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kingofthe-egirls · 10 months

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BEACH HOUSE INVITE: LUFFY x Y/N

Requested by anon

(cw: kissing, fluffy fluffy fluff)

Ok so i based the reader/luffy dynamic off of the relationship bt him and Shirahoshi bc i'm in love with them. ugh.

Songs: "Superfruit" by Maude Latour (Luffy's pov)

uk the voice luffy uses to say goodbye to shirahoshi? the really sweet and kind one? yeah that's the voice he uses around you all the time

the crew notices and makes fun of him at first but eventually stop

bc he just keeps using it

so sweet and quiet and gentle, asking if you’re okay, if you want a snack (only after he's eaten tho lol)

Shirahoshi inspo/proof they're in love: The way he lets her hold him in her hands, the way he found her the first time by jumping on her boobs in the dark lmao

It’s like that with you, since the first time he saw you, with pink hair tumbling down your shoulders, cute bows at two pixie buns at either side of your head. the way you smell like the freshest sea breeze, he loves just standing next to you on the deck and breathing you in. you're literally a breath of fresh air

Also he knew immediately that he wanted to touch you. like, all the time. sweet and soft and gentle, he's in love with your curves, your supple skin, your flowy clothes and pastel eyeshadows. he's in love with your softness: your quiet, gentle bird's voice, the way that you smile and blush whenever he meets your sparkly eyes

You're also curvier than Nami and Robin (or most of the girls in one piece cmon oda) and he loves your squishy parts like your upper arms or lower hips (your ass, your tits), and he can't help from squeezing them, always passing his hands over you as he slides past you in the hallway, or playing tag with you on the deck (you love playing games with your captain; it's like you're little kids! you want to build sandcastles at the beach with him--which is why you invite him to the beach, originally)

***

"You need a break, Captain," you smile sweetly at him, holding the paper invitation in your hands. It's cream, with tinted pink designs of seashells on the edges. It has gold writing on it, giving him the address of your beach house and the dates you want him to visit. You hand it to him, sheepishly. He takes it, stars in his eyes as seagulls call over head. You hold your hands behind your back.

"Whooooaa, seashells!" He turns the paper over in his hands. "Is this for me?"

You nod, shifting on your feet. Your turquoise skirt floats around your legs. Your thigh pokes out from the deep slit on the side. Your golden sandals are laced halfway up your calf, with beads dangling from the side.

“I want you to come to my beach house!” You explain, “While the rest of the crew is on leave.” You bounce up onto your toes, your white crochet halter scratching against your underarms. Luffy bounces, too.

Except he bounces three feet into the air, rocketing around the ship like an elastic firework.

“OF COURSE I’LL COME!!!” He shouts from his perch on the mast, before slingshotting back down to land at your feet. He’s grinning six inches from you, hands around your waist. “Can we go now?”

***

You tie your silky, pink hair up in two ribbons, having french braided the top half into two pixie buns, letting the rest fall down your back in loose waves. The sea salt is already frizzing up your hair slightly, but you shrug. Luffy doesn’t usually care about stuff like that, anyway.

Besides, you like a little wildness.

You trot down the beach, following a singing Luffy who skips a few feet in front of you. You’re wearing a a silver bikini, with a lavender cover-up tied around your waist. Seashell bracelets decorate your wrists.

“Let’s build a sand castle!” You call, dipping your toes into wet sand. Sea stars and broken bits of shell litter the beach. Tide pools gather with snipping crabs and soft sands. You pick your way around any potential snippers, as you catch up to where Luffy’s kneeling in the sand.

He’s further away from the water, where the sand is dry and hot from the midsummer sun. The waves crash gently at the beach.

The house itself is up on the hill, grassy tufts of greenery lining the rocky incline. It’s white and blue and shuttered, with lacy trimming and a rickety screen door. It’s old, and small, and so, so cute. You’ve spent most of your childhood summers, here. You count yourself lucky.

Luffy is already scooping piles of sand into one big mound.

“Hey, that’s not how you do that,” you say, trudging up farther to the base of the wooden stairs that lead up the hill. You grab a shiny red bucket and a blue plastic shovel. You giggle, tipping any debris out of the old pail set you’ve used since you were a kid. A couple sand flies spurt out, but you shoo them away. Luffy calls your name.

“Y/N! I wanna be king! You can be the princess,” he grins as you come back. He’s squatting in his red swim trunks, chest left bare for the sun. His skin is almond honey, and his arms flex as he works. “Gimme the bucket,” he holds out a hand without looking. A comma of intense concentration forms between his eyebrows; he sticks his tongue out to the side.

“We should put a star on the castle, so everyone knows it’s ours.”

He snickers, scooping sand into the bucket. He pats it down with the shovel. “I like that, Y/N! Let’s go get one.” He searches around the shore for something worthwhile. You take the bucket from him, kneeling in the sand. Black and tan flecks stick to your upper thighs.

You busy yourself with tipping out sand pillars, forming the square ring for the castle. You’ll put a big mound in the middle, you think, and add turrets on either side. You’re lost in thought, scooping piles together, when Luffy comes back.

He lets out a low whistle, “Whew, that looks cool!” He sits down with a thump, toned legs crisscrossed like a little kid’s. He dumps out a bunch of sea shells, sand dollars, crab shells, and bits of broken rock and glass onto the sand. He giggles at his treasure.

“Look at this one, Y/N! It’s shaped like Chopper!” He holds up a brown bottle glass piece, with two sharp juts sticking out like antlers. You grin.

“That’s so cool!!!” You geek out with him, poring over the little beach gifts.

“I like this one,” you point out a silver seashell, glittering with opalescence on one side. The other is dark brown and ridged. “Abalone,” you explain, holding up the palm-sized piece. You trace your fingers over the iridescent shimmers, all turquoise and violet in the sunlight. It’s getting close to evening, soon.

“Mother of pearl,” Luffy says, tracing the outside ridge of the sea shell. “Nami likes that, too.”

You smile, softly. His fingertips move closer to yours, both of you holding the shell between you. His hand ghosts over yours, touching the back of your wrist. “I like you,” he says, voice cracking. “Do ya like me, too?”

A coral blush is formed on his cheeks, his dark eyes cast away from you for now. You duck your head to meet him. “Yeah,” you whisper, leaning forward so your lips almost touch. He doesn’t pull away from you; instead, his breath quickens. Your own heart is drumming away in your chest.

You press a kiss into his soft lips.

“Mm,” he moans, almost immediately, dropping the shell to cradle the back of your head. You both shift, so you’re sitting closer with his legs around your waist. You’re kneeling in the sand.

Luffy’s lips are soft as sugar, sweet and chapped and practiced. You didn’t know he liked girls, your crush always thrumming in your breastbone whenever he’s around. But he’s good enough at kissing to have done it plenty of times before. You wonder who he’s been kissing, but heat flares in your gut and you push that away for later.

Now, he’s running his strong hand up your ribcage, to softly palm at your breast. He moans, the sound pouring sweet into your mouth. His thumb strokes over your nipple, over the fabric of your swimsuit. He repeats the movement, twice.

“Luuuuffy—,” you whimper, hands scrabbling at his chest. You don’t know where to touch: his tanned shoulders, his muscular biceps, his strong forearms. You reach down for his hands, pressing them both against your cheeks. “I love you,” you whisper, eyes watering as you meet his.

Luffy’s boyish face breaks into a grin. He beams, pecking a kiss onto your cheeks. He peppers your whole face with kisses, nuzzling into your scent. “I love ya too,” he rasps, voice at your ear. He takes the shell of it between his teeth. Then kisses below your jawline. “Always have.”

“I know,” you whisper, eyes fluttered shut. His ministrations are heaven against your skin. You wrap your own arms around his waist, bringing him in closer. He giggles, kissing down your neck as he indulges you. “Me too.”

“Ahh, good,” he strokes your collarbone, thumbing over it gently. He leans the side of his head against your shoulder. His lips move softly against your neck as he speaks. “I thought so, but I didn’t wanna say anything. You’re so shy,” he snickers, “I didn’t wanna scare ya away.”

“Sorry,” you say, shrinking away. Your blush has grown hot on your cheeks.

“Don’t be,” he pulls back to peck at your face again. His eyes crinkle at the edges. He’s so handsome, oh my gosh. You kiss him, again.

And again, and again, and again.

***

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy fluff #request

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meibaestars · 7 months

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It's been a while since I've posted anything big on here BUT I made a concept for Mei's Mythic skin that I am OBSESSED with. The theme I chose is "Holiday Village", and I made Mei a "Towne Baker" skin and a background for it (if you don't wanna see Christmas themed stuff in September yet I suggest keep scrolling lol):

There exists a village where snow falls and golden lights hang year round, a village where the warm hearts of its occupants brighten the frigid nights. The Baker makes her rounds daily, creating a seemingly infinite amount of sweet treats for all her friends. With her special companion by her side, she works endlessly to make and deliver the best desserts and baked goods to all within the village.

Here's the specifics and customizable options too (some of these aren't set in stone yet):

Hair: I was completely obsessed with braids for this, they just fit the holiday vibe too much imo. I also do think her glasses would change but i forgot to draw them so ill just say them here. Her hairstyles are as follows:

Two braids on each side and hair pulled into a ponytail with a bow + full moon glasses

Simple bun wrapped with a braid & bell hairpin (didn't draw the pin bc I only just remembered it) + half rim glasses

Half-up-half-down hairdo with braid pulled back & earmuffs + think rectangle glasses

Shawl:

Fuzzy neck short cloak with strings & cotton balls at the end

Similar to option 1 but instead of fuzzy, it's a bit more refined w/o the strings and has a button clasp in front

Not a shawl at all, but rather a cozy, long scarf

Weapons: These aren't set in stone, especially not the 2nd option (and obviously Snowball counts bc if we can't customize him, imma be so upset)

Gun: Piping bag gun that'll probably change to a more 'gun' style, and Snowball: Muffin Snowball, obviously a baker needs her baked treats!

Gun: I tried incorporating the style of a hand mixer, I like the concept but want to change it. And it's hard to see well, but Snowball: Literal display tray with a glass cover! How that would work with his face, I have no clue, but he'd have a cake or cupcakes inside that you could see.

Colors: Finally we got colors. The only consistent outfit colors for her would be the white fuzz (and maybe her sweater?).

Red for main, light brown for accent (i.e.: Corset & gloves), and brown for hair (so just normal hair here) + gold details for metal

I switched the accent and main colors, so light blue for main, teal for accent, and white for hair. Very much a winter, frozen look. And ignore the "gold", that's meant to be silver.

Dark red main, green (forest green) accents, and black hair with silver metal, fits more with Christmas colors in general.

Finally I'll show you her ice tank, which I think is genius:

It's literally a portable oven with cookies & a giant vat of icing, and an ornament as a charm.

I'll try and draw the actual hair styles or revise the weapons eventually, but this is what I have and I'm very, very proud of it

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch mei #mei ling zhou #overwatch fanart #overwatch art #overwatch fanskin #fan skin #god this will never become real now and im sad #shes so beautiful #ow #ow2

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starburstjuno · 2 years

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Dad!Eddie Headcanons

look!! i’m nothing if not eddie munson’s whore and being eddie munson’s whore involves A LOT of daydreaming of him as a dad. like a lot. this man would slay as a punk rock dad and i’ll hear nothing else ever.

warnings : pregnancy mentions, childbirth mentions, extreme self indulgence ahead

word count : 895

requests open | masterlist

when eddie first finds out you’re pregnant, he’s not even worried about himself and what this means for his future

he’s ALL about making sure you’re comfortable and happy (and safe, let’s be real)

he’ll never pressure you talk about it if you don’t want to, he’ll let you move in with him THAT DAY like he’s so accommodating

he also fully takes responsibility like hey i had a part in this, i’m gonna be here for the whole process no matter what it is

and when you finally come to the conclusion (together) that you’re gonna keep and raise the baby, he can’t even hide that he’s kinda excited like

yeah maybe he didn’t have a great childhood/great parents to look up to and follow, but he’d be lying if he said he never wanted kids

he always loved kids, kids always loved him, and he thought it would be kinda fun so the second you’re like yep i wanna keep it he’s onboard 100000% ready to go

it’s adorable just how much he does for you when you’re pregnant

even in the early stages, he insists on your keeping your feet up and never lifting a finger

of course one day he comes home and sees you literally folding clothes and nearly dies

“why are you doing so much? are you trying to overwork yourself? what about the baby?”

it’s time to have a discussion about eddie not being So Overdramatic about everything even tho yeah that’s kinda his thing

it takes some time but by the time the late stages of pregnancy come around, eddie’s calmed down and even has a little breathing thing he does to keep himself level

so imagine the way he freaks shit when your water breaks

there’s no one in that whole hospital pacing more than eddie munson

you’re all checked in, already set up in a room with nurses checking in and everything and my man is pacing the longest part of the room so fast

but the second you’re in pain he’s right there!

he literally refuses to leave your side no matter what, even when the nurses tell him that the father usually waits outside

thats not eddie’s gig tho. you’re hurting? he’s there.

and on top of that, it’s the birth of his child. of course he’s gonna be there

now, eddie would be a great dad no matter what, but let me tell you when i say that eddie munson is the PERFECT man to have a few little girls like,,,

princess stickers on his guitar, pink glitter nail polish before the show, plastic princess crowns for album cover shoots, everything

eddie 👏🏻 is 👏🏻 a 👏🏻 girl 👏🏻 dad 👏🏻 (ignoring how much i hate the term girl dad bye)

king rolls up in black ripped skinny jeans, old fucked up combat boots and a metal t-shirt to pick up his daughter from ballet class and she’s in all powder-pink and bows and shit

his daughter(s) love it when their dad plays his music in the car!!!!

toddler in a disney princess costume dress that she wears every day headbanging to metal in the back of her dads car on the way to kindergarten vibes

but also eddie is just so chill that he’d be down for whatever his kids wanted to do

wanna braid my hair? go ahead bud

wanna paint my nails? let me wash my hands first

want me to teach you to play guitar? your hands might be a little to small but fuck it we ball, let’s do it anyway

also!! coming out to dad!eddie?

bye he’s the type to just sip his beer and be like word, you wanna order pizza for dinner?

so unbothered because he knows absolutely nothing will ever make him stop loving his kid(s)

would absolutely go to pride events! would absolutely have more fun than his gay kid bc being a d&d nerd and metalhead he’s very familiar with campy ass bullshit

eddie mixes cool punk rocker dad with embarrassing “how do you do fellow kids” dad and he’s so right for that

like at first all of his kids friends think he’s so slay and edgy and cool like woah dude!! your dads in a band and plays d&d that’s kinda sick!!!

and then they meet him and he’s making puns and referencing memes in a way where he obviously half understands what he’s saying and half doesn’t understand but he’s saying it with his whole chest anyway

then half of his kids friends would be like your dad is so embarrassing i’m so sorry for you and the other half would basically just be dustin in season 4 where they are OBSESSED and IDOLIZE this man, and they absolutely shouldn’t because he’s a terrible role model he’s just trying really hard not to be

definitely brings up how he used to sell drugs in high school as if it made him way cooler before rushing to tell the kids not to sell drugs (never tells them not to do drugs tho)

i just!!!! i know eddie would be such a good dad like no matter what challenges his kids threw at them he would handle it in a very sloppy, probably funny, and extremely sincere way

he just loves his kids and that’s it!!!

thank you good night!!!

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things headcanons #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines

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thebonnylads · 2 years

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It Is Time to ramble abt how y'all look huhuhu :evil:

hm,, maybe go in colour order? (i.e. roygbiv)

-🌺

Oki so-

Cherry has cracks of magma spanning her entire body and his skin is a really dark red! Their hair is like hot wires just being drawn from the plate and is just warm to the touch! The mobility in her hands is limited from the cracks, but he can use their fire rod just fine! The fire rod is usually strapped to their waist by their pants! They can also bring up a panel that is auto translating to whatever the person's main reading language is, with a soft red text on a dark red background 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑛𝑡, which is called Serif!

Smith is a bit h to draw bc he's translucent other than his clothes, looking like a ghost in like Harry Potter but instead of glowing blue, he's a soft green! His hair at the ends is dyed green n is the one that looks the most like how he did before dying. His eyes glow green and he's confident but low-key, if that makes sense? He's also the tallest at 4'4 but wears heeled boots to appear taller- he also has a boomerang that I've been bonked with a lot-

I'm a fucking ice sculpture with slush-like hair and I breathe out frost. My eyes at angles looks like frosted over glass while others see ice blue eyes- I'm the shortest at 4'0 exactly n my hammer is almost always strung on my back or balancing on my shoulder

Berry has the same hair as before death, being blond to ombre purple hair that's almost constantly in a braid! When they do take their hair down, it's wavy n I love running my hands through it- their cracks are black and when they use too much magic or emotions go high they bleed a super dark red from every crack, especially the ones on their hands! They have a lil quiver that is self filling on their hip usally covered by their tunic n a pin that can turn into their bow, that glimmers like enchanted bows in Minecraft!

Shade has a nice dark skin tone that is also cracking like shattered glass and soft red eyes that are almost pink! Their cracks bleed in the same way as Berry and for the same reasons as well as if they just popped out of the Twili realm. They prefer to be in the shade but can come into the light for a hour but they have to take a hour rest before going back out- they also use bombs, and nab them from a pocket dimension-

Also fun fact! Cherry, Berry, and Shade can't sign like everyone else in the system, aka in just ASL, but they made one that is a mix of ASL and BSL but all open-handed signs that you can see Cherry mostly do bc she can't talk like the others well!

