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nestasgalpal · 2 years

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Their fatal flaw

It's been a rough day for the fandom, so I quickly wrote this to laugh a little at the expenses of both Feyre and Gwyn because they are so young and have so much to learn and unlearn! Feyre must bond with normal people, make friendships that are not rooted in sacrifice, but in common interests and in enjoying each other's company. And Gwyn is an arrogant yet sweet girl who has spent her entire life in small communities isolated from the rest of the world. They might not be best friends, but despite lacking social skills, I'm sure they wouldn't fight each other the way you grown a$$ people have been doing today

Synopsis: there is one thing Feyre and Gwyn have in common, a fatal flaw that will make them bond like nothing else

Tagging: @generalpeachyboots

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She was doing it out of kindness, but Feyre still was facing her given task as her High Lady persona would. She embodied what an ambassador for Velaris ought to be as she showed Gwyneth the wonders of the Sunday's market downtown.

Azriel had asked her to, and Feyre had been more than ready to put on some loose trousers and escape the sheer dresses she wore in Hewn City, even if it was just for the evening.

With a discreet glance, she made sure Gwyneth looked amused. Who wouldn't be on their first visit to this place? The cobbled stones were finally all even after this part of the city of starlight was rebuilt. Children laughing could be heard behind them, the songs of birds and clear water running down public fountains, the music that accompanied their walk. Feyre's chest filled with pride.

On Gwyn's shopping list there were all types of vegetables the ex-priestess was familiar with, but Feyre had never heard of. She made a mental note to invite Elain next time. Her sister didn't know the nooks and crannies of Velaris like the High Lady did, but she would probably be more successful than she had been so far at small talk with Gwyneth.

Gwyn seemed to be lost in her thoughts, anyway. Maybe she was trying to remember what turns they had taken and how to make it back to Azriel's house -her house, now that she had left the Library, and then the House of Wind.

"Hey, did you ever meet that monster that lived in the Library?" Feyre had been to the sanctuary on counted occasions. Bryaxis remembered her of the most terrifying one, but it also sent shivers of contained adrenaline down her spine that were well received.

The aftermath of a war was plain bureaucracy, and she sometimes missed the action.

Gwyn looked at Feyre with puzzled eyes. Scared, even, and answered as tentatively as if she was walking over thin ice. "Merrill?"

"Oh, you've named it!" Feyre gave her a wide smile. She considered telling her new friend about Bryaxis' actual name, but decided not to.

It surprised her, though, that someone as wise as Gwyneth didn't know the legendary creature's name.

The building of Azriel's penthouse was already visible at their right. He had chosen this location centuries ago to be afar from the downtown bustle, but close enough to make it back home walking if the drinking ended up being too much.

"When I first met her, that was the name she gave me, my lady."

The place fitted Gwyn perfectly fine as well. She had all these stores to shop at, and the view from up there was marvelous. They reached the door. Feyre rested against the stone wall and covered her eyes from the setting sun with her tattooed hand. "I had no idea it was a she."

Gwyn wasn't listening to her. Not really. Locks of auburn hair cascaded over her shoulder when she reached for her keys inside the vegetable-filed basket. "Aren't all of us shes in there?"

Another small talk topic died as they entered the building, and Feyre didn't bother starting a new one. Not when they were about to walk up the stairs to the fifth floor.

"Obviously people like you and me are, I guess, I never thought about the Merrill kind..." Forgetting Bryaxis, Feyre focused on not tripping in front of Gwyn.

With each step, Feyre missed a pinch harder the physical tasks her body could endure before she gave birth. With each step, Gwyn grew more and more chatty somehow. The proximity to her house seemed to inspire her spirit. As long as it didn't require Feyre to answer, the High Lady was more than happy to let her talk.

"If you get tired, you can put a hand on the wall to help yourself." Before they reached the fourth floor, both female were doing it. "I think Az will be home. Will you stay for dinner with us?"

The breath of air Feyre took as she reached the door of Azriel's apartment tasted better than she had imagined it would. She reminded herself that, in exchange for her resilience, she had gotten the most beautiful baby in the world... and smiled. Nyx's laughter in her memory pushed her to give a very flushed Gwyn a grin. She was already opening the door for her.

"What will you make?"

"Soup." She lifted the basket and invited Feyre in.

Light slipped thought the half opened window across the room and hit Gwyn's face. Feyre held her breath, and for a moment believed the Sun had come out today just to shower this female with its rays. She was extraordinarily beautiful.

"I would love to have some."

Feyre had been here before, she knew the way to the kitchen. Together, they took everything out of the basket and put it over the kitchen table.

Across the house , she heard a tap being closed and a door opening. The sunset light flood the room and stole golden glimmers from Azriel's hazel eyes when he entered the kitchen. He was wearing black trousers and a very loose linen shirt. His hair was damp, and he was taking care of it with a towel.

"How was your shopping?" He asked no one in particular.

His shadows circumvented the remaining of sunlight and went straight to Gwyn, two of them tangling between her copper strings of hair.

"Hello to you too." She giggled. "We bought everything we needed. Feyre knows all the vendors, we had lots of fun."

Az gave his High Lady a quick hug. They had just met that morning in the river house, when Azriel had taken the opportunity to suggest she spent the evening with Gwyn. The female had recently reunited the courage to abandon the House of Wind, and sometimes the loud streets overwhelmed her.

Feyre had been happy to show her around and help Gwyn fall in love with Velaris like she had on those first walks with Rhys.

"And now we are about to make soup for dinner." Feyre told her friend. "Do you want to help?"

From a drawer, Gywn got a knife for Feyre and another one for herself. Over the wooden countertop, they started chopping the vegetables for the broth. Azriel stayed there, leaned against the door frame.

"I actually wanted to talk to both of you." He scratched his chin. The shadows floated around him, slowly riding up his legs. At his words, they halted.

"About what?" Gwyn asked without looking up from her chore.

Feyre noticed Azriel communicating with his shadows. It was subtle, but she had learned to tell when he momentarily left the conversation to have a parallel one with the extension of himself that they were.

Then, the shadows left the kitchen, and suddenly Gwyn's attention was fixed on him, as if she had sensed the shift in the air as well.

"Actually, clothing. Have you bought anything today, Feyre? I know Gwyn loves a shop downtown, pretty close to the river house there is a store she is quite fond of."

"Why would you ask her that?"

The cautious edge in Gwyn's voice told Feyre there was something she didn't know, that Gwyn suspected and Azriel hid. "Just curious. I know she's been going to stores lately, finding her own style, playing around. Right? With Mor." It was impossible for Feyre to tell where the catch was. He was the picture of a cat playing, but right now, Gwyn looked scarier, with that warning in her pupils aimed straight at the shadowsinger.

She had indeed gone shopping more regularly lately.

"Yes, we went a few days ago, but I didn't buy anything for myself. It's not like I need any more clothes, Rhysand has closets full of dresses for me."

The most exquisite silks and embroidered fabrics hang in her wardrobe, waiting to be worn. Feyre picked up the knife and went back to chopping.

"Why, did you want to come?"

Though the corner of her eye, she caught Gwyn aiming at Az yet another deathly stare. But he was already speaking.

"That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? The fun is in dressing yourself. You can't rely on me, or Rhysand to pick outfits for you."

Despite Gwyn's intention to shush him, it was late. Feyre once again dropped the knife and twisted her body to face him. Rhysand did still pick most of her looks when they were on official Court schedule, but no one had pointed that out as a weird thing before "What does that mean?"

"No, Feyre, leave this to me. This is a problem he has with me. Come on." Gwyn dared. He held her gaze, but his mouth remained sealed. "Say it." She snarled between clenched teeth.

The look on his face was feral all of a sudden, and Feyre realized his comment on how she picked -or rather didn't pick- her clothes was an excuse to target Gwyn. He took a step closer to the redhead, his jaw tense, as if he was conjuring all his willpower not to snap right there and then.

"I can't stand how you mix black clothing..."

"There you go-" Gwyn mocked.

"...that doesn't match!" He finished with a half-scream. A bird that had been resting on the railing of the balcony flew away, scared.

Gwyn put on her fakest smile and her hands on her hips. Feyre braced herself and mentally prepared, just in case she needed to intervene. Azriel was showing a kind of anger so different from the cold rage she had always known, that Feyre found herself unable to properly assess the situation. How bad was this fight about to get?

It won't cross any line, she told herself. She wouldn't allow it. Power tickled in her fingertips, ready to be called into action.

"Black is black." Gwyn was now arguing. She turned to face Feyre. "Right?"

She felt out of place. Like this fight was too violent despite the arm length separating them, and too intimate all at the same time.

"It has different shades!" His voice was authoritarian, but his tone remained quiet. The way he spoke had made High Lords flinch in the past. Gwyn seemed unaffected by it. "You know I hate it, and you still do it. You put your silly little outfits on and walk in front of me" his patience finally reached its limit, "when you know I can't fucking stand it!"

"Stop the two of you right now." Feyre had enough. She extended a hand between them, forcing the pair to step away from each other. She crossed her arms over her chest.

Neighbors, passersby... they probably had heard the fight. She couldn't allow this to continue. Feyre gave the bond a little tug and felt Rhysand's curious presence at the other side. Feyre wanted her mate to listen as well, because she wouldn't say it twice. Her clothes! Azriel, who might wear the same hue of black everyday, but hadn't bought a shirt in years, had the audacity to call her out for letting Rhys help her get dressed... And poor Gwyn too!

"You have invited Gwyneth to live in here with you, and from the moment you extended such invitation of your own free will, this place became hers as well." She started. "For better or worse, the two of you share this space, and within the same lines that confine this property, your right to consider any decision she makes a mutual thing, ends as well."

In the heat of the moment, it was hard to tell between Rhys' amusement at the scolding his brother was getting, and his quiet anger at how he had dared comment on their relationship. Worse, he had used it only as an excuse.

"What Gwyn wears is her choice. Hers, and hers only. She has flaunt with pride the gray tunic of the priestesses for decades, and you have no right to put a timer on when her margin to experiment ends."

He didn't interrupt her speech, but was ready to jump in as soon as she made a pause long enough.

"It's not about taking choices away, Feyre. I have been" He sighed, and from his frustration, Feyre knew he had actually tried to tell Gwyn about it before, probably in kinder ways, "I've been trying to help her find herself in every day clothing. I went shopping with her and Nesta when she asked... Have I not?"

Gwyn actually nodded, her cheeks colored with a faint tint of red.

"The one thing I've made clear since the beginning is that I hate it when people mix shades of black. It is ugly."

"It's still her wardrobe." Feyre insisted. "And if you can't respect that..."

Az put his hands in the air. Feyre was surprised by how expressive he was acting. His shadows were still nowhere to be seen.

"I just told you..."

"She is not finished." Gwyn cut in.

Azriel and Gwyn's heads turned in unison. Four pairs of eyes were suddenly fixed on her, and Feyre, with her back straight in a regal posture, knew exactly what to say. "We are leaving for the House of Wind."

"Exactly." Gwyn dropped her knife as well.

Nesta would take them in. She would even kick Cassian out if he dared defend Azriel's actions. And Feyre would fly Gwyn and herself to the safety of her sister's house.

Head held high, Feyre walked towards the balcony. The sunset would be the only witness to their victory, but it was enough. She needn't call for Gwyn, for the female was already behind her, taking her hand.

Against all logic, Feyre's body changed as her wings spread on her back. Her illyrian muscles were untrained, but still stronger than her fae form. She respectfully placed a hand on Gwyn's back, and after getting a slight nod from her, Feyre put the other under her knees to rise her from the ground.

Leaving behind a chugging Azriel, the two of them flew away, to a place where their wardrobe choices would never be judged.

#feyre #feyre archeron #feyre cursebreaker #feysand #gwy #gwyn acotar #gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #gwynriel #pro feyre #pro gwyneth berdara #stop being annoying

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karis-the-fangirl · 2 years

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The Wisdom - Wheel of Time (book!verse), Lan x Nynaeve fic

or ‘Three’s a Crowd’—set during Eye of the World, while Nynaeve travels with Moraine and Lan, the Warder observes the Wisdom.

Fandom: Wheel of Time (book)

Set between chapters 21 and 28 of Eye of the World.

Pairing: Lanaeve

Lan POV

Word count: 2100

Rating: G

also posted on AO3

The Wisdom never complained.

Well, Lan had to admit, she complained frequently, but only about Moraine’s habitual secrecy. Nynaeve, despite her woodscraft, had not a cunning bone in her body—she might be able to move silently through the trees, but she couldn’t help wearing her every thought on her face. Her honest nature found his Aes Sedai’s extreme subtlety aggravating. He couldn’t blame her, and he at least had the benefit of sensing Moraine’s moods, and of trusting her motives.

The Wisdom rode hard and slept rough without a murmur, pushing herself to match his stamina. He had been impressed by her skill in tracking him, and amused by her attempts to first out maneuver Moraine, and then to simply break Moraine’s calm. Only his bond made it possible for him to know how well Nynaeve had succeeded in annoying the Aes Sedai. He had admired her devotion to her people, her determination to find the four young Emond’s Fielders. She was a woman who understood duty. There was no doubt that her courage matched her beauty—and he grew more aware of both with each passing day.

It was when they paused in a village with an inn, however, that he realized the depth of the Wisdom’s strength.

They stopped more for the sake of the horses than anything—Moraine didn’t like it, Nynaeve didn’t like it, and Lan himself didn’t like it, not with the fate of the world resting on the shoulders of a boy who was getting farther and farther ahead (or possible a different boy, who was lost in another direction entirely), but losing a horse to lameness would only slow them down even more. One night, it was decided. They had arrived in the town late enough in the evening that they were not losing much time, and the horses would have a good night of rest and careful care, while their riders could sleep on something other than cold dirt. The small inn only had a few rooms, most of them occupied by farmers sleeping off market-day hangovers, but there was a room with two beds for Moraine and Nynaeve to share. That was all that was necessary—Lan intended to sleep in the stable, where he could keep a watchful eye on the horses and their gear.

In the morning, after carefully currying and checking hooves on all three animals, Lan found Moraine coming down the inn stairs alone.

“Is the Wisdom still sleeping?”

