words.

“Then it should be you.”

Ichigo pulled back in alarm, mouth open to protest, but he was cut off by Ikkaku.

“I’ve decided. It’s time for the two of you to go back to the elevators. They will take you to your assigned destinations,” the bald man interrupted. His tone was final, and his face offered no consolation to either of the young men.

***

Yumichika watched the two young men step into their respective elevators. The two looked grim, but there was a resignation about them as well, as if they were both accepting of their fate, though they had no idea yet what it might be. Yumichika hummed to themself thoughtfully as the doors closed, remembering how the couple had hugged each other tightly, as a ‘good-bye’, only moments before. They watched as both elevators started upward, whisking the occupants away to be reincarnated in the living world.

“Do you think…Ikkaku…do you think they’ll find each other again in the living world?” They asked, their tone feigning indifference. In truth, Yumichika felt a nervous thrum of anticipation as they waited for Ikkaku’s answer.

“Dunno,” came the gruff reply. There was a pause. And then, “I hope so.”

#grimmichi #writing challenge #jaegerjaquez grimmjow #kurosaki ichigo #m34gswrites #angst with happy ending #grimmichi au #Death Parade au

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dearcat1 · 3 years

Note

2,3,6,16,18,20

I have gone totally nuts, but, well, I also want to know 🙈😂

Don't worry! I'm all for being asked questions!

2. Favorite piece overall?

Hu, I think my baby, right now is Ameliorate which is the first part of the contract-verse series. It hasn't been published yet but I've been working on it for about a year, it's like a trilogy. Each part is long enough to be a book and I'm proud of how it's coming along. I like reading the later parts of it and noting just how far both Xanxus and Tsuna evolve in the length of the story.

Published? I think that would be The Dragon Prince and his Consort. I don't even know why, it just brings me so much joy but that one is only in Ko-Fi. If we're going by one that's open to everybody, I think that would be either The Thrill or Isolation. I like the dynamics in them.

3. Which was the hardest to write, in terms of plot?

That'd be Ameliorate, too. Funnily enough, when I first wrote it, it was going to be a 7 chapter long smutty story without much plot. And then, when I read it again my brain went: wait a minute, wait. What about all the political shifts here? The drama? The relationship development? The emotional evolution? So then it became a little bit of a struggle about moving the pieces of all those other points around a story that was going to be only seven chapters long. But then it ended up being too long so I decided that it would be divided into a series.

Which means, 4 plots. One overall plot of the entire story itseld and 3 plots of each part of the series. And so I had to rewrite everything again. Yikes, it's made me scream into the void but I'm also so happy with how it's coming along.

6. Idea that you always wanted to write but could never make work?

I guess there's a lot of somewhat darker themes that I would like to explore. Mostly as I deal with my own mental health and realize some things, I would like to put some of those thoughts into paper and watch them flow, almost like an outsider looking in and yet I have rarely managed to finish a story like that. Mostly because it becomes too much sometimes but also because I get worried that people are going to come after me for 'romanticizing' this or the other. Which it's not, it never is. It's just me trying to work through it, express myself.

16. 3 favorite comments ever received on fanfic.

I answered that one here. I'd answer again but trying to save people from having a truly more monstrously long post in their dash...

18. If you could go back and revise one of your older stories, which would it be?

Mizuiro, the information broker. Without a doubt. I like the story but it feels almost unfinished to me and I feel like my writing has evolved to the point where I could do a much better job of it now.

20. Go nuts, and talk about writing.

Holy shit, why put me in the spotlight like this? Hahahaha.

If I had to babble about writing, I'd complain. I'll be honest, I love writing. It's probably one of the skills I'm the proudest of. I love sharing it with other people and learning just how to convey the image in my head properly. It takes over me, however, which is something that I have a love-hate relationship with. I can be trying to sleep and this entire fully-fledged story decides that nope, it's writing time. And then when you get to writing it, in the hopes of getting to bed at some point, you note that this is scene #37 and you need to somehow write all the other scenes leading up to it and then all the other ones after that.

I think there are people out there that are writers because they sit down and make the conscious decision to do it and then there are writers like me who write out of self-preservation because we started one day and writing didn't let us go after that.

That said, I am thankful for that. During quarantine, writing is the one thing that kept me somewhat sane. It's an interesting ability because depending on which character you're writing, which moment in their life they are in, you have to more or less enter somebody else's mind and try to understand them, deep down. Who are they? What moves them? Why? Are they even making decisions or just reacting to the world around them?

When I write Xanxus, for example, and I'm doing his inner monologue about something that really pulls his strings, sometimes I have to stand up and pace in my room because I get so fucking angry. And yet he's my absolute favourite, I don't know what that says about me. Or Reborn, Reborn's inner thoughts can be so cold. He's an old man, trapped in this body that's not his and he's probably been a hitman for so long that he doesn't really remember how to be anything other than that. I think that even if he can be incredibly kind, in the back of his mind, he always is a hitman. It doesn't get turned off.

So when I try to understand his character, write about him and his thoughts, I tend to think of his love as something cold and possessive, even if the emotion itself is warm. I think he's the sort of person who can look at people around him and make a calculated assessment of those who surround him. Is it worth the inconvenience to kill them? Is the reward worth the unpaid hit? If he lets them die by their own stupidity, what will that mean for him? It takes a special kind of man to be both unaffiliated and so clearly respected by whole ass organizations. So on and so forth.

There's this scene in Ameliorate where Reborn notes that Timoteo just set off a domino event that is going to eventually lead to his death. Not any time soon, Reborn could avoid this, could warn him, could reel his student in. He doesn't even think about the possibility. All he thinks about the matter is that it's a shame. Old friends are hard to come by but Timoteo should have known better.

Human nature, in itself, fascinates me, simply by how diverse it is. So I love that, I play with that. If this happens, how would Xanxus, Tsuna, or whatever character I'm looking at react to that? What would they think? How do they feel about t? To a great extent, that's what my writing is about. That and the fluff. Because it makes me smile while I write it, too.

#ask #wansue-gm #ask away

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hiccanna-tidbits · 3 years

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I'm thinking about Moarida headcanon...

Just imagine Moana teaches Merida how to dance

Meirda being in awe, looking at Moana's movements

and Moana being proud of Mer because she is trying even tho her dance is super clumsy (Yes, she thinks that Mer is cute)

HEY MY G I SEE YOU LEAVING HEARTS ON ALL MY POSTS AND I NEED YOU TO KNOW I APPRECIATE YOU

Girl I L O V E this and also it’s entirely correct

Lowkey reminds me of that headcanon I came up with in the Merida-and-Moana-get-quarantined-together AU I made (the one here) where Moana drunkenly teaches Mer how to dance XD

Merida would literally be so SMITTEN watching Merida dance, like she’d just be fully entranced and unable to look away...which is pretty damn notable, considering how scatterbrained she tends to be and there’s very few things that can hold her attention for any significant length of time (if being bored out of her mind by her mom’s "princess” lessons and getting restless and bored during her mom’s welcome speech to the suitors was anything to go off of XD). But Moana dancing??? She could watch that shit ALL GODDAMN DAY. She’s also pretty damn turned on by all that hip-shaking, let’s be real here XD

And Merida gets SO flustered and self-conscious when Moana wants her to try, because she’s like oh GOD I’m gonna suck at this??? And wanting to impress Moana just makes it even WORSE, because she’s about 10x more aware of her own awkwardness and every little movement she gets wrong. Poise and grace have never been Merida’s forte, and she KNOWS that--and honestly, she’s always taken pride in her unconventional, “unprincesslike” masculine and boorish demeanor that pisses her mom off so much. But now, for the first time in her life, she feels self-conscious and even embarrassed by her lack of grace and coordination, and how much of an idiot she must look like to this stunning girl who can dance like she was born for it. Like Moana moves like fluid and flows back and forth more easily than the tides and Mer’s just a clumsy, disorganized mess who can’t stop tripping over her own dress and ramming her feet so hard against the ground when she moves that she keeps spraying sand all the way up into her mouth. And good god, why would Moana ever want to be with someone like that??? Is there any part of this ridiculous routine that Mo would find attractive??? Merida doubts it--and she hates how much that crushes her. She hates how much it makes her heart sink faster than a soggy empire biscuit.

If only Merida knew that she has nothing to worry about. Moana sees this girl, usually so fiery, brash, and confident, turn into a stuttery, awkward wreck trying to impress her--and honestly, it couldn’t be more adorable. Or flattering. Moana isn’t sure she’s ever seen someone try so painfully hard to gain her approval to the point they make an utter fool of themself--never mind someone with as much of a brazen, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-anyone-thinks-of-me attitude as Merida. Seeing this girl reduced to a clumsy, rambling mess to try and impress her honestly makes Moana’s hear soar--and she can’t help but grab onto that tiny shred of hope that maybe, somehow, if she isn’t misreading every sign and trying beyond all reason to calm her own pounding heart...Merida might love her back.