#lad's asks #perereiii beloved #🔨

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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Hello! Um hopefully this is ok but can you do a platonic poly relationship with tech reader and philza? And one day the reader comes over to there abode with a basket full of sweets and pastries (muffins bread ect-) also cottagecore quiet reader please she/they pronouns

Thank you! :D

(A/N): I’m back yall! Sorry I’ve been gone (in terms of writing/request doing) for so long, I just kinda lost motivation to write for a bit

Ok so you’re childhood best friends with Technoblade

You two met when you accidentally bumped into each other in the village by the sbi fam’s house

You were calmly along the cobblestone path when a cute dress in a store window caught your eye. You kept walking, but you were eyeing the dress as you walked by it. It was just your aesthetic: a vintage ruby red dress with laces tying the two sides together, a floused opening to the bottom of the dress, and puffy white sleeves. It looked like it was in your size too. It was absolutely perfect.

Just as you were about to walk into the store to check out the price, you bumped into someone and fell to the ground behind you. Looking up, you saw that the person that you bumped into was also on the ground looking at you. You saw that the boy was about your age with fair skin and long pastel pink hair tied into a messy ponytail. Peculiarly, he had small tusks poking out from his bottom lip, floppy pig ears on the top of his head, and crimson eyes. A piglin hybrid perhaps?

Feeling a small blush work it’s way onto your face, you quickly got up and held out a hand to the boy. “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going! Are you okay? Here, let me help you up.”

He looked at your hand for a bit before he grabbed it with his own and allowed you to haul him up to his feet. You looked him up and down scanning him for any injuries he might’ve gotten from the fall. Luckily, it didn’t look like he got hurt. The boy looked down at his feet and bent over to pick up the picnic basket and the few muffins that dropped out of it. Putting the muffins back in, he handed the basket back to you with a small smile and a blush of his own.

“It’s really no problem, I’m fine so it’s no harm done. Actually,” he chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, “I wasn’t looking where I was going either. I got distracted by that sword in the window.” He pointed with a thumb over his shoulder at the armory shop next to the dress shop. In the window was a shining golden sword glimmering in the bright sunlight. If you squinted, you could see a sign that said that it had a high level fire aspect and looting enchantments.

“Well, it looks really pretty. I don’t know much about swords, so maybe you could tell me about them? I’m (y/n),” you gave him a small smile and stuck out your hand once more. He shook it with a grin, “Technoblade.”

That was the start of a beautiful friendship with him and his family

You met Philza, his father

The avian was extremely excited and happy that his quietest son finally made a new friend

He treated you like you were his own daughter

You might as well be a part of the family with how much you came over to babysit Tommy or to just relax with Techno

You always bring over a basket of baked treats/pastries whenever you came over

Lemme just say, the family feasted and always fought over the last one

When you started to come over at least once a day for a bit with a basket full of sweets, Philza had to pull you aside and ask you to slow down a bit with the treats

“Hey (y/n) could I actually talk to you for a second?”

“Sure! Tech, I’ll be out in a sec.” The piglin hybrid curtly nodded and walked out the back door to the backyard. You smiled at Philza before you set the basket down onto the table and started to put the rolls onto a plate.

“I know it’s not much today, I didn’t have much time yesterday to bake.”

“That’s fine, but it’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Internally, you began to panic slightly. Oh Ender, you didn’t do anything bad did you? You couldn’t think of anything you did wrong. In fact, you actively avoided any wrongdoing or talking to strangers. Oh no, were you accidentally rude to someone?

“You aren’t in trouble,” he smiled lightly when he saw you slump in relief, “I was just wondering why you always bring over baked things. Don’t get me wrong, they’re delicious and we really appreciate that you take the time to make us things, but we kinda have a little too much. Maybe slow down a bit with bringing them over?”

You felt an embarrassed blush spread across your face as you nodded and put all your focus into transferring the bread rolls over to the plate. “Sorry Phil, I just bake whenever I’m stressed or bored and I just have a lot left over after I give some to my family.”

“And that’s completely valid! Just maybe don’t bring over so much, breaking up the fights with Tommy, Wil, and Tech just gets a bit much at times,” he grinned and clapped a hand over your shoulder.

As the years passed, you and Techno only grew closer

You taught Techno how to do meticulous neat braids in his hair while in turn he taught you some self defense

Mans makes sure you can properly and efficiently wield a sword and shoot a bow and arrow

Poor guy can’t lose another friend

When he moves to the tundra, he invites you to live with him but you reluctantly refuse

You had Tommy and Wilbur to look after in L’manberg

Being pissed at Schlatt when he exiles them

Following them into exile leaving behind shocked Manbergians

They didn’t think you were capable of the screaming, let alone such profanity

Practically launching yourself at Techno when he agrees to helping Pogtopia

Him making sure that the withers don’t harm you, even going as far as hitting them and luring them away from you

Staying with Techno after L’manberg is reinstated under Tubbo’s rule

Starting to dislike leadership and governments in general after Tommy gets exiled (again)

Convincing Technoblade to let Tommy stay with you two

Absolutely hating governments when the Butcher Army places Philza under house arrest and rolls up to your guys’ house and takes Techno and Carl

They lock you in the house, but you pick the lock with the bobby pin you kept the bandana pinned to your hair with

You follow them to L’manberg and break down when you see the anvils crashing down onto Techno

Screaming profanities at the Butcher Army and taking out your sword to attack them not noticing when Techno runs away safely

Philza watching everything from the balcony and cheering you on

You almost take away one of Fundy’s (whom you considered to be your nephew until the whole Butcher Army incident) lives before you feel a sword slice your arm and an arrow shooting its way through your thigh

Turning, you gave Tubbo and Ranboo the fiercest glare you could as you were standing over a half-dead Fundy with a sword dripping blood hanging at your side

You, the soft spoken and sweet one that gave everybody baked goods wherever you went, screaming profanities at the festival and the execution was scary enough, but this?

Absolute nightmare fuel, gonna stick in their minds for a long time

You attempt to fight them but you lose and end up with injuries too severe for you to continue fighting

Philza being the one to yell at you to go home to the tundra telling you that Techno’s alive bc of a totem of undying

You felt kinda stupid after that, Technoblade never dies (you often half joked that he was immortal like Philza)

You limp home and get met with a bone crushing uncharacteristic hug from Techno

He patches you up after reassuring you that the blood on him wasn’t his (he tells you about the duel in great detail)

In turn you tell him about your 3 v 1 duel, feeling a bit dejected bc you ended up losing

Him being literally so proud of you for facing 3 people at once, but also scolding you slightly for going into it blindly

When Philza moves in, everything feels complete and fulfilled (at least to you)

You help Philza clean and dress his damaged wing

Also helping him do some physical therapy so that he could at least move it

Comforting him whenever he felt down about not being able to fly again

You invite him and Techno to cook with you and it surprisingly ends up better than you expected it to be

When Tommy betrays Techno, you and Philza end up being the only ones he could fully trust (later slowly adding Niki and Ranboo to the mix when The Syndicate is formed)

You are Harpocrates when The Syndicate is formed due to your quiet nature

Philza and Techno fully 100% supporting your decision of not wanting to reveal your identity

At the second meeting you show up with a full mask covering your face and the opposite of what you normally wore (more of a grunge type beat)

Only communicating in nods and writing at meetings, living up to your nickname

You never reveal your identity to Niki or Ranboo

Pleasant late night conversations around the fire with hot chocolate and your baked goods

Techno still lets you braid his hair (sometimes you even put flowers in it) from time to time

You braid Philza’s hair when it gets too long

Braid chains when yall get too bored? Hell yeah

Ultimately, you three become a strong family unit (goals)

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester @laura--444 @the-cult-classic-bitch @youngstarfishdinosaur

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #requests #hellion's requests #1k special #hellion's 1k special #tw: blood #tw: injury #tw: violence #tw: near death

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s-aint-elmo · 4 years

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anon how does it feel to have made my week

i’ve been holding on to these asks for DAYS waiting to carve out some free time so i could do them justice because they are absolutely wonderful. resident rich kids getting left alone for five minutes and wrecking the kitchen?? resident rich kids and their friends who they love very much setting out to study all together on the living room floor but accidentally making the study pile too comfy and ending up sleeping instead?? fantastic. perfect. inspired.

(riz will crash and knock himself out in a few and adaine will be grappled into the cuddle pile eventually just you wait. it’s inevitable. fuck the exams)

finally, i've been really loving this influx of fantasy high asks lately, but also! go send some my friend @supercantaloupe's way!! she's had a hand in a couple of these and she is fantastic.

(image description under the cut bc i had some time!)

[ ID: a screenshot of two asks sent one after another. they say: "I have a HC that Fabian and Adaine cannot cook and so the bad kids spend Friday nights trying to teach them/ Also bad kids studying together/falling asleep in a pile." what follows are two drawn images in response to them.

one: an overboiling pot on a food-covered stove sits in the foreground over a roaring flame, while the disheveled pair of fabian and adaine take cover behind a kitchen counter in the background, framed by stylized billowing smoke from the pot. on our left, fabian brandishes a wooden spoon at the pot in an en garde position. fabian is a half-elf with wavy, messy hair and an eyepatch over his right eye. he is wearing an apron over a tank top and a panicked grimace. on our right, adaine wields a ladle in the manner of a baseball player coming up to bat, squinting at the pot. adaine is a high-elf with a similarly messy bob of wavy hair and long ears pinned back in distress. she is also wearing an apron over her shirt; it's tied into a small bow at her back, partially obscured by the smoke. on adaine's head sits her familiar, boggy the froggy, a perfectly spherical frog wearing a collar. boggy glares at the pot, firmly in his "i don't like this" setting. the background is a solid peachy orange.

two: all six bad kids curled around each other in a sleepy, mid-study pile. each bad kid is filled in with an identifying colour in order to distinguish them from each other. fabian, a half-elf with wavy, slicked back hair wearing an eyepatch and a letterman jacket, is pale red. adaine, a high elf with wavy, bobbed hair wearing a wool-lined denim jacket, is pale blue. fig, a tiefling in a studded leather jacket with slightly curved horns and long, braided hair, is purple. riz, a small goblin in a newsboy cap, vest, slacks, dress shoes and dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, is yellow green. kristen, a human girl in a t-shirt with curly hair pulled back in a ponytail, is golden yellow. gorgug, a half-orc in a big hoodie with headphones slung around his neck, is pale green. they are all wearing matching woven friendship bracelets.

from left to right: gorgug is curled on his side, one arm pillowing his head and the other resting on the floor beside him. from where we stand we can see the top of his head and his shoulders. fabian hangs over gorgug, his head laid on his arms, which are laid on gorgug's waist and hip. his hands partially obscure his sleeping face. adaine is fully awake, seeming to be the only one left interested in studying. she looks down with an expression of mild annoyance on her face at fig, who is using her lap as a pillow. fig sleepily swats at adaine's book, a gesture meant to tell her to join the rest of them in napping. adaine only holds it up and away from her hand. riz sits against fig's torso, his knees pulled up to his chest and hands cradling a mug of coffee. his eyes are large and staring blanky into the depths of his mug; he is clearly on a caffeine high. kristen, fully asleep on her stomach, has one arm curled under her chin to support her head, the other extended to rest on her crystal, which buzzes slightly with a notification. an open book lays partially over her extended arm. her body is curved in such a way that she closes the loose circle of half-asleep kids. at the very center of them all sits boggy the froggy, a very spherical frog. his face is the picture of contentment. the background is a light shade of peach.]

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #adaine abernant #fabian seacaster #fig faeth #riz gukgak #kristen applebees #gorgug thistlespring #boggy the froggy #the bad kids #doodles #mine #this better show up in the tags #asks #you can't see it but it's tracker messaging kristen. she fell asleep texting her

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tessiete · 3 years

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For the Spotify fanfic ficlet: 12 for the Kenobi-Kryze fam? 🥺

@lightasthesun so here’s the deal. I STRUGGLED with this. Because I wanted to give you happy, fun, fluffy times, and there are some real bangers on my Wrapped. I mean, relative bangers.

But you picked probably the most Obitine-angst appropriate song ever, and I was like......oh, no. I can’t - I can’t do that to them.

So, after several days of thinking about it, we came up with this. It’s...I refuse to call it angst, bc everyone is alive, and well. It’s just like, some family fun times. Thanks, especially to the Obitine discord, and @duchess-of-mandalore @mg024 and Finn!

And anyway, I hope you love it! Thank you so much for the challenge! <3

Prompt: The Chain (Ingrid Michaelson)

THE CHAIN

The sky over Capital City is grey, and tremulous when they arrive on Coruscant. A natural storm had surged over the breakers of the planet’s ancient atmo regulators to sound its rage and fury out above the city. It’s rare, but not unheard of, and though some might take it as an ill omen, Satine thinks it a fair reflection of the twisting winds within her breast. Rain falls in great, heavy drops, lashing its grief across the transparisteel viewports as they break through the clouds. Thunder cracks, righteous and defiant. Lightning fractures the plate of the sky, reaching out with jealous fingers to touch the earth. Korkie has slept through it all, but Satine doesn’t want to miss any moment more than she must.

They hit the pad with the sudden jolt of gravity reasserting itself, the locking clamps securing them in place. She feels each shudder of the ship echoing in her bones, the soft satyn of her simple travelling gown like water over her skin. Every contrast feels sharp, and malicious. She takes Korkie’s small hand in her larger one, and together they wait for the ramp to lower, releasing them into the wilds outside.

And they are met.

Across the platform, standing silent in the downpour, is Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Though her vision blurs, and renders his face unreadable, she can see the straight line of his shoulders, the proud tilt of his chin, and the defiant stance of his feet spread wide. His hands are hidden in the fold of his cloak, and at his back are Masters Windu and Jinn.

At Satine’s back is the black maw of the ship, and the wind whistling through it. Korkie laughs, and she looks away from the Jedi to see her son, hands out, catching rain.

“It’s wet! Belli, look!” he says, showing her his hand, shining in the grey light. “The sky is crying!”

Satine feels the rain coursing over her own face, and smiles in recognition of his delight.

“It is,” she says. “Happy tears, of course. Coruscant is glad to meet you, kih'kairkiyc.”

He grins at her, and she squeezes his hand, and together they cross the narrow bridge from the ship’s dock to the reception platform where they are met by Obi-Wan. He steps forward, and bows, deep, and formal.

“Duchess,” he says. His voice does not waver, but lies flat, and orderly in the space between them.

He is much the same as she remembers, though his hair is longer, and his braid is cut. A beard has grown in, at long last, though she does not like how it covers his mouth, and hides half his face, and she longs to reach out and wipe it away so she might be able to read him again, like she used to. But there is more than an arm’s length between them, so instead, she nods her head in acknowledgement.

“Knight Kenobi,” she says, like glass, clean and showing nothing of itself.

Korkie tugs at her hand, and she pulls him forward to introduce him next. His fingers linger at the tips of hers as she lets him go. He takes a step. He takes a breath, and just as they’d practiced, he bows with his hands clasped before him, until his back is level with the floor.

“How do you do, Knight Kenobi?” Then, in succession, “Master Windu. Master Jinn.”

The three Jedi return the gesture. Master Windu is tense, and wary of her, she can tell, still unconvinced of the wisdom in this. Obi-Wan’s eyes are fixed on her, but Qui-Gon Jinn smiles at the boy, and Korkie stumbles back until he falls against his mother’s stomach, his hand reaching out to fist in the fabric of her gown to steady himself.

“Hello Korkie,” the old Jedi greets. His voice is soft, like birdwatchers in Keldabe before. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Obi-Wan is pulled from his study of the past by this reminder of their present company. His hands drop, and he shifts, leaning towards her, his head ducked and uncertain.

“I apologise for the weather,” he says. “I would have - if there had been any indication of inclemence such as this, I would have suggested somewhere with a roof.”

“Of course,” Satine says, too quickly. Then, bridling herself, she continues. “Coruscant is usually such a civilised, and well-behaved planet, it could not have been foreseen.”

There is the promise of forgiveness at the end of her declaration, which Obi-Wan accepts with relief, and they smile at each other. It is brief, and carried more in their eyes, than in their mouths or hands, but it is there nonetheless.

“And you, Master Korkie,” says Qui-Gon, with a smirk of his own. “Are you more civilised, and well-behaved than you appear at first glance?”

He gestures to Korkies rumpled tunic, and mussed hair which sticks up in wild tussocks like knots of grass.

“Someone was rather exhausted by our journey,” says Satine, fondly. “He fell asleep just past Corsin.”

“It was rather a long flight,” says Korkie, in his own defence. “And I don’t much like flying. Lightspeed always feels funny.”

At this, Qui-Gon kneels to meet Korkie on his level, and speaks as if he is confessing some great secret.

“Do you know,” he says, “That Knight Kenobi also dislikes flying.”

Korkie throws a wondering glance at Obi-Wan, who shifts beneath the scrutiny.

“Truly?” he asks Qui-Gon.

The Jedi nods. “Yes, truly. Only he stays awake the whole time.”

“Why?”

“I think in order to complain,” says Qui-Gon. “He needs to be sure that I am equally as miserable as he is, otherwise he feels lonely for company. But it does make for a very long trip, from my point of view.”

“That’s silly, Knight Kenobi,” declares Korkie. He turns to address Obi-Wan directly, and though he speaks critically, his brow is lifted, and his eyes wide in an earnest desire to ease the knight’s discomfort. “It’s much better if you sleep,” he says, with all the wisdom of a moment. “The time goes by much faster.”