The question came from Moraine, accompanied by one slightly arched brow as the only outward sign of the amusement he felt through the bond. Lan was left with his mouth half open, the same question dying on his tongue. Moraine felt the shift in his mood and her amusement vanished.

“She is not upstairs,” he said, voice flat.

Moraine shook her head, then paused. “She did not spend the night in our room,” she clarified. “The other bed was not slept in.” Another pause. “I was quite tired,” Moraine added, “and slept more deeply than usual.” Unspoken was the Aes Sedai’s assumption that the other woman had spent the night in Lan’s company, relying on her fatigue to give them a measure of privacy from the bond. It had been a common enough arrangement in the past, during times of hard travel—one of the ways they complemented each other as companions, seeking rejuvenation in different kinds of embraces.

Also unspoken was the possibility that the Wisdom had spent the night in one of the inn’s other rooms, in the company of one of its other guests. Lan’s eyes narrowed as he glanced up the stairs, then turned to sweep over the common room, remembering the handsome young farmer who had tried to catch her eye last night. Even the innkeeper had taken an interest in such a young and pretty guest—he’d heard the title ‘Wisdom’ and paused at their table to ask if that was the same as a Wise Woman, as local healers were called.

“I’ll ask the serving girl,” Moraine said, “but we cannot delay—“

Lan was spared the need to contemplate her meaning as Nynaeve emerged from the hallway that led to the kitchens, storerooms, and back entrance, as well as the narrow staircase up to the private rooms of the innkeeper’s family. A cluster of other women surrounded her, all of them fussing and speaking over one another. One red-eyed girl held an infant, limp with sleep and drooling on her shoulder. The Wisdom shook her head at something, gesturing, then gave the young mother a reassuring smile as she stroked her fingers over the baby’s round cheek.

She still wore her woolens, creased and dusty from the day before, her long braid mussed, and when she turned towards him Lan saw dusky shadows under her large dark eyes. Nynaeve met his glance. Her hands came up to smooth a few loose tendrils back from her face, then dropped to fold firmly across her waist as her chin lifted.

“Have I kept you waiting?” she asked. Lan repressed the smile that nearly rose to his lips—he wondered if she realized the way she’d begun to mimic Moraine’s dry, cool tones. He bowed slightly instead.

“Not at all, Wisdom.”

“I hope everything is all right,” Moraine said, and Lan felt his lips twitch again at the way Nynaeve bristled.

“The innkeeper’s grandchild was ill,” she said shortly. “And their local wisdom—wise woman—has been away at one of the distant farms and couldn’t leave her patients there. But it was nothing I haven't treated before. The baby’s fever broke just before dawn.”

“Illness is always dangerous in the very young.” Moraine smiled politely. “They’re fortunate that you were here. Still, we must depart as soon as possible. Can you safely manage to ride by yourself?”

Lan didn’t need the thread of mischief in the bond to guess what the Aes Sedai was hinting at—that the Wisdom might need to ride with him, since Mandarb was the only horse strong enough to carry two for any length of time—but he could also anticipate Nynaeve’s response before she had even opened her mouth.

“I can manage perfectly well,” she snapped. And she did, at first. They ate breakfast as they rode—fresh bread, cheese, and boiled eggs, thanks to the innkeeper, who rushed out to press a bundle into the Wisdom’s hands—and made good time through the morning. Lan circled back frequently, keeping a watchful eye on Nynaeve, which earned him glares from her and suppressed amusement from Moraine. It was when the Wisdom failed to scowl at him that he knew she was fading.

He reigned Mandarb to a walk beside her mare, considering. As much as the thought of having her ride double with him appealed—and Lan had not been able to put thoughts of that out of his mind, imagining her slim form pressed to his back, her arms around his waist…or even better in front of him, where he could hold her, letting her sleep against his chest—he knew that in the event of an attack it would hamper his ability to fight, putting both women in far more danger. Instead he leaned down to her, speaking softly.

“If you are too fatigued, Wisdom, Moraine Sedai would be glad to offer Healing.”

That sparked the glare he was looking for, her chin up, one hand gripping her braid as if she imagined strangling him with it.

“I’m fine,” she sniffed. “I certainly don’t need any help from her.”

“As you like, Wisdom al’Meara.”

He felt her glower follow him as he rode forward to scout ahead.

Lan didn’t need to repeat the suggestion—he only needed to glance questioningly from the Wisdom to the Aes Sedai, cocking an eyebrow, for Nynaeve’s lips to flatten and her spine to straighten. No matter if she had been swaying with fatigue a moment before, letting her horse trail behind, she would be upright and riding briskly to catch up with Moraine. His satisfaction in his success, however, ended when it grew too dark to ride and they stopped to make camp.

Nynaeve nearly fell when she dismounted. He'd been ready, stepping forward as her knees buckled to catch her. For a moment her weight rested against him–easy to hold in the curve of one arm, slight as she was–but then she jerked away.

“I can manage, thank you,” she said crisply, and went to gather firewood with grim determination on her face.

He tied up the horses, leaving them for the moment so that he could help with the fire before Nynaeve fell asleep in it. She didn’t resist beyond a dark look when he took the flint and steel with a murmured “Permit me,” but when he looked up from the kindling it was to see her struggling with the girth of her saddle. Nynaeve’s hands were shaking, and once she had the buckle loose she paused, resting her forehead against the mare’s shoulder. Then she took a fortifying breath and pulled, trying to heave the saddle up. The horse snorted when Nynaeve’s fingers lost their grip and the saddle dropped back. Lan caught her arm, steadying her as she staggered.

“Wisdom, I will see to the horses. You should rest.”

She stiffened, glaring up at him with dark eyes—eyes that looked bruised in a face pale exhaustion. “I can look after my own horse,” she said, ignoring the evidence to the contrary.

“I’m sure you can.” He kept his voice mild, and suppressed the smile that tugged at his lips when her chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. “I would never suggest otherwise.”

“You never seem to sleep,” Nynaeve muttered, turning to struggle with the cord lashing her blanket roll in place.

"One of the gifts of the warder bond." Lan busied himself with his own bedroll. Her slim fingers were trembling and he ached to simply untie the knots for her–except he knew she wouldn't thank him for interfering. More than likely she would bite his hand if he tried it. He suppressed a smile at the thought.

“I won’t have it said that I’m a dead weight.” The bitterness in the words made his eyebrows go up. It reminded him of her defiant, challenging look when she’d first caught up to them—daring him to question her skill, expecting his scorn. She’d been discomfited by his admiration. What fools did they grow in the Two Rivers, that this woman wasn’t used to being admired?

“No one could call you that,” he said.

Nynaeve snorted. “Do they have another name for orphan girls with no dowry where you come from?”

“There are no dowries for women. In the borderlands, it is the man who must provide for his bride, to offer her a home.”

She frowned. “Do women not bring property of their own?”

“Of course. Any wealth or property she has remains hers, for herself and her children, if her husband falls.” He reached over her to lift the saddle off the mare.

“A rare breed, these borderland men,” she murmered.

Lan collected their gear and slung the saddlebags over his shoulder—pretending not to see Nynaeve’s hand reaching for hers.

“We ask much of borderland women,” he said. “To swear their husbands and sons to fight against the shadow, and to be the last reserve. When the men fail, it is the women who hold.” He glanced down at her. “Our women are treasured,” he added.

He didn’t know what possessed him to say such a thing while looking down into the dark well of her eyes, but at least it prompted one of those rosy blushes he so loved. It brought out the dusting of minute freckles on her nose and cheeks. Tiny constellations in a warm sunset sky.

“Oh,” she said.

Lan separated her bedroll from the other baggage and held it out, nodding to the fire. “You’ve more than earned your rest, Wisdom,” he said. “I’ll see to the horses.”

She wanted to protest—he could almost see her lips shaping the words—but then she bit her lip, sagging ever so slightly. “All right.”

When Lan returned to the fireside Nynaeve was asleep, laying on top of her bedroll and her cloak, with nothing to cover her from the cooling night air. She had curled on her side, one arm folded under her head, the other tucked against her stomach, and she frowned in her sleep, lips pouting like a child. So young. The reminder made a knot tighten behind his breastbone.

Lan glanced up, and met Moraine’s speculative look across the fire. He could feel her curiosity, but he kept a tight leash on his emotions. She wouldn’t use the bond to rummage, just as she wouldn’t ask about anything he didn’t choose to volunteer.

He tugged at his cloak—plain brown, since he hadn’t troubled to change it after leaving the village—and let it drape over Nynaeve gently. It would smell like horse, but everything did, and it would keep her warm for the night.

#lanaeve #Lanaeve fic #karis wrote a thing #lan x nynaeve #Lan and Nynaeve #nynaeve x lan #al’lan mandragoran #lan mandragoran #nynaeve al'meara

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 months

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February 7: Work and Writing

Not sure what to write again today but it's getting late so I need to write something.

I have really reached the end of stuff I can do at work this week. Next week I'll start some new big projects but today was mostly scrounging around doing little things here and there to make the time pass by. I'm so glad I'm only working a half day tomorrow because that's about as much time as I wan to fill, to be quite honest.

The next couple of days are going to have a lot of socializing in them and I need to have good time management skills for once this weekend to get everything done. I'm going out to lunch tomorrow, which will be very nice, I think. Then on Saturday I must go to the Farmer's Market and sit outside for a while and write some story notes and stuff because I've barely been able to do that the last couple of months, with the weather being, you know, winter. But B invited me to see a movie with him that will require some traveling so I'm doing that later in the day. He wanted to spend the whole day together but I'm trying to have self-respect and boundaries etc, especially with regard to my mental health needs. On Sunday, I'm finishing Hey, Sweetheart. Even if it takes me the whole day, of like working up to it and so on, I will do it. Then, another fic will be complete!

As far as writing, I keep thinking that there's some sort of planning or list making I need to do but there really isn't. The plan hasn't changed in a while. I'm getting kind of antsy to see what going back to T100 is like after my first fandom-break in a while, and especially to go back to such an old story. Like my assumption is that it will be excruciating? I don't know.

It's easier to have, like, 'serious' projects that are rather tough--but hopefully still rewarding--when I can balance them with something else. Free writes have sometimes been that balance. And of course the drawer fic. I've been working on it so late the last days that I barely know what I'm doing, and I'm kind of getting to a point where I think I'll be stuck if I don't return to the fantasy and work stuff out. And I've been fantasizing about a different universe recently so that's very... ah ha ha nervous laughter. But it's all right. I do have general ideas for this fic but there's a gap between where I am now, where I'm about to drop off, and what the next desired-scene is. I had sort of an idea for the next one but only for the setting of it, not, like, the purpose. Like I want to use these characters here but to do what? To say what? Eh.

As to whether I will post it... it's been so rough recently that I've been turning away from that possibility again. I might still. I don't know. It will depend on what reaction, if any, I get to Hey Sweetheart (the reaction will be none, just, by the way). So we'll see.

#the year 2024 #2024: rl #2024: writing thoughts

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costumesexpalined · 4 months

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Hi, Ac3 here from my main blog. I have a huge hobby for cosplay and I wanna help others out, so here’s just a rundown of how this works:

I primarily have a strength with historical costuming, because of the clearer context of what things mean and access to information on available materials and stuff (in regards to character development and stuff that is).

However, I am very much skilled in looking at a picture of an outfit that would need a lot of work figuring out and just… breaking it down into layers and going from there. I also know a lot about what fabrics work best for what items, how to do both machine and hand sewing and embroidery on top of knitting and crochet, and am fairly good at making tutorials based on my ability to get my IRL friends almost to my level crafting wise pretty easily.

I took pretty advanced fashion design/crafting classes all throughout high school and to an extent into college, I just shifted degree gears due to the job market. I like supporting fandoms, cuz they’re great, so here I am.

Only rules for asks/requests is nothing NSFW will be posted on the blog unless there is a high demand for that specific thing and I vet the hell out of it. If it’s a one off and I think it would be a fun challenge I might just do it and send you the pattern roughs over DM.

Other than that, be kind and please credit me for the pattern source so that more people can find it when others ask or you make posts with completed items.

Tags made for this blog so you can follow them:

- ac3s tutorials (tutorials only)

- ac3s patterns (patterns only)

- ac3s lore breakdowns (breaking down a costume/outfit based on the work in question)

- ac3s costume logic (any breakdowns of construction, styles, possible references, materials, the layering, etc for a costume/outfit)

#ac3s tutorials #ac3s patterns #ac3s lore breakdowns #ac3s costume logic #cosplay #cosplay tutorial #cosplay help #character analysis #character design #ask me anything #requests open #asks open

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lilsuzn · 3 years

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MLQC Victor - NSFW abc headcanons (REMASTERED)

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

Warnings: Explit sexual content (GN READER)

it's what I posted a while ago, but better - I changed some things, I deleted some thing and wrote new. I think it's much better now

A = Aftercare (What they are after sex?)

Victor is a man that has his values straight

You are the most important part of his life (even if he sometimes struggles to shop it) and he will do anything for you… and only for you

Other people don’t matter. He only takes what he wants and leaves.

But you - his sweetest, dearest, little love… can ask anything and everything (well, almost - see N).

You crave massages? He will buy the most luxurious oils on the market, might even take a course to perfect his skills to give you more pleasure

Want to take a bath? He will have a bathtub installed if he doesn’t have one already

Pillowtalk, kissing, snuggling, another round? No need to say it twice. He leaves to please you

When it comes to him, he likes to pull you close and tell you all the things he has no courage to say at any other time

Leave no space for misunderstanding in the department of his unconditional, boundless, eternal love and devotion for you

Tell you just how happy he is to have you and how everything is worthless in comparison to you

After he makes sure you’ve been pleasured throughly already, he will want to share a shower

And make no mistake - he will wash you. You can wash him too, if you want, but taking care of that pretty body of yours is his responsibility

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part is his waist

It wasn’t easy to get that V shaped body and he is extremely proud of this accomplishment…

Especially when he sees your hungry gaze roaming his torso up and down

And you… He couldn’t possibly choose one part

Beautiful legs, rounded butt, soft abdomen and that gorgeous, gorgeous smile

Yeah…

No…

That would be your thighs when it comes to the sexual aspect

You have such a delicate skin there. So suckable. Kissable. More plush than any pillow could ever be

He feels so secure and at ease when they squeeze around his head as you ride his face.