And oh, the electricity that Merida feels whenever Mo touches her waist, slides her hands over Merida’s hips to reposition her, laces their fingers ever-so-slightly (did she imagine that was intentional?) as she adjusts Merida’s hands, whispers words of encouragement just centimeters from her ear. “You’re doing great, Mer!” she always says. Merida knows she isn’t, but she likes it just the same.

Oh if only Moana knew how much Merida wanted to entwine them completely, grab both her hands and dance, together, across that beach as the sun set and the waves rolled in and out behind them. If only she knew how much Merida wanted to reach up a pale hand and run it through Moana’s dark hair, feeling the curls ripple between her fingers as she leaned in and pressed their mouths together.

But Merida knows she’s being stupid--that it’s fruitless to mull over a fantasy. Still, feeling Moana’s breath softly against her shoulder, feeling the other girl this close...Merida can’t help but lose herself in it from time to time.

(@takaraphoenix I must summon you--it’s Real Moanida Hours!)

#moana x merida #merida x moana #disney femslash #moana #merida #moanida #meridana #moarida #moanaxmerida #meridaxmoana #moana waialiki #merida dunbroch #brave #crossover #rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #my askbox

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vvakarians · 3 years

Text

Ch. 5 of Wolves Without Teeth is now up!

Beginning | Update | Rating: 18+

Fic Summary:

Voices born of tragedy are always the loudest, and the blast that destroyed the Conclave at Haven birthed thousands. The only survivor --a seemingly insignificant Dalish elf-- proclaims innocence despite the blood staining their hands. They make a lofty promise to the world, an oaken branch planted for every lost life, and justice for all those affected by the newly created rift in the heavens. Nothing will stop them from leading all of Thedas back into the light, even on wings of death.

Chapter Summary:

With Calliope mostly healed from the fight with the Pride demon, they think all will be well only to find out that their Mark has changed more than just their mindset, which comes at the worst possible time. But somehow they manage to meet with the advisors without too many ill effects.

V. It’s still days before Calliope is able to slip from their bed and manage to dredge up enough energy to put their armor on. Artemaeus is on his earlier rounds, though it won’t be long before he walks in. Solas has already done his rounds, he mostly comes by at night when he thinks Calliope is asleep. Not one word is ever uttered between the two of them and he seems content for that to continue, confusing as that is to Calliope. The whispers pick at that concept -- perhaps he is avoiding them somehow. Did they upset him that badly on the trail to the Temple? His behavior is puzzling to say the least. Solas appears to be protective of them --as if he knows them but they can’t ever place him-- but when they try to catch his attention, his interest vanishes.

They hum to themself as they slip on their tattered cloak, too deep in thought to notice the scurrying in the shadows of their quarters. Not until the sticky, wetness of something latching onto their wrist catches their attention. Pinpricks of terror make their hair stand on end and Calliope freezes, not daring to test the strength of whatever wrapped itself about them. Their heartbeat roars in their ears as they hazard a glance down, everything else forgotten but this. Though there is nothing to suggest anything ever touched them. Not a blemish, not even residue from what certainly was a slimy creature. When they push back the long sleeve of their tunic, there is nothing. Just their bare arm and--

What is that?

Ridges of their pale flesh seem to be jutting up slightly, creating a sort of ripple texture along the inside of their wrist. Welts the size of small coins dot along the back of their hand and palm, irritated and discolored. That terror turns into an icy panic as Calliope checks over the rest of their left hand, thrown from the need to stay frozen in place. A mirror was provided some time in the last several days so they could properly braid their hair back --something they had asked for to retain some form of control while regaining the use of their hand-- and they scramble over to it in a frenzy. There’s more than just the welts and ridges in their flesh; when they look into the glass their eyes are no longer a pale blue, they are a sickly, red rimmed green. Like the Breach. That damned thing that scars the sky and taunts them, speaks to them in their nightmares.

That sticky sensation returns, creeping up the back of their neck while they raise their left arm up to the mirror. In horror they watch as three of the innumerable welts slowly peel back the skin on heir hand, revealing demonic eyes that look back at them intelligently. Almost in a question. Throughout, the whispers have been silent; no buzz at the edges of their hearing. Now they rise to a scream that echoes and bounces off the inside of their skull. All nonsense, or perhaps every language on the material plane. Calliope does not know. Only that they feel the rush of being swallowed up by it, entirely consumed by whatever has trapped them here in this moment. Something that they can only later describe as other or eldrtich.

Minutes or seconds tick by --even hours, for all they can tell-- before the door opens and startles Calliope back from the mirror. They don’t register who enters, glancing wildly at the figure and then back into the glass. Yet the eyes are no longer there. The sickly green of their own irises are however, as are the ridges and welts. Confusion replaces Calliope’s anxiety while they stare and try hard to comprehend what the hell just happened.

“Ser Lavellan?”

Again, Calliope looks to the ill timed guest. There’s a face they recognize; chest length red hair that falls from beneath a deep purple hood, chainmail clinks on the outside of her robes. Leliana. It’s just Leliana.

“I-- yes? Apologies, I think I must have spooked myself,” they murmur, still distracted but not enough to ignore her presence.

“Do you need a healer? That arm doesn’t look good.”

Self conscious, Calliope slips the thick woolen sleeve back over their arm and they shake their head numbly, “No. I--will speak to someone later about it. There’s no pain. It--seems that the Mark has made changes without my permission.”

There’s a long, heavy silence between the two of them. It’s obvious Leliana is at a loss for words and Calliope is too in shock to say much, not even as they move towards the door. Stiff and unsure of themself. Perhaps Solas or Artemaeus will know more. For now they need to not think of it and are grateful that the whispers fade to a soft white noise.

“I came to see if you wanted to meet with the others in the Chantry. Do you think you can manage that?” Leliana asks, stepping to the side briefly for Calliope.

“I will try. That is all I can do.”

At least the cold is a welcome distraction this time around. Soothes rather than stabs them, though Calliope is sure that will change if they spend too long outside. The sun is high and bright in the pale blue green sky, the rift sealed but still puffed and raw --like an infected wound. They merely glance at it before narrowing their eyes back down at the muddy ground, careful not to sink too deep into the muck. Suddenly they are very thankful for the boots they were encouraged to take with them. Nice and soft on the inside, perfect to combat the freezing temperatures; wrapped with some cords that jingle with wooden and bone charms. A bit of home to carry with them. The sound comforts Calliope while they follow Leliana off to the large building just beyond the trail.

It’s a short walk, just a few minutes up a long dirt path that winds around a fire pit and various tents. Calliope prepares themself for another round of vitriol, unable to forget the guard who threw that rock. But nothing comes. In fact the people that do gather whisper amongst themselves in awe, or perhaps even reverence. Though that unsettles Calliope as much --if not more-- than the hate spewed days before. Why the change in tone?

One of the group is another familiar face -- Varric. Laughter lines crease his cheeks as he watches Calliope approach; how he can be so jovial they’re not entirely sure. But it is a comfort to see, and even makes their mouth twitch into a small smile. Or a semblance of one. He doesn’t stop with the others and in fact begins walking in line with two of them; Leliana gives him a nod of recognition as he does so. It quickly crosses Calliope’s mind that he’s wearing a coat that seems much too large for him -- the puffs of dense wool obscures much of his face, and the blocky shape of the leather makes his movements stiff. A complete wonder how he can even walk in it.

“Spin a story that convinced them?” he asks with a wink.

“I think so. They found my tales of a nug tripping me and slaying a dragon in the process very compelling,” they respond tiredly, “I managed to slip in a bit about your gorgeous chest hair as well.”

Varric laughter is a deep, resounding bellow that brightens Calliope’s smile by a fraction. Though they note a slight change when he fully looks them over, his unobscured eyes taking in the changes from when they last saw each other.

“Kid, are you feeling alright?”

“That seems to be the question of the day,” Calliope sighs. Their breath comes in clouds before them, “The Mark has made changes. I wish I could say I knew what was happening, but for now I think I’ll be fine.”

“You should let Chuckles know, if he hasn’t found out already.”

That gives them pause, it’s a good suggestion and begs the question--does he? Why has he not alerted anyone if he does?

A frown spreads across Calliope’s face and they give a short nod, “I’ll let him know after the meeting. Though I’m not sure what can be done about it.”