Obi-Wan is forced to accept his master’s censure with grace as to spare the gentle feelings of an innocent child, so he smiles, and bows to acknowledge the boy.

“As you say, Master Kryze. You are probably right.”

“I know I am,” Korkie says. “Even though I do look a little wild in the end. But I feel tidy. So I suppose it’s just a matter of which part of me you look at.”

With a rumble that starts deep in his belly, then tumbles out like thunder, Qui-Gon Jinn laughs.

“A man after my own heart,” he says, giving Korkie a little clap on the shoulder. “I foresee you will become a great Jedi, Kiorkicek Kryze.”

“Sorry to interrupt, Duchess, Obi-Wan,” says Master Windu, stepping between the parties, “But as this rain doesn’t look to be letting up any time soon, may I suggest we complete the investiture ceremony somewhere a little drier?”

He levels Obi-Wan with a challenging glance, but its severity is diminished somewhat by his own bedraggled state. Despite their equal exposure, the rain has somehow managed to do more damage to Mace Windu’s composure than any of the others. Perhaps because he is more conscious of his position, and his dignity than the other two, Qui-Gon being rather untroubled by such pretensions, and Obi-Wan still humbled and distracted by the circumstances in which he’s come face to face with the unquiet ghosts of his past. Both of them wear the rain with ease, but Mace has struggled, unable to convince himself of the need to shield himself, but conscious of the desire. His cloak is patchy with damp, and the top of his head reflects the sky, the water washing his face, and dripping from his lips and chin. It is clear that Obi-Wan feels this indignity on his superior’s behalf, but Satine fights laughter at the spectacle.

“I think that would be wise, Master Windu,” she says, her voice tripping and sparking with barely repressed delight.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, with a shallow bow. And then he says, “There is an air car waiting.”

And Satine feels her stomach drop.

She meets Obi-Wan’s eye over Mace’s shoulder. His gaze is steady, and somber and as he makes his answer to the master’s request, and she can hear farewell in the heaviness of his voice.

“Yes, Master Windu,” he says. “Satine, I’m sorry we must be so brief, but I -” and he stands gaping, and voiceless for a moment.

The tight knuckle of sickness twists in her gut, scraping across the raw nerves of the underside of her skin, buckling muscles, and shifting against her bones, but she swallows the nausea back, and saves Obi-Wan from the inexorable void of silence.

“Do not apologise, Obi-Wan,” she says. “These things cannot be helped. Perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps the sting will be less.”

“Like a plaster,” he says, numbly.

And she agrees. “Just like.”

Master Jinn’s rises from his crouch, leaving his hands to ghost over Korkie’s shoulders, his hand still wrapped in her own, and Obi-Wan still staring at her, still drowning in the rain. Master Windu is merciful then, and bows out his leave taking.

“I’ll prepare the car,” he says.

“Thank you, Mace,” says Qui-Gon, when no one says anything else, and Master Windu leaves them to say goodbye.

But still, no one moves. Silence falls, a fragile, lacework thing, too delicate to touch with the clumsy fingers of speech. They remain suspended in its web for an age, until Qui-Gon braves what the others cannot fathom, and speaks again.

“Obi-Wan,” he says, stepping away from Korkie to reach for his own grown padawan. “A word.”

He draws him aside, turning away, turning their backs to Satine and Korkie, and speaking quietly in Obi-Wan’s ear, an arm about his shoulders, and drawing him close in private assignation. At another time, she might feel ostracised and othered by this, but now, she is grateful. It is she who is with Korkie, and the Jedi who must stand apart.

She kneels to face her son, heedless of her skirt, of the thin satyn and how it catches at the rough duracrete, pulling taut, maybe tearing beneath the pressure of her knees. She doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. What matters is this: herself, and her son, and the rain washing away the things between them.

“I don’t want to go,” says Korkie, and she grips his hands tighter than before.

“You must,” she says. “You must. You are going to be a wonderful Jedi Knight. Just think of that.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I know I said before, but I changed my mind. I want to go home.”

“You can’t go home, kih'kairkiyc,” she replies, her tongue growing thick with a truth she hates to speak. “Remember? We talked about this. It’s dangerous. But you will be safe here. Knight Kenobi will protect you.”

“But who will protect you if I’m not there?”

“Oh, many people, Kiorkicek,” she says. “A whole court of people. All the people. The people of Mandalore will be my strength, and they will take very good care of me while you’re away, and one day, when you come home, they will be glad to meet you again, and so will I.”

“Do you promise?” he asks. “You won’t forget me? Even if I’m gone for a very long time?”

“Even if you were gone for almost as long as forever, I would never forget you, Kiorkicek Kryze. Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad. Ratiin.”

“Ratiin,” he repeats. “Always, and always.”

“Yes,” she avows. “Now, do you remember what I told you?”

“To wash my face, and brush my teeth every day, even if I’m very sleepy.”

And she laughs, pulling him close to her breast, and tucking his head beneath her chin.

“Yes,” she says. “That is very important, but what else?”

“To listen to the masters, and study hard, and show respect, and try my best, and to always, always be very kind to Knight Kenobi, because he isn’t always very kind to himself.”

“Yes,” she whispers. She presses a kiss to his hair, and combs it as flat as she can. “That last part, most especially, kih'kairkiyc. Look after each other. For me.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Belli.”

“Bal Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, balyc.”

“Satine?” The call is Obi-Wan’s and she looks up from the cradle of her embrace, and her son within it to see him standing cautious, and concerned a few paces away. “It’s time to go.”

“Of course,” she says. She stands. She takes Korkie’s hand, nestled in her own, and places it in Obi-Wan’s. For a moment, the three of them are one, together, and then…

She lets go.

“Goodbye, my Kiorkicek,” she says. “Remember what I told you. Kote, ijaa, aliit. Ratiin.”

He nods, and she can see his grip tighten on Obi-Wan’s hand, fierce determination rising in the face of her expectations. It is Obi-Wan who falters.

“Satine, I -” he shakes his head. His eyes match the storm. “I will do my best by him, I swear. I will not fail you. I will not.”

“I know,” she says, steady where he is not. “I would not give him up to another. None but you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Gar ratiin ru’kar'taylir. Be gentle with it.”

He nods. There is nothing else to say, and they’ve always been terrible at goodbye. She smiles at Korkie one last time, and he points at the sky.

“Happy tears,” he says, and grins, wiping the salty streaks from his own face.

And with that, he tugs on Obi-Wan’s hand, and leads him off towards the distant figure of Mace Windu, and the air car waiting patiently to take them home.

But Satine is not alone.

Qui-Gon Jinn steps close, until she can feel his shoulder jut up against her own, the warmth of his body breaching the barricade of wet clothes, to soothe her own chapped skin, and she shivers against him.

For a moment, they say nothing, just watching as Obi-Wan turns to Korkie, and Korkie to Obi-Wan, chatting animatedly, his free hand swooping through the air. She imagines he must be telling him of their departure from Mandalore, and the world he left behind, and she hopes that selfishly, she might be included in as many of these stories as he thinks to tell, because he is in all of hers. Qui-Gon chuckles beside her.

“Fast friends, already,” he says.

“Forgotten just as fast,” she whispers, nearly losing the words to the storm. But Qui-Gon is listening closely.

“Never that,” he says. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she yields like water, dropping her head to his shoulder, and weeping into the crook of his neck.

“I thought I was ready,” she says, hitching breaths to match the shifting winds. “But it has come too soon.”

She feels his chin press against her skull, and though it isn’t exactly comfortable, there is comfort in the angles of his affection, and she leans closer to him, until her arms sneak beneath the wet folds of his outer robe, and wrap around his waist. She clings there, as though she might blow away. This is familiar, though it is an old, old memory, now. She was once a girl, before she was a Duchess, and Qui-Gon Jinn was once to her the very thing her father could not be. She was bereaved, but never lost, and there were many nights that Qui-Gon held her while she wept just like this. It is easy to reach for him, now. It is easy to look back.

“You are never ready,” he says, his voice vibrating so near to her ear it is as though he speaks to her from within her own mind. “But he is not going very far. He is with his family. He is with his father. You are not losing him to the wilderness.”

“No,” she says. “Only to the Force.”

He does not chide her for the bitterness upon her tongue.

His own words remain gentle, and soothing, and he rocks her in his arms, as they watch the matched set of their hearts walk away.

“Then I have lost my own heart twice,” he says. “First to the Force, and then to you. But people always come back, in one way or another. No one is gone forever.”

And as they reach the car, as though he hears their call from across a vast, unending night, and over the wind and roar of the storm, Obi-Wan looks back, and Qui-Gon smiles.

“Oh, look,” he says, as the knight turns once more to his son. “There he goes again.”

Satine buries her face in Qui-Gon’s arms, and though she doesn’t feel at peace, for a moment, she feels like she has come home.

#my fic #prompt fill #spotify prompt fill #the chain #korkie kryze #korkie is a kenobi #obitine #satine kryze #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #mace windu

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fonulyn · 3 years

Text

fonulyn’s 2020 in fics

this is kind of exciting since in 2020 I did get a lot writing done, and it marks the second year in a row that I’m able to actually make one of these posts after that horrible not good at all terrible disastrous three and a half years when I wrote absolutely nothing. so it’s a triumph to get another one of these up! personal victory haha.

in total, in 2020 I wrote 148 fics, ranging from like 200 words to 34k (idk if those short things can be called fics but i just did). by pairing, there’s

13 of Joe/Nicky

58 of Piers/Leon

56 of Chris/Leon

(1 with Piers/Leon and Chris/Leon)

5 of the ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

11 of Krauser/Leon

3 of Wesker/Chris (lmao still can’t believe this)

1 of Chris/Leon/Krauser

so. in retrospect, i did okay.

it’s over 300 thousand words and I am kind of. surprised. and that is not counting the approximately 50k of wips i’m ignoring :’D

I’d also like to take a second to thank everyone who has ever sent me nice messages, commented on the fics, left reblogs or kudos, and the like. you’re what kept me going, I wouldn’t have gotten even half as much done otherwise.

without further ado, links to all of the fics under the cut! they’re organized by pairing, and the links take you to tumblr posts (bc I’m lazy) and a lot of them have a link in the post that takes you to ao3. (also can you see I put ~~so much~~ effort into naming the tumblr ficlets :’D feel free to laugh at me)

Joe/Nicky

a dog by any other name | 1,5k | The one wherein they end up owning a dog.

within the heart a flame of desires | 5,0k | Nicolo watches Yusuf have sex with others, desperately wishing he was with him instead. Until things change. He much prefers having Yusuf all for himself.

the world will wait | 2,4k | The one wherein Joe takes a lot of naps and the whole team gets to relax.

catch this | 650w | Every time Joe gets distracted (by Nicky), Andy tries to take him by surprise.

nobody’s perfect | 1,9k | Even immortal warriors have their weaknesses, Nile learns. Those just aren’t what she expected.

only in these arms | 780w | Nicky has trouble sleeping alone. Andy is a decent substitute, but only when Joe returns so does Nicky’s ability to get a decent night’s rest.

(please don’t explain) that time in Malta | 580w | Nile doesn’t think at first it would even be possible for Joe to be embarrassed. By anything. Until one evening, they talk about Malta.

cool it down boys | 400w | Andy gets no sleep. She gets revenge, though.

cowboy, baby | 340w | Nicky has the fashion sense of a sack of flour, and he is fine with that.

that day is not today | 4,9k | They struggle through the whole lab-experience. It isn’t the time yet to forgive Booker.

tea, soup and tlc | 2k | The one wherein Joe is not sick. At all. Nope. He isn't.

two drinks too many | 770w | Nicky is a little drunk. Joe loves him anyway.

safe haven | 3,9k | The one wherein everyone gets quality cuddles from Joe.

Piers/Leon

it was you that I found | 23,4k | Leon doesn’t really do relationships. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he always seems to be so bad at them. Of course entirely by accident he manages to build one without even realizing it.

unexpected visitor | 690w | Piers is forced on bed-rest. At least Leon stops by.

got me all tied up (never let me go) | 4,0k | Piers doesn’t like suits. Leon loves Piers in a suit.

not so subtle | 210w | “Soo, were you checking me out all night, or was that just my imagination?” Leon asks suddenly, Piers chokes on his drink in surprise.

nighttime fools | 4,8k | Piers and Leon get arrested for public indecency. It’s not their fault, honest.

piers isn’t sick, really, he isn’t (he is) | 670w | “Oh, hi,” Piers said immediately, a goofy smile slipping onto his face. Man, he was happy to see Leon. So happy to see him.

so you’ve met Xena | 620w | “Xena?” Leon turned to look at Piers, decidedly unimpressed. “You named your dog after the Warrior Princess?“

you’re cute, you know | 680w | Piers took the opportunity the second their gazes met. He grinned, as charmingly as he possibly managed, and said “You’re cute, you know that?“

kiss the nightmares away | 470w | Sleepily Piers blinked, trying to make his eyes work properly. He squinted at the digital clock on the bedside, and its harsh red numbers that told him it was 3:30, and confusedly he turned to frown at Leon. “Why aren’t you sleeping?“

smooth talking, Nivans, very smooth | 1,4k | Piers can not control what comes out of his mouth.

dream a little (dirty) dream of me | 1,3k | Piers wakes Leon up. That's it.

your shirt is my shirt | 950w | With a sigh Piers grabbed the only shirt available that wasn’t battery operated and obnoxious. It was Leon’s, so old that the print had faded completely, leaving only faint outlines behind. And when Piers pulled it on he grumbled again, realizing how tight it was.

here for you | 620w | Leon can’t sleep, but somehow Piers makes his anxieties bleed away.

grand plans | 260w | “Are you seriously going to wear that?”

new puppy | 430w | “Hey there little guy.” Leon bent down to pick up the little puppy, straightening again to hold it against his chest. His hands looked almost comically large as the dog was so tiny, and carefully he cradled it close.

a little bit funny | 850w | So maybe Piers hadn’t slept properly in days, and the sleep deprivation was making him a little hysterical, but he didn’t even remember when a stupid comedy would’ve made him laugh so much.

for now our time is here | 4,4k | When Chris had told them to wait up and left them alone for a while, this probably wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but the second he’d closed the door behind himself the tension that had been brewing between Leon and Piers had snapped like a cord.

wanting too much | 1,1k | “Fucking hell, never do that to me again,“ Leon huffed out, clearly relieved beyond anything.

the prettiest agent with the prettiest hair | 1,2k | Piers stress-braids. Leon doesn't mind. And besides, Piers always undoes the braids whenever he's done with them. Until one night he forgets.

you can be the air that i breathe | 1,0k | It wasn’t the first time Piers got punched in the face by a gigantic BOW so hard that the hit sent him flying. It was, however, the first time he was sent careening off a bridge and into the river below. And it was, definitely, the first time Leon saved his life.

before I found you | 890w | The second Piers realized that the spikes covering the monster actually came off, and it was able to shoot them towards its attackers, it was already too late for him to react.

you don’t need to stay | 950w | Piers did his best to take care of Leon. And as much as Leon appreciated it, he didn’t want to be a goddamn nuisance.

need me, baby, just a little stronger tonight | 2,1k | Leon really has to practice perfecting his poker face. At least he gets what he wants in the end.

be my valentine | 920w | “Are you sure?“ Piers asked for the tenth time, frowning down at the bar of Fazer blue chocolate. “I still think it’s… not a lot?”

you're the world that I wanna discover | 7,5k | The one wherein they buy a house, fall even more in love, and Leon reaches a breaking point.

call me (tell me what you feel) | 1,7k | Leon is stuck at the airport. At least he gets a nice phone call with Piers.

incentive to stay alive | 1,0k | "Hey, Nivans, wake up,” he tried, but there was no answer, and he couldn’t help but let the worry in his voice. “Piers. Don’t you dare die on me. Chris would kill me if I let anything happen to his best sniper.”

blanket hog Leon | 880w | Grumbling, Piers turned around, and as he’d expected Leon was cozily wrapped in at least four blankets, leaving nothing for Piers, who was currently freezing his ass off.

I give you all I am | 2,0k | “Leon?” Piers approached in quick steps, watching recognition flicker in Leon’s eyes as he lowered his own weapon too. Leon was slumped against the wall, hunched over and holding his side, and there was something feverish about his eyes. Yet as soon as he realized it was Piers he gave a shaky grin, even if that was all he managed.

why are the gorgeous ones always taken | 810w | Piers blinked his eyes open slowly, expression scrunched up, and it took a long moment before he managed to actually focus his gaze on Leon’s face. When he did, a smile immediately bloomed on his face, and he even tilted his head a little. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” he croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use.

still intact | 1,1k | It took a week before the level of painkillers was correct and Piers woke up with a gasp instead of a scream. And the first thing he asked was for someone to kill him.

of guns and ...guns | 270w | Leon likes the way Piers handles his rifle. There’s drool involved.

always fashionable | 540w | Apparently having a crush on the well-dressed, professional Leon translated into being absolutely fucking in love with the sleep-mussed and squinty Leon.

misplaced phones and revelations | 660w | Chris finds Piers’ phone. Which turns out to be Leon’s phone. The two turn out to be dating. Chris feels kind of blind.

yee-haw! | 1,0k | Leon rides Piers. Wearing a cowboy hat.

you’re cute when you’re angry | 620w | When he’s stressed, Piers washes the dishes. Angrily.

want to drink (with) you | 1,1k | Piers is an embarrassing drunk. Leon loves him anyway.

and each one of us is a path somewhere | 22,2k | Piers gets thrown twenty years back in time. Into Raccoon City, 1998. He’d heard about what Leon went through that night, but he never thought he’d have to actually experience it himself. Together with bright eyed rookie Leon.

hold me close | 560w | Leon falls asleep against Piers’ shoulder.

goatee man | 890w | Piers thinks growing a beard might make him look more manly.

promises kept | 2,9k | Leon finds out Piers isn't dead after all. He's just locked up in a BSAA research facility with no one allowed in to visit.

stay with me tonight (stay until the end of life) | 2,2k | Leon doesn’t know I’m contacting you, but a fair warning, because I’m worried. He was found unconscious on the bathroom floor at 10AM. They took him to the hospital, but he checked himself out. Look after him, okay?