The sound of his hips slapping against them - heavenly

Not much can make him calmer than your lovely, plump thighs

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

It should come (hihihi) as no surprise that he loves to spill inside

It’s so intimate… Bonding…

Doesn’t really like to cum onto you for reasons he himself doesn’t really understand

It just feels… somewhat degrading? And he doesn’t like it that way?

Then again cuming into your mouth is a strong YES. Maybe it’s because of how enthusiastically you take him in

How you collect all the spill from your chin and lick it off your fingers like it was some kind of delicious delicacy

That sight makes him hard all over again…

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory - a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a folder of your photos on his computer

Some of them were taken with consent… Some without you realising…

Because you were in his bed sleeping in your naked glory… And he could only stop himself the first, like 20 (?) times

He sorts them by aesthetic and cuteness/sexiness

Jacks off to them when you’re not around

Most of them are very artistic. He tries his best to make them as good as the ones he was using before you… (see J)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He slept with a few girls in college, but he saw it only as ‘taking care of his sexual needs’ - no real feelings included

He had one dedicated booty call - a girl who fell in love with him despite him saying that he only only sees her for sex

That period really allowed him to explore his sexuality

So he knows what he likes and what to do, so his partner likes it too

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)

Everything when he takes you from the back

He’s rather keen on yanking hair, slaping ass…

But when it comes to the person he loves - you, he likes to face each other during sex

He wants to kiss your face, neck and chest. Nuzzle his face into your abdomen while he’s going down from his height

Your legs thrown over his shoulders so he can slap his hips against your soft thighs

Or legs pressed to your sides, hands gripping your thighs

And he can’t even attempt to lie he doesn’t absolutely love when you sit on his lap… or get on top in general

Or when your thighs grip his head when you 69 on the couch while ‘watching’ a movie. Your lips sloppy around him as his tongue pleasures you with most precision and dedication

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

No goofy.

If they start to joke around, they get spanked. HARD.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Victor is a passionate swimmer, so most of his body is hairless

But he doesn’t shave his pubes. Finds it weird to be completely bare down there and the first time he had sex with a completly hairless girl, he was a bit taken aback with her baby like smoothness.

Only trims them with a ‘pubes razor’ which is his old razor that he doesn’t use for face anymore, because he got a better one from his aunt for Christmas

Carpet matches the drapes

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

No goofy.

Only love and eternal devotion.

He will caress and leave kisses all over your body. Keep you close in the warmest and most loving embrace

No dummies or idiots in bed. Only treasures and loves

Almost like he’s trying to make it up to you for his tendency to be so aloof on a daily basis

The sweet talk doesn’t stop there, but I already said everything about it in A

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

This man didn’t have time to waste on women when he was building his empire, so he naturally spend quite a lot of his life masturbating instead of having sex

He doesn’t really enjoy porn, though. It’s too cartoonish for him. He much prefers to look through lingerie commercials or nude photoshoots - the more artistic the better

After he reunites with you, he starts to feel all that pent up sex tension and starts to jack off almost every day

Thinking about you. Looking at photos of you. Carving you with every small bit of his being

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

First of all - seeing his partner being pleasured. Either by him or by a vibrating toy plugged into them or pressed against their sensitive spots. He doesn’t even pump himself watching. He’s way too consumed with the enticing sights

Double penetration. His huge dick in one whole, dildo in another… Just thinking about it gets him going

He can’t deny himself at least some manhandling (if you consent - obv). Although he doesn’t go full on dom every time (at least with you) he seems to be unable to deny himself some hair pulling and choking... Although he almost does it lovingly? Spanking and whipping will surely also happen from time to time. Can get very rough when jealous

Also a slight daddy kink. When he hears it slip past your lips in the form of a joke - he feels some strange tingling in his groin and it’s not a venereal disease

If you sit on his lap, make a cute, helpless expression and ask daddy to play with you… It just turns him into a primal animal with no self restraint

That he kinda always seems to be

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Where nobody can hear them

Or see them

Anywhere with a stable surface really, but he needs to know you will have full privacy

Would never agree for public sex

All the sweet sounds and expressions he makes you do are his and only his to experience

M = Motivation (What turns them on/gets them going)

Stress, irritation, anger, hurt… Sex is a great way for him to gat this weight of his chest since he doesn’t really like to think those negative feeligs through

Or any feelings, if we’re at it

A nice butt is also a motivation, especially when it’s attached to a fine pair of legs

But both of these factors aren’t a guarantee of a turn on and even if they have that impact on him, he still will most likely not act on it

What he really struggles to control is a real attraction that reaches what’s beyond physical

A beautiful, hardworking and open-minded person is something Victor finds hard to ignore

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do/turn offs)

No sharing

No blood play

No permanent marking

Nothing too forcefull or aggressive

No sex before assigning boundaries and exchanging preferences

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As I already said In B, Victor is an oral lover

More into giving than receiving, but would never push his lover away

(you can always 69, right?)

The man is humming in pleasure as his tongue slides along your sex

Is more than willing to go for hours if only you let him

The more you moan the more intense his movements become

His main goal is to please

The secondary one is to be the best at yet another thing

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He has two base modes

One: I love you, my sweet creature - all about measured, unhurried but hard thrust. True, pure love-making

Two: Little girls don’t get a say in how daddy fucks them - you’re tearing up, sobbing, drooling and he gets even more turned on by it. Fucks harder and faster then you both believed possible. Years of engaging in sports come to show themselves

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He will participate when the occasion occurs

Might even initiate an occasion

But it’s not really sex for him. It’s a quickie

And when compared to the real love-making with you… it’s just meh

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

When it comes to taking risks, I believe I already made it clear that he isn’t too into that

If someone walked in you, it would be very upsetting for him

If you got accidentally hurt would break his heart

But experiment he would happily

New toys, new positions, new kinks… He will try anything once

Well, almost anything (see N)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

We all have our better and worst days, and this man has a whole company to run. It’s only natural for him to be tired

So usually he won’t last for more than one round. Maybe 3 on weekends

But will last a while if he sets a slower pace (see P)

On vacations however, after a few days of rest his stamina will increase dramatically

Have you seen this guy’s torso? Exactly

He has some stamina to spare

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not against, although he prefers to experiment with positions that to experiment with toys

Will probably never propose any, except when he knows his partner is into such things

If you do - Victor will do his research and find something exciting for you to enjoy

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He really is not patient enough for that

Doesn’t have time for it either

Why would he even want to? They’re unsatisfied = he’s unsatisfied (as I mentioned in K)

He sees no appeal in it. When he wants to fuck, he wants to fuck. No reason to beat around the bush

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Victor can be a bit more talkative than usual during the foreplay

Throughs some praise (a lot of it)

Tell you about his feelings (but not too much at that point)

About things that made him jealous…

A quiet Fuck may leave his lips when he enters you and when he’s about to come

In the middle of those two - he’s rather silent

Not much of a moaner

He grunts and growls a lot though. Can get a little bit loud from time

W = Wild card (A random headcanon for the character)

It was a sunny, autumn day. You were walking down the street. You’re fingers entwined. The sunlight was gracing your beautiful features so gorgeously… and he had already been yearning for so long

When you’ve finally reached the Souvenir’s door, the man is all worked up

Not that you could tell from his steely expression

But you sure got suspicious when he got all touchy feely out of the sudden

Not that you would ever mind - obviously

Feather light kisses on the nape of your neck and shoulders. Fingertips caressed your waist to then slide down to your hips. Then he reached for the hem of your dress…

“I love you…” he whispered in your ear

Goosebumps momentarily appeared on your skin as all the intense feelings he had been making you experience from the very day you saw him for the first time in his office travel down your spine in a form of a intense shiver

You wanted him. So bad. For so long.

And there was no hiding his feelings for you at that moment as you turned your head to face him

Soon after stomach was pressed against the kitchen counter. Your naked butt was all out on display for Victor to squeeze and spank as you squirmed and moaned under his touch

Victor didn’t take any unnecessary time to move his long, broad fingers down, to stroke your sensitive slit

He praised you for being so wet, so flushed, so eager for him

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

“I love you, too” you whispered to his ear as his arms pressed you as close to his body as possible, while you were still going back from your highs

And after that, from his lips slipped the words of the most sincere adoration… and true love

Words you would never expect to leave his beautiful, soft mouth

Matches the rest of the man

Long and thick

No curvature. Perfectly straight

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Rather average

Ha has periods when he doesn’t even think about it

And he has ones when he can’t stop thinking about it

However he doesn’t go too much either way

Z = Zzz… (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Remember what I said in S? Applies here as well

He’s a hardworking man

Simplu needs to work hard to keep his business growing and to keep his lover pleased

Then he just needs to get some rest. Don’t try to change his mind because he will

If he’s well rested however, he won’t let you sleep

Like, not a chance. You need to come at least five times. He doesn’t make the rules, sorry

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fluff #mlqc hc #mlqc headcanon #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc smut

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longlivefeedback · 3 years

Note

hi, how are you? hope you are doing fine.

i'm struggling. i know writing in any other language other than english hits different on Ao3.

but,

i wrote my first longfic for this fest hosted on a facebook group. i always thought i was uncapable of writing a plotty story (mi longest fic was 6k... this one is more than 90) so this motivated me to prove me wrong. and yes i enjoyed the process, but it was really hard work, it consumed 3 months of my life and by that i mean i couldn't think about anything else, sometimes i would think it was a huge pile of garbage and i was wasting my time. but i kept going.

and then the day came, the fic dropped, and i like how the story turned out to be! it has a every element i enjoy reading. my beta helped me a lot with critique. i was very careful with grammar and spelling. i think it's sexy, original, funny, meaningful.... i was proud to post it.

so i read it and i think: fuck. what am i missing here? what am i not seeing? why no one likes my writing? is it really that bad?

i tend to think people on this fandom hold hands with "oldies" and give their back to people like me, that just started posting. but maybe i'm creating this fake image to 'cope' with it lol.

i try not to think about it and not even opening my email because i'm too sensitive to find nothing. nothing. all the time. but i found your blog and thought maybe i would share it. fuck, i cry as i write this lfmaooooo fuckkkkkkklkkk

😢 I'm so sorry, Anon. *gives you a hug and holds you*

Your situation is a rough one to be in and my heart goes out to you.

Before I talk about the feedback on your fic, can I just say what an amazing job you've done as a writer??!

To put things into perspective:

This is your first longfic! 😱 🎉🎊💐 That is amazing and a feat in itself!! Give yourself a huge pat on the back and you can cross that off your bucket list!

You wrote 90k words in 3 months. Writing 90k of anything is hard as it is, and you did it. In 3 months. For context, NaNoWriMo has a word count goal of 50k words in a month. Crucially: "Word count is the only measure of "success" on Nanowrimo; quality is irrelevant." You not only wrote all those words, you also edited your story and polished it in the space of three months. That's a superhuman effort and you should be proud!

You kept going even though you had self-doubt. That's incredibly resilient of you and shows an incredible amount of hard word, determination, and self-discipline. Do not discount the value of finishing something. Something is better than nothing. Perfection is a myth. You finished the fic and it is art and it exists. That is amazing. And you did that.

Anon, I just want to take a moment to appreciate what you did. Breathe and give yourself a pat on the back. Congratulations! You did it!

Okay. Now to address your main concern in your ask: I'm sorry you feel unsupported in your journey thus far.

Especially if you're new to posting, having expectations about the level of support you will receive for your work and to have reality not meet them is devastating.

I don't know why it seems like no one is reading and responding to your work. Every writer who has posted for fandom has probably asked themselves the same questions that you're asking now. None of us have the answer. Writing and marketing are two different skills. Quality does not equal popularity/visibility.

However, here are a few things to consider to help 'explain' away the lack of feedback you've received. They may or may not be helpful:

Was all the fic posted all at once or over a short span of time? Lots of fics at one time (ala big bang style) can be overwhelming for readers. Fics get lost in the shuffle. Readers can only read one fic at a time and it may be that readership is spoilt for choice and yours is the unlucky one that didn't get read :(.

Relatedly, 90K is a lot of words. Some readers may be intimidated. Some may be saving yours for last! If all fics for your event are 90K+, it will take time for readers to make it through any one fic. However, I know that hope can be a double-edged sword. If you need to step away from the emails for your mental health, do that. Turn off email notifications for emails. Don't check your AO3 inbox. The comments will be there when you're ready to come back. And if they are still not there, at least you've had a few days break from the agony of anticipation.

Are there other sites you can post your work to? The way you wrote the opening of your ask indicates that your fic wasn't written in English (apologies if I misinterpreted this!) I believe that most of AO3's readers look for fics in English, so if there are alternative sites that are more popular for fics in a certain language, can you post to them? Maybe you will have more luck with say a fic written in Italian at a site where the readership is mostly looking for Italian fics?

What does your beta think? Your beta seems to have helped you a lot through the process. Hopefully you've built up enough of a rapport with them that you feel comfortable speaking to them about this. This is obviously weighing on you a lot and having someone to support you, even if it's just 1 person, can make a world of difference. So, have you spoken to them about your disappointment? If they're also from the fandom, do they have a perspective that they can offer to help bear this burden? If not them, is there someone else familiar with your situation that you trust enough to speak to that can support you?

Have you talked to mods/fellow writers in your event about it? Chances are that you are not the only writer facing this. Maybe you can read and give feedback on each other's work? If mods are open to feedback for their event, maybe raise this as a concern to them? This has obviously been a very discouraging experience for you, and if the point of the event was to nurture/encourage participation in your fandom, this is having the opposite effect. At the very least, at least you've said your piece and hopefully it will bring you some closure on this. In a better outcome, maybe there's something mods can do to help you promote your work?

As an aside, I did not quite understand this part of your ask:

i tend to think people on this fandom hold hands with "oldies" and give their back to people like me, that just started posting. but maybe i'm creating this fake image to 'cope' with it lol.

Does this mean that there's an "in" group with older fans who are very exclusive and make it hard for newer fans to feel included and part of the fandom? Or the opposite where older fans are very inclusive and "have the backs" i.e. support newer fans a lot? Apologies for not quite following your meaning here.