“Who knows, but for all his oddness he’s pretty good at keeping it in check.”

Another comment that makes them think too hard. What does Solas know? If the Mark and the Voice are connected, he should know of that but has never said a word about them. Did he...know this would happen as well? Calliope swallows hard and pushes those thoughts out of their mind, thankful that the large doors of the Chantry have finally come into full view. It’s harder to worry about hypotheticals when something so big is looming over you.

“I’ll keep you posted, how does that sound?” Calliope asks, glancing his way.

“Yeah, sure. Long as you take care of yourself, kid, that’s all that matters.”

His voice is too soft when he responds, as if a great sadness has settled in his bones-- but Calliope doesn’t draw attention to it. Not yet. Instead they try on a bigger smile for him and gesture to his much too large coat. Throngs of people start to gather around them but Calliope is too busy with Varric, the others --and their growing anxiety-- can wait. He’s been nothing but kind to them.

“If you promise to find a better coat then I promise to do as you ask. How about that?”

Another bellowing laugh escapes Varric, so much so there’s a jingle from the golden ringed necklace that rests on his chest. Warmth floods Calliope when they hear that, their anxiety melts away for the moment. Though they can’t help but notice the large group around them in their periphery, ever whispering, looking.

“Does it really look that bad?”

“Oh yes, it makes you look like a walking box,” Leliana interjects with a smirk. Calliope startles when she speaks, having forgotten she was there. She’s always so quiet.

Calliope’s smile widens at her response, however, “Someone had to have given it to him as a joke, right?”

“I think it was a gift from Cassandra, so something like that.”

“Ah, that would explain it.”

“Alright, alright! I’m sure there’s a tailor around here somewhere. You two do your important meeting and I’ll fix this disaster of a coat,” Varric snorts, rolling his eyes with affection. A welcome sight as the throng stares and Calliope’s anxiety spikes to another unimaginable height. Both Leliana and Varric take notice quickly; the one ushering Calliope into the warmer, darker Chantry, while the other bustles through the crowd, breaking some of it up.

Inside the old, creaking building there’s a sort of calm you only find among places of worship. Though it doesn’t feel nearly as ancient of a peace as Calliope is used to. It makes their chest ache, thinking back to the sprawling temple to Falon’Din that sat deep within the Graves. How much that single ruin felt like home. Here in the torchlight, hundreds of miles from their home, Calliope brushes their fingers along the stone walls of the Chantry and wishes to be back in that flooded sanctuary, surrounded by statues of their gods that have stood against the test of time.

The once rich but faded golds and reds of Andrastian tapestries feel familiar but foreign at the same time. Moldy furniture and dusty books surround them, old stained glass still shining brightly in the mid morning sun. Casting rays of colors all across the muddy floor. Their mother once spoke of these places, how they brought her comfort when the world was at its worst. Not because of the religion itself, but how gentle it was in those moments where no one noticed her and she could slip off without alerting anyone. There is a remnant of that here while Leliana and Calliope slowly walk across to another pair of large, ornate doors. Symbols of the religion embossed into the dark wood, a sunburst set into the seam where you would pull them open. Familiar but still foreign. They feel like they shouldn’t be here, even in the momentary peace.

That nasally voice from days before pierces right through the calm the moment the doors swing open and Calliope can’t help but make a face of disgust. This man again? Another shemlen who thinks he knows what is right and what is wrong, Creators forbid you tell him otherwise. Chancellor Roderick stands in his white, gold, and crimson red robes to the side of a large wooden table covered in maps, and what looks like small figurines. Curious, Calliope focuses on what that could possibly mean before looking around to the others flanking the Chantry man. All humans, it seems. Another man and two women, one of which is Cassandra.

The other man has curly blonde hair, in a slicked back style that interests Calliope --they wonder briefly how he can keep it so neat and tidy in this weather. His armor bears the many sunbursts that can be found through the building, a mix of gold and cold steel. Rich red fabric and dark furs hang around his tall, muscular form. Though his complexion and under eye bags speak of illness, sunken cheeks and a listless gaze. Perhaps he has the Blight?

“...Roderick, save your breath,” the man murmurs, catching Calliope staring as they enter the room.

“Why is the prisoner continuously not restrained?”

Roderick does not waste any time on saving his breath.

“I’m afraid chains would not do you any good, Chancellor. Has Cassandra not told you I practice magic? I could simply look at you and you’d be a crispy husk,” Calliope rolls their eyes, eliciting a snort from both the new man and the aforementioned Seeker. Though the latter seems to think that much funnier than the ill human.

“Andaran atish’an, Ser Lavellan,” another voice cuts through the Chancellors rebuttal.

This time it’s the new woman, dressed in swatches of golden fabric lined with thick, lightly colored and patterned furs. Necklaces hang from her soft, tan neck and glint just as her brilliant smile does. Long, dark hair frames her face in perfectly set curls that are then braided to be kept out of her eyes. Honestly, she seems much too warm and gentle to be in this situation at all, but that is exactly why Calliope assumes she is. Never underestimate the sweet ones.

They smile back at her when greeted in elven, and bow their head respectively, “Pleased to meet you, even under these circumstances.”

There is a sound of derision from Roderick that has both Calliope and Cassandra looking his way with annoyance, the former feeling a coil of anger build in their chest.

“What, do I offend you?” Calliope asks, raising a pale eyebrow at him.

“These circumstances are of your own doing, of course you have offended me! The Divine is dead and here you stand, still alive.”

“Shocking as it may seem, Chancellor, I did not kill your Divine. In fact I have been exonerated of all charges. Cassandra told me as much several days ago as I was recovering. While I don’t remember what made her change her mind, I’m inclined to think it was compelling evidence.”

This time there’s another amused snort from the ill man and he looks up at Calliope, dark eyes sparkling a bit in the lamp light.

“Careful, you keep prodding him and he might explode.”

Roderick once again opens his mouth, but quickly shuts it when Cassandra steps in with a scowl his way and a glance at Calliope. There is a brief moment where her expression turns from irritation to concern when she makes note of the change of Calliope’s eye color, which does make them wonder if they should wander about with their eyes shut from now on.

“I believe we have some introductions to get out of the way,” the Seeker says, shaking the worry off expertly, “You know Sister Leliana, our Spymaster.”

Leliana bows her head at the mention, smiling just a touch for Calliope who manages one in return. It’s the least they can do after her friendliness towards them.

“Our Ambassador, Josephine Montilyet. She is an expert in keeping the peace,” Cassandra gestures to the woman full of warmth, and then finally at the ill seeming man, “This is Commander Cullen Rutherford, you would have met him at the Temple but we know how that went.”

“I was nearly decapitated, apparently. Which I’m sure Roderick would have been pleased by,” they scoff, glancing away from Cassandra to watch the priest. He does nothing but stare right back, wrinkling his nose.

“We are lucky you weren’t, otherwise we would not be able to do what we’re doing now,” Cassandra responds, cutting in before Roderick can get a word out.

Something about that comment unsettles Calliope, makes them seriously consider the Seeker. She had said something about wanting them to stay, that there was danger following them possibly and they didn’t have anything on the Mark yet. Yet this doesn’t seem to be what she’s talking about.

“I’m assuming we found something when we closed the Breach? What are we doing now?”

A heavy silence descends upon the room like a thick blanket, extinguishing all sound so much so that the whispers come in loud bursts and Calliope’s pointed ears flutter uncomfortably. They wait for someone to say something, anything at all; nerves standing on end.

“We saw a vision in the middle of a field of red lyrium that was at the center of the Temple,” Leliana finally speaks, looking from Cassandra to Calliope with a sharp gaze, “Someone or something was there doing a ritual, said that the Divine was meant as a sacrifice. Then you came out of the shadows to ask what was going on. That was when the Rift broke open.”

A chill runs down Calliope’s spine, that familiar build up of anxious energy. Their eyes dart to the candles flickering just beyond the table, and one of them forms a tall pillar of fire before simmering back down again. No one seems to notice, not even Roderick who is barely paying attention to anything at all.

“That’s good to know but that doesn’t answer my question. What are we doing now?” Calliope repeats, their gaze hardening. The whispers buzz in anticipation, shadows dancing in their peripheral vision. Once again there’s silence but it’s short lived.

“The Divine created a writ in case her plan failed to restore peace between the mages and the templars,” Cassandra responds quietly, and taps a book on the table with a gloved hand. It is thick and old, filled with secrets Calliope assumes.

“What does that mean?” they ask, shifting their weight nervously.