4am | 760w | “What can I say,” Piers grinned against Leon’s neck, “I was dreaming of you.” He had no reservations about moving his hips, letting Leon feel just how nice the dream had been.

caffeinated | 550w | Someone gives Piers coffee. Leon knows what to do with that excess energy.

and i'm you and you're me | 7,0k | The one wherein Leon and Piers accidentally swap bodies.

girls’ day in bed | 780w | Piers and Leon wake up one morning with boobs and other assorted lady parts. It’s a fun day. (Spoiler alert: they have a lot of sex.)

worlds apart | 3,2k | Krauser kidnaps Piers to lure Leon to him. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

not again | 530w | Watching Piers’ mutation brings Leon some very unfortunate flashbacks. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

gorgeous | 300w | Piers calls Leon gorgeous.

the most comfortable pillow | 350w | Leon falls asleep with his head on Piers’ lap.

beautiful | 840w | Even after losing an arm and ruining half of his face, Piers is the most beautiful thing to Leon.

as seen in adult films | 580w | Piers doesn’t know one damn thing about dishwashers. He volunteers to fix one anyway.

never letting go | 260w | Leon is goddamn comfortable right here. He isn’t going to move a single inch.

nose kisses | 390w | Piers is cute when he’s cranky. Just ask Leon.

no other half could ever make me whole | 6,3k | The one wherein they get a scare and there's a proposal.

the luxury of being held | 690w | The fabric of Piers’ hoodie is the perfect place to hide. (feat. Theo’s amazing art)

just one step from heaven, one step from paradise | 2,7k | The one wherein Piers makes sure Leon doesn’t freeze, and they enjoy their vacation.

all is fair in war, love and Mario Kart | 600w | Piers sucks at Mario Kart.

Chris/Leon

if i never see all my dreams come true, the one that mattered the most was you | 5,9k | Chris enlists Leon’s help on a mission as a clever ruse to make the man take a break he so obviously needs.

and I don't want to know how slow the time must flow | 11,1k | Chris and Leon try to fight their way out of a castle and feelings take over.

you are my heart, you are my home | 3,2k | Chris is sick, and he’s being extra dramatic about it.

from the gates of longing | 5,5k | Chris volunteers to take Leon home, but ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.

how to accidentally get adopted - a guide by Piers Nivans | 2,3k | Piers accidentally keeps calling Chris dad, and Chris and Leon sort of unofficially adopt him.

right here by your side | 1,9k | When Chris shows up to check up on Leon, four days into his self-imposed flu-exile, at first Leon wants to just throw him out. But then it turns into a relationship-building moment and suddenly he can’t mind all that much.

about time | 1,8k | Leon is freezing. Chris warms him up.

yet you'll lose yourself in me | 3,3k | The one wherein Chris is generously proportioned and Leon kind of loves it. (whispers: size kink)

beyond tomorrow | 1,7k | Leon ends up in the hospital after a mission, Chris hurries to see if he’s okay. Claire is already there.

look at those heart-eyes | 180w | Quickly Chris shook his head, reluctantly pulling his attention away from Leon.

there’s a cat in the sink | 220w | “There’s a cat in the sink, and we don’t own a cat.”

from the future | 300w | It’s 1998 and Leon comes face to face with himself, from 2017.

surprise redfield | 250w | “Don’t worry,“ Chris says, nonchalantly as if it’s an everyday occurrence that he’s standing in Leon’s kitchen.

need this feeling to last (there's no denying) | 2,4k | “Why don’t you fuck me yourself, you coward!“

something solid, something good | 520w | Chris was so warm, and that together with all the glorious skin-on-skin contact made Leon happily sink back into the embrace.

come closer | 520w | Leon is done with Chris being so careful around him.

your arms around me | 690w | Chris woke up cold and alone.

a needed break | 440w | Sometimes Chris got so single-mindedly stuck on a task that he forgot everything around himself.

the iron maiden | 820w | Suddenly it was hard to breathe, like he couldn’t fill his lungs with oxygen no matter how much he tried, to the point that his vision started to get blurry.

robin hood: chris in tights | 480w | Chris’ face was twisted into a theatrical grimace as he tugged a little on the green tights we was wearing. They were like painted on and although he didn’t really have body issues in general, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about it.

luckless romance | 4,0k | Leon and Chris turn a drunken argument into something better. (Please note: The link takes you to the last part of six.)

take my hand | 920w | The worst part, by far, is not seeing anything. There are sounds, people talking like he isn’t even in the room, machines beeping and doors opening, quick busy steps against the floor.

let me take you to the edge of the stars and back again | 3,0k | Chris takes his sweet, sweet time before he gives Leon what he wants.

I’m going to seduce you | 1,1k | Jesus Christ, they’d had sex. Leon groaned again, this time less because of the headache and more because he felt so unbearably dumb. He’d probably had the best sex of his life, and he couldn’t remember it.

a little help | 430w | Those fucking idiots, Claire thought for the millionth time, as she watched her brother give the biggest dumbest heart eyes at Leon, who was blissfully oblivious about everything going on around him.

the way to anyone’s heart (the answer is food, good food) | 2,4k | Chris asks Leon to teach him how to cook. (Spoiler: Leon doesn't know how.)

oh the horror | 270w | “I seriously don’t understand why you want to watch this shit,” Leon groaned, pressing his face into Chris’ chest.

jealousy | 670w | Chris swallowed hard, downed the last of his beer, and took the leap. “I’m jealous okay.”

twist me up | 510w | Sure Chris had always known that Leon was flexible. Sure he had seen him even do these weird-ass yoga poses more than once. There was nothing new to it.

meet the parents | 600w | Leon brings Chris home for Christmas.

precious cargo | 930w | Chris lugs Leon around like luggage.

it's always been you | 870w | The hardest thing for Leon was when someone he cared about was in danger but there was nothing he could do about it. And then Chris fell into a ravine.

come away with me (to another world) | 2,0k | Leon finally gets a vacation.

first time sucker | 930w | “I don’t know, because it’s fun?” Leon said. “I promise you, you’re missing out.”

read my scars | 1,9k | Chris learns about Leon's scars.

battered and bruised | 650w | Ignoring the bruises and scrapes he had, Chris turned around and sprinted towards Leon, gritting his teeth against the strain moving put on his side.

a different kind of proposal | 500w | “If you keep fucking me this good,“ he breathed out, unsure if Chris even heard the words, “I’ll have to marry you.“

welcome home | 370w | The door had barely fallen shut behind Chris when Leon was in his personal space, grabbing him by the lapels of the trench coat he was wearing so he could pull him in close for a kiss.

I’d always choose you | 280w | Ada was something they didn’t talk about. When someone, anyone, brought her up Leon clammed up and changed the subject. And Chris had tried to be understanding, had tried to be patient, had tried his very best to respect Leon’s boundaries with this. But Chris was only human.

fuck or die | 1,7k | Chris gets hit by a weird plant, and his hard-on just will not go down. Until Leon takes matters into his hands.

i need a hug | 470w | “I think,“ Leon sighed, but then it was like all fight bled from him and he slumped a little forward. “I need a hug.“

oh no there’s only one bed | 990w | “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just one night. I’m sure you’ve slept with worse persons than me.”

the butt that became a pillow | 420w | Chris falls asleep on Leon.

like father like son | 2,8k | Leon finds out he has a son.

monster magnet | 1,1k | Leon didn’t know when it had become something he recognized so easily. When had it become so normal for mutated creatures to look at him with such unadulterated lust.

please be okay | 620w | Leon faints from sheer exhaustion.

like father like... grandson? | 4,1k | Liam proposes to a girl but ends up with Piers anyway. Chris and Leon are the friendly neighborhood grandpas. Their grandson is adorable, and Leon thinks he takes after him. Obviously. (feat. Piers/OMC)

black lace | 790w | Chris gets to come home to Leon in thigh high black lacy stockings and matching lingerie, instantly sending Chris’ brains into an overdrive.

at least let me help | 790w | Leon opens the door an inch, Chris uses the given opportunity to slam it wide open. Metaphorically speaking.

bridal style | 200w | Leon refuses the medical check up. So Chris carries him.

dance with me | 1,0k | Wedding planning with two schmoopy idiots in love.

drunken cravings | 480w | Chris and Leon are drunk, hungry, and incapable of cooking.

blow me | 650w | Chris gets his brains sucked out through his dick.

Claire knows best | 610w | Chris tries to set Leon up with Claire. Then Claire does set Leon up with Chris.

chase the demons away | 940w | Chris struggles with nightmares, Leon is there to hold him through them.

dance me to the end of love | 550w | Leon struggles to learn to dance.

Piers/Leon, Chris/Leon

fate changed (we keep loving as if the story isn't over yet) | 34,3k | In hindsight, Leon knew the second he opened the door and saw Chris standing there, dressed in his service uniform, mouth pinched to a grim line and unable to meet Leon’s gaze straight. There was only one logical reason for it, only one way to explain why he was standing there like he would rather be anywhere else, and Leon almost slammed the door right in his face. -- Or the one wherein no one really knows how to handle their grief, but somehow life goes on anyway. (I’m still so proud of this one negl)

Chris/Leon/Krauser

hearts beating fast (let's make this moment last) | 5,7k | Chris gets invited in for a threesome. The clever thing would’ve been to refuse, knowing his unrequited, helpless feelings. But then again, he’s just a man.

OT3

double the fun | 3,1k | Truthfully, Leon hadn’t thought his day could get this much better. Everything had gone wrong from the second he’d woken up and he’d already written the day off entirely, until the moment Chris had looked him dead in the eye and asked “How do you feel about two at once?”

of cuddles and blanket forts | 620w | Piers and Leon build a blanket fort. Chris would think they’re idiots, but they might actually be kind of brilliant.

hair straightener or waffle iron? | 310w | Chris and Piers break Leon’s hair straightener.

the last piece of the puzzle | 2,7k | The one wherein two becomes three.

not alone | 2,3k | Completely on accident, Piers and Chris happen to be there to save Leon from a tight spot. Cuddles ensue.

Krauser/Leon

drive me crazy (your eyes made me crave for this) | 2,3k | It was the best sex Krauser had ever had in his life. That’s why he kept coming back to Leon, kept saying ‘yes’ every single time the man as much as hinted that he might be up for meeting. He was getting off, and he was enjoying every second of it, and that was the extent of it. There certainly weren’t any feelings involved. None. None at all.

enjoying the view | 200w | Krauser likes ass-watching.

carry me to bed | 440w | Slowly Leon was coming back to his senses. Sweat was cooling on his skin, the hard surface of the table underneath him starting to feel uncomfortable.

and I lied that we would be fine | 1,1k | Leon knows he isn’t supposed to be doing this. There’s a vague recollection of something more important, something he should be focusing on, but the vast majority of his world has narrowed down onto the slick slide of their bodies, on the cheap scratchy sheets on his skin, on the sound of Krauser’s voice in his ear, and he can’t bring himself to care.

yet never enough | 1,9k | Krauser likes mirrors.

of wanting | 400w | Leon’s laughter echoed in the room as Krauser pinned him against the wall, before shutting him up with a ravenous kiss.

better with you | 590w | Despite knowing Krauser had his back, Leon was genuinely surprised when the man sat down right next to him instead of telling him to suck it up and get moving.

breakfast | 530w | Lately things had slowly begun to shift. And Leon wasn’t sure yet what was going on. Or how he felt about it.

kill me now | 900w | It was more than clear how much Krauser enjoyed their frantic attempts to kill one another, and Leon’s traitorous body shivered in response, the memory of times long gone returning like no time had passed at all.

lust that I've already spilled | 1,4k | “C’mon, Leon,” Krauser taunted, grinning as widened his stance. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

will you just look at me | 650w | Krauser refuses to do feelings.

Wesker/Chris

I am the light that shall lead you to darkness | 1,8k | In all honesty, Chris wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here: a panting mess, bent over a massive wooden table with Wesker holding him down laughably easily.

the light to drown in darkness | 2,0k | Wesker craves Chris. So Wesker takes Chris.

love-hate-(obsession?) | 470w | Wesker is a lovesick fool. If he wasn’t also a homicidal maniac, Jill would almost feel sorry for him.

#the old guard #resident evil #kaysanova #chreon #metaltango #nivannedy #chrisker #kreon #idk what i'm forgetting it's 2 am and i've spent seven hours on this #have pity on me :'D #my fics #2020 #this was so much work #i am praying for the links to work properly #so i don't need to touch this again nnhhh

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highsviolets · 4 years

Text

of hyperdrives & hands: engineer!reader x obi-wan

summary: you’re fixing the hyperdrive on the Negotiator when a mysterious being pays you a visit.

word count: I honestly have no idea bc i wrote this whole thing on my notes app in the car lmao. (sorry if the formatting is weird/there are typos!!)

rating: G. but also, this is basically a love letter to Ewan McGregor’s gorgeous hands.

A/N: fulfilling a request for the lovely @aty-cgca7! ily, chasity! I hope it’s everything you were looking for 💖 also I know nothing about engineering or computers or hyperdrives so don’t come for me y’all 😂

of hyperdrives & hands, a fic by corellians-only

Brow furrowed in concentration, you squint in the hazy light. Reaching up to your forehead with your left hand, you slide your fingers across the surface of your skin, batting away renegade wisps of hair that had fallen away from your bun.

Maker, but it was warm down here, in the maw of this behemoth ship. You curse softly to yourself as a bead of sweat hovered perilously close to your eyelash, threatening to obscure your vision as you strain to locate the loose wire that had sent you onto the Negotiator in the first place. Hadn’t your father always warned your that space was cold? When you told him you had joined the Civilian Engineer Corps to help with the war effort, he had even cracked a joke about adding extra layers to your uniform.

You frown. Clearly, accomplished pilot though he was, you father had never been in the hyperdrive control center of a Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer.

Catching your distraction, you shake your head. No. You needed to focus. Now was not the time to question your father’s supposed space travel wisdom. There’s a job to be done. Hyperdrives did not fix themselves.

There she is. Rather than simply becoming disconnected, the wire had split in two, snapping under the pressure from the processing core directly above the unit. This was going to be more complicated than you thought.

For a few hours, the only sounds that filled the room were soft snip of wirecutters and the gentle thrum of the engines. As you start re-routing the stray wire, your mind begins to wander.

You had heard stories about Star Destroyers with entire hangers of processing cores for the shields alone. That their nav computers were the most accurate in the galaxy. That their holo encryption system was unbreakable (it wasn’t. You had written and sliced a viral code into their data key a few standard months back, just to see if you could). This was your first time on such a warship when it was in space, and while it was impressive, at the end of the day, it ran like any other ship.

Tali had been even aboard General Secura’s flagship, the Liberty, for a supply dump once and she swore that their weapons systems were the most flawless thing she had ever seen - barring General Kenobi, of course, she had added with an impish grin tossed your way.

Your not-so-subtle crush on the dashing General was an open secret among your platoon of female engineers. Most of them assumed it was because he was pretty and famous — he was on nearly every holomag cover, after all — but you knew better. You knew he was a good man. His hands told you so.

The first time you had seen General Kenobi, you had been playing in the undercity of Coruscant when a boy a little older than yourself had stopped to ask what you were building with the rubble left behind from an explosion caused by the nascent Black Sun cartel a few days earlier.

“I don’t know,” you had responded belligerently, upset at your endeavors having been interrupted - and by a boy, no less. “Why do you have a braid in your hair?” you continued. “I thought only girls had braids.”

The boy had adjusted his stance to stand up taller. “I’m going to be a Jedi,” he proclaimed. “I’m Obi-Wan,” he offered with a smile. His eyes flashed suddenly, and with a quick thrust, his hand extended into the dusty air. A sheet of durasteel that had been hovering precariously at the tip of the heap was now suspended in midair, mere centimeters from crashing down on your head. Even in the grim half-light of the slums, you could see sapphire eyes earnestly fixed on the hunk of metal. Strong, lithe fingers gestured gracefully. The object fell with a great crash a few meters away.

You could only stare in awe.

The faint sound a male voice calling had caused him to twist his head and listen. “I have to go.” He frowned. “Master Qui-Gon is calling me. I hope I see you again some day.”

He bowed slightly, then turned and trotted back toward his Master.

You had never been quite able to forget the teenager with pretty hands who had saved your life.

Nearly two decades later, you had seen him again. You and Tali had been sipping cups of caf before your shifts in the makeshift mess hall of a personnel loading area when you sensed his presence. Not in a Jedi way - you didn’t have a lick of Force sensitivity, you knew - but in the way you noticed that everyone seemed to speak a little softer and trail their eyes after the passing figure in white armor.

He had strode past the the two of you, hardly sparing a glance at two female civilian engineers and pointedly ignoring the sheer weight of the gazes trained on him. Later, over a pint of lomin ale, Tali has raved about his hair, and how “he had a shoulder to hip ratio that was sharper than a vibroblade, didn’t you notice?”

You had taken a sip of your drink and laughed good-naturedly at Tali’s antics. You had noticed him, to be sure, but you had been transfixed by his hands, not his muscles.