All that been said though, none of this really helps give you what you really crave the most for. So. Fuck it. Find your favourite phrase or paragraph that you wrote in this fic. Send it in. I'll give you feedback on it :)

You're doing amazing Anon. I'm so proud of you.

#llf asks #anonymous #feedback #commenting and community #longlivefeedback #writing

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

Note

Alright I’ve half-lurked for long enough and the guilt is weighing me down so here I am, off anon. I am in complete awe of you. I don’t know what you sacrificed to be gifted with the otherworldly writing skills you have, but holy shit babe. You’re beyond incredible. You have a true, undeniable gift. The stories, messages, emotions, absolute whirlwind of feelings you pack into your stories??? Leave me speechless. And then the fact that you’re kind enough to share that gift with all of us peasants waiting outside your palace begging for scraps? This fandom doesn’t deserve you. To be completely honest, and I mean this in the most complimentary of ways, I stopped writing (I’m doing an elucien long fic rn) because I found your writing. It was so good that I literally just stopped and was like…elucien fans have everything they need right here lmao they don’t need me. BUT that’s all me and my mental illnesses so I mean that in the most complimentary way! I binge read your fics and was so overwhelmed by how good they are (and how fast you wrote them??? Wtfff???) that I literally got too scared to comment. I didn’t even know where to begin? So here I am confessing on a random Wednesday. I will be rereading all your fics (again) and commenting on every chapter cause they’re too good to not be appreciated. You’ve made me feel things when I was going through rough patches and couldn’t feel a thing, you’ve made me love characters I didn’t think twice about before (yup eris), you’ve made me fall in LOVE with your OC (ERIS X ARINA BABEYYY) and you’ve created the ONE modern acotar au I will never ever forget. I don’t like aus and even less modern aus but HONEY YOU OUTDID YOURSELF WITH HOLY GROUND. Also last of the real ones???? Don’t get me started. Anyways. I hope this message finds you well and lifts your spirits a little if they need lifting. Just know that you have an incredible gift and I hope you feel as talented as we all know you are. And in case you don’t, please let this be a reminder. You are so loved and powerful and appreciated and now I’m going to go reread all your fics so prepare to be spammed. Thank you for sharing your writing with us.💕💕💕💕

First of all, this was so nice I had no idea how to respond. Really, I'm glad you like my OC and my writing.

Secondly, and way more importantly, DO NOT STOP WRITING. I just read your first chapter and it's wonderful! Elain's pain was mine, her embarrassment so relatable, the rejection too real. You did such a lovely job evoking emotion from your reader. Thats a skill not everyone has. It would be a shame if you stopped. You're telling a story I never could, that NO ONE could ever tell because they lack your insight, your perspective, your creativity. It's a GOOD story but even if only one person read it, it would still be worth telling.

I've linked it here, I recommend it. Elucien is blessed with so many talented, funny writers. I certainly do not, and will never, have that market cornered (if I ever say I do, you should gather a crowd and set my house on fire Frankenstein style).

Kings, Queens, & Vagabonds READ ME RIGHT NOW STOP EVERYTHING

#feel free to reach out if you ever want to bounce ideas off someone #love doing that #and i love you

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lilly-white · 3 years

Text

05/08/21: Writing Update

This was my July: the first month I made just a smidgen more than French minimum wage from my book series!!

This is all income from book sales and Kindle page reads from 2 romance books in an ongoing series. My penname didn’t exist until February of this year, and I totally divorced this venture from my fandom persona & whatever fandom readership I may have (honestly, compared to other fanfic-writers-turned-authors, I have a pretty microscopic readership lol).

Book 1: 97k, released February 28th (I count it as March)

Book 2: 222k (I know, it’s ridiculous), released July 15th

Book 3: as of yet unwritten, but up for preorder

All ebooks in Kindle Unlimited on Amazon, no paperbacks available (changing that asap, this was a big mistake lol)

Marketing: literally only Facebook promotional posts, group interactions and networking with authors & readers, no money spent at all there.

The peak you see there is the launch of my Book 2. The income dip between novel releases was rough and will continue to be a bit stressful as I’m a lot slower than other romance authors who can pop out a book every month or two, but I never thought I could actually make minimum wage just with 2 romance books out, no paid ads and still very crappy marketing skills. Sales & page reads have been hovering at that pretty constant level ever since, so hopefully it won’t drop back to previous lows.

Since we live for sexy stats in this house, here’s the overall yearly chart! You can plainly see the sad little dip between book releases (insane to think the first 5 days of August have gotten me more income than the whole of May), and also the reason why I will never again publish a book on the last day of the month (ebooks come out at different times on the global markets, therefore the income for the launch day of my Book 1 was scattered between Feb 28th and March 1st, making this chart super frustratingly not-neat. The February income really should be stacked onto March’s):

As they say, if you want to make a living off your writing, you had better downsize your actual living expenses; I know this kind of a wage is probably peanuts to Americans lol (it translates to around $1,670 I think?) but when you live in rural Brittany like me, this is pretty fine - and it’s still just the beginning.

I thought I’d post about it here because this is a pretty important milestone for me, and I wanted to post a proper update for those writer buds I’ve got on here who’re interested in this whole venture. I’ve been published for about 5 months now, so it took some time to get things rolling. But this Book 2 has really upped the ante and brought a whole lot more reader interest to the series, so I really feel like this is where things are beginning to get interesting - after you’ve popped that “first book” cherry and are charging ahead and trying to better your tactics. It’s really cool to see your Book 2 drag your flailing Book 1 up into a second big spurt of interest. At the risk of sounding like a cheesy motivational speaker - once you start, you can only go up.

This series I’m doing is niche as fuck, only barely to-market and yet somehow, it’s working. So it just goes to show, really. You want to switch from fanfiction to original fiction but you’re afraid your ideas are too niche? They’re not. They’ll find their audience. Can’t get traditionally published, or you’re perhaps too scared to even try (like me)? Indie publish it. Fuck it. Learn as you go. My penname started from absolutely zero with neither readers, friends nor network. It’s hard but you get better at it as you go along and it’s so goddamn satisfying to be the one in control. You publish when you think it’s good enough; you judge whether your efforts paid off or not, and control which direction to go in next. The indie publishing world is constantly in flux and there are bubbles to take advantage of; it’s a scary but fascinating trip. And if anything, it serves as a great training ground for your confidence & writing skills & relationship with readers if traditional publishing is your ultimate goal (like me!).

This is a great victory but now I’m buckling up for the inevitable downward slope of the next few months until my next release lol. I know other indies in my network have had a much better “first year” than me and I think it’s mostly due to me being massively shit at marketing & general hyperconnectivity on social media & not producing a great many books in a year. But!! I’m not even halfway through my first year yet (if we count March as my first month) and I’m still really chuffed that it’s gone so well despite me being shit at all the things around the writing part of being an author.

Next goal is to be able to maintain minimum wage during the dips between releases lol. Got a few marketing things I haven’t tried yet so I’ll be getting on that asap. We’ll see how it goes!

#writing tracker #indie adventures #writeblr #indie authors #writer life

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sugar-petals · 4 years

Text

Treats For You (M)

↳ PAIRING: yuzuru hanyu × reader

↳ PLOT: You tend to a nervous Yuzu the night before a skating competition.

↳ WORD COUNT: 9k | one shot | domestic au, smut

↳ WARNINGS ⚠️ pwp, dom/sub, feeding yuzu treats, pegging, some very wet oral (m giving), cum play, oh lord it gets graphic, fingering, crying, mommy kink, yuzu’s crazy back arch, rough sex, masochism, aftercare, some asthma talk

↳ CARO’S NOTE: inspired by this juicy gif. PS: since i usually post for other fandoms — if you’re unfamiliar with yuzu, visit this intro post.

Just two minutes after you switch off the light, he starts fidgeting.

Repeatedly, all while messing around with his pillow. Soon enough, the blanket you share becomes all disheveled.

You turn your head towards the window to check. All as usual. The blinds are perfectly drawn to shut out the moonlight. Meanwhile, the humidifier infuses the air in gentle ten-minute intervals. Not even the heater is bumbling tonight. Yuzuru keeps on rustling beside you, still. Some of his plushies fall off the bed, one after the other.

Of course he can’t sleep. It’s daunting, no precaution ever helps. The blanket couldn’t be any more crumpled up at this point.

„I’m so nervous,“ he finally sits up another minute later, causing the duvet to lift. A little sigh follows.

Eventually, you turn in the sheets yourself, now facing him. Or rather, what you can vaguely make out as his crouching silhouette.

„Hey,“ you mumble from your left side of the bed. „You watched all of the performances from last month.“ You pat Yuzu’s pillow, hoping he would sink down on it again. „At least twice. Or more.“

God knows for how many hours he stretched in front of the TV on his spongy blue yoga mat, reviewing mountains of footage with a furrowed brow worthy of a restaurant critic.

Every jump and every turn, analyzed over and over. Down to the millimeter. Even the costume got its fair share of scorn. Too wide there, this detail on the collar could be different, that part gets in the way while doing spins.

„It’s all— I don’t know what I’m lacking these days.“

The silhouette doesn’t look like it’s headed to lie down again for the time being. You reach toward your bedstand’s squiggly designer lamp. After fumbling about in the dark, you find the bulky switch at its bottom. On goes the light again. Perhaps a bit too bright, both of you squint hard.

„It’s not like you’re dropping to second place anytime soon.“

Given how you thought you could call it a day before Yuzu started to fidget, maybe your voice is not fully resonant yet. It still carries a little unspoken ‚…right?‘ with it.

As soon as you finish the sentence, you feel how he can pick up on it already. The humidifier dryly comments by puffing out a cloud of lavender steam.

„I don’t really know,“ Yuzu retorts twisting, going into a deep shrug. He is completely sunken now.

„Looks like a simple big hug won’t do, hm.“

Yuzuru ends up nodding. It’s more knowing than admitting. But you don’t like the sense of resignation that comes with it, at all. The problem goes a little deeper than just motivating him with the stats he ironically already knows, times better than you, even.

It’s been going on for the entire day. The last time he made such a grouchy face at his videos was around Christmas. Back then, he couldn’t quite get the jumps right at the start of his routine. But now? His scores are just fine. Not to mention the jumps.

„I didn’t think you were lacking,“ you say. „You just fell once during training.“

And that was because he was fooling around during a break, not in the serious exercises.

„Sorry for bothering you,“ he buries his face in the blanket, beginning to ruffle his hair all over the place. Frustrated Friday-evening-Yuzu always does that, but the energy doesn’t seem to go anywhere this time.

The murmur of his stomach isn’t hard to miss either. You lay your hand on Yuzu’s back.

„Is it because you didn’t eat?“

You wonder what he had for dinner.

Only more guilty stomach growling reaches you as a reply. Figures: He skipped it, and lunch, too. His breakfast was so frugal, you don’t even remember whether he had his milk or not.

Yuzu was already pacing around in the living room at that point. Recalling the tricky parts of the upcoming choreography, treading his feet into the carpet, humming the steady rhythm of his skating program.

„Maybe I’m turning into a snickers diva,“ a muffled little comment emerges from where his chaotic hair sticks out from the duvet. At this point, his face is all buried there.

„I mean. If you allow me to baby you…“

Three minutes later. You rub your eyes, shift from leg to leg. The kitchen floor is as cold as ever so you regret not putting on socks. Meanwhile, there’s no problem raiding the fridge.

You could go to the grocery store five times a day and buy everything Yuzu’s mouth waters over — it’d still be stacked to the top. Snacks, veggies, particular sports drinks in weird blue colors, Japanese pickled plums, gyoza left-overs, salad, various fizzy drinks, mostly lemonade.

It’s like that with any food. Out of sight, out of mind. He won’t bother getting up from the yoga mat if he’s fixated on the TV.

After making two distinct picks and checking whether the fridge door closes properly, then bustling at the sink with a towel, you trot back to the bedroom. Equipped. In the meantime, Yuzu has recollected his plushies from the floor, gently aligning them next to his pillow.

They’re all in their strictly defined place again. You enter just the second after he’s arranged them in the usual half-circle order, centered around his favorite, all-time friendly-eyed Winnie Pooh bear.

„Will you look at that,“ you plant your little kitchen conquests onto the bed, rousing approval noises from Yuzuru who sparkles right at the box and plate you brought along. The grouchy face dissolves, curiosity takes its place. His food reactions will always be the cutest to you.

„Strawberries!“

„From the market. Wasn’t too expensive.“

Freshly doused in the sink, plump and very ripe.

„And rice cakes!“

Truth be told, there couldn’t be a bigger comfort food on his list and you shamelessly exploit the very fact.

„Every competition has a victory meal. Here, fruits first.“

After plopping down on the mattress yourself, you pick up one, then two strawberries. Immediately, Yuzu’s little upturned mouth opens wide as if a tiger baby was yawning.

He chews more eagerly than you thought. If you pass him pretzel sticks while he reviews things on the TV, he barely eats one or two of them.

„I like these,“ he swallows, prying for the next fruit in your hand already. „Sweet!“

„Tastes best with cake,“ you rearrange your sitting position, making sure to park your cold feet next to Yuzuru’s very warm ones. His toes are readily brushing against yours, Yuzuru perhaps not even noticing they do. He’s too fixated on the little cakes. In all things he does— focus incarnate. He can’t help it.

„Yes, I wanna try!“

You rummage in the packaging you brought along, draw forth a first treat. A second one you set aside on the plate. Tiger baby opens his mouth even wider, in goes the first chunk of the rich delicacy. Lord have mercy on his stomach, it’s 11:15 PM. But what’s normal to him, anyways.

Ten more minutes pass. After the strawberry box is two thirds empty and three juicy rice cakes have embarked on their last journey, Yuzu looks a lot more content than before, even if his bedhead arguably makes him look like a mad scientist. Junior professor Yuzuru Hanyu, escapee from his genius lab that exploded in a blaze of smoke.

You take it as your task to brush the outlaw strands back into their place with your fingers after pulling out a wet wipe — those with the way too astringent citrus flavor— from your bedstand, cleaning your hands off the rice. It’s not like your hands aren’t sticky on the regular.