“We are going to rebuild a group called the Inquisition, to find the Divine’s killer and end the conflict that led to her death. We could also use it to clean up after what happened with the Breach,” the Commander answers for her, and Calliope raises an eyebrow at those gathered around the table.

“It must be invoked by both of the Divine’s Hands, and will be with or without Chantry approval,” Cassandra says, shooting a withering glance at Roderick who sighs.

“You know how I feel about this Seeker-”

“And I don’t care. This is the only way, you know that!”

“We need to find a replacement for the Divine and quickly! None of this Inquisition nonsense will help us now.” The room descends into arguments and raised voices as everyone attempts to speak over the priest, who in turn raises his whine of a voice to disgustingly new levels. Anxiety and rage make the air thick, too hard to breathe, too hard to move in. From their spot at the other side of the space, Calliope watches that candle flicker once, twice, three times before it erupts into a roaring fire. All of their despair and nervousness centered on one singular wick that burns so brightly it lights up the entire room, banishing the shadows back to where they came. It’s certainly one way to get everyone’s attention.

Their arguments dwindle into nothing as they scramble to get away from the fire just as it starts to fizzle out and become a smoking ember. Consumed, wax and all, by Calliope’s magical presence. Embarrassment washes over them at the sight but they manage to hold it together while each pair of eyes comes back to settle on them. Calliope finally breaks the silence, that slimy sensation threading through their skin as they say in almost a snarl, pointedly at Roderick --who had decided to argue.

“Create your Inquisition, we replace the Divine and find her Killer. Maybe get answers about what the fuck happened to my hand. Does that sound good?”

There’s only a beat of silence before Roderick mumbles what could be a ‘yes’, easing Calliope’s volatile mood but not that horrific feeling of otherness wrapped around their wrist.

“We--should get you in touch with a proper Enchanter, I think,” Cullen comments in shock. A blurting out of words, really.

“There are mages here I can learn from, if it will soothe your fears, Commander Rutherford.”

“Perhaps we should take a recess? Cool down before we talk about our next steps.”

It’s Josephine who speaks, light and airy. Unperturbed on the outside by what just happened but the tremble in her hands as she grips her important parchments says otherwise. Calliope doesn’t blame her.

There’s a note of tiredness and defeat to their tone when they speak again, “I will get my magic under control, it’s been harder since the Mark. I’m sorry for scaring anyone. A recess would be good.”

#solavellan #dragon age #dai #pavellan #calliope lavellan #eventual pavellan at least LOL #mal writes #wolves without teeth

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nambamjun · 3 years

Text

Rapture in Vanilla {KSY}

Pairing: A.C.E’s Kim Sehyoon x reader (female)

Genres: sooooo so so so much fluff, slight angst

Warnings: mentions of innocent nudity and a couple sharing a bath

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: My first posted writing for a specific bias, so who better than one of my all time ults! In other news, I miss baths terribly and can’t wait for the next time I visit home so I can take one. That right there is therapeutic. As always, comments and (constructive) criticisms are always welcome, enjoy ~<3

She sighed and slowly lowered herself into the almost scalding bathtub water, sinking almost to submergence, and feeling her muscles relax into the bubbles surrounding her. She hadn’t even realized she was all that tense, but apparently she needed this more than she thought. Baths were rare, mainly because she knew that if she gave into them often they would become a nightly thing. As a full time grad student she didn’t have much time to do anything other than assignments, a small job, and almost ridiculously short showers. Somehow eating found its way in there, but oh well. She signed up for this. Most of The time she didn’t resent her past self for deciding to. There were spare moments, though...

She blinked and realized she had zoned out, or, as her boyfriend, very aptly put it, “drifted into another dimension far far away”. She smiled and chuckled quietly before shifting lower, the bubbles lightly grazing her chin.

Her boyfriend… She drifted again. The past few weeks had been quite… interesting, to say the least. Between her finals coming up and his group’s comeback being planned and recorded, neither of them were exactly happy butterflies like they normally were together. She found herself snapping at him sometimes when he was home, which wasn’t even that often taking into account his practically living in the studio. She didn’t blame him at all, it’s a comeback! He had his career to manage, his fans to keep happy. She knew that she was a priority to him, and she knew how lucky she was. She also knew that with his line of work she would have to be okay with not being the first in line on occasion. Unfortunately, there was still that tiny, little, selfish part of her brain that just wanted him there to support her. Well, he would probably like more support from you when he is home, your conscious whispered to you.

Touché, me. Touché.

This time she physically shook her head to pull herself back.

She had gone to extensive lengths to make this as relaxing as possible. A vanilla latte candle in the corner, music quietly playing from a speaker sitting on the sink’s countertop safely out of harm’s way… She even put a hand towel over the light fixture as a makeshift dimmer; so yes. She went to extensive lengths.

And she was going to enjoy it as if it was her only mission in life.

She let all of her muscles relax once again and closed her eyes, willfully emptying her mind until only her senses remained. The hot water, the vanilla latte candle, and the low music lulling her into rapture.

----------

As soon as Kim Sehyoon stepped through the threshold of the front door at quarter of 1am, he knew what she was up to. The air was stiller than it had been of late. Most of the lights in the apartment were off, only the occasional lit bulb for navigation. As he passed by the bathroom he knew he was correct; the humidity wafting out through the cracks in the door frame coupled with the soft music as the only noise. Both dead giveaways.

He put his things down in the bedroom and changed into more comfortable clothes, just a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He padded across the hallway again, stopping outside the bathroom door and softly rapping his knuckles on the wood three times.

“Come in,” her voice called out to him softly. He smiled. Turning the knob slowly and opening the door, he peeked around the door and stepped only half of his body inside. The humidity hit him like a wall, but he very quickly raised his eyebrows at how this wasn’t just a regular bath. This had a candle. And… a towel… over the light…? Well, it did dim things down… he placed his fingertips on the cloth which wasn’t even warm, so it wasn’t dangerous. Innovative and effective. He would have to praise her for that later. But he sighed and his eyes softened as he looked at her, eyes closed and almost completely under the water. She must be more stressed than usual to have done all of this.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him. “Wanna get in?” He smiled over to her and stepped fully inside the room, shutting the door behind him. Shedding his clothes, he knew she didn’t mean anything promiscuous by her offer. Honestly, neither of them were probably even up for that sort of thing. It seemed like they both craved what had been pushed to the side in all of the stress, close physical contact, or for that matter, to be able to feel their affections for one another through warm embraces.

He padded over as she sat up and scooted toward the opposite end of the tub. She felt the water rise from his body behind her, and she quickly went back to lean against his chest, legs on either side of her frame and arms around her torso. She thought she was at ease before… now it felt like she was floating in clouds. He relaxed with her, and she could feel his muscles release with a sigh as he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

The pair both closed their eyes and spent the next few minutes silently enjoying each other’s company. After either two minutes, or maybe even ten, her eyes opened, unknowing that he had just done the same a few seconds earlier.

“Are we-“

“So um-“

They both stopped and looked at each other. Smiles spread across their faces and she laughed while his chuckles vibrated off his chest into her side.

“You can go…” she started.

He shook his head, “no, you go ahead.” She smiled to herself. Ever the gentleman…

“I was just thinking… we’re good, right, Sehni? Like, are we okay? I mean I know I haven’t exactly been the model girlfriend for the past two or so weeks, and-“ he stopped her with a quick yet firm kiss. He pulled back and smiled down at her, the kind of smile she hadn’t seen in a little while. The kind that spread to his eyes, and exactly the kind that she so missed. She looked back up at him and blinked, recollecting her thoughts. “No wait, what I’m saying is that I understand if-“ he once again stopped her with a kiss, and she resigned to his lips, closing her eyes and taking in the moment. When he pulled away she stayed silent, looking up at him with wide eyes and leaning into the touch of his hand against her cheek.

He missed staring into her eyes. He missed how she looked at him like that. Like he meant the world to her. And he did, just as she was his sun, moon, and stars.

His eyes, meanwhile, seemingly had those same stars captured in their depth. She could see the same feelings of belonging.

They sat like that for a few more seconds, silent words being spoken through their gazes, and they both knew what was running through their minds. They both knew that everything was okay. They were okay. She leaned back into his chest, burying her face in his neck, and he lightly kissed her forehead before again leaning his cheek against her. She smiled as she felt his thumb soothingly tracing circles over her hip.

They both knew they needed to talk about things, and they would without a doubt before he went back to the studio the next day. Just for a bit, though, they sat in the tub filled with not-so-warm-anymore water and receding bubbles.

It didn't matter. The moment was perfect, and neither of them would have had it any other way.