Back in the days before the war, when you were still a little girl, your father Aves had always told you to take note of a being’s hands. In the present moment, you smile as you refit the access panel on the hyper drive’s core reactor as a the memory comes to mind.

Even though he was a good father, Aves had been a man of mystery. Whatever it was he did for a living, it had blessed him with an intimate knowledge of guns, starships, and computers, and he had passed everything he knew on to his “blazing sun,” he used to call you affectionately.

“Blazing sun,” he would instruct you, “you can tell a lot about a being by their hands.” When he was satisfied he had captured your attention, the impression of a smile glowed across his face. He resumed cleaning his carbine rifle as he spoke, his voice low and smooth. “You can tell a lot about a being by their hands,” he intoned again. “Their trade. Their social class. How they hold a weapon. What kind of weapons they use. If they can pilot a ship. If their mind is focused or skittish.” The tall man had shrugged gently, an action that seemed counterintuitive to the grade A contraband blaster now resting comfortably in his expert grip. A new power pack slapped into place with a precise snap. “If you ever want to know someone” — he tucked a stray hair behind your ear tenderly, the other hand still clutching the blaster — “look at their hands.”

You begin tapping out routine codes on the core reactor to test the replacement wire. The various combinations of letters and numbers in basic and binary were muscle memory, and you stared in awe as your own fingers punch in the digits seemingly of their own volition.

Yes, it was General Kenobi’s hands that most enraptured you, you decided. Slender, calloused (you supposed - not that you had ever had the pleasure of testing that theory for yourself), extensions of strong, well muscled arms that indicated a strong degree over his motions. He had held them so softly at his sides that day in the mess hall. They had gestured animatedly as he walked alongside a clone commander, a graceful arc to his movements that made you think he would be a good dancer — or a formidable fighter.

The klaxon of an alarm drives you from your reverie. “Oh, kriff.” The latest code you had entered seemed to have caused the wires to short circuit, tripping an internal safety alarm.

“Kriff, kriff, kriff.” You continue to swear violently as you all but run over to the central computer console and entering a code to kick-start a program to halt the shrieking din. Within the minutes, the alarm bells stop, and you sag against the console in relief.

“Is something the matter?” a rich tenor voice asks from behind you.

Immediately you tense. In a singular, practiced motion, you pivot on your left heel and whip your blaster into your right hand simultaneously, turning to face the voice in a fighting stance.

“Freeze!” you call into the shadows. Your eyes scan the cavernous room methodically before settling on a spot a few meters in from the doorway where the light seems distorted. You take aim with your blaster.

“Justice, freedom, faith,” the disembodied voice replies calmly from the same spot.

Your eyes narrow. Whoever the being was, they had given the correct password. But the upper-class Coruscanti accent didn’t belong to anyone in your platoon, and who else would be prowling around the underbelly of General Kenobi’s flagship? There had been faint rumors of a lightsaber wielding Separatist operative. Maybe they were coming to sabotage the ship? Well, not on your watch.

“Step into the light,” you order, durasteel edging into your voice. “Keep your hands above your head.” The contours of the blaster are cool, comforting in your grip, soothing the blood rushing just beneath the surface.

A tall auburn-haired man steps into the light, arms raised. “Will this suffice?” he asked wryly, amusement playing across his features as you feel shock and embarrassment creep up your neck and onto your cheeks.

Stars above. I almost shot General Kenobi. A thousand thoughts race through your mind faster than light speed - some witty, some pragmatic.

But of course, what slips out is neither of those.

“Fierfek, you startled me,” you manage to spit out instead. It’s only your steel will that prevents you from collapsing from embarrassment on the spot. Feigning nonchalance you decidedly do not feel about almost murdering a war hero and childhood crush, you holster your weapon and turn back to the console.

“I gathered as much,” he returns, amusement still coloring his tone.

The room fell silent for a few moments as you run system diagnostics.

“What is it you’re working on?” This time, he’s so near you can feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. Well honed reflexes are faster than your brain, though, and it isn’t until you feel a gentle pressure on your elbow that you realize it’s raised to jab him in the throat.

General Kenobi’s chuckle seems to fill the room. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to kill me?” he murmurs. A shiver runs up your spine despite yourself and you feel your stomach start to coil.

You stare at the data steaming on the console until your eyesight begins to blur. “That depends. Are you trying to kill me, sir?” Maker, but you were mouthy today. What was wrong with you?

Kenobi releases your arm dropping his to his side. Immediately, you feel bereft somehow with the loss of his touch.

Peering over your shoulder, he asks, “hyperdrive problems?”

Kriff, does that man not realize what he is doing to you, muttering in your ear like that? Of course he doesn’t, you dolt, you tell yourself; he’s a Jedi. Not his fault you’ve had a crush on him since you were nearly eight years old.

“A replacement wire short-circuited the system and triggered an emergency code,” you respond as evenly as you can manage. A fresh sweat breaks out across your forehead as another complex code dances across the screen.

“What code is that?” He reaches out as though he could absorb the masses of data contained in the system through osmosis. Maybe he can. You’re not a Jedi.

The movement serves a different purpose for you. Something wet and bright glistens as his hand moves into the blue light of the console.

“You’re bleeding.”

He glances down and grimaces. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Blood is starting to gather around an incision slashed across his right hand.

He opens his mouth to retort no doubt, but you beat him to it. “Don’t give me that bantha dung about Jedi business.” A grease stained finger jabs in the direction of his chest.

Kenobi’s face remains impassive. When he doesn’t respond, you roll your eyes, and, tugging at his elbow, drag him over to the glow lamp near your workstation.

He continues to scrutinize you, and you look down at yourself, wondering what he’s staring at. Your coverall sleeves are rolled up, there’s sweat gathering at your collarbone, and you feel the grimy mixture of dust and stale perspiration coating your face. You’re a hot mess if there ever was one.

Resolutely, you ignore the flush on your cheeks and the steel of his gaze and rummage for a bandage in the care pack attached to your hip. Several excruciating seconds later you find one and tear it open.

It’s when you’re grasping his hand in one of yours the he finally speaks. “I’ve seen you before.”

His cool composure inspires a sudden flash of irritation. “You seem rather certain sir,” you say as you apply a bacta salve.

“Because I am,” he responds mildly. His hand grips yours tightly when you apply the bandage, and you almost asphyxiate on the spot. You were right — his hands are calloused.

“Well, consider this your repayment from saving a girl from durasteel in the Coruscant under-levels about twenty years ago,” you answer with a quick smile. It’s hard to be angry when Obi-Wan Kenobi is in effect, holding your hand.

Reluctantly you release him from your grasp, letting your hand drift down to your side.

The General inclines his head in thanks, then glances back at the computer. “Is the hyperdrive fixed, then?”

You nod, stuffing supplies back into your pack. “I modified the code and replaced the wire so it should be okay.” You meet his eyes. “I’ll be with the ship until it returns to Coruscant, so if there any problems I’ll be available to assist, sir.”

You turn to leave, but he reaches out and catches your hand. “And who do I have to thank for such diligent caretaking of both my ship and my hand?” he inquires. His touch is like satin against your dirty hands and you grin in spite of it.

You consider for a moment. “A blazing sun,” you tell him.

You smile as you make your back to your quarters. Yes, you could tell a lot about a person by their hands.

#obi-wan x reader #obi wan x you #userkarina #obi wan x reader #prompt request #cristina writes #cg's og's #character: obi wan kenobi #star wars fic #obi-wan fic #aty cacg7 #never am i ever writing in present tense the TYPOS omg

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kirishwima · 4 years

Note

Don’t worry about us, please try not to stress out. I am only sending in this request merely due to it not leaving me alone. RFA+V, Unknown (cannot remember how to spell his name) reactions to MC in their wedding dress, what type of wedding will they have? Please do not mind and please study wisely.

ahh this is a cute and light-hearted idea :’) You speak of a wedding dress but refer to MC as they/them, so I’ll be writing for them as non-binary!

I’ll also add photos of what I think their wedding dress/suit would be bc....I have to, and because I have a whole pinterest board of wedding dresses saved from last summer when I was helping my sister plan her wedding orz :’)

YOOSUNG:

* When speaking of weddings, Yoosung’s always imagined the beautiful classics; standing at the altar, seeing the love of his life walk down the aisle dressed in the most gorgeous gown, his smile broadening at the sight of them.

* He himself wore a humble black suit, but with a baby blue bow-tie; reminiscing of his own innocence.

* He absoloutely had Zen help him pick out his suit; they took Seven along too but he kept insisting Yoosung should just wear a onesie instead lmao

* He did discuss with MC what they’d like to wear; when they said they wanted to wear a dress, he immediatly thought of classic puffy white dresses with lace and toule.

* Seeing MC walk towards him though, he couldn’t help how his jaw hung open, how his eyes widened. “Lucky you”, he heard Seven whisper, standing besides him as his best man.

* MC was like a princess, and he, their soon-to be prince. He took their hand as they reached the altar, kissing their knuckles with a wide smile. He’d ditched his glasses for the wedding, finally able to see better with the help of surgery, and he blessed each of his doctors for being able to witness the sight that was MC.

*Overall he’s just a tearful happy nugget, and 10/10 will choke with tears whilst saying his vows

ZEN:

* Despite what you may be thinking, he actually doesn’t dream of big fancy weddings and expensive venues. His ideal wedding would be something simple; a gathering of friends and loved ones, perhaps even by the beach, being able to stand besides the one he loves comfortably and proudly.

* He’s glad that he and MC are on the same page about that; even if he’s a celebrity, his humble approach to life never changed, and he wants their wedding to reflect that. So a wedding by the beach it is!

* It’s Zen we’re talking about, so even a potato sack would look flattering on him, so his choice of suits is endless. He’s classy but doesn’t like the plain old black suit, so instead he goes for something more summery, given their venue.

* I can really imagine him in a linen suit, ditching the tie for a more laid-back look, his hair tied into an intricate braid, even wearing one or two little white flowers at its end.

* He’d be just as awe-struck with how MC looks no matter what they’d wear, suit or dress, casual or formal. He’ll love them just as much if he sees them every morning in their pyjamas and bed hair, or in a gown and heels.

* Simple and elegant, and nicer than the summer breeze blowing through Zen’s hair, he had to bite his lip, blinking back tears threatening to fall at the thought he’s about to spend the rest of his life with his beloved. (Also he has to fight the Beast until later tonight and hoo boy is that a hassle or WHAT)

* All in all-he’s one happy hecking groom, and he can’t wait to tear that dress off of them the moment they’re in their private quarters lol

JAEHEE:

* Honestly...she didn’t see the point of holding a wedding at first. Did she fantasize about it as a little girl? Sure, she did. But as she got older and the thought of dating and family got further and further away from her, that childhood dream was put aside, stored in the repressed part of her brain.

* It’d been MC who proposed, and MC who began the planning for the wedding-they didn’t want Jaehee to feel burdened with organizing, but the more Jaehee worked to plan their wedding, the more she fell in love with the idea of this special day just for the two of them, and the more she fell in love with MC, seeing their hard work and adoration towards her.

* They didn’t want to have an all-out wedding like many couples do; just them, their families and the RFA, a little get together to celebrate a milestep of their life together.

* They had arrived at the dillema of; will we both wear suits? Dresses? Should one of us wear a suit and the other a dress? In the ned MC suggested they each decide on a look without telling the other, so it’ll be just as much of a surprise for each of them to see the other on their wedding day!

* Jaehee is a practical woman, yes, but we know that she’s not the strict short-haired lady she was whilst working with Jumin-she allows herself to explore femiminity more and more in her route, and I feel that’d be evident in her choice of a wedding gown-simple, yet elegant and chic.

* With her hair in a gorgeous loose bun, flowers adorning her head, her ring-finger soon to be decorated with a delicate ring she and MC chose together-she almost can’t believe the person looking back at her in the mirror is herself.

* Less so can she believe that the person she’s about to marry is soon walking towards her, a smile on their face as if they’re the lucky one to be marrying Jaehee when Jaehee stares wide-eyed at the beautiful person she’s eagerly waiting to spend the rest of her life with;

* Of course they’d choose a dress with pockets, she thinks with a roll of her eyes, if only to tease Jaehee about her own lack of pockets later on.

* They both can’t help but stare at each other as they meet at the altar, wide eyed with incredulous smiles. The preacher even has to cough politely to get their attention back to well, their wedding lmao

* It’s everything Jaehee could’ve wanted and then some.

JUMIN:

* Yeah yeah, it’s Jumin Han, the handsome man in a suit, and yeah he’s gonna have an all-out wedding alright-but only if that’s what MC wants.

* He honestly...doesn’t care what the ceremony will be like, who will be there or what they’ll say. He only cares about seeing MC’s ring finger adorned with a rind that has his surname engraved in it, a mark on them that says MC’s his, his and no one elses.

* Even if he wears suits on the daily, his wedding is no exception; he’ll wear a suit tialored to perfection, classic black and sleek, matching his raven-dark hair, slicked back for the occasion-he’d go to the ceremony in his pyjamas if he had to, so long as he’s able to call MC his spouse once the day’s over.

* He had given MC the absoloute liberty of choosing what to wear, with the only condition being they have the best tailors across the world work on their outfit, wanting it to be as unique and wonderful as MC themself.

* It was jarring at first, to have 5 or 6 professionals tug and probe at MC whilst working on their measurements and meeting up to discuss their style, but they figure that’s just how life with Jumin as their husband will be-extreme, sometimes awkward, but full of love and care; they could see it in his smile when they came home from their fitting, tired but happy as they snuggled up in his arms, him stroking their hair until they fell asleep.

* It’s hard to find a dress picture that I feel captures what MC’s dress would be, but I think the closest to it would be something like this;

* “The most befitting dress for royal beauty such as yours”, Jumin whispers to MC’s ear as they approach him at the altar, his smile small and private, for MC’s eyes only.

* Yet as he leans down to kiss them, completely ignoring the preacher waiting to start the ceremony, he whispers on their lips ‘I love you’, and MC knows from the bottom of their soul, that no matter what they wore, how they looked, Jumin would love them just as much. And they’re forevel grateful for that.

* p.s: Elizabeth the 3d is ABSOLOUTELY going to be the ring bearer, and she’ll have her own little dress appropriate for the occasion, fight me on this.

SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:

* Y’all....tease him about the ‘let’s get married at the space station’ bit all you want, but this boy DREAMS of a wedding, a family and happy life for so long, you can never convince me he doesn’t go all out for his wedding.

* A beautiful, flower-covered venue? Check. Tailored, custom-made suit? Check. Planning everything to the most minute detail? YES. He’ll run himself dry working on creating the perfect wedding, it’ll take some convincing from MC to tone it down lmao.

* He’ll still insist on inviting absurd guests just like he did with the RFA parties, but in all honesty, he just wants MC besides him, Saeran and Yoosung next to him as hie best men (yes he can have both of them shush), the rest of the RFA there to congratulate him and MC on their special day; the people he loves, to celebrate the day of uniting with his one true love, that’s all Saeyoung wants.

* To be able to say ‘I love you MC’, and to have MC tell him ‘I love you, Saeyoung’-to formally and completely leave the life of 707 behind, to have his brother hug him, congratulate him on his wedding-this is all more than enough to make Saeyoung cry happy tears, pushing his palms on his eyes as he laughs and cries at the same time, letting MC hug him to help him calm down.

* While he does dream of a classic classy wedding, he loves the colour red a little too much, so he’d try and sneak it in there, be it in a vest or bow tie lol (he’d absoloutely wear a bow tie instead of a tie, and he’d be allowed one (1) doctor who joke for the duration of the ceremony lmao)

* ((also....not relevant to the wedding itself, but his marriage proposal would absoloutely be at a planetarium, js))

* As for MC...they’d spent nights on the couch together, eating chips and wondering what they’d each wear on the day of their wedding. They ended up taking Jaehee and some more of their friends with them when looking for a dress, as much as Saeyoung pouted and asked to tag along.

* It was worth it to keep him in the dark though; his big wide eyes as MC walked towards him, how he had to bite his lip to stop giggling like a fool, he was jumping up and down at the altar, giggling behind his hands as he mumbled ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god allah and buddha!’.

* “Holy shit” he whispered to himself, earning a stern gaze from the preacher, his brother groaning in the background. MC took it as a compliment though, smiling up at him as they stood across him.

* This boy....will cry real ugly snort filled tears at his wedding vows, I guarantee it.

V/JIHYUN:

* BOHO WEDDING BOHO WEDDING BOHO WEDDING

* Like hello??? Have you seen this hippie-ass man at the end of his route?? He’ll be so happy with a marriage ceremony in the forest, in a little church that looks almost abandoned in its little spot at the edge of the woods, in a little city no one knew before V brought it up.

* He’d love to help decorate and renovate the church for their wedding, using funds taken from a painting collection he did featuring the very forest the church sits besides.

* (I can also totally picture their wedding taking place in a botanical garden/greenhouse, if you’d rather skip the church option! Just surrounded by plants and nature :D)

* Even if it’s not a boho wedding though-just being able to spend the rest of his life besides MC, the person that truly taught him what love is, that’s all handsome mint boy needs.

* Honestly...he’s extra enough to be the kind of guy that ditches the shirt, so I can imagine him wearing something like the following, but in a darker colour;

* As for MC....yeah I’m gonna add my personal favorite here bc bOHO WEDDING DRESSES ARE GORGEOUS AND MC WOULD LOOK LIKE A FAE APPEARING THROUGH THE WOODS AND JIHYUN WOULD ABSOLOUTELY GASP AT THE SIGHT OF THEM, WIPING AWAY A STRAY TEAR AS HE KISSES THEIR FOREHEAD WHEN THEY REACH HIM AT THE ALTAR, SAYING A QUIET ‘THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU’ ONLY MC CAN HEAR.