To your satisfaction, Yuzu looks like a swaying cat, nestled into his blanket. With no more stomach growling audible, gladly. You put the plate on the bedside table, lean forward to kiss his belly, and shoot him a fracture of an ambiguous gaze.

„So… Fancy getting even more stuffed?“

„Sure! Is it a surprise?“ Yuzu looks around, presumably searching for more food you brought along.

The pure soul.

„Well, we already had dessert.“

„Oh, right! But, what’s the food, then?“

A little pause follows. Yuzuru couldn’t look any more thrilled. You decide to go with it.

„You’re too innocent,“ you lower down your pants by an inch, thumbs demonstratively hooked into the hem. You raise your eyebrows into a question that he cannot miss. „If you want. You might wanna grab your spray first, though.“

Only the last part fully registers in Yuzuru’s expression that finally goes from curious to… sheepish. He caught on.

Asthma spray at 11:30 PM is a cue he’s gotten familiar with over the last four months. Not in a million years did he think he’d ever have to use it late at night. Whatever decision process is rattling through Yuzu’s brain right now, it’s a fast one, though.

„Ha— okay!“

„Alright, Yuzu.“

„Just once second!“

Food round number two, it is. You kick off your pants and underwear but make sure they don’t land any place where plushies are. Yuzu is already busy at the other end of the room, visibly at work with shaky hands, browsing the cupboard with meds next to the window.

Now that he’s double nervous, you curse your idea, but remind yourself of the last late-evening time Yuzu had his head between your legs. ‚I dunno, I was just concentrated‘ are the words that stuck with you after asking him how on earth he kept his breath for what felt like 45 seconds.

Whatever masochist devil has been driving him, it gave your boyfriend skills you never even knew were possible to have out of absolute nowhere. Not to mention how easily it distracted him from anything else in the world.

Maybe that focus is an effect easy to replicate, you think. Anything that can take his mind off the competition tomorrow is worth trying.

Carefully, you move over to the right side of the bed. Then, recline on Yuzu’s pillow — on his explicit wish two months ago, you meticulously keep that tradition — and feel surrounded by plushies already.

Back then, Yuzu insisted that he shouldn’t be the only one watching out for you when you’re having sex. And that the pillow just smells really good of your hair afterwards. So there you lay, feeling all kinds of horny. Given that Yuzu is already returning to the bed, swiping his hair off his forehead. Looking very refreshed, letting his breath play. Sexy.

And there it goes already. The I dunno, I was just concentrated gaze. You arrange your legs wide enough for Yuzu to settle in the middle, him still sitting upright. His hands are still shaky when they reach around your outer thigh, but his eyes don’t lie to you in the very least.

„Your breath alright?“

A little nod, but he doesn’t heed the question for any longer. There’s gladly nothing that his lung doctor can’t figure out. You count on that, but asking doesn’t hurt.

Meanwhile, Yuzu’s eager eyes are already drawn downwards. Getting bigger and bigger. The surprise he had anticipated in fact now dances over his face, flighty and polite, but nonetheless apparent to you. He’s smiling, and it looks shy in the light of the bedstand lamp.

„I, ah…“

It’s as if he hasn’t seen you naked before, every time. For whatever reason, Yuzu always reverts to virgin mode with his first glance. You admit it’s flattering and amusing alike, but also — leaves you with Hitchcock level suspense.

Yuzuru has proven himself to be an expert in summoning a beginner’s zeal, an almost childlikeness. That keeps you on your toes and promises an intensity that routine and pragmatic energy management could never give you.

After letting his eyes linger a little more, his lips become visibly impatient. He’s already licking them. You’d promised food, and he takes it seriously. That Yuzu’s fingers stroke rather weirdly at your thighs does not escape your attention either. They’re practicing.

„Help yourself, touch.“

The stroking ceases. Yuzu doesn’t hesitate to reach down with his left. How he touches you sends a row of tingles down your legs. His fingertips are amazingly dainty and soft. He explores. Then, soon keeps on caressing about, leans his head forward, all still from his seated position. It doesn’t take too long until he goes straight to getting you off with his right hand.

„This is, wow,“ he mumbles to himself, already immersed in rubbing your clit. Going in circles, taking his time. Alternating between index and thumb.

„Yeah. That’s the spot,“ you shift in the pillow, eventually finding a good position to relax. You exhale, focus on his hand.

„So smooth,“ Yuzu traces his joining left hand up and down your labia.

„Maybe someone wants a taste?“

You were right that he would forget practically anything else. The yoga mat worry brow is blown off his face. Substituted by— appetite.

„Not just maybe, actually.“

Spreading your legs a little more is invitation enough to have Yuzuru lower his head onto your pubic bone, tongue already searching for its favorite place. Your fingers gently interlace in his hair as soon as he starts sucking. Keeping his bangs out of his eyes.

How unafraid to bury his face he is you soon get to witness. You can feel the bridge of his nose glide from lip to lip, and the feathery light brush of his lashes at the base of your inner thighs.

Yuzu’s tongue has always been cheeky, but today, it feels particularly adventurous and slippery. He can’t help but fumble about with his hands simultaneously. Beginner’s zeal, you knew it’d come.

The bucking of your hips comes too naturally to be controlled. Nor does Yuzuru know just how to hold his head back from thrusting. This little shit. Whatever is in those rice cakes, it made him a new level of keen. Soon enough, his tongue has riled you up plenty, and his focused eyes have become entirely monotone. Only preoccupied with one thing and one thing alone.

Just how much he dedicates his attention has to be a thing for the books. You feel like blowing up and moaning like crazy at this point, but manage to at least puff out. He knows you’re way too close. There’s a little smile you feel in the way he eats you.

„So that mouth gets a cum filling,“ you twist your fingers out of Yuzu’s wild hair. It’s all tangled again. The return of the mad professor. He has all the space in the world to bop his head as much as he wants now. One, two, three plushies fall over and tumble around the mattress. He doesn’t notice.

The warmth between your legs has been growing ceaselessly. Now, ready to brim. With Yuzu’s agile tongue slipping back and forth over your clit in erratic intervals, you feel like losing your mind with every lick. The way his lips excite you gives off the lewdest sucking noises. All wet, and resolute like a chess player not to drop you off that high.

He keeps his laps consistent, leans in more, and eventually— tips you off the edge with a fast sequence of letting his tongue dip under the hood of your clit. And letting it stay there, all until your legs start twitching. You groan out.

Yuzu gets a big. Fat. Cum filling indeed.

Your breath goes short, you grab his shoulders. Growling, cursing. Trying to ride the wave, but the contractions catch you harder than you thought. You can practically feel how much you ooze out and ruin his face.

Bratty he is, Yuzuru forms his mouth all kissy and pecks your clit through every throb. Until the shockwaves subside, letting your shaking thighs off the hook eventually.

Too fucking intense. The surge of pleasure keeps on making your mind hazy long after your orgasm is over. To add fuel to the fire, Yuzuru rubs his belly, as if he just had two happy meals for the price of one.

Pulling off, his face is all bright and slobbery in its remaining smile. His lips are cum-glazed, and more than just plain sweat trickles down his nose. Nothing better than a facial right in front of twenty plushies. Who knew Winnie the Pooh himself would ever be eye witness to Yuzu’s sporty head game.

Friendly bear he is, it doesn’t seem to bother him. From unsuspecting comfort teddy on Yuzu’s lap 23/7 to live-action porn audience. First row, no popcorn though, but HD sound quality and claims to free spit. The guy is living his absolute best life, isn’t he.

„You… growling. That was pretty hot,“ Yuzuru says. His jaw is hanging all loose and most of his speech is slurred. Yuzu looks all satiated. In your mind, you pat yourself on your own shoulder. Boyfriend corruption: almost complete.

„Like being spoiled? I want you to clean that up.“

Yuzu squeaks out giddy in reply. A moment later, he goes back to lean down again, swallowing and licking up cum from your drenched, swollen lips. His slurping noises are indulgent, wet, and desperately slutty. He succeeds in cleaning you up, but keeps on messing up himself even more. Yuzuru delights in rubbing his whole face into your dripping pussy until his eyebrows are sticky, his lids and cheeks are damp, and you feel capable to get up from the pillow.

Despite not being underneath the blanket, you notice that your feet aren’t that cold anymore.

He sits on the bed like a mermaid, huddled close to you. Normally, he would visibly sort his thoughts like that, but now, all he does is blink and nuzzle up against you with his forehead.

Settling, Yuzuru doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands and you take it as a chance to pepper them with kisses. The back of the hand, the palms, the wrists. It calms you, and it calms him.

You feel entirely drenched, refreshed and relaxed at once. How Yuzuru cuddles against your legs makes your heart warm, and the moment is blissful.

One lavender steam cloud later, you feel like moving again. Maybe there are two restless people in this relationship. The thought of it is funny.

„We could go on a little more,“ eventually, you pat his head. „With something different if you want.“

„Do you still have energy?“ he asks. His breath is somewhat slowing already. It feels hot against your leg.

„More than before, actually.“

He sits up. Looks like you surprised him again. Little does Yuzu know how much he shakes you up.

„Really?“

You nod, twirling at his bangs now.

„I have an idea. So… you remember what’s been waiting in a box for a month.“

You can tell he knows exactly what you mean. No doubt he didn’t take very long to recall it, either. That tells you something.

„Can we use it?“

That answer was fast.

„It’s what I’ve been thinking.“

„We’ve been putting this off but I’m still curious.“

And your guess was correct. It’s definitely been on his mind.

„Yeah, you’re right.“

Promptly, you direct your eyes to the bedroom cupboard to your far left. The one containing various kinds of skating blades in slender packagings, tracksuits in dark colors, fan presents, and mail orders. Among them, a larger jet black box—

That neither Yuzu nor you dared to open given it was a product of a reckless button click at 2 PM.

Admittedly, after Yuzu passed you a way too expensive bottle of sake that he got for his birthday. Since he’s allergic to alcohol, somebody thought she could give it a sure try instead. Pouring $200 into the sink would have been the better option.

Said black box soon sits between the two of you, wide open to reveal the truth of what sake can do.

„Oh man. What have I done.“

That button click comes back to bite you big time.

„This looks, I think, realistic—?“

At least on the surface.

Of course, you drunk fool had to order the ‚sculpted, real-life imitation‘ version. You couldn’t be any more embarrassed. No more alcohol in this flat, that’s for sure. What else to do but take it in stride now that the box is already open, though.

„I uh, think so. At least with the veins.“

„It’s… it is really big.“

At least three times Yuzu’s flaccid size if you don’t hallucinate right now.

„I don’t know how I’m not gonna tear you apart. How many inches are these, 12? My drunk self is too ambitious.“

Maybe you shouldn’t have used that word and said ‚reckless‘ instead. Because ambition surely and habitually triggers a prancing and posing Shia LaBeouf shouting ‚do it!‘ in Yuzuru’s athlete brain. You can see it in his eyes and already regret thinking out loud.

„We can still try.“

„If that’s a good idea or not we will probably see,“ you begin to inspect the contents one by one up close. „I think I bought a weapon.“

„Now I know why they call guns a strap,“ Yuzuru equally peaks over the edge of the box, looking like his future just flashed before his eyes.

„Next time I pass the sake to your coaches or something,“ you end up pulling out the red harness kit that glaringly lays on top of the contents. All looking very adjustable indeed. „That’s what my midnight fantasy seems to look like.“

„Uh—huh!“

Yuzu snakes his hand into the box himself now. Pulling out a transparent, orange-pink 13 oz bottle with a bubbly-looking fluid inside. Gaudy stuff, but a generous amount.

„Mister Lube. My new best friend,“ he says, laying the bottle aside and then pulling off his black PJ shirt. Although he strips quite leisurely, you can tell that Yuzuru is a little tense in his torso. That you will attend to in a minute, you think. But beforehand, you let your eyes roam for something else.

„They probably have something to clean it with in there as well. Let me see.“

You find that even if you might have ordered all this pretty tipsy, the toy set does have its quality. Just before you want to ask Yuzuru to warm up, he visibly ponders, then cleans his pajamas off the bed to make space for a little area.

„If you don’t mind, I stretch my muscles,“ Yuzuru puts aside a couple of plushies, too, but keeps Pooh close, assuming his typical pre-training stances.

He knows himself. That’s good.

„Tell me if you need help for the thigh stretching.“

In the meantime, you ease into the red kit and arrange the box contents on the bed. There seem to be fifteen things going on at once. If this would be public in the slightest, you believe the two of you must look like a bunch of eccentrics to anybody who’d watch you.

Ten minutes later, Yuzuru might just be in Olympic shape, has downed almost half a liter of spring water in one go. You know that he could probably deliver a quintuple jump on the spot if he wanted. The strap-on is all assembled, clean, and you have stored away the practically empty box of sake sinnery.

„I’ll skate cross-eyed and cross-legged tomorrow,“ Yuzu stares right at your crotch, face buried in his palms. Only his eyes peek through the fingers. „Godspeed to my ass.“

You sure as hell won’t disagree. This strap is a threat.

„I don’t know why I had to order supersize out of all possible things. You need a prayer circle after this. Where’s Mister Lube?“

„Here, over here,“ Yuzuru passes over the bottle, shaking it.

„I’ll relax you as good as I can, okay. Before I get arrested for possession of weapons without a license.“

And annihilating Yuzu’s insides with that XXL dick that he sure as hell doesn’t just want halfway in. Lord have mercy. You can only shake your head at yourself for buying this.

„Honestly though. Does it really fit in?“

Yuzu leans his face toward your hip, now on all fours, taking the sight in. He still can’t believe his eyes.

„We’ll see. Let your body decide, not your pride okay,“ you poke the tip of the strap-on into his left cheek. Hoping that it takes away some of the tension, at least. „And you can still tap the mattress.“

„Okay. Tap the mattress.“

He nods quite avidly. Same protocol as always. No spoken safewords, only something that Yuzu can make use of with his reflexes. Speech? Nothing you can both count on as soon as horniness kicks in.

You tried that for the first two weeks and quickly settled for tapping instead. Especially because Yuzu likes to have fingers in his mouth every so often.