#A.C.E #a.c.e kpop #ACEWRITERS #a.c.e sehyoon #kim sehyoon #sehyoon #a.c.e wow #king wow #kpop #kpop drabbles #drabbles #kpop scenarios #scenarios #kpop imagines #imagines

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galarsbookstore · 4 years

Text

Raihan x Reader: Attractive

So I said I made this and never posted it; I have it on AO3 here if you’d rather read it here, but think of it as... An apology for me not being so active! Also I’m a girl, so I tend to write these with a female reader in mind so if it slips in, I’m sorry!

Here it is on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281474

TW: Body-image issues, kinda lemon not really tho lets be honest...

Summary: You feel pretty self conscious about your body today, and it's not a great feeling. It's a good thing Raihan has the uncanny ability to fix things... Amongst other things.

Something about how you looked today was putting you off, and it had been all day. You weren't entirely sure, but you had this nagging voice in the back of your head telling you it was probably because you gained weight or something. It was a frustrating thought, but once it formed inside your head it seemed quite content on staying.

You moved your shirt, pulled it away from your stomach, turned 180 to look at yourself from every angle you could in the floor length mirror. It was captivating to stare at yourself but also dangerous because you were doing it with the intent to find any flaw, be it big or small, on your body.

You had been so focused on nitpicking yourself and pinching your arms, thighs, and stomach, that you barely took notice to the near 7ft tall man who had just come into your shared bedroom from the living room.

"If you keep staring so much, I might get jealous," Raihans deep voice startled you and for a second your eyes flicked to his in the mirror, then they flitted back to your own eyes.

"Lame," was the only response you could muster as you felt shame fill your bones, and embarrassment. Did he think you were as unattractive as you felt you were? Did he look at you and see your flaws like you did?

It was silent between the two of you for a moment before the gym leader took a few steps closer to you, "I was beginning to wonder where you went. I didn't realize changing into pajamas took so much work and scrutinizing."

Oh.

Oh ya. You had come into the bedroom to change into your pajamas, and settle in the living room to watch a movie with Raihan. But you hadn't been able to stop yourself from stopping when you passed the mirror on your way to the closet in your room.

"Shit," you breathed out, "Sorry Rai, I got distracted- I just..."

"Was too busy nitpicking yourself?" He finished for you. Without warning his long arms pulled your body into his chest from behind, "I don't see what there is to nitpick- you're real hot babe."

Your body stiffened in his arms as you became uncomfortable with the idea that any possible extra weight you had on your bones was pressing up against his body, and he could feel it. When you tried to pull away he only locked his arms tighter.

"Raihan..." you sighed in defeat.

"What is it?" He continued, his chest vibrating beneath your back as he spoke into your ear, "what's bothering you. Tell me, so I can convince you otherwise."

"...I feel like I've gained weight recently, I don't know... I'm not as fit as you are and I dont know I just... I don't have a body like Nessa or anything- you could do better."

The dragon tamers hands began to wander suddenly as he put one hand under the front of your shirt and explored the skin with his fingers tips, it made a shiver run down your spine and he noticed. He always did.

"I don't see it," he hummed, "don't feel it either... But even then, who cares if you gain weight? You'd be just as sexy as you are right now... Besides, it would just be more for me to hold."

At that, he turned you around to face him swiftly, and his hands continued to wander as he felt your skin beneath his.

"And if I'm being completely honest," his voice was barely even a whisper beside your ear, "Girls with a little extra? A much bigger turn on than a body like Nessa's."

His body pressed into yours and that mixed with his wandering fingers and his voice in your ear was enough to make you let out a moan you had been trying to hide. How had he managed to make you go from self loathing in the mirror to being completely and utterly turned on, bent to his will, in a matter of minutes.

"R-Raihan," you bit your lip as his lips wandered on your neck, he was definitely planning on leaving a hickey on your skin- you could feel his smirk at how you were reacting to him and if he hadn't made you weak at the knees, you would've nudged him for smirking at you, "you win... I look fine... What about the m-movie."

"Hmm..." you knew he was pretending to think as he hummed into your neck, mixing it with a moan, "I don't think I could focus on a movie right now..."

You secretly were hoping that was what he would say- because you felt the same. The way your body was suddenly yearning for him was a welcome switch from the feelings of hatred you had felt earlier. He made you feel sexy, attractive, beautiful.

Before you could attempt to respond to him, you found yourself easily lifted off the ground- you had to wrap your legs around his waist as he held you up in his arms, face to face with him- somehow holding you a few inches higher then his face really. If you weren't completely enraptured by him at that moment you may have been thinking about how this must be what it's like to be tall.

Your legs wrapped around his body turned him on, you could tell. His lips connected with your own and you could feel the hunger behind his lips, and the same behind your own. It wasn't too long before he had bit your lip and you released a moan- falling onto your bed with him atop of you, using his arms to keep him from pressing himself entirely onto you.

"Too soon," you moaned, referring to the bite he had given your lip. He smirked- he knew it wasn't too soon.

"You know I can't help it babe," the way he spoke sounded feral, like he was trying to hold himself back but it was hard.

His hands helped you to remove your own shirt, then he helped you remove his own. Your hands roamed across his chest- then dragged him harshly back down towards you. The moments your lips touched his again, you felt like you were going to explode.

He pulled back, much to your sudden dismay.

"You," he breathed deep, "are the most attractive person I've ever met. You drive me fucking crazy. Stop. Doubting. Yourself."

Needless to say, you didn't feel self conscious of yourself for the rest of the night. He didn't allow it.

#pokemon #pokemon swsh #raihan #gym leader raihan #pokemon raihan #raihan x reader #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon hcs #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon imagines #anywyayayay im sorry guys i hope this is okay and fills any needs while im fucking around in school LMFAO

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dolcetters · 3 years

Text

vanilla sunday .

no one asked, i just heckin’ felt like it m’dude. under readmore for length. i’ll try to keep my answers relatively to-the-point, too, since this’ll be a longer post but feel free to inquire on things or ... whatever u-u/ aye. i go sleep now.

is your muse a romantic? do they dream of love and marriage?

short answer: no.

as a teenager, dol didn’t have much interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with any of his peers around yuflam--or at all, really. by the time he got to academy things were either too busy or starting to get too tense for him to consider the idea. and shortly after that he went over a decade thinking he’d never even see sunlight again.

at this point, he just... --it’s just another thing he might want but doesn’t recognize it as something he wants. because he’s earnestly so bad at listening to his own desires and is more than willing to cast them aside if it means aiding someone he cares about achieve their own.

is your muse a deviant? are they overly flirtatious or forward?

no. there’s no real expansion on this, just no. <xD he tends to be much more bashful and sheepish, partially because of aforementioned inability to recognize he might want a relationship with someone. and even if he DOES realize this, he’s... extremely self aware. we’ll leave it at that.

is your muse good at kissing? are they experienced?

NOPE. and no. he’s never kissed anyone.

does your muse initiate a lot of physical contact?

nooooo no no no. he has an anxiety disorder (haphephobia) revolving around physical contact and even something as “small” as shaking hands or a shoulder bump can make him very nervous, uncomfortable and alert. the reaction is almost doubled if it comes with the sensation or energy of being grabbed.

it’s going to take a lot of time, patience, and trust for him to be comfortable initiating physical contact with you.

is your muse comfortable with public displays of affection?

no, for both the above reason as well as the paranoia that comes with being a fugitive/legally dead. the less attention that’s drawn to him, the better. at most, he’d hold your hand... but refer to the previous question for that.

does your muse steal clothing from their partner?

less “steal” and more borrow. due to having limited resources after escaping the labs and very few belongings he can truly call his own, dol wouldn’t/doesn’t just take or use things that belong to friends, family or potential partners (part of this spurs from his OWN resource guarding). he’d be more likely to approach you while you were brushing your teeth and be like “hey, s’it cool if i wear your hoodie today” and then respond based on that answer.

and he’s going to ask you every time. he doesn’t assume.

is your muse the big spoon or the little spoon?

varies! but most likely, when they’re facing each other, he little-spoons because pressing his face into the curve of the neck just above the collar is not only secure and comforting somehow, but he can hear your heartbeat.

when one of them is facing away, he tends to big spoon. --and obviously this is all assuming he’s at that level of comfort when it comes to physical touch + the partner.

is your muse comfortable with, or proud of their body? are they insecure?

complicated?

he’s very comfortable and proud of his body when it comes to his physical build, strength, fitness, etc. his strength and speed is something he values and keeping himself healthy and capable is very important to him. he knows he’s done a good job (those arms don’t lie) and he takes pride in that.