((something with a little simpler bust, but the puffy sleeves,,,flowy dress,,,the line cut that’s honestly so charming on any figure,,,fight me this is the cutest kind of dress))

UNKNOWN/SAERAN:

* He’d really want a small, closed wedding just for him, MC, and the RFA sure, why not (he’s kidding, he’s grown really fond of them all but he refuses to openly admit it)

* If MC suggests they hold their ceremony at a greenhouse he’ll be over the moon; he’ll personally visit the greenhouse and make sure all the flowers are in tip top condition for their wedding.

* For his own suit, he’d like to keep things simple, maybe even ditching the whole suit and tie thing;

* I really imagine him with a suit similar to this, but ditching the vest , with flowers pinned to his blazer that he looks fondly at, knowing MC will be holding a bouquet just like these, ones he himself picked out with all his love and care, removing each thorn to make sure nothing can harm their hands as they hold the bouquet.

* As MC walks towards him through the greenhouse his breath shudders, any words he may have had dying in his throat; MC looks ethereally beautiful and he’s out of words as they come to stand in front of him, his lips trembling.

* Is this person really his? The one he’ll be able to hold, to love for as long as he lives? He shakingly takes MC’s hand in his, giving them a tight squeeze as he smiles.

* “In sickness and in health” he whispers, smiles as MC says it back.

* In sickness and in health.

-Send me mystic messenger headcanons for character reactions-

#this honestly took way more time than it'd take to make a usual headcanon post #bc i took so much time looking for photos orz #still this was cute and easy to write given my circumstances #hope ya like it!#asks #mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger prompts #mysme prompts #yoosung kim #hyun ryu #jumin han #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #jihyun kim #Anonymous

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legolaslovely · 4 years

Text

Summer Rain

A/N: Happy Fili Friday! Today, Iolaus is also getting some love! BECAUSE HE DESERVES IT OKAY. Sorry, I’m a little emotional. Hope you guys enjoy this one! I certainly loved writing it. Get ready for some ROMANTIC FLUFF.

Pairing: Iolaus x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,186

Warnings: fluff, makeout sesh

Summary: BF&GF Playing hooky< all you need to know. But also (lemme geek out for a sec) I like to think (Y/N) is the top cadet academically and she HATES Iolaus for his cocky and lazy demeanor UNTIL Fiducious asks her to tutor him. Then she falls head over sandals in love with this golden boy’s true heart because wouldn’t we all

A Note About the Poetry/References: The poem (please just read it for me and my romantic little heart, okay?) is called A Lover’s Sigh, written by Anacreon who lived in Ancient Greece (in Teos AKA across the Aegean Sea from Corinth) around 500 BC. ISN’T THAT COOL. Also, some of The Odyssey (translated to English, of course) is quoted here.

LOOK AT HIM LOVE OF MY LIFE

(Y/N) loved falling asleep to the symphony that came with the falling rain. Whether it be a downpour slapping against the soft grass or a sprinkling of misty drops landing on a roof of thatch, the lullaby was always welcomed. However, it was especially cherished after a day of endless drills and exams that left her with an exhausted mind and aching muscles to match. When she climbed into bed, her woes were forgotten and replaced with nature’s soft tune raining down and the scent of fresh earth sneaking through the cracked windows in the academy. (Y/N) loved every part of the rain.

Except training in it.

She woke the next morning with a start at the rumbling thunder that snapped to a crack right above the academy. Some of her classmates were already awake, watching the storm from the doorway and planning their route across the wide grounds to the dining hall’s entrance. She had rebraided her hair for the day by the time those cadets had mustered up the courage to skitter out from under the doorway and across the fields. She snorted as she pulled on her boots.

“Don’t laugh, (Y/N),” Hercules said from his bed above. “That’ll be us next.”

“Can’t you ask your dad to chill out with the thunder already? He’s been at it all night.”

Hercules noisily mocked her. “Yeah, sure, I’ll send a request right up. Anything for your convenience, (Y/N).”

“I appreciate the diligence,” she said. She chased Hercules to the door and pushed him outside into the drip. Cold droplets fell down the back of his neck and he shivered and cringed, dancing back into the shelter. He grabbed her shoulders but she slipped out of his grasp, giggling. “Not fast enough, Herc,” she said.

Jason stepped between them, acting as (Y/N)’s shield as Hercules shook his dripping hair. “Listen, the quicker we run to the dining hall, the quicker we can eat, okay? By the time we go to morning drills, we’ll be dry.”

“Just in time to get soaked again,” Iolaus said. As usual, he’d been the last to wake up. He ran a hand through his messy curls and placed the other discreetly on (Y/N)’s back for no one to notice but her. “You know they’ll make us train in the storm today.”

“It builds character,” he and Hercules said at the same time, both mocking Chieron perfectly.

“I’m not intending on training anywhere on an empty stomach so are you all coming to breakfast with me or not?” Jason said.

“You’re grumpy,” Hercules mumbled.

(Y/N) laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “All right, all right. Herc, take the starving king to breakfast, I’ll meet you guys there,” she said, having to gather her scrolls and bag for classes. Probably a few towels as well.

She turned and dug her things out from under her bed, sighing to herself.

“I thought you liked the rain?”

She leapt from her place in fright. “Gods, Iolaus, you scared me. I thought you went with the guys.” She set down her scrolls and watched the wet sheets fall through the doorway again. “I do like the rain, but not when I have to go out in it.”

Iolaus hummed, following her gaze. He didn’t notice her sneak behind him until she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’d much rather spend a day like today in… the hay loft? The barn is empty until after dinner is served anyway. No one will be up there, especially on a day like today.”

“Are you, (Y/N), stealer of library scrolls, actually suggesting we play hooky?” Iolaus asked.

Her head snapped up. “I do not steal scrolls!”

“Only the ones Fiducious doesn’t let you borrow,” he said with a poking finger. “You aren’t supposed to know about that.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you are forgetting about the life I led before I came to this charming academy. I know a lot of things I’m not supposed to know.”

She scoffed, but grabbed his hand and her bag. “Fine, then, Master Burglar, how do we get to the barn without being seen?”

He led her to the opposite exit of the small building. “Considering the barn is on the other side of the grounds and we will have to pass the window of Chieron’s office and his horses don’t exactly like me-”

“What did you do to the horses, Iolaus?”

“Not important- we just have to RUN!”

He dragged her out into the rain, shushing her surprised squeal with smiling lips. Their sandals squeaked in the wet and squished in the mud as they ran past the well, jumped over the short wall, and skittered along the side of the main building of the academy.

“Wait!” he cried out in a harsh whisper. “Wait here. That’s Chieron’s window.”

Before he could formulate a plan, (Y/N) slipped from his clammy grasp and bent forward, crawling underneath the window. She called him to follow. “We’re almost there!”

With no roofs to slither under, Iolaus tore off his vest and it quickly became their umbrella for the second half of the journey through the wide field. As they neared the barn, (Y/N) was just as relieved as Iolaus to see the horses already inside. That meant they truly would be alone in the hay loft until someone came to feed the animals at night. The barn was all theirs.

“Do you think anyone saw us?” (Y/N) asked after they’d slithered inside and closed the barn door. Iolaus held the ladder for her as she climbed up to the hay loft.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Everyone is in the dining hall at this hour.” He followed her up, sending nervous glances to the horses below. A shiver ran up his spine. Whether it was from the dark eyes staring up at him or the icy beads of rain still trickling down his bare skin, he wasn’t quite sure.

He threw his sopping vest over a bale. “Well, I won’t be putting that back on any time soon,” he said with a wide mouthed wink.

(Y/N) shook her head at his never ending antics, but smiled at him all the same. “Good thing I brought something dry and warm for you, then.” Out of her bag came one of his own tunics he didn’t realize had been stolen.

“You sneaky little cadet,” he said, putting it on. “You planned this.”

“Maybe.” She had pulled her braid apart and was squeezing her hair dry with one of the towels she’d brought.

“Lucky for you, I too came prepared.” He slid the tunic over his head and it didn’t take long for drenched, golden curls along with a dimpled grin to pop out of the neck. Then he reached for his bag, rummaging around the small rips in the lining until he uncovered two loaves of fresh bread. He gave one to (Y/N) with a flourish and a bow, savoring her laugh. But as she leaned forward to take the treat from him, a stiff, crinkling chattered that was just loud enough to hear over the rain outside. He watched her sit quickly upright and hide her twitching lips behind the crust of bread. “What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“No. You-you didn’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said around the hunk of bread in her mouth.

“You brought a scroll? We are playing hooky and you brought homework! I knew this was too good to be true.”

She stood, pulling the small scroll out from under her shirt. She’d managed to pack everything else for the day when Iolaus wasn’t looking, but this was a last minute addition that didn’t quite make it into her bag.

“It’s not homework,” she said. “It’s for pleasure.”

“That is no pleasure I’d like to be a part of!”

She laughed out loud at that and Iolaus only half enjoyed it. She skipped to his side, turned his stubborn face to her, and wrung out his curls into her towel. “Come on, Iolaus. With all our exams coming up, I never have time to read anymore. Especially not poetry because we haven’t covered any of it in our modern literature classes yet. Now I have the whole day free to-”

“To read poetry,” he grumbled.

Her soft touch through the towel traveled over his shoulders and down his chest, collecting the raindrops that still gathered in the hollows of his tanned skin. “I know you don’t like poetry much, but what if I promise to read you something I know you’ll enjoy?”

“Then you don’t know me very well.”

She took his chin in her fingers. “You are such a grump! Let me read for one hour and then we can do what you want.” She wriggled out of his grasp that consisted of roaming hands and squeezing fingers. “Within reason!” she said, snapping the towel at him.

A childish, roaring groan filled the barn as she sat on a bale of hay. She patted the spot next to her, beckoning him to sit. “Just trust me.”

Heavy feet stomped across the loft until Iolaus sat on the floor beneath her, scooting around until he could lean back between her knees. He looked up at her, chin to the sky and blue eyes gleaming. “Tell me about this poem.”

“It comes from across the sea,” she said, unrolling the scroll by its pins. “Listen.”

“The Phyrgian rock that braves the storm Was once a weeping matron’s form; And Procne, hapless, frantic maid, Is now a swallow in the shade. Oh that a mirror’s form were mine, To sparkle with that smile divine; And like my heart I then should be, Reflecting thee, and only thee! Or could I be the robe which holds That graceful form within its folds; Or t-”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. This is a dirty poem?” He spun and took the scroll from her, turning so fast, his hair sprayed droplets over her and the parchment. He stared at the words, then turned to her. “You read dirty poetry?”

She laughed. “They’re not all like this.” She swiped his curls over his shoulder, running a fingertip around his ear and down his neck. “Read the rest of it.” Gentle hands turned his shoulders forward and she asked again. “Read to me, Iolaus.”

He coughed, unconsciously leaning toward her breath on his bare skin.

“Or could I be the robe which holds That graceful form with-”

She was kissing his neck. Warm, soft lips over his jaw, under his ear, down his neck to the bit of shoulder his tunic left open to her. The little clicking sound of her mouth against his skin sounded louder than any lightning crack Zues could send down to them. He curved into her hold.

“Keep reading,” she said.

“How am I supposed to concentrate with you… kissing me like that?”

“Does it feel good?” The tip of her nose traced over the sensitive skin that her lips left damp.

He could only hum his appreciation. Her hands rolled forward to the front of his tunic, wanting the deep rumble to sound again so she could feel it in her palms.

“Keep reading or I will stop.”

He grumbled. “Her gifts were mixed with good and evil both.”

She breathed out a laugh, tightened her grip, and sunk her teeth into his skin. He lifted the scroll.

“...Within its folds; Or, turned into a fountain, lave Thy beauties in my circling wave; Or, better still, the zone that lies Warm to thy breast, and feels its sighs! Or like those envious pearls that show So faintly round the neck of snow! Yes, I would be a happy gem, Like them to hang, to fade like them. What more would thy Anacreon be? Oh, anything that touches thee, Nay, sandals for those airy feet-- Thus to be pressed by thee were sweet!”

Iolaus rolled up the scroll and set it aside, turning in her arms to kneel between her legs so they were face to face. Her damp hair fell around her as if to frame the portrait of a goddess. He kissed her lips.

“Did I not say you would enjoy the poem?” she asked.

He kissed her cheek and ran his fingers through her hair. The sight of untied tresses was rare, and he took this chance to feel their softness and marvel at the delicate waves. “I would enjoy anything as long as I am with you.”

When he drew away from her cheek, he saw her eyes had closed from his tender touch. Half of him wished she’d open them for they were the brightest light there was on this dreary day. However, the more selfish half of him wanted them to stay closed. She’d never permit his staring if she saw the way he was watching her, taking her in. His finger curled over her forehead down to her chin to hold her face still. Even as her curious eyes opened to him, he gazed on.

“Never have I set my eyes upon such a beauty, in either man or woman. I look at you and I am bedazzled,” he said.

All breath left her. “Where did you learn that?”

“I said I would enjoy anything as long as we were together. Do you really think I’d ignore your passion for poetry and stories? That I’d leave you alone in it?”

She shook her head, left speechless by his words.

Just as a log split open by a heavy ax, so seemed Iolaus’ armor of deceptive reputation: cracked and gaping, revealing a true, tender heart underneath. From its center radiated unmatched compassion and care that shone brightly enough to play the part of the sun on this murky morning. Her own thoughts cowered from his brilliance.

“No, I-just-”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

She kissed his lips, arm circling his shoulders to pull him close. His dimples caved in under her thumbs as she cradled his face, pouring her appreciation, astonishment, admiration- all of it into her kiss.

“I love you too,” she whispered against his lips.

He dove into her again- lips, tongues, hands, fingers- and she keened, falling into his lap on the floor.

“Iolaus.”

Over her own sigh of his name, she barely heard someone else’s voice. She drew away to listen, but Iolaus’ lips only fell down her cheek to her neck, serving as a further distraction.

“Do you hear that?”

He hummed against her skin.

Thunderous footsteps banged outside, squishing and spurting in the puddles of mud while the looping chains of the hitching posts crashed together, sending a harsh, bright clanging sound up to the loft of the barn.

“What is that?” (Y/N) asked.

“You know exactly what that is,” Iolaus said, tugging her hips closer.

The slam against the barn door sent the large handle rattling and yanked Iolaus from his heated stupor. Surely the storm’s angry power couldn’t be the manifestation of a godly punishment for two students playing hooky, they thought. But that fear shifted as the warning voice outside eventually gave them a different, but no safer, solution.

“I don’t think (Y/N) and Iolaus would be in here, sir, Fiducius, sir. I really don’t. But if you insist, I guess we’ll have to go inside the barn and see!”

The pair in the loft shared a look. Eyebrow waggles and waving hands gave silent orders of “Tuck in your tunic” and “Tie back your hair,” while soggy clothes and bread were thrown into their bags. A wicked bale of hale sent Iolaus hurdling to the floor. Then the barn door below slid open. The drumming of rain and Fiducius’ prattling of Iolaus corrupting his best student were deafening to ears that had grown used to accelerated breaths and soft whispers.

“(Y/N), are you in here? With that Iolaus?” Fiducius called.

Her eyes blew wide, wordlessly begging Iolaus for advice. “Um, yes! Up in the loft?”

Iolaus holding his head in his hands told her she’d given the wrong answer. She slapped his shoulder. The rungs of the loft’s ladder squeaked and Fiducius’ head popped into view.

“What are you doing up here? You should be in class!” he said.

“Is it that time already?” Iolaus asked. He shut his mouth when (Y/N) pinched him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I lost track of time. We were only trying to get some studying in before breakfast.”

Their teacher’s nose wrinkled. “Studying?”

“Yes. I’ve been helping Iolaus with his classwork in the mornings and this is the best place to go. It’s… quiet.”

“And!” Hercules added from below the loft. “And with all the rain this morning, you had no idea what time it was because-”

“Because there was no sun,” Fiducius finished. “I see.” His eyes narrowed in on Iolaus’ strategically covered lap. “What is that scroll you have there?”

Iolaus shifted on the bale of hay, moving as far from (Y/N) as possible in the small space. He inspected the scroll, wondering if it could give him any answers for this type of exam. “Poetry, sir. (Y/N)’s been teaching me about… Anna-cree-on…”

“Anacreon,” she corrected.

“Yeah. His poetry. From across the sea.”

Fiducius was not impressed. “Odd thing to study since we’ve never covered modern works in class.”

A noise caught in Iolaus’ throat. He looked to (Y/N) for help.

“Iolaus asked for it,” she said. “He enjoys poetry.”

Another suspicious hum traveled across the loft. “Come down here now, please. I will escort all of you to class this instant.” Then his head fell as he descended the ladder.

Before (Y/N) could rise from her seat to follow, Iolaus pulled her into one last kiss. Though it was against her nature, she could have defied all orders to steal another, but Iolaus only smiled at her and stood, leading her to the edge of the loft.

He climbed down the ladder first, ignoring (Y/N)’s mumblings of “I don’t need help” and “I’ve fought off gods, I can handle a shaky ladder.” Before her foot could touch the ground, he grabbed her hips and pulled her out of the barn, clear from Fiducius’ view.

“You didn’t get your hour of reading,” he said.

She shrugged. “I think I got something just as good.”