„I mean. You just did like five splits, didn’t you. Warm-ups always help. If your ankle doesn’t fall off?“

That mini workout was more than just impressive, in fact. And still, you eye Yuzuru’s notoriously injured foot. The slim little fella has a long history of recovery behind him.

„The ankle is decent, the usual stuff.“

„I wish we had a smaller toy to start out with,“ you scratch your head. That might be the one thing that’s been missing from the box. „We still have Mister Lube, anyway. Watch this,“ you pick up the orange bottle, flipping the cap open. „It’s actually scented! Worth ruining the bed if you ask me.“

On goes the fluid, you rub it all across the length of the dildo. Must be cherry flavor or something. Yuzuru sure makes big eyes.

„I knew I could count on Mister Lube.“

„Yeah, we use lots. And I’ll be very gentle.“

The cherry scent is gladly much less tacky than the bottle itself, not too artificial-smelling either. You squeeze out a second load and distribute it over the strap-on just to be sure. Yuzuru’s breath goes faster.

„Can I ask something beforehand?“

„Go right ahead.“

„I wanna suck first if you…“

Who knew. The lube probably made his mouth water.

Being honest, you think that it might be a good idea to get this going. Better than blowing his pretty back out right away and making a mistake, even if he is much less tense now.

„I don’t mind, Yuzu. You already have some chapstick on, right? Here.“

You level your hips to line up with his mouth more easily. You can tell that Yuzuru, after some heavy blinking, eventually braces himself. There’s nothing more telling than his tunnel vision plastered all over his face. His eyes, lids heavy, are hypnotized and seem darker. Yuzu’s bedroom gaze is the best in the world.

„Okay, I’ll start.“

A first kittenish lick. A second. A third. Then, brave lips — enclosing the tip. He audibly nips and swallows.

A few more licks, and repeat. Mister Lube seems to taste pretty good. You bless the shady company that manufactures the black box of sin for once.

You let Yuzu explore, pump his hand around the shaft, lick from all directions he fancies. Compared to his wrist, the dildo doesn’t really fall short in diameter, but with Yuzu’s face up close you are relieved it’s not a complete David versus Goliath match.

Soon enough, he musters the courage to open his mouth a little wider, cramming a bit more in than just the tip. You can’t deny you’re getting turned on again with the way he slurps and hums around your dick. With the minutes, he becomes bolder, moving his head.

Even if the lube gathers at his chin and seeps down to the bed, he keeps on sucking, now with a first pearl of sweat lingering on his forehead already. You’d never think it’d make him break a sweat. To be fair, he just did fifty jumping jacks in the warm-up.

„Want me to move?“

Two nods. You glide in, let your hips do the work how they want to. You don’t trust your online shopping choices, but your tempo, at least. Yuzuru is making all choked up noises trying to gobble up all the girth he gets, his fingers entangled in your harness. It keeps him in a steady place.

You can work from that, angle a few superficial thrusts into his mouth to get the saliva flowing. The blotch on your bed is already pretty nasty. The slow pace is apt enough to fill Yuzu’s mouth with spit bubbles that begin to foam out bit by bit.

After two more minutes of light back and forth, Yuzuru pulls off to speak.

„Please do it stronger. I don’t mind being hoarse.“

Not a second later, all he does is slurp up a very dripping shaft again. With difficulty jamming it in past the first few inches, but determined, anyway. You didn’t expect anything else.

Yuzu’s lips and eyes are all glossy by now. The portion of lube-infused spit has accumulated at his jaw already, soon to travel down to his throat.

Stronger, he says. Why not.

„Okay, get ready.“

„M—hm!“

An abrasive jab follows a shallow one. If it wasn’t for the lube, your dick would scrape right down his upper throat. But this way, the first dip goes in with sufficient slip and slide, not leaving Yuzu with too much dick in his neck for long. All your strap-on does is bounce right back.

What you do hear is Yuzu’s gag reflex… claiming its rights. Still understated, but nevertheless there. After three more thrusts, you decide to stay about halfway balls deep, watching Yuzuru squirm, even try to shove in about an inch more by pressing his head forward. His breath is clean and deep through his nose. You put a checkmark on the my-boyfriend-has-asthma list in your mind.

„You look good with a dick in your mouth.“

What is supposedly a ‚thanks‘ ends up as gargling and choking. Yuzuru starts getting wet eyes at this point. Even a little bow of his head is something that doesn’t slip past your attention. Mannered guy, isn’t he.

That praise makes him do the horniest noises is also something that you make a memo of. Along with seeing how it’s rendering him all aroused. You’ve seen those neck veins and red chin spots come out plenty of times to know.

A couple more thrusts are not a bad option, you decide. Although it seems that Yuzuru had the idea to hollow out his cheeks that very moment. The vacuum first makes your cock plunge in a little too fast than intended, then naturally pulls Yuzu’s head forward once you move your hips back again.

It’s why the second thrust catches him off guard, flattening his lips and making your dick slide into his throat with air going in. Yuzu ends up choking hopelessly. It doesn’t look like he’s retreating his head in the very least, however.

Instead, you feel his hands grab at your either hip to secure himself in place. A glance from above, slightly angled sideward, shows you just how hard and throbbing Yuzu’s own dick is, tipping against his stomach.

Once again, you make an impressed-my-dear face that he doesn’t overlook. His cheeks go hollow again and he keeps up the indulgent speed. Increasingly getting rougher and more pain-craving. Messier. Desperate.

Yuzu opens his mouth wider not to have his teeth get in the way. It’s serious business now. His throat makes the most disgusting, grunting noises. Oh. Shit. Yuzu’s greed and sloppy lips make your body burn up. Soreness is the very least he’s headed for.

„Wow, Yuzu. Wow.“

It’s not something you didn’t know already. This man is without a singular doubt a lunatic. You whisper more praises to him, your hands grabbing hold of his head to sustain the movement rhythmically.

Yuzu’s gag reflex has proven to only rebel every other thrust so you can pound away, at that time already giving up even the mattress that must be sopping wet to its core with Yuzuru drooling all over it. Too late for a towel altogether but fuck it.

Yuzu takes the choking well. He’s leaking spit all over, surrenders to your hands. Even if he doesn’t manage to deepthroat the entire length of the dick, he manages an awful lot of inches. By now, he’s gotten the hang of not letting too much air in. All while relaxing his muscles.

Beautiful hums, chokes, little whines. Too bad your phone isn’t close by. Recording this has to be your very next bucket list entry. You’re glad he asked about this.

You go on thrusting for a few more times until you feel your hips going tired. Once his nose starts getting all runny, you naturally slow down even more. Eventually, you help Yuzuru pull his head off. His lips are all puffy.

„B—woah,“ it’s all he can moan and splurt out, and you help him wipe the glob of saliva and snot from his chin with your sleeve.

Your pajama shirt might be ruined, but not as much as Yuzu’s tonsils. Who knows just how many times you were deep and fast enough to make them throb from all that friction. Seven, eight times? His food for tomorrow can be a light soup at best. Not even you were as sore after riding and sucking every last drop out of his dick last Monday.

You’re glad he has the rice cakes going through his system right now. Poor onlooker Winnie the Pooh is probably traumatized by now. There’s only so much crazy dicksucking a bear can handle watching. And still, he gazes at the two of you— in good spirits as ever, cheeks big and bright. In a way, he looks like Yuzu in this very moment.

„How you like it?,“ you softly caress his pinkish lips. „I need to know how many stars to leave on the website.“

It takes a few moments until he can form words again. His speech is fast. He’s still staring at the dildo.

„It was in so deep and, and on my tongue. The dick veins, I could feel them. They were like, like, it was massaging my lips. And I almost thought I could swallow it.“

You raise your brows. Lord knows how deep your cock was inside his brain, but he still picks these things up.

„Attention to detail. Nice.“

Maybe 4.5 stars are a fair deal. At least for throat fucking. The rest — remains to be seen.

„Did I do well?“

His eyes widen. The question is genuine. It’s not something you’d think he would ask. Whenever he trained, he would always rely on his own judgment.

„Ask yourself first, you were the one feeling it.“

That’s not the answer he expected, and he ends up getting red cheeks.

„I liked it,“ he stammers. „Was really hot.“

„It’s what I saw, too. Good job, babe.“

He’s blushing even more now.

„Ah— I think I tried my best.“

You smile and cup his slobbery face. So you’ve taken his throat virginity in the most spit-heavy way possible. He looks cuter than ever.

„Listen. You’re a champ. If I could, I would cum deep inside of you.“

„I think, that would be romantic,“ his wet lips break into an upbeat smile. Yuzu’s eyes get all crinkly.

„You bet.“

A big doting kiss for Yuzu’s forehead is the only thing your brain can conjure up at this point, so you briefly lean down to do it. Maybe Shia LaBeouf is not just exclusively at home in Yuzu’s imagination.

What you have to admit is that Yuzu’s overflowing athlete’s spirit has easily taken over your hips. You didn’t think you could move properly for that long. Maybe you still have some energy reservoirs left.

„And, and now?“

„I can stuff you with more dick. Up to you. Mister Lube didn’t run out yet. And if Pooh still likes watching.“

By instinct, Yuzuru’s hands snake behind his back to grip his ass, stroking what he knows is your delightful next target. You can tell by his eyes that there are a thousand scenarios going through his head.

„Pooh likes this… very much. He’s never seen something like that before. I think he is curious.“

It doesn’t take a Sherlock’s mind for you to know that he means— himself.

„I mean. I was surprised. If that monster fits into your little throat,“ you add, „anything is possible.“

That’s the final straw.

„I’ll do it,“ he says, moments later on all fours, face lowered and then rested sidewards on the bed, spreading his ass cheeks. Decision making when it comes to strap stuff is Yuzu’s forte, you jot that down in your invisible sex life journal. Not one bit of hesitation. By the looks of it, a very twitching entrance is waiting for you.

Testing period is over.

„Alright. I got something to drive home.“

Now that you think of it. If his ass is already only half as naughty as his mouth, you’ll need the help of a higher power.

„Shit. I think, it relaxes.“

At the expense of your mattress and blanket getting even more greasy with lube, you ease in the tip after massaging it into his sphincter. Yuzu’s ass still has to deal with that new sensation given how his leg muscles are going all bonkers. But indeed he’s grown receptive.

„Comfy like that?“

„B—big…“

„Attention, just a little tweak before I go on. Here.“

You softly press down on his spine with your palm entirely flat, and his back obliges immediately. His arch is leaving you breathless.

Yuzu’s head and chest are snug and soft against the bed while his ass is far, far up. He smiles seeing you venerate his back, he didn’t miss your reaction in the least. No surprise a third of your cock gets sucked into his ass just moments later. It caught you off guard.

Judging by Yuzu’s little yelp and his eyes rolling back, the way you went right into him has found pleasure. The bedposts creak a little because Yuzuru’s legs are shivering. As is his voice.

„I love it, I lo-, please, my, my ass!“

„Can I move?“

„Yes, please!“

The arch did the trick. You love your boyfriend. What follows is a slowly plunging series of rewards, ten, eleven times, pulling at his gripping asshole until it surrenders into going loose. Yuzuru has almost accommodated a third of the length you’re engraving into his ass. You’ll definitely keep using that brand of lube.

„Here, babe. I got a present for your prostate.“

Yuzu is making your favorite lawless face when you hit the spot, controlling the base of the dildo with two your fingers going around it like a cock ring. He looks as if someone just handed him a trophy too big to carry. From his perineum, a thread of lube comes dripping down with a squelching noise. The poor sheets. It’s another virginity taken.

In the meantime, Yuzu grabs hold of the duvet with unsteady hands. His entire torso is nothing but a shaky mess. So erratic. And sweaty. And docile. And beautiful. You want to award him plenty, your little present from above, the jittery boy underneath you.

Pounding away and making him grit his teeth is worth heading for a mean cramp, you don’t care. Watching how your cock is plowing in and out of him at jerky angles with the absolute lewdest, bubbling noises recompensates for anything.

Yuzu’s rolling eyes have become spaced out and teary, making him look like a crying saint about to enter the golden gates of heaven. Who knew angels had black hair.

With every stroke, his ass becomes every bit accepting to the point of almost glaring open to let you thrust in. Thank God. You compliment yourself on not falling short of the arguably lofty promise to relax him. Moaning Yuzu’s little ass is swallowing it all.

By the time, his rectum is going hollow and sticky, welcoming every move of yours by giving you ample right of passage. During some thrusts, you don’t even see his sphincter hold on to the dildo at all. His ass is almost as dilated as his loose mouth itself. Your thrusts are working on their own again at this point. What instinct is propelling you, who knows.

You love the sight and the happy squeals. You tease him with more speed. Not without effect, your hips lunge and aim deep all the more. You penetrate him far enough to start an excavation for ancient relics next Monday. With the tempo increasing, so does the chesty volume in his voice.

„It’s,“ he cries out, „in my belly! Ah! Ah, shit! Shit...“

You see Yuzu let go of the duvet with his left hand. It promptly darts way down to his abdomen where his fingers grope around.

„I can feel it,“ he whines, „It’s rubbing there, it’s a big bump!“

You sure won’t deprive your own hand from that sensation and reach right down, too. Which means leaning forward— and stuffing your strap even harder into his guts. Yuzu gasps out loud. Both your hands meet fondling about, cupping the sensitive area in search for the imprint of the dildo.

What Yuzu says is not understated. His slender little belly is all bulged out in the bottom quarter. Since he’s so thin, it’s almost scary how much your cock just dents him out and twists around.

„Jesus, Yuzu,“ you let your hand roam next to his, even lightly squeezing the area. It’s what really riles him.

What you thought was the maximum for him to take turns out to be nothing but a mere start. Yuzu is so obsessed to feel the bulge more that he starts bucking his ass onto your cock with the most unbridled voice cracks.

You can’t lie. His moans make your jaw drop. His usually so controlled body on the ice is now wrecking and writhing itself to get more dick.

A thin line of sweat goes on a pilgrimage down his spine already. He impales himself more, gyrates his hips more, whines out more. You wonder how he keeps it together and doesn’t spritz all his cum over the bed and the floor tiles.