~however~, being a chimera... --he’s optimistic, yes. he’s just happy to be alive, of course. it’s not so bad. ...but he is fully, deeply, and painfully aware of how someone might react to witnessing some of his “quirks” when it comes to his splice or the idea of being with someone who isn’t entirely human. and the fact that he often became a target of light jabbing and jokes with the nesties, because dog behavior is much more well-known and commonly familiar than croc or snake or bull behavior, has only added to this awareness.

then, of course, there’s the added detail that he’s not even a perfected chimera. he’s just a successful one. a C- on some government biology test; barely passing.

so yeah. there’s some surface level pride, but... a lot of shame underneath.

is your muse attracted to any features in particular?

physical? no.

he has a soft spot and respect for people who refuse to give into their pain, though. where he experienced trauma and fear and let it make him hardened in a lot of ways, there are other people who have only become brighter, warmer, and do whatever they can to keep someone else from experiencing what they have.

to say he admires that trait in a person is an understatement.

have their crushes been mostly male, mostly female, or evenly split?

he’s only really had two, and they’ve both been gals, so i guess that makes it mostly female. i’ve mentioned before that he might have been uselessly in love with martel in the time before the raid (whether she felt the same is unknown) and he in default verse is lowkey sweet on rose.

have their partners been mostly male, mostly female, or evenly split?

he hasn’t had a partner.

is your muse easily flustered? do they blush, swear, etc.?

yes, yes, yes. him being flustered is usually a combo-result of: (1) not being used to that kind of attention from someone he actually likes, (2) having no idea how to respond, (3) internalized shame over what he is, and (4) he’s a fucking idiot.

where is your muse most sensitive?

his head, mostly, especially on his hair line and around the ears.

and i can 10000% promise to you that if he ever lets you comb your fingers in his hair or rub around his temples and you make some kind of dog-related-comment, you’re actually going to cause a shit-ton of psychic damage i’m gonna need you to roll like 10d6 for me.

please, please please please don’t ever refer to him as--or make jokes connecting him to--a dog in moments that are supposed to be vulnerable and/or intimate, i can’t... express this enough, it will hurt him.

is your muse more submissive or dominant in a relationship?

idk, i guess submissive but again: idk

would your muse ever tempt their partner, e.g. flirting, wearing tight/sexy clothing?

nah. not really his thing.

if he does “tempt” them it’s going to be sincerely accidental. like... yeah you walked in on me doing pull-ups i guess. would you hand me my water bottle? i’m parched.

does your muse initiate heated/sexual contact, or do they wait for their partner?

i feel like this question deserves it’s own post because i have a LOT of thoughts regarding rosecetto, specifically, on this topic.

outside of that ship, however, the answer is likely no. he’s not the initiator primarily for touch-anxiety reasons and also chimera-related-shame reasons, even if the partner has assured him there’s nothing wrong with him in the past.

does your muse leave hickies? do they ask for them?

eeehhhhh???? ... i guess accidentally sometimes?? and no.

does your muse like to be pinned down, or to pin their partner?

that’s a big NO. if you pin him down, even if he’s reached a point of security with you that he allows you to touch him, you’re going to flare up any of that anxiety that had previously subsided. he’s been physically restrained and held down far too long and all for bad/painful reasons, and he can’t associate it with anything other than “they’re going to hurt me and i need to get away, no matter what i have to do”.

as for pinning his partner, it’s likely also a no because he’d just... be too aware of his own trauma to even try doing it and he’d probably be uncomfortable being asked to do it.

has your muse reached first/second/third base? home run?

honey, he’s done nothing, he hasn’t even swung--

would your muse be interested in engaging with multiple partners?

no. he doesn’t see anything wrong with it when it comes to other people but this is definitely not for him or something he could be comfortable with.

would your muse ever send a sexual text message? would they send pictures?

n/a, but even in modern verses the answer would be no

does your muse read smut, own magazines, or watch p-rn?

nah

is your muse the type to discuss their sex life or sexual prowess with others?

abso. fucking lutely. not. no no no.

at absolute. MOST? he might open up to sakura (yinseal) about it. maybe greed (avadite). and it’d only be if he felt like he was doing something wrong or felt overwhelmed and self-conscious. but otherwise this is his and his partner’s business.

is your muse a top, a bottom, or a switch? do they have a lean?

defaults to bottom but will top if asked or in some circumstances.

crystal has confirmed that rose (forsakenflora) tops, so jfdlfjklsjkldhsd

how interested is your muse in sex and sexual activity?

he’s not.

it’s not a priority of his, and he definitely doesn’t want to hear about yours.

do they have sex frequently, occasionally, or rarely?

not at all right now jf kljdklhshf lhfklsdg

#♠: prompted headcanons .#////nsfw /// / /#////suggestive // // ///#[ and with that i bid you goodnight ]

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dameronology · 4 years

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obi-wan kenobi fluff alphabet

based off of this original post! if you guys want to see another star wars/marvel character, drop a message in my inbox :D

a - activities - what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time with them?

obi-wan would sit and watch paint dry for hours if he was with you. he doesn’t care what you guys do, as long as you’re together. however, he does particularly enjoy training with you, especially when you both get competitive. he also loves going for long walks, particularly at sunset, when you guys can just talk about everything and nothing.

b -beauty - what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?

as a jedi, obi-wan automatically admires things like patience and understanding, but especially passion. he loves when his s/o has a fiery passion to do something, whether it’s for a cause or to complete a task.

c - comfort - how would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

obi-wan can usually sense your emotions through the force, so he’s very aware of what you’re feeling. if he’s not with you, he’ll reach out to you and try and talk to you - it’ll be calming words, sometimes ones of advice. if he’s with you, he’ll sit you down and hold you. if you want to talk about it, he’s all ears, but he’s also more than happy to just lay with you.

d - dreams - how do they picture their future with their s/o?

this is a tricky one because given the circumstances, obi-wan can never plan any definitive - his job is unpredictable and he barely knows what he’s doing in the next week. with that said, the one thing he is certain of is that wherever he ends up, he wants you with him.

e- equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

your relationship is definitely one of equals. obi-wan is so big on communication and talking and being on the same wavelength as you is very important to him. with that said, he is a jedi master and spends most his time instructing other people so he can over-step a little sometimes, but he’s very quick to notice and act on it.

f - fight - would they be easy to forgive their s/o? how are they fighting?

again, obi-wan is so big on the communication front and he urges you to talk things out rather than argue. with that said, fights are kind of inevitable in any relationship and they do happen; if he’s in the wrong, he’ll always apologise quickly and if you’re the one he feels is in the wrong, he’ll explain why and it’s not long before a compromise is reached.

g - gratitude - how grateful are they in general? are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

he is the KING of gratitude. he is so aware of everything you do for him and obi-wan is so focused on making sure you know it. (side note: some of his methods of appreciation™ belong in the other kind of alphabet)

h - honesty - do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? or do they share everything?

obi-wan would never lie to you. he hardly has a reason to, and even if he did, his guilty conscious would make it impossible for him to do so. your relationship is your safe space and it’s an open book. you know each other better than you know yourselves (which works out quite nicely).

inspiration - did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

you turned his whole world around. before you, he’d completely shut the door on love and locked it behind him. you made him realise that he could be a good jedi and still love you. in fact, obi-wan probably credits you for making him a better jedi; the presence of somebody else in his life made him much more rational and self-aware.

j - jealousy - do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?

obi-wan tries not to get jealous but he’s a human being, and it does happen. you guys can’t be open about your relationship in certain places, and that does lead to situations where somebody gets a little too close, but it’s his trust for you that trumps his jealousy. he knows that you love him and would never hurt him, and that’s enough to get him through it.

K - kiss - are they a good kisser? what was the first kiss like?

obi-wan kenobi is one hell of a kisser and nobody could convince me otherwise. he’s definitely had enough experience with it, and that only increases when he starts to learn what you like in particular.

l - love confession - how would they confess to their s/o?

it would probably take a lot for him to tell you - like, obi-wan is risking a lot and going against the very code he practices. but, once he’s convinced himself to do it, it’s full steam ahead and it’s a simple declaration.

m- marriage - do they want to get married? how do they propose? what would the marriage be like?

it probably depends on the situation. if it was after order 66 (ouch) and you’re both adjusting to life on tatooine, he’d definitely be down for it; after everything, he’d want to settle down and you’re the only constant in his life. if you were both still at the temple, he’d be pretty content with just being with you. your relationship is extremely dedicated and important to you both, so it’s not all that different from a marriage.

n - nicknames - what do they call their s/o?

obi-wan probably uses darling, my love and my dear the most.

o - on cloud nine - what are they like when they are in love? is it obvious for others? how do they express their feelings?

he’s in a permanently good mood. anakin is probably the first to notice it; when he messes up and obi-wan is oddly pleasant about it, that’s when he realises. he’s normally an upbeat person most the time anyways, but when he’s in love, he’s like a literal ray of sunshine.

p - pda - are they upfront about their relationship? do they brag with their s/o in front of others? or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

for obvious reasons, you and obi-wan have to keep your relationship completely secret. with that said, if you guys are on a far away mission where nobody you know can see you, he’ll put on small displays of affection like intertwining your fingers or putting his hand on the small of your back.