They parted as Fiducius emerged from the barn and led the way to the main building of the academy, thanking the gods for stopping the rain and mumbling about students turning into muddy hogs to be slopped. He was easily ignored by the couple behind him twisting together like vines of ivy.

(Y/N) looked up to the sky as if watching the dark, rumbling clouds move on to the next village. Truthfully, she was leaning into the arm Iolaus was holding around her and looking into the summer sky of her love, all clear blue eyes and curls like golden rays of sun.

@emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235 @xxbyimm @burningcoffeetimetravel @fire-flv @nerdbirdsworld @dashesofink @teagarages @dreams-of-wander @winchesterandpie @bluebellcotton @tumblinglringlring @fxngsfogxarty @specialagentsnark @afeistyfairy12 @queenofmankind @karlthecat15722 @sagabriar @marymegger

#young hercules #iolaus x reader #iolaus x fem!reader #yh #young hercules fic #young hercules fanfic #young hercules fanfiction #dean o'gorman x reader

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aeducanwrites · 4 years

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I’m once again deep in my feelings over Alastair and my canon warden, Mindel Cousland, even though it’s been about a year since I’ve written about either of them. I plan on writing more, though, and posting them here bc why not, so have a little drabble about the first time Min and Alastair ever met ❤️ you can see the full slightly AU timeline I wrote for them here.

———

9:19 Dragon

The breeze that came off of Lake Calenhad was cool as it blew across the plains of the Hinterlands, pollen drifting along from elfroot and spindleweed and making Fergus sneeze in rapid succession. What little breeze that got through the windows of the Cousland family carriage brushed through Mindel Cousland’s loose brown hair, only held down by an equally loose braided headband, though a few strands still managed to get caught in her mouth. She furrowed her eyebrows and wiped at her cheek, looking away from the plains and to her parents. Mother was offering Fergus her handkerchief, and Father was looking over papers sent to him by Arl Eamon.

Which was why they were heading to Redcliffe, or so Father said. Mindel certainly hadn’t wanted to leave home behind for the next month and a half. Mother had made her leave her mabari, Moose, at home with Nan and Gilmore, and she missed having her dog slobbering at her feet immensely.

“Do we really have to stay for so long, Father?” she asked for the fifth time since getting into the carriage with her family, leaning forward onto her knees and clasping her hands together. She could practically see the frustration building in between Father’s eyebrows, though whether it was from the papers he was reading or her nagging Mindel had yet to decide. He did set the papers down though, finally, and met her eyes with a look she’d come to consider a cross between tired father and cross teyrn, like he hadn’t fully transitioned from one role to the other by the time he’d shifted his focus. Mindel had been said focus of that particular look since she’d decided she’d rather learn swordsmanship than politics; she didn’t see the point when Cousland Castle was going to Fergus instead of her, and she’d sooner fight a war single-handedly before she ran a teyrnir by herself.

“Yes, pup, you have to stay the entire time,” Father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Making connections with other noble families will be important when you’re older, even if you don’t see it yet. The Redcliffe arling is a valuable relationship to have, and the sooner you get to know Arl Eamon and his family the better.”

“Maybe for Fergus,” she muttered, looking at her allergy-ridden brother in annoyance. “He’s taking Highever, not me. I don’t see the point in this.”

“How about this,” Mother chimed in, ever the angel of patience. “You’ll be here the entire time because both your father and I have said you will. Understood?”

“Yes mother,” Mindel said glumly, slouching in her seat and ignoring the chiding Mother sent her way for her posture.

The Hinterlands was a boring landscape to watch roll by, but soon enough they came upon Redcliffe Castle, the bustling village resembling ants the further up the hill the carriage went. She was tempted to sneak out and explore the village, but unlike in Amaranthine, she wouldn’t have Thomas or Nathaniel at her side; to the best of Mindel’s knowledge, Arl Eamon didn’t have any heirs. Their stay in Redcliffe became bleeker at the realization, and Mindel put on a smile to hide her disappointment as the staff introduced them in the hall of the castle. Despite his allergies, her brother was the epitome of dignified, bowing low at the waist to greet Arl Eamon and his new bride, Arlessa Isolde. When her name was said, Mindel gave a low curtsy and resisted squirming under the arlessa’s scrutinizing stare.

“It’s good to see you again, Bryce,” Eamon said happily, walking over to Father and patting his shoulder. “A shame you couldn’t make it a month ago.”

“As much as I’d wished to have been here, Eamon, you know how duty can call,” Father responded easily, giving him an easy smile. “My congratulations on your wedding to the both of you. I trust my package arrived safely?”

“It did,” Isolde said, clasping her hands together at the front. “And such a marvelous gift! Thank you so much.”

Mindel exchanged a confused glance with Fergus, who simply gave her a subtle shrug and turned his attention back to the adults. Mindel did as well but quickly grew bored, her mind wandering as the four of them (and occasionally Fergus) chatted about politics or whatever else adults found interesting. Nan often told her she was quite mature, for a twelve year old, but her head was often in the clouds. Right now only seemed to prove Nan’s point, she idly notes as she took in the main hall of Redcliffe Castle. It was darker than Cousland Castle, even with the roaring fire at the back and the candles lined along the dark brick walls. She sincerely hoped Isolde brought about a lighter atmosphere to the castle, or they would sooner push potential guests away rather than encourage them to visit. Mother had insisted on keeping their windows open whenever the weather permitted, and Mindel hadn’t realized how much she’d taken advantage of that until Father had started insisting she go with him on trips to other holds.

A flash of ginger appeared in her peripheral vision, and Mindel turned her head just in time to see a small figure dart across the open doorway to its other side. She frowned and glanced back at her brother, but he seemed oblivious to whatever may have happened. Irritation flooded her, and Mindel shifted her eyes to her mother before letting out a large, unladylike yawn. The adults stopped chatting, and Isolde looked scandalized.

“My word,” she tutted, and Mindel decided she hated her.

Mother just sighed wearily and shook her head, touching Father’s arm gently. “Might we be seen to our rooms, dear? It seems the long travel has caught up to our little darling.”

“Of course, where are my manners?” Eamon asked, shaking his head. “You had to have had quite the trip from Highever. I’ll call for someone to show you to your rooms, and we can continue our discussion after you’ve rested.”

“I appreciate it, Eamon,” Father said, guiding his family toward the servants that appeared a moment later. “And I apologize for Mindel’s manners. They seem to have slipped with her exhaustion.”

Mindel feigned shame and chewed her bottom lip. “I am sorry, my Lord. I don’t know what came over me.”

“That’s quite alright, my dear,” Eamon said kindly, and she nearly felt bad for interrupting. “You go rest, and we shall see you all for lunch.”

She followed her family to the rooms Eamon had prepared for them, Father thanking and dismissing the servants before turning to her, looking faintly amused. Mother looked less amused, but luckily Father spoke first.

“Meetings are quite boring, aren’t they?”

“Bryce!” Mother smacked his arm and shook her head firmly. “We cannot encourage impolite behavior just because you find it funny.”

“Eleanor, sweetheart, I also cannot discourage the truth. Besides, poor Fergus was fighting a sneezing fit the entire time. Don’t think I didn’t notice, son.” Father smirked as Fergus finally let the sneeze out and knelt in front of Mindel. “Your mother has a point, however. Sometimes you have to sit through the boring things to get to the good stuff.”

“Good stuff?” Mindel shook her head. “I don’t even know what you were talking about most of the time.”

“You will, with time. Though between you and me, Eamon can talk for hours. I should be thanking you.”

“Bryce!” Mother scolded, and Father laughed, reaching down to pat Mindel’s head.

“Get some rest since we’re here, Pup. You can explore the castle later.”

“Yes, Father,” Mindel said, heading to one of the provided beds and getting comfortable under the covers. The dress was uncomfortable to nap in, but luckily Mother had let her wear a loose-fitting one that day, so she didn’t feel the need to change into her sleepwear. The last thing she heard as she drifted off was her parents fussing over Fergus despite her brother’s loud protests, and she made a mental note to look for someone with ginger hair when she woke up later.

———

“Mindel, get over here this instant!” Mother shouted into Redcliffe Castle’s courtyard, and Mindel quietly giggled as she hid from her mother’s ire among the overgrown bushels of hay and corn, stopping for a moment to adjust the rope she’d tied around the waist of her brother’s trousers. She knew she looked ridiculous, drowning in Fergus’ spare dress shirt and having rolled up each leg of the trousers enough to look comical, but she was far more comfortable than she’d been while wearing the dress Mother had chosen for her, so her pride could suffer a little. Besides, it was much easier to avoid Mother’s wrath while not worrying about tripping over her skirt, and it was with that thought in mind that Mindel finally snuck out of potential sight and toward the barn just down the way. She had heard there were mabari puppies staying in the barn, cute little whelps still too young to be trained as warhounds, and she missed her own hound terribly enough to risk sneaking into the den and pet one.

The lack of guards near the shed made Mindel hesitate briefly, but she steeled her resolve and pushed the barn door open, a grin spreading across her cheeks as she heard a few puppy cries and saw little brown bodies squirming near a small figure at the middle of the room. She quickly shut the door behind her and took in the ragged clothing the figure wore, possibly due to the puppies wanting to naw on everything in sight, but her eyes widened when she noticed the ginger hair the figure had.

“It’s you!” she shouted, and the boy in the center jumped, looking hilariously spooked. His eyes darted around as if expecting her to be accompanied by someone, but when he saw no one he relaxed slightly, shoulders sagging and attention being drawn back to the puppies.

“I don’t think I know you,” he quipped. “I think I’d recognize such a loud mouth if I did.”

Mindel huffed. “Well that’s not very nice. Maybe you have the loud mouth.”

“Do you think I do?”

She touched her fingers to her chin. “Not as of yet,” she decided. The boy’s lips twitched up, and he finally left the puppies alone long enough to give her a proper bow.

“Then I appreciate it. May I know why you decided to shout at me, miss?”

She smirked and dropped into a quick curtsy, which probably looked silly without a skirt to actually curtsy with. “I saw you run by the door while I was in the main hall earlier. I didn’t think Arl Eamon had any children.”

The boy looked startled, shaking his head. “I--no, I’m not Arl Eamon’s child. He’s just looking after me.”

“And why would he do that if you’re not his son?”

“Maybe he just has a good heart,” he said, which was honestly a fair point. “I’m Alistair. You must be Mindel Cousland, if you were in the hall yesterday.” He bowed again. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Mindel shook her head and sat on one of the barrels in the barn, patting a puppy that trotted her way. “Could you forego the formalities, Alistair? They’re getting rather draining.”

Alistair seemed hesitant. “...alright, but if I get busted for it it’ll be your head.”

Mindel snorted and nodded. “I promise to take full responsibility for your lack of propriety, Alistair not-Guirren.”

“For which I am eternally grateful,” he shot back, sitting beside her and picking up one of the puppies. The mabari squirmed in his arms but eventually settled, Alistair looking far from uncomfortable as it gnawed gently on his forearm. Mindel smiled warmly and reached over, scratching it behind its ear.

“I have a mabari puppy at home,” she said after a moment. “His name is Moose. He’s about this little guy’s age, I believe.”

“Maybe younger,” he said, looking down at the pup. “This one is a runt, so he’s a bit smaller than the rest. He’s taken a shine to me, I think.”

“Do you think he’s imprinted on you?”

Alistair’s eyes widened, and he looked at Mindel like she’d grown a second head. “I--no, there’s no way.”

“And how do you know that?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Alistair’s neck turned rose pink, and he just shook his head again.

“Mabaris imprint on nobles and those worthy of it,” he said slowly, scratching the pup under his chin. The pup’s eyes closed at all the attention being given to it, while his brothers and sisters went to the mother to feed. The runt didn’t seem inclined to move, even after both of them pulled away to let it crawl away. Rather, it curled tighter against Alistair’s stomach and began to snooze in earnest. Mindel chuckled quietly at the loud snores and glanced at the younger boy through her eyelashes.

“Mabaris don’t just imprint because someone is noble,” she said slowly. “If that were the case, my brother and I would have several mabaris to our name. My entire family would, really. They’re smart dogs, you know. They can see into your very being to tell whether you’re worthy of their trust or not.” She hesitated. “At least, that’s what Nan said when we found Moose and he refused to leave my side.”

Alistair’s lips twitched up, and Mindel knocked her shoulder into his. “Lucky me,” he said. “I get the runt. How ironic. He is a cutie though.”

Mindel grinned. “Just like you. What a perfect match.”

Alistair’s blush made the little flirt worth it, and she laughed when the pup woke up and began licking and nibbling at his face. The boy sputtered and fell backward onto the floor, puppies swarming him quickly. Mindel got onto the floor with him and let the mabari puppies consume her, the barn echoing with puppy whines and the laughter of two children.

———

By the time the Couslands left Redcliffe, Mindel didn’t want to leave. She had visited Alistair at the barn every day when she could get away from her mother, the two of them chatting without the propriety that drove her up the wall. It was nice to be respected, sure, but everyone treaded carefully even when she thought they were friends. Arl Eamon seemed thrilled enough that Alistair had a friend; he’d pulled her aside one evening to thank her for spending time with Alistair, and Mindel had shook her head in response.

“I don’t need to be thanked,” she had said. “He’s a great friend! Do you thank people for being your friend, Arl Eamon?”

The arl had chuckled. “Only when I’m being particularly stubborn, I suppose. Still, accept my thanks on Alistair’s behalf. Maker knows he won’t say it himself.”

That was admittedly confusing, but Fergus had taught her to nod and smile when she was confused until someone offered clarification, so she had done just that. “I should thank him, actually. Is he in the barn?”

“He’s in his lessons actually. Perhaps you two can talk afterward.”

That afternoon, when a surprisingly well-dressed Alistair had left his tutor, Mindel ambushed him with a tug on his hands to drag him along. The two had run out past the castle gates and fallen to the ground just across the stone bridge leading into Redcliffe’s boundaries, the night sky shimmering above. Mindel looked at Alistair, his awed smile doing something funny to her stomach, and rolled onto her side.

“You’ll write when my family leaves, right?” she had asked. “It won’t be fun at home without you there.”

He’d turned an interesting shade of pink. “I-if you want, I’ll write. You’re a good friend, Min.”

“Not just good,” she’d teased. “You’re my best friend, and I’m yours. Right?”

Alistair had smiled, rivaling the shine of the stars above. “Right! Best friends, I promise.”

Leaving Redcliffe was hard because of Alistair; Mindel didn’t want to leave him behind. Father merely chuckled as she watched the castle disappear from the carriage’s view, waving goodbye to Alistair and him waving back until they were out of sight from one another. She sat down with a sigh when the view became nothing but open road, head tilting back against the carriage wall.

“Still upset that you’d stayed with us in Redcliffe?” Father asked teasingly. Mindel narrowed his eyes into a glare, but it didn’t stay long as she shook her head.

“No, I suppose not,” she admitted. “Alistair is fun to be with, Father. Can we come to Redcliffe again soon?”

“I’ll see what I can do, pup. Until then, you’ll have your letters.”

“Yeah. We will.”

#c: mindel cousland #r: forever this time #dragon age #dragon age origins #dao #warden x alastair #alastair x cousland #alastair x female warden #alastair therin #arl eamon #bryce cousland #eleanor cousland #fergus cousland #my wriring #my fic #my post #im posting this on mobile so i’ll fix formatting later

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 5 years

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random Centaur Adora au slice of life ideas where everything’s the same she’s just half horse ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Adora’s usually pretty good at not getting spooked but when she’s relaxed sometimes Catra’s tail twitches and Adora thinks SNAKE!!! and all four hooves leave the floor

This always made Catra freak out too and the result was always mayhem

Centaur Adora is literally as strong as a horse

Her chowing down on everything she can each in ep 2 is now partly bc she needs a heck ton more calories

At first Glimmer assumes Adora is a brand new kind of genetically engineered soldier the Horde is developing and won’t listen to Adora’s claims to be the only centaur she’s ever seen. This is the new main driver for bringing her back to Bright Moon even though this time it’s a lot harder, Glimmer is determined to warn the Rebellion and give them a sample to study/find the weaknesses of before the… cavalry… arrives

The fact that Adora didn’t just break free and run off is even more blatant since she could kill either of them with one kick to the head. Her not tramping them during the fight for the sword is also pretty obviously a deliberate thing and the first clue she’s not actually an evil jerk

Bow and Glimmer totally forget to hobble Adora btw. She wakes up and looks down at her bound hands and back at her four other unbound limbs just like ‘seriously?’

Thanks to her best friend never wearing shoes Adora’s really careful with where she steps, but not wanting to crush/get crushed is still the excuse they both use for Catra to spend a lot of time perched on Adora’s back

Before meeting Glimmer and Bow the only one allowed to get rides on Adora was Catra (and Rogelio that one time because no one else was strong enough to carry him)

Centaur Adora has the ‘nervous sleeping without friends’ thing and never gets used to sleeping alone so Glimmer just starts teleporting over right before bed

Glimmer draping herself dramatically across Adora’s withers

Bow LOVES braiding Adora’s tail and sometimes does that instead of stress cleaning (only with permission of course)

There are no other Centaurs on Etheria which really confuses Adora but the She-Ra mural is a centaur so she figures maybe there used to be more before all the fighting

As She-Ra, Adora’s horse half turns white and grows to the size of huuuuge draft horse

Despite being half horse Adora never knew about horses in general and even after seeing one insists horses and Centaurs are completely different

The main difference is horses are just BETTER

Glimmer: How can you know you’re a Centaur and still NOT know what horses are?????