It’s the sheer force of will. Always hungry for the next level. You can’t help but admire how enduring he is. And that’s just the first time.

Yuzu’s feet have become agitated on the sheets, responding to every thrust by dangling and swishing around. Yesterday, his right ankle was all stiff and even a bit swollen. Now, it’s moving all over the place. Looks like doggy style is putting all the tension off the ligaments. It’s something else you take deliberate note of.

After five more thrusts and hearing his whimpers getting all drawn-out, eventually, you retreat for a break, letting your cock rest on his left ass cheek. Yuzu inhales, gathering himself. He looks at you with big, glazed bambi eyes. Maybe even a bit incredulous.

„Am I, am I gaping?“

You don’t have to check twice to know.

„All lose. If you knew how far I can see inside of you. Hole new world.“

„Y/N!“

He can’t hold eye contact now.

„Naughty, huh. But I like what I see.“

Goddamn great ass. You firmly smack Yuzu squarely across his right butt cheek. He twitches, clenches, bites his lips more. They tremble.

„Ah! You tease!“

„Want me to put it in again?“

Wild nodding. Looks like Yuzu’s usual voracity on the ice does an easy, albeit not entirely seamless transfer to bed, too. He still ogles what is about to stretch him out again with due respect. He still can’t fathom something this massive was inside of him, you can tell.

Once you start moving again, you notice his feet and thigh muscles violently jerking. His prostate has gotten all sensitive. Probably all spongy and large by now.

You decide to angle yourself differently and take a deep breath. Impossible to draw this out any longer. From the vicinity of Yuzu’s pillow, you grasp the Winnie Pooh plush toy and maneuver it into his awaiting embrace. He holds it tight in an instant.

With impatient hands, you fumble around the bed for the lube bottle until you find it next to his right foot. Two, three, four generous squeezes onto his asshole, not very accurate at all. Several fine, oily traces end up trickling down his inner thighs. You don’t even bother closing the bottle properly anymore. Too much adrenaline.

„Grab those sheets and Pooh, Yuzu, grab hard.“

„I got it!“

„Time I fuck you up. If you’re ready?“

„Yes, make me cum, make me cum! Please break my ass,“ he’s whimpering. So badly. „I want it! I want it all inside.“

Mister Lube has a last job to handle.

Yuzu has crammed three fingers into his mouth once you get a hold of his hair and deliver the last hard movements. He takes the blows all babbling and sucking himself off. How his ass is not completely falling apart by now is a miracle of nature. Or maybe, just the blessing of his daily training.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and cherries. He’s loosened his core so much that sliding in is not a question of you avoiding a cramp anymore, but technique. You feel focused to zero in and not miss the sweet, tender spot. It makes him mewl the first time you push your dick tip right into it.

The second time, his eyes get big and fluttering.

„Please. Please, hurt me,“ he salivates, then eventually, grabs his plush harder. „Hurt me bad. I’m really begging you.“

Fast to oblige, you claw your hands around his waist and pull his body backwards. The ten nails digging into him are only the last needed set-up. The last jab comes in crisp, landing a severe and punctuated shock. Yuzu’s ass smacks up hard at your loins. The pain quickly snakes right up his spine and leaves his face contorted.

„Oh fuck…!“

Small, shaking Yuzu cums like fifty fireworks going off at once. Not even releasing his screams into the duvet really helps to mute out the heaviness of the first waves. You keep your cock right in place and let it buffer into his prostate at will.

Yuzu’s legs kick and tangle under you like pasta in boiling water. He cries and groans and curses, and cries out even more. You can see his entire back muscles at work now, going like clockwork. His moans each sound so ecstatic, it registers as a different language to you. He spirals far into his orgasm, sobbing, and it looks beautiful.

„Amazing, Yuzu.“

His semen lands all over his sternum and the sheets, shooting out in several bursts, one more pumping than the other. It’s almost as if all that strawberry juice converted nicely into a blotchy, white fluid.

His dick is still tensing up completely sensitive. Releasing cum, up until his legs stop going all over the place. Yuzu doesn’t let the sperm cool for twenty seconds that he already reaches down to pick it up, jerking his cock a last dozen times, only to bring to his mouth what his fingers collected. He sucks up all of it.

„Delicious, baby?“

„M—hm!“

„So nicely milked.“

His relished expression. You imagine that this must have been how the gods first tasted nectar.

While he licks away, Yuzu goes limp head to toe with you carefully pulling out your dick. Inch by inch. Not pulling. Only gliding.

Once you’ve removed the tip, he collapses into a sniffing, giggly puddle of serotonin. Crying, even when you lend him both your hands to lay his face into.

He’s so gorgeous.

Breathing hard, sweaty, drooling and messed up. His body is so steamy and loose, splayed out all the way before you. His entrance has turned all pink so beautifully. Hot. As. Fuck.

Most psychologists would envy you for being able to gaze this far into Yuzuru Hanyu’s innermost clenching being. How his ass is going to close until tomorrow’s competition, you don’t know.

Time to pray he won’t digest these savory cakes too fast. Then again, he didn’t eat properly at all. His body is probably soaking up all the fruit and rice in their entirety.

You pat his lower back gently, making sure to lay him down into a sleeping position already. Pooh is right by his side. Yuzu’s legs are still so dangly.

He’s really let go completely. You’ve not fucked his ass, but his soul.

You want to thank him for trusting you so much. Beside the shady black box manufacturer.

The bed is a glorious mess.

Removing the strap-on harness makes you feel just how loosened your own limbs have become, too. Come to think of it, this might be your new heavy-duty workout. None of your friends know you do this kind of cardio involving the best ass in the whole city as your personal trainer.

Yuzu’s butt has turned you into a drenched, wobbly homo sapiens that will probably look in the mirror by tomorrow and proclaim herself a bodybuilder from those sheer muscle burn gains.

When the two of you show up at the rink tomorrow, you both need hunky guys carrying you in by the armpits or something.

And the whole world will wonder how Yuzu’s wonky ankle magically recovered overnight but he can’t sit.

Changing the duvet at quarter past twelve with an unmovable Yuzu on top of it seems like a thing of the impossible. It’s soiled, it’s sweaty, it would probably make it to the first page if a reporter ever got hold of it.

But you take it pragmatically and opt for sleeping on Yuzu’s cleaner side of the bed intertwined. It’s surprisingly dry there. Big laundry day tomorrow, anyway.

The only thing you manage to do is reach for the window to open and to grab a glass of water from the bedstand to share. He’s chugging the remaining half down in one go. His hands? Oh wonder.

More than steady.

He calmed completely. After he puts down the glass, you scoot closer to him.

„Your foot — better?“

„Oh? I didn’t even think about it.“

He wriggles his left leg back and forth underneath the blanket, then concludes with a surprised face:

„It’s turning pretty well? I think you hit a nerve. Maybe you should split me in half more often.“

He shrugs. Yuzu’s serious face while saying that so dryly makes you laugh.

„Looks like it,“ you draw out the open lube bottle from beside you, finally closing the lid. „Do you… need a towel?“

„I just need you. I have to be disgusting for once.“

„I’ll scrape that all off tomorrow before we leave. Hot shower, five tons of shampoo. I’ll be breaking out the stuff you clean your skates with if I have to.“

That makes Yuzu chuckle. In fact, he beams a little.

„Sounds like something to look forward to.“

„I hope you can walk, anyway. Is it painful?“

Your biggest sorrow at this point. Taking his mind off was easy, but now he’s got boneless legs. Your conscience nags you for dicking him down out of all possible things.

„You have your weapon license now. I gotta admit… the last one…“

…was ass destruction 3.0, you complete his sentence in your mind. It’s nothing a normal human being could have stomached. „I’ll manage, though. I still feel my legs.“

„God, how does he do it.“

A smug „He’s Yuzuru Hanyu, that’s how, aw yeah!“ is what you imagine God’s answer to sound like. But instead, all you get is a little smile. Very well, from the little God in your bed.

„Pooh did this. When I squeezed him, I knew I could take it.“

He reaches to the middle of the bed. Five consecutive head pats for the bear plushie and Yuzu looks content already.

„Winning medals with just one working ankle is the same as doing it with a demolished ass to you, huh.“

„It’s not demolished, it’s improved and overhauled,“ he smiles. „Never felt any better. It was really good how you did this.“

It’s his strangest sport philosophy yet. But if you know one thing, it’s that Yuzu’s bizarre body hacks have gotten him the podium every time. You can already see him asking for another strap round before your mind’s eye. Before the next competition, at least.

„You honestly blow my mind.“

„And your dick, tomorrow night,“ goes Yuzu’s cheeky winner grin. There it is. Insatiable how you love it. You already feel the need to google ‚hip thrust strengthening exercises’.

Maybe, if science advances to that point one day, you honestly clone yourself so double your capacity. And so that you can spitroast him. Maybe you order another dildo from the website and pin it to the wall, anyways.

„Must be Mister Lube who did all of this.“

„I want to buy more of it tomorrow. Any other groceries we need, anyway? I’ll be cleaning the floor, too. I hope I’m not too worn-out after skating.“

„We’ll do one thing after the other, alright. There are still rice cakes left for breakfast, those will get you through the day.“

You’ve seen how much of an energy burst the cakes gave him.

„I really like those,“ he mumbles, then nuzzles into the pillow, sucking in your hair’s scent. Oh, it’s the moment you waited for. „Snickers diva… happy.“

A very cheery, puffy face slowly comes to rest beside you now, hair going in all directions. Infallible and ever-returning: Professor Yuzu’s explosive hairdo. Pooh is all clingy at his chest. A little worn from all the squeezing, but still with an amicable chuckle. You smile from ear to ear. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

You kiss Yuzuru’s little nose and lips until he’s making sleepy sounds. Either this is a late-night mirage created by your very moan-tested ears, or he is actually purring. You make sure the Pooh plush resting at his chest faces him correctly, then clear away the remaining strawberries, shut the window, arrange the blanket, put on your pajamas properly.

The humidifier whirrs in the background while tiger baby does one last big yawn before drifting off. In a matter of two minutes, maybe even less than that.

Just as you reach toward the bedstand to switch off the light, Yuzu’s hand curls into your shirt from behind. You turn, he is all dozed off. Not one leg fidgeting. However, talking in his sleep with his hand nestled into your PJs.

„Big hug please, Pooh mama.“

#figure skating #yuzuru hanyu #yuzuru hanyu smut #yuzuru hanyu x reader #yuzuru hanyu fanfic #figure skating fanfic #fs #figure skating smut #sub!yuzuru #dom!reader #treats for you #original content

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quartings · 3 years

Text

This is a rough continuation of that post I made about superpowers a few weeks ago, but from more of a Pokemon perspective.

For a recap, what I said was that it's annoying when a series gives characters "worse" superpowers just to justify making them less important, instead of writing scenes to highlight their non-superpower abilities so the story isn't just a punch-fest. And the same thing goes for how different kinds of Pokemon trainers are presented too. I've seen Pokemon anime characters get absolutely and unfairly trashed by fans over the last two decades for not having a full team of six fully-evolved Pokemon, or having an amazing win-loss ratio when those characters don't even want to battle in the first place.

If the character wants to battle as part of their main goal like say, Ash Ketchum himself, then there's no excuse to write him with Pokemon who don't or won't evolve besides Pikachu, who is a special exception as we all know. There's tons of "cute" or marketable fully-evolved Pokemon to not come up with dumb excuses for Pokemon like Totodile, Snivy, or Rowlet to just stay as they are. Ash's companions already have cute Pokemon to market, and not fully evolving his Pokemon to indicate progression has made Ash very unrelatable to any kid who wants to compare his journey to their own playthroughs.

But back to the characters who don't battle. Just like in our world, there's so many people in the Pokemon world who do non-fighting jobs that are just as fun and important as Pokemon battling. As long as they make visual progress towards their goals, and show a passion to practice their talents, I think it's completely fine if they don't have a full team of fully-evolved Pokemon. Plus, there's trainers in the anime who have battle-related goals, but have un-evolved team members, empty party slots, and embarrassing losses and work ethics, but seem to get a free pass from some people in the fandom just because "being aggressive is cool" I guess??

To list some good examples of non-battle-focused Pokemon manga characters, there's Crystal who wants to complete her Pokedex, Diamond and Pearl who are comedians, and White who's a talent agent. As such, they've all incorporated their Pokemon into improving and developing their passions and skills. There's even several protags in the manga who have actual superpowers, but said powers are listed as pretty much equal to the talents and even personalities as the other protagonists. Because all the manga protagonists have very unique skills and contribute hugely to the finales of their respective arcs, there's never any need to "belittle" any of them, even if some of them don't like or aren't good at fighting.

With one last paragraph to talk about the game characters, any mandatory battle in Pokemon games should be difficult regardless of what kind of opponent it may be, because otherwise the game just isn't good.

TLDR: I'm tired of hearing people rag on Pokemon characters who don't constantly battle and win. There are so many cool non-battle Pokemon skills, and people should be mad at the writers instead for not writing better stories that show off those skills.

#pokemon #pokespe #//pokeani #rant #q speaks

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a-yellow-book · 3 years

Text

Three Meals a Day

In which Hwa-pyung and Yoon live out their happy ending, one meal at a time.

This is set in the aftermath of the drama, in a world where same-sex marriage is legal in South Korea and no one bats an eyelid at an ex-priest being married to his silly adorable husband. I know I'm rather late to this fandom, and just want to write a cute little story for my fav ship~

[read on ao3 instead]

“Daddy! Wake up!”

Hwa-pyung felt rather than hear Seo-jin’s wake-up call when her bony elbow poked his ribs as she wiggled her way under the blanket. “Ahh! Ahh!” He squeaked, “I sensed a little lost duckling!”

“Heheheh!” she squealed and wiggled further under the blanket, trying her hardest to climb over Hwa-pyung to get to Yoon. (She liked to burrow under the warmth of the blankets and in between her dads. It was the best spot!)

“Hmm, is that my Seo-jinnie?” Yoon yawned, petting the blanket for the Seo-jin-shape lump.

“Papa!” She giggled, finally managed to flop over Hwa-pyung and rolled next to Yoon. “I’m hungry!” (She tucked herself to his side, ravelling in the warmth and the familiar scent of his cotton shirt.)

“Yea?” Yoon said, pulling their four-year-old daughter into a bear hug. “Your daddy should get up and make us breakfast, hmm?”

Seo-jin’s enthusiastic “yea!” overrode Hwa-pyung’s grumples. “You two are so good at bullying me,” he said, sitting up and stretching.

“If you’re up for burnt rice for breakfast, then I will be happy to oblige,” Yoon teased.

“Pffff, I know you can cook, mister,” Hwa-pyung leaned over to give Yoon a quick kiss on the cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Yoon whispered back.

Between them, Seo-jin giggled and reached out to poke at Hwa-pyung’s nose, “Breakfast, daddy!!!” (She loved her dads so, so much!!!)

“Of course, your highness,” Hwa-pyung tried to do an over-the-top bow but got tangled in the blankets and ended up on his side instead, sending Seo-jin and Yoon into another giggle fest.

Finally, when he’d untangled himself from the cozy nest and away from the two adorable gremlins that were his husband and daughter, Hwa-pyung padded into the kitchen to get started on making that breakfast.

Once he got the rice cooker started and the stew bubbling away on the stove, Hwa-pyung put the coffee on. These days, he relied on the caffeine to kickstart the day instead of the ungodly amount of cigarettes he used to smoke.

In the background, Hwa-pyung could hear Seo-jin’s giggles and Yoon’s gentle voice trying to coach her to brush her teeth the right way. It was the morning routine for the Yoon-Choi household: Hwa-pyung would make breakfast and Yoon would help Seo-jin with her morning hygiene. According to Yoon, Hwa-pyung was too lenient with his teeth-brushing instructions. But if you ask Seo-jin, she would say it was because he had a “disappointing” fashion sense and couldn’t help her pick out her outfit for the day. Hwa-pyung had no idea how Yoon beat him in this arena considering he was a priest for a good part of his life, wearing nothing but black shirts and slacks. He knew that Yoon’s culinary skills were barely passable at best, and inedible at worst. So better not to waste food. The one thing that Yoon was clearly superior to Hwa-pyung was his masterful hair braiding skill and Hwa-pyung swore that Yoon won a lot of points in Seo-jin’s eyes for that alone.

For all the grumples over house chores and the right way to brush one’s teeth, Hwa-pyung couldn’t help but send a silent thanks to his ancestors and all other higher powers out there for allowing him to have this. When he set out to hunt down Park Il-do, he didn’t expect to have come out alive, let alone building a future with a husband (!) and a child (!!).

“Yummm!” Seo-jin said as she ran into the kitchen, breaking Hwa-pyung out of his reverie. Her teeth were freshly brushed and hair neatly tied up into two little braids. She was rocking her favorite pair of jeans overalls and a Pororo shirt.

“Ohhhhh, look at my beautiful little duckling!” Hwa-pyung cooed as he helped Seo-jin settle in her chair.

“Daddy, daddy!” She said, waving her hands in the air, “We’re going to visit the babies today!”

“Yea? Are you excited?” Hwa-pyung asked as he set the table.

“Yes!!!!!!!!”

“Are you going to read to them from your storybooks?”

“Yea! Papa said I can show them my favorites!”

“Papa also said you can bring one of your favorites,” Yoon clarified as he walked into the kitchen.

“Okay!” Seo-jin nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief. (She wasn’t going to bring one. She was going to bring three!!! Daddy helped her pack them up in her backpack last night!)

The aforementioned babies (three little ones, all were just a few months old) were abandoned at the hospital in the neighboring town and brought over to the orphanage where Yoon worked. He was hopeful that they would find loving families to adopt the babies soon. In the meantime, he’d been bringing Seo-jin to the orphanage on the weekend to keep them company.

Hwa-pyung nodded along but didn’t reveal Seo-jin’s secret. He placed a cup of orange juice and a small Pororo-adorned bowl of rice in front of her and gave her a little kiss on her forehead. “Do you want some strawberries too?”

“Yes please!” She gave him a big thumbs up before taking a sip from her juice.

“I’m going to drop off some things for haraboji before heading over to the market,” Hwa-pyung said, setting the two bowls of rice on the table for him and Yoon.

Yoon nodded, grabbing the steaming pot of stew off the stove. “Oh, this smells so good.”

“Thanks, babe,” Hwa-pyung grinned toothily.

“What are you going to bring to haraboji?” Yoon asked, sitting down and getting ready to dig in.

“He needs more rice and a few new shirts,” Hwa-pyung said. “We gotta make more kimchi soon to bring him some.”

“Oh!!! I wanna make kimchi too!” Seo-jin piped up, spitting a few stray pieces of rice everywhere.

“Aish, finish chewing before you speak,” Yoon said, wiping the two grains of rice stuck on her chin.

“Can I help, pleaseeee?” She continued asking.

Remembering the Kimchi Incident of last summer, Hwa-pyung hesitated.

“You can help, if you promise your daddy and I that you will follow our instructions,” Yoon said, forever the diplomat.

“Yes!!!!!” Seo-jin nodded enthusiastically, spraying more rice on her side of the table, making both Yoon and Hwa-pyung laugh. It was always hard to say no to their little baby.

+ +

Pulling the car into the Rainbow Orphange’s parking lot, Hwa-pyung pulled out his phone to send Yoon a quick text. Here!

Meet us in the garden? Yoon replied.

Sure! Hwa-pyung grabbed the lunch box and headed around the back of the building. It was a beautiful day, and the crisp ocean breeze was so soothing. Pushing the creaky little wooden gate that led to the garden, he was greeted with Seo-jin’s excited squeal. “Daddy!!!”

“Hi, baby!” He crouched down to give her a big hug.

Yoon slowly walked over to them, smiling fondly. “How’s haraboji?”

“Oh, you know, same same.” It had been rough, seeing his grandfather’s memory and health continued to deteriorate.

“We should visit him next weekend,” Yoon suggested, giving his husband a gentle, reassuring look.

“Yea, yea, let’s,” Hwa-pyung agreed, letting out a deep sigh. It would be better for Seo-jin to spend as much time with her great-grandfather as possible.

“Ohhh!!!!!!!!! We’re going to see jeungjobo????” Seo-jin looked up at her dads, grinning. (She loved her jeungjobo! Even though he didn’t talk a lot, he always gave her sweets and showed her all the best flowers he picked.)

“Yup! He misses you a lot, little duckling,” Hwa-pyung nodded, booping her nose and making her wiggled it around like a little puppy.

“Yay!!!!!!!!!”

“Ok, well, who’s hungry?”

“Me!!!!!” Seo-jin exclaimed.

“Ha! I knew it! You’re a little hungry duckling, aren’t you?” Hwa-pyung teased, tickling her.

Grabbing the bag hanging off Hwa-pyung’s shoulder, Yoon gestured towards the picnic bench, “Let’s go sit over there.”

Hwa-pyung picked Seo-jin up, tickled her a few more times for good measure, before following behind Yoon. “I brought Mrs. Oh’s famous kimbaps. She told me to feed you two more since you’re both just, and I quote ‘skins and bones’.”

“Next time I stop by the market, I’ll make sure to tell her we’re barely holding on because of your abysmal cooking skills so she will continue to feed us,” Yoon said with a straight face.

“OH! I am so hurt!” Turning to Seo-jin, who was reaching over the table for a piece of kimbap and completely ignoring her dads, Hwa-pyung asked, “Seo-jinnie, do you like my cooking?”

“Uh uh,” she nodded distractedly.

“See!! Seo-jinnie loves me more than my own husband! Oh the tragedy!”

[to be continued]

#ocn the guest #kdrama fanfic #my writings #fluff #choi yoon #yoon hwa-pyung #where they married and have a kid

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dast218 · 4 years

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Days that turned into months and eventually years

The last few years for the Wayne family had been rough, to say the least. At one moment they were immersed in a terribly even match against the Rogues and in the next Marinette was missing from the face of the Earth.

“I have 50 seconds left. I need to go, cover for me” the heroine directed towards her husband. Wow, yep husband. She got married at nineteen, gave birth to her currently one year old son at twenty and was surrounded by a loving family. Sure they annoyed the shit out of her but the Waynes were always there when she needed them the most. Marinette still couldn’t believe how much her life has changed. For months she was being bullied by her classmates and was mentally exhausted from keeping a leveled head with all the accusations thrown towards her from her so-called friends. On top of that, her parents started believing Lila’s lies because of her constant absences while Hawkmoth was getting stronger with each akuma. To say the bare minimum if it wasn’t for Tikki’s and surprisingly Adrien’s support, she doesn't know if she would be standing here, alive right now.

Marinette needed a change of environment, so at fifteen she decided to take on Jagged’s offer to join him on tour, one of the best choices she ever made. She met Robin- actually Damian, totally by accident and might have or not mistaken him as a mugger, flipping him over with ease. Oops, well on the bright side her combat skills made the red traffic light vigilante fall even more deeply in love, with how he puts it “a blue eyed angel.” Unknown to her, the Bats had a night full of laughter afterwards, teasing their little grumpy brother.

The spotted, mostly black covered heroine was pulled away from her thoughts as she felt a gentle kiss on her forehead. Looking back up at the green eyed vigilante, she smiled.

“I got you. Stay safe”

“You know it”, kissing him gently on his lips before pulling away to find a place to recharge.

“Aww. Lil D, get a room already!”

Robin glared at his brother in return and simply stated with a smog smile, “We already have one.”

An explosion was heard in the distance and before the bat duo ran towards it Dick chuckled, “Some things never change.”

Damian vividly remembers their search for Marinette after the Rogues were defeated. The fight lasted for about 30 more minutes with his wife never returning back to the battlefield.

“Alfred, did Marinette return back home”

“No she didn’t. I can’t track her either, she isn’t transformed.”

A worried glance was shared between the Bats as Damien rushed to the roofs.

“Damian!” He turned around and his face said it all. Only once had Jason seen his brother this worried and it was during the birth of Thomas, when he went to check on him in the bathroom. Damian usually suppressed his emotions and before Marinette came along they never even saw him smile. Him openly showing distress just reinforced their already set plan.

“We are coming along.”

“Yea and don’t you think you are in this alone. Newsflash this is Pixie-pop we are talking about!”

“We are going to find her,” Nightwing said as he approached Robin placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Let's split up to cover more ground.”

They ended up searching throughout Gotham with no lead until Tikki came flying straight into Robin and Nightwing as they were rooftop jumping. She recalled what she witnessed and lead them back to where Marinette was chained against her will, but it was too late.

“Robin over here!”

“Tikki! Where is Marinette !?”

“She landed in an ally to de-transform and while I was eating we got ambushed from all sides.” Her breathing started becoming more forced and she was now rapidly spitting out random sentence fragments.

“Tikki look into my eyes and count to 10.” Damian knew they had no time to waste but after helping Marinette through many previous panic attacks, especially early on in their relationship he understood the importance of calming down the little goddess before moving on. Tikki followed the commands and slowly started evening her breathing.

“Marinette defended herself well but there were so many and you could just feel the tiredness radiating off of her. It was a matter of time when the masked man saw an opportunity, hit her on the back and pinned her down.” Fresh tears started to leak but the spotted goddess kept speaking, “I was hiding in her jacket and must have lost consciousness because the next thing I remember is waking up to see my holder chained and beaten up. Blood… she was covered with blood. With a shaky breath she told me that her capturers are after the miraculous, that they still hadn’t figured out that it's the earrings and said that she wasn’t about to let them have it. She forced me to take them somewhere safe. I … I didn’t want to leave her but I heard someone entering in and made the mistake of looking into Marinette’s eyes. I fled with the earrings just as Mari’s screams filled the building.”

The warehouse was abandoned. Broken glass was spread across the floor, chairs were flipped and strips of metal were everywhere. It was the aftermath of a fight. The vigilantes had arrived too late. All that was left behind was rope and fresh stains of blood.

“They couldn’t have gone far!”

After days which turned into weeks and eventually months of intense searching, Marinette was proclaimed dead. Damian accepted the reality last, refusing to stop looking and went several nights without sleep.

“Damian” Burce said as he entered into their library where his son was staring intensely at the map. The map of Gotham and neighboring cities was marketed up, all the possible locations of his daughter in law were triple checked and yet not even a single trace was found.

Without looking up Damian hummed waiting for Bruce to continue.

“I know it's difficult to acknowledge the … the events that occurred but Damian you can’t just keep isolating yourself from the world around you.”

“I … I can’t. You can’t just expect me to give up on her… I can’t just give up on her.”

“Damian look at me” He stubbornly didn’t move and continued staring at the map.

With a sigh the detective carried on, “Damian, son hear me out”

The addressed man slowly turned his head around, after all it wasn’t a daily occurrence that his birth father addressed him that way. Growing up Damian never really had a strong relationship with his father, sure they had they moments but it was usually just ‘listen, fight and defend.”

“Marinette was special to all of us [Damian didn’t miss the “was” but thought against interrupting him] heck if it wasn’t for her our family wouldn’t be standing the way we are now. She brought us together, showed us what it really means to be a family even though hers abandoned her. She made me realize that my fathering methods towards you weren’t the best.” He chuckled at the memory of a young Marinette storming into his office not giving an ounce of care that she was yelling at the one and only Bruce Wayne inside his own building. Placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder he went on, “I know you care deeply about Marinette and that you are afraid of losing her but what about your family? We all care about you but look at yourself Damian. You haven’t been eating, you’re running on zero sleep and didn’t come upstairs for the last few weeks. Heck, your brothers and Alfred have been taking care of a crying Thomas who keeps calling out for his parents. Your son misses you. I know this is a difficult time for you but you’re not the only one who is missing her. Let us be there for you and come out to support your son.”

For the first time in months, Damian cried. He cried about allowing Marinette to go recharge on her own, about not arriving at the warehouse fast enough, about never being able to hear her angelic laugh again and not being there for his son during his mother’s absence. He decided that from now on he is going to take care of his son just how Marinette would have wanted him to.

It's been exactly four years and here Damian stood staring at Marinette’s tombstone, hugging his five year old son tightly as tears formed around his eyes.

In memory of Marinette