Q - quirk - some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

obi-wan’s connection to the force works as a connection to you (and vice versa if you’re also a jedi). it’s never in an overbearing way or a protective way, but it means you guys are intertwined in a way that’s beyond your average earthly relationship.

r- romance - how romantic are they? what would they do to make their s/o happy? cliché or rather creative?

for obi-wan, his love for you is hidden in every day gestures. he remembers the exact way you like your caff, he’ll take note of every tiny detail of every conversation ever and he listens to you in a way you’ll never quite get over. for example, one time you mentioned you liked a type of flowers that can only be found on one specific type of planet, and six months later, he happened to be on a mission there. he returned with the flowers, which by then, you hadn’t even remembered mentioning.

s -support - are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? do they believe in them?

the man is like your own personal cheerleading squad. whatever your goal is, however big or small, he will support you through hell and high water.

t - thrill - do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? or do they prefer a certain routine?

because there’s a lot of sneaking around, you’re both kept on your toes pretty much all the time. with that said, you and obi-wan do fall into your own kind of routine together after a few years; neither of you mind. as long as you’re together, you’re happy.

u - understanding - how good do they know their partner? are they empathetic?

obi-wan knows you better than anybody. he knows your tiny mannerisms and habits and he never fails to surprise you with how much he gets you.

v- value - how important is the relationship to them? what is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

you’re literally the most important thing in his life. everything he does, he does it for you.

w - wild Card - A random fluff headcanon.

obi-wan loves to hold you at night, and sometimes it’s not even a conscious decision. there are times when you fall asleep on different sides of the mattress and wake up to find your legs tangled and his arms clinging onto you.

x - xoxo - are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

in private, hell yes. when you guys are in your quarters, he loves to hold you and kiss you. it was surprising at first because before you were together, you never would have predicted it but it’s one of your favourite things about him.

y - yearning - how will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

thank fuck for force bonds, amirite?

when you guys are apart, you can easily stay in touch because of your connection via the force. it’s nothing compared to physically being with you, but it helps tide him through the longer missions.

x - zeal - are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? if so, what kind of?

obi-wan would literally cross the galaxy and back ten times over for you. the man would do anything to keep you safe and protect you.

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan imagine #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fluff #star wars imagines #star wars preferences #star wars alphabet #star wars fanfic

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ladylunasolis · 4 years

Text

Zutara Week 2020 - Day 2 “Counterpart”

Thought I would take this a different route (and barely made it to post before the day is over in my time! pls forgive any errors lol). My first modern/college AU for Zutara.

You can also read this on AO3 :)

Rating: G

Zuko shifted his stool forward, and adjusted the easel his canvas was on. Blank white stared back at him. Today, they would be having new live models coming in to start their final project for the quarter - and the best ones would be displayed at the university student art show. They were working on portraits, different styles of painting one, and would have to submit a piece in their own style. Whatever Zuko lacked in expressing emotion verbally, he always did his best to show it in his art.

One of the things that did challenge him about portraits specifically was working with other people and being responsible to get their feeling across. Not one to back down from a challenge, Zuko had definitely worked hard and took extra practice to get a bit more comfortable.

He was feeling pretty confident to start this painting. And then the new models walked in.

One lanky young man with wild hair strolled languidly to the side of the classroom as the curious whispers of the class continued on. Zuko noted his eyebrows were in a shape he had never seen before, and it would probably be interesting to get them just right. Next, a girl with chin-length brown hair and a pretty smile walked in talking to the last model.

If that first girl was pretty to Zuko, this last girl was stunning. She had beautiful chestnut hair in gentle waves, golden skin, and surprisingly blue eyes to die for. Zuko cleared his throat and scooted again to hide his face, an unexpected shyness hitting him.

Katara noticed him with the cough and shuffle behind the canvas. She caught a golden eye surrounded by light pink peering at her before ducking back to start prep on what materials to use. Gold? She had never seen such a hue before. Curiosity flit through her mind as she slipped her bag off and prepped to sit for this session.

Suki had told her about a way to get some extra credit for their shared class, and she had sat for a few photographers in the past so she didn’t mind helping out. She hardly knew the guy with them, Jet, but he was nice enough. He was definitely a smooth talker and had tried to kiss her once when they went out with Suki and other mutual friends, but he was only a fun distraction.

Bad boys were definitely a type she’s had, but Katara couldn’t help but wonder about the shy guy shielding himself from her.

Some time had passed and the professor went up to Zuko, regarding his art with an amused expression Katara could see. “Zuko, you realize there are three people modeling, correct?”

Zuko’s face heated up and he took a moment to still himself and make his voice as steady as possible. “Yeah, I’m just starting off with her since she’s closest to me.” Zuko wanted the ground to swallow him whole, as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. He looked up to the models once more and found the blue-eyed girl watching him, a small smile on her lips.

Zuko. Katara had never heard that name before and despite that, she thought it would feel nice on her tongue. She felt a bit self-conscious for a moment after realizing he was focused on her, and so she straightened up and shifted her shawl down a touch to show a little more bare shoulder. She was flattered at his attention and Katara had always been a kind person. She figured she could do a small kindness to be an interesting model, and help Zuko get a good grade. The skill was all up to him but in a way, she felt like his partner in this project.

The class was coming to and end and she replaced the tank top strap back where it should be, and skirt over the workout shorts she had on for the class. Zuko was completely hidden while gathering his own things and Katara was going to say hi to him until Suki grabbed her by the elbow.

“Sokka, Aang, and Toph are at White Lotus for happy hour! They have shots waiting for us.”

“I think I-.”

“Uh-uh, I don’t wanna hear it, Katara. We deserve it!” Suki shot her a toothy grin which Katara always had a hard time being stern with. She shot one last glance at Zuko who had his back to them, before letting herself get dragged out with a laugh.

Behind her retreating form, Zuko was packing his things when he heard her name. A secret smile formed on his lips and he chuckled. “Katara, huh?” Beautiful.

The project continued on, as each class was only an hour long. Zuko wasn’t so taken aback anymore and was able to keep his wits about him each time he saw Katara. She always sat closest to him and it got to the point where she would give a smile to greet him, and he would return a small nod in return. Katara was appreciative of the fact Zuko finally let himself show his whole face from behind the canvas. It would have been a shame if she never had a chance to really see it — a light pink scar running on one side of his face and despite that he was still one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen.

On this day Katara’s ears piqued as the professor neared Zuko’s form. Zuko had taken to standing up, and was close to the canvas, brush moving slowly. The professor hummed and Zuko only turned to acknowledge him for a moment. “Zuko this piece…there’s more feeling behind it than I’ve seen so far this quarter.”

Blue met gold for a split second and Zuko straightened up. “Well, I guess you could say I was inspired.”

Ever the curious girl, those words triggered an even bigger desire to see this Zuko’s work. That’s it, I’m talking to him today. No matter what Suki has planned!

And so Katara didn’t even wait to be fully dressed in her street clothes before going up to Zuko, zipping up her light jacket. He startled when she greeted him. “Hey! Uh, how’s it going?”

How’s it going? Really, Katara? You have more game than that. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. But then again, I really don’t even know him as much as I know the back of his easel.

“Oh uh, hey,” Zuko scooted the easel to face the wall and neared her one a few short movements. He shot her a lopsided smile. Katara noted the brightness of his eyes. “It’s going pretty good. What about you?” His movements didn’t go unnoticed and she aimed a pointed look at his easel before returning her eyes to him.

“Good,” she replied with a smile, tucking her hair behind her ears before offering her hand in a handshake. “I’m Katara, the girl - or I guess - one of the girls you’ve been painting.”

Zuko took her hand and Katara noticed how warm his was. It was also much more smooth than she thought it would be. A little calloused and dry paint to the touch, but smooth. “Hah yeah, nice to meet you. I’m Zuko.” He ran his other hand through his hair absentmindedly and got a spot of blue in his locks. Katara giggled and pointed it out.

“You got a little…” His eyes widened, then he looked down at his hand and rolled his eyes.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, grabbing a cloth to wipe himself, small blush on his face. “You would think I would be used to it by now after painting for so long.”