Centaur Adora: Nobody told me I was half horse! They just pointed at me and said ‘centaur’ and i heard the word and thought ‘oh well guess that’s me’

it turns out not knowing about horses is not actually a Horde thing

Catra, in thaymore: Uh, yeah I know what a horse is. who doesn’t?

Centaur Adora: I DIDN’T!!!!!

Catra: How could you NOT know what a horse is!? You’re entire butt’s a horse!

Centaur Adora: AAAAAAAHHH

aaand this puts a new spin Catra’s favorite catchphrase, much to Glimmer’s fury

Glimmer: She’s pronouncing it with an ‘A’, Bow. I can feel it

Bow: We have literally no way of proving-

Catra, @ centaur adora: Hay Adora~ >:3c

Glimmer, being restrained by Bow: SPELL IT ‘HAY’ AGAIN AND SEE HOW LONG YOU LIVE I DARE YOU!!!

Centaur Adora: what’s ‘hay’??

Adora freaks out a little when meeting Mermista since she considers them in same boat

After that Mermista starts going mermaid whenever there’s enough water around for it to be practical. She says it makes her water combat better but everyone knows she does it mainly just because of how Adora lights up every time she has a ‘hybrid buddy’

Visiting Plumeria awakened some old instincts and Adora almost poisoned herself trying to eat all the yummy flowers until Perfuma specifically made her an edible bouquet

Swift Wind thinks of Adora as his mom. His really really weird mom via like magic or whatever

Wanting the comfort of a herd was part of why Adora snuck out of Glimmer’s room in ep 2 when she saw ‘Horsy’ out the window

Obviously Adora can’t get rides on Swift Wind so instead he flies overhead with Glimmer and Bow and guides her as she runs. cue her complaining why the sword couldn’t have just given HER some wings too

Growing up in the high tech lift-based Fright Zone Adora never encountered staircases until joining the Rebellion. They are the bane of her existence. The only good thing Hordak ever did was build his evil lair without them

Centaur Adora laying down awkwardly to fit at the Rebellion’s council table

Later Glimmer makes sure her chair gets swapped for a pad so this isn’t so uncomfortable

Not only does Castaspella promise to make Adora a sweater she also takes measurements on her horse half to knit a matching blanket so she’ll be properly cozy

Adora pulls Glimmer and Bow onto her back in ep 2 while running from the monster and the rides never stop from there

When getting rides Bow’s very worried about making sure Adora’s not uncomfortable but he’s so nervous about it that he doesn’t hold on good enough and tends to slide off if Adora isn’t super careful

Glimmer on the other hand absolutely zero fear only glee when Adora gallops

She’ll also take any excuse wrap her arms around Adora so that also helps her never fall off <3

The two give Bow and Angella grey hairs by doing jumps and obstacle course races and other stunts whenever they get bored

Adora’s back, both human and equine, is speckled with tiny scars from Catra’s claws accidentally digging into her over the years bc Catra always refused to ‘sit’ on Adora, preferring to be always ready to jump off, paranoid Adora would stumble someday and fall and squash her, which you know, fair enough

Her new bed in Bright Moon is a problem for soooo many more reasons than just being too soft

Also, Glimmer never figures out how over a thousand pounds of Centaur managed to sneak into her hanging bed that first night

When asked Adora just shrugs hand says she’s a good jumper. Also Glimmer sleeps like a log

centaur Adora showing up in places no one who’s half horse should be able to becomes the new biggest meme of the rebellion

Since it’s physically impossible for either Glimmer or Catra to dip Adora while dancing they end up making her dip them instead, much to Adora’s complete confusion

Meeting Entrapta involves a lot of eager questions about Centaur physiology which Adora has no answers to and then a running catalog of all the ways Adora shouldn’t work despite somehow managing to until Adora is on the edge of an existential crisis

Glimmer hauling a hacked centaur Adora through the robot infested castle, drooping under the weight of her human half and praying Adora’s four back legs aren’t about to give out bc if that happens then they are f*cked

Entrapta also really likes lifting up Adora’s hooves/legs without warning to examine them and only Adora’s discipline saves her form getting kicked in the face

By the time of the prom Adora is so used to this she doesn’t even notice when Entrapta does it anymore

Also at the prom Adora sets aside the whole enemies thing long enough to go make a new hybrid buddy with Scorpia, who Adora counts in the club because one set of Scopia’s limbs are completely non-human

Scorpia is delighted to vent about how everything is built for people with fingers and arms that aren’t covered in a spiked carapace and listens sympathetically to Adora’s rant on staircases, even draws her a doodle of stick figure She-Ra crushing some evil steps under hoof

Frosta is a dutiful host and uses her ice powers to make a ramp up to her throne so Adora won’t have to deal with a staircase of ice

She tilts the same ramp to get rid of Adora and Glimmer when they start annoying her later

Scorpia’s first time meeting centaur Adora: “Horsie~!”

Adora, the centaur, looking around hopefully: “WHERE!?”

#spop #she-ra #adora #centaur adora au

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belzinone · 4 years

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SEND ME A WORD! || LEARN ALL ABOUT MY MUSE'S PHYSICAL FEATURES!

// @wolfstillhasclaws // @hunting-songs //

// y’all really cleaned me out here, huh? jasdfnkajnfkan i love you both~<3 (this is also nice bc i can describe her better than i can draw her; aaaaaand i been chipping away at this forever oh dear. ah well. i finished an assignment. i deserve to post this now <3

[EYES]: not just the colour, but the shape, the length of their eyelashes, whether they're alert or usually half-closed, large or small, sunken into the face, ringed by bags, etc.

// sharply angled almonds surrounded by corner folds of age, stress, & restless nights. lashes thickly line their corners like fine fur, emphasized by the way her lids are drawn under the weight of contemplation. small & narrow in shape, but nonetheless quickly to light, soften, & warm at the sight of the things she loves. small pupils are bathed in a bright amber bath sprinkled with green in the candlelight, not much different from the sun’s rays through a forest canopy in the daylight. stern but forgiving, sharp but soft. more of a window to her soul than her mouth would probably ever communicate.

// her brows are drawn but expressive, usually level in furrows but quick to relax & raise. full & average thickness as they taper to the edges of her face, they have soft angles but a sharp beginning. a burn chars the follicles of the left side of her left brow later in life, leaving a break in its length.

[HAIR]: length, colour, texture, whether it grows quickly or slowly, how manageable it is, whether it requires lots of styling, do they leave stray hairs everywhere, is it present on their face, is it present on the rest of their body, etc.

// cut & grown as necessity & identity fluctuated throughout her life. a short crop as a small girl, grazing her ears & off her nape to best pass as a boy. as she matured, her mother insisted she grow out her long tawny waves & she obliged, subject to the pressures of not insisting she knew better. though relatively thin & not well kept (a luxury lacked by many underground residents), long, beautiful hair was key to landing a rich husband.

// as a civilian, she tied up her hair in a number of ways for many occasions, having more time to spend on her appearances than as a soldier. her go-to became a loose, sideswept braid she kept for the beginning of her military career. after sacrificing length for life, she donned herself the popular soldier’s undercut, though leaving some length on the shave & a generous head of curls that fall to the side. she never felt more like herself.

// she leaves strings of twisted burnt copper everywhere she rests, easily caught by dark fabrics & generous sunlight. lovers & comrades given permission to roam her body would find soft, thin hairs nearly invisible against the rich, ashy undertones of her skin. they concentrate in a combination of wolffian & müllerian patterns: under her arms, on her lower back, down the line of her stomach, as well as sparsely covering her genitals, arms, & legs.

// as soon as she gets her hands on body-scaping luxuries as a soldier, she makes a habit out of maintaining her body hairs on a regular basis. not for presentation, but function as skin-tight uniform pants & full body straps make staying au natural rather uncomfortable. regardless of her upkeep, the hair in areas most impacted by her uniform have steadily lost its volume to friction.

// as she started to lose herself after her injury, she grew out the hair on her head but couldn’t bring herself to stop maintaining her military undercut entirely. as personal hygiene became difficult, her body-scaping became lax & revealed patterns of war through her uniform & scars.

[MOUTH]: are their lips always drawn thin or are they plump and kissable, what's their "default expression"/resting face, do they have all their own teeth, do they use their teeth to smile, etc

// small, full, & pursed in stress until her sights are set upon a dear face. in situations of calm & camaraderie she wears the slightest grin as a neutral expression. a pronounced cupid’s bow with a crooked edge when she smiles. a natural smirk without the airs of arrogance.

// though her jaw is usually tense, she hides her teeth (unremarkable & average for someone of her stature) until rare instances of unrestrained joy overwhelm her consciousness.

// if she could choose a color, she’d enjoy a lively, perhaps even icy pink rather than rouge regardless if it “matches her skintone” or not

[FACE]: what is the shape of their face, do they have pronounced cheekbones or a strong jaw, what's the size and shape of their nose, what's the size and shape of their ears, do they stick out, are they pointed, etc.

// the only part of her that never seemed to mature. short & small in shape with round cheeks yet capable of feral expressions. perhaps a heart shape with a small yet pronounced chin. her nose is small as well with a pronounced button shape compared to the rest of her peers, much like armin. her age shows in the rest of her features, from the folds of her eyes to the wrinkles between her brows. identifying features include her pronounced widow’s peak & nearly invisible freckles, as well as a couple facial moles: a left monroe & another below her right brow.

// her ears stand out, but not in size or angle. they’re comparatively small, round, & easily hide in her hair, but her detached earlobes are undoubtedly foreign as the rest of the eldian population seems to sport attached earlobes. her mother taught her to hide this, but they’re regardlessly easily unnoticed.

// the way she wears her visage is kind, welcoming, & maternal, unhardened by the throes of battle but nonetheless changed throughout her life & adapt to circumstances. as a cadet she carried a lot of secrets & communicated a demand for distance through a resting bitch face, unraveled by the love & understandings of her late garrison squad. though not incapable of being stern & able to sway most others through a Look:tm:, she much prefers not to convey authority & would rather communicate airs of openness, a manifestation of democratic leadership expressed by levi & other philosophies of the scouting legion she admires.

[SKIN]: obviously colour, but also if they're inclined to run hot or cold, do they have any blemishes or unusual markings, are they inclined to blush, are they freckled, do they tan, what does their skin feel like, etc.

// her ancestors weren’t from the walls. she looks a bit out of place much like the others who hailed from across the continent, most notably comparable to ymir who hailed from a poor, remote land. fair to medium tone, olive & ashy in undertone.

// faint, full-body freckles despite being easy to tan, a trait rare to those who spend the beginnings of their life underground. her skin reflects the sun she catches after moving above ground, a soft & subtle sun-kissed glow that gently darkens throughout her career, especially as she catches direct sunlight ontop of & beyond the walls. (lowkey inspired by my very elementary coloring skills. i’m getting better & applying my growth to her development bc we’re in this together) as a result, she doesn’t need much sun protection & does very much enjoy sunbathing

// warm to the touch, but reluctant to blush. she has thick skin & an elastic heart. most parts of her are hardened, calloused, dried, & bruised save for the intimate parts of her including her inner joints & limbs. the softest parts of her are her inner thighs surrounding 3dmg wear, surprisingly luxurious for such a hardened soldier often subject to harsh medicinal chemicals.

// also on par is a freshly shaved pussy but i believe that’s pretty universal with the right skincare. also pretty average of her: she has rough, dry, & slightly darkened elbows.

// the texture of her neck is unsettling at the very least, a result of scar tissue buildup in an area with such thin skin. it’s very odd & generally off-putting, causing her to regard the area with a lot of defensiveness & self-consciousness. (marked bc probably one of her most characteristic physical traits)

[BUILD]: are they skinny and petite or do they resemble a body builder, are they tall or short or average height, are they lean and wiry, are they overweight, are all of their features proportionate, etc

// her body betrays who she feels she is, even as she works to manipulate (& privately enhance) its shape & volume. she doesn’t feel like it belongs to her, but it is.

// petite & heavyset, small but mighty with generous work-muscle, most notably in her back, thighs, & upper arms. she has a strong core, but her abdominals will never be as pronounced as a result of the significantly müllerian way her body retains fat. four pack for life. it pains her.

// pronounced hourglass figure, deceptively top-heavy. small, but strong & widened shoulders support large breasts that are bound in sarashi-like fashion under her scout uniform, a way meant to be safest for support as well as long-term wear, but nonetheless restricting & potentially dangerous if not done correctly.

// properly bound & suited, she could pass as male just as well as she could when she was a child. androgyny feels most natural to her, but genuine femininity is a high-hanging fruit she may never taste regardless of the sensuality of her body when enhanced with her favorite lingerie. in private, she indulges & finds comfort in playing up her femininity and exploring aesthetic sensuality (marked for key characterization of her sexuality/gender identity)

[HANDS]: are they large or small, do they have pianist's fingers or short stubby ones, do they tend to get sweaty or are they always dry, is the skin rough or delicate, are the nails painted or chewed or sharp, etc.

// hands small enough to meticulously craft detail, deceptively rough with work. short, but nonetheless artisan fingers. short & kept nails, though mechanical oils, debris, & blood sometimes persist without her noticing. more often when she’s distracted, but she’ll take care of it asap nonetheless.

// they’re always warm, ready to hold, ready to work, ready to comfort. but they are dry, especially the tops of her hands. they’re always in need of repair, moisture, & upkeep.

[LEGS]: are they solidly built, short and stubby, or long and graceful, do they have knobbly knees or rounded knees, what's their gait, etc.[feet]: do they have a habit of going up on their tiptoes, what's their usualy stance, do they tend to shift their weight to a preferred side, etc.

// they do nothing for her height, wide with secondary müllerian fat deposit & definitively shaped with the muscle of a workhorse. yet they can move her with skillful grace, artfully bending and swaying as led by her hips in the midst of her dancing.

// in this vein, she has an extraordinary sense of balance. whether or not she consciously keeps this in constant check is up for debate, but her legs ground and carry her well. she’s also very flexible & can do a myriad of splits.

// she often leans towards her left when standing, later shifting to her right and alternating to keep the blood flow alive. bel also has a tendency for wide, masculine stances to keep her on her toes in action as well as situations that call for her bluff.

// her most natural, comfortable position is on her knees. level with her patients in their environment of need, ready to tend. she very much prefers the ground and can kneel for very long periods of time without losing her sensations. she’s learned to strategically carry and shift her weight in order to accomplish long sessions.

[OTHER: CLOTHES STYLE]: any other obscure feature or tiny detail that the asker is interested in, materials, style, details, freshly new bought or old an worn down, full of dirt or always washed, preferred colour

// as a child they were little more than rags, but nonetheless carefully tailored & decorated with the love of a homemaker mother. it was more as a means of protection rather than inevitability, as flaunting wealth in the dangerous subterranean city was a death sentence.

// as soon as she reached adolescence, her mother instructed her to dress as a lady & slowly began to bestow upon her the racy garments she used to wear as a Wallflower. subdued skirts & bodices became more & more audacious as they grew closer to the surface. risa’s wears were optimized for wiles as much as work, with hidden inner drawstrings easily controlling length, bell sleeves skillfully tied back, corsets carefully constructed to allow stretch as much as shape.

// this stage of life for bel, however, was even more fraught with denied freedoms, fostering a growing complicated relationship between herself & her gender expression. even as she grew into a young adult, she still lacked the bodily function to menstruate, still found herself under the pressures of her mothers dreams to marry into the capitol & retire as a socialite.

// it wasn’t what she wanted, so bel soon began shedding her compromises. with her uniform she donned a laced undershirt over bustiers, not ideal for service but not so stifling either for the lax garrison regiment. her comrades gifted her her switchblade as well as a red ribbon, which she wove & tied into her usual braid.

// following the battle of trost, a bone from her bodice close to puncturing her lung prompted her to make a change. for the first time in years, she reached for the bandage & bound her chest, feeling more powerful than ever. when an Underground scuffle gave her a neck scar, she traded her lace for a sleeveless number with a cowl to cover it. it’s soft material closely resembling a sweater & is perhaps the first garment she bought for herself without tailoring.

// i put her in dark mauve for no reason other than it’s a color i like. maybe it hides bloodstains. maybe she indulged in a higher class color as homage to her mother’s lost dreams. the latter is the most likely option, even though i just thought of it at the moment of writing this. so it goes. she chooses rich colors because of her mother. not just because i like it. (it also compliments the olive in her skin, i think)

// while out on the town or in casual wear, bel lets herself indulge in her femininity, treating it as a special occasion. her style choices are still more audacious than the average woman on the street, more so when she wears her dance costumes under a cloak on the way to a sidejob. out of uniform, she’s likely to turn heads & instigate judgements. she nonetheless enjoys it, as being perceived as a feminine (as well as sexual) being eases her feelings of dysphoria as well as her trifles with asexuality. though she won’t demand it verbally, she’s very much a statement Attention Whore.

*BONUS, bc may as well top it off lol* [FEET]: do they have a habit of going up on their tiptoes, what's their usual stance, do they tend to shift their weight to a preferred side, etc.

// her weight is always on the balls of her feet, remnant of her training as a dancer before soldier. she can balance on her tiptoes like rose from titanic & is very good at it. there’s not much else about her feet worth noting at the time. headcanons may come later.

#// jesus this became a whole hella L O T #// i appreciate this opportunity very much #// not only was i able to say a lot about her #// but a lot of things i never thought about before #// in ways i never thought to say but turned out to be very key to her character #PURPLE FLARE . emergency responding // ask response #THE HEART OF EVERYTHING . key characterization #hunting songs #wolfstillhasclaws #// might i update this as she develops? maybe

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