“Well don’t worry, I think blue actually kinda suits you,” Katara quipped. The ghost of another smile passed over his lips before she continued on. “From what your professor said it sounds like your painting’s going well! I’ve been so curious to see it…”

Katara took a step towards the easel, and Zuko stepped in front of her with his hands up, sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry, it’s practically done but I kinda have this thing about my subjects seeing a work in progress…”

“Oh, like bad luck or something?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow and crossing her arms, smirking up at him. Boy, he was definitely taller than her. And she couldn’t place the scent, but he smelled good even with a paint apron on. Zuko thought a moment and shook his head, deliberately picking each word to answer.

“I want to keep my subject’s emotions as genuine and authentic as possible. I’m still learning all this too, but in the past when I’ve had to practice, sometimes a person starts to think they should sit a certain way or have their face be a certain way. But the thing I’m really starting to like about portraits is capturing who they really are in those moments, the small moments they let their guard down and let me into their world. It’s my job to interpret that onto canvas.” Zuko paused as Katara remained silent and laughed. “That’s the first time I’ve said that out loud before. Seems a little more weird than it sounded it my head.”

Katara shook her head. “No, I don’t think it’s weird at all. When you put it like that, it does make sense. Every artist has their way of doing things, right? So this is your thing. I can respect that.” She gave him a smile, softer this time, before turning away. “I guess I just wish I could see it somehow when it’s done.”

Zuko hesitated as she began to talk to Suki, who had been talking to his classmate Ty Lee. He just finally spoken to Katara and is that how he was going to leave it? She was almost out of the classroom when he called out to her.

“Katara!”

The sound of a new voice calling her name made her turn quicker, to see Zuko making his way over to her and Suki. Her friend shot her a look and actually took the cue to give her a little bit of space — though still listening intently.

“Thursday is the last day we’ll be doing this project, and after that we’ll be submitting to a panel. If my work does get picked, how about we go to the art show together so I can tell you all about it.” Katara noted it was as if Zuko had decided on something in the few moments between their conversation and now. Even the last words he said weren’t really a question, more so a request. She felt a flutter in her chest as she nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” And Zuko’s smile widened.

A little over a week later, she arrived at the show to meet Zuko, who had been there early to set up. Suki had bombarded her with questions about that black haired hottie after she made sure they exchanged numbers. During the last session, Katara did her best to keep in mind what Zuko had said. She just let herself be and stopped worrying. She even exchanged a few smiles with the boy behind the canvas, a few jokes after class.

Not long after she sent the “I’m here” text, she heard him call her name. I could get really get used to that. “Hey, I’m glad you made it!”

“Of course, I wasn’t going to miss this!” She really meant it and he gave her a lopsided grin, guiding her along with a hand barely brushing her back. “I’ve been way too curious.”

“I’m sure you have been,” he replied, nervous once more. He had never revealed his art to someone like this before and he wasn’t sure how it was going to go. He brought her to a wall set up with the light focusing on the singular canvas displayed in this section. “Here it is.”

Katara’s lips parted as her mouth dropped. Suki and Jet were painted on the right and left sides of the canvas, respectively, and there she was in the middle and larger than the other two. They were all full body in the frame but her’s was definitely the center. Brilliant blues of all different shades surrounded all of them and it was almost as if they were windswept, or perhaps underwater would be the best way to describe it with how her hair floated around her. She looked ethereal, she was glowing, she was happy, she was…Katara didn’t even know she could look like this.

Zuko stood next to her, waiting with bated breath. Katara looked up at him almost speechless. “How did you…get all of that from me just sitting there?”

Zuko shrugged and looked up at his painting. “I guess…that’s just how I saw you. That’s how you looked in my eyes.”

“Zuko, it’s…it’s beautiful. It’s really lovely, and I don’t know much about art but everyone is so well done,” she managed to get out, finally coming down from her surprise. Zuko looked down at her at his side and smirked.

“I couldn’t have done it without you to inspire me.” Katara and blushed and mumbled something of gratitude and Zuko couldn’t help but think about how adorable she looked. “So, what questions do you have?”

Thank you for reading!

#zutara #zutara week #zutara week 2020 #zutara fanfiction #writing #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #zuko #katara #counterpart

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myriadimagines · 4 years

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Congrats on the milestone! You're great and deserve only good things! May I have a Star Wars drabble with 12 and 48, with a guy please? I love to see how things work, and make things, leading to me taking up baking, sewing, and other things like that as hobbies. I also love to read, I've been doing it as long as I could remember. I love the summer, heat, sunrises/sunsets and being warm, due to doing better in it. (Pt. 1/ probably 3 bc Tumblr is goofing)

My pronouns are she/her. I'm quiet, reserved, a bit of a pushover, and naive at times. With those I'm close with, I'm always laughing and cheery. I try to be there for people who need to talk/need to be cheered up. I'm also clumsy! I try to be as level-headed as I can be, thinking every option out for any situation. I'm a big planner, too. For my appearance, I'm 5'2 and 1/2, with shoulder length cola colored hair. (Brown with red tint.) I have brown eyes, rosy cheeks, and a slight tan. (Pt 2/3)

Since you're so kind to do this, let me tell you who I ship you with! Based on what I know of you, you're a very kind, caring person who tries her best (Which is more than enough!), who's friendly, a great writer, and an all-around good friend! With that, I ship you with Gar, from Titans! I feel like, since you write/world build so well, he's captivated by what you come up with. I honestly feel like you guys would really hit it off, and have a lot to talk about! Thanks for this, Sam! (Pt. 3/3)

Characters: Reader x Obi-Wan Kenobi

Warnings: —

Prompt: 12. “Why are you all dressed up?” & 48. “You are so perfect.”

Word Count: 497

A/N: Gen!!! the Gar ship was so so cute it made me smile so big!! i hope you like your ship/drabble and i hope you’re having a lovely day 💗

want to request a ship drabble? Read this post!

Obi-Wan walks down a carpeted hallway, shaking his head at himself for somehow managing to lose Anakin within the Senate Building. One minute, Anakin was beside him as he conversed with some politicians, the next, his Padawan had mysteriously disappeared.

He turns a corner, stumbling backwards as he bumps into someone. Taking a step back, Obi-Wan politely says, “My apologies, I didn’t see you there.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen in recognition as you look up at him, and a warm smile spreads across his lips. As a senator who works closely with Padmé, Obi-Wan often runs into you, although not quite as literally as he had just done. The two of you got quickly acquainted, and Obi-Wan enjoys your presence, finding you easy to talk to, not to mention he thinks of you to be incredibly beautiful. Of course, with the latter thought, he knows he could never act on it, but he can’t help but dream.

Smoothing your hands over your dress, you say, “No worries, Master Kenobi. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Please, y/n, I’ve told you numerous times that Obi-Wan is fine.” Obi-Wan insists, and his gaze drifts down to the elegant gown you have on. It looks stunning on you, the fabric draping off your body like it was handcrafted just for you, with your hair braided out of your face. Smiling at you, Obi-Wan curiously asks, “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Ah, there’s an event later tonight that I promised Padmé I’d attend with her.” you let out a flustered laugh, suddenly feeling self conscious under the Jedi’s gaze. “I feel a bit silly all dressed up.”

“Why would you feel silly?” Obi-Wan asks. Before he can stop himself, Obi-Wan’s blurts, “You are so perfect.”

You blink at Obi-Wan, and he gulps as he realises what he’s just said. His mouth parts, as if wanting to say something more, but he doesn’t. Your heart pounds in your chest as you notice a tiny hint of red in Obi-Wan’s cheeks, and you stammer out, “I... thank you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan nods, still too stunned at himself for saying something so bold. Before either of you can say anything else, a familiar voice pipes up from behind you, “Oh, there you are, Master.”

You and Obi-Wan both turn to see Anakin, a wry smile adorning his face. Trying to compose himself, Obi-Wan’s expression turns stern as he chastises, “Where have you been, Anakin?”

Anakin shrugs, and you awkwardly clear your throat, “It was lovely seeing you, Obi-Wan, but I must get going. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Likewise.” Obi-Wan is practically beaming, and watches you rush off before letting out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. He flinches as he hears Anakin snort, and Obi-Wan sighs, “Don’t, Anakin.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything.” Anakin feigns innocence in his response. But from the grin on Anakin’s face, Obi-Wan knows to be prepared for some relentless teasing.

#star wars imagine #star wars prequels imagine #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars #star wars drabble #star wars prequels #star wars prequels drabble #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi drabble #imagine #imagines #reader insert #drabble #drabbles #9k celebration #interwebseriesfan24

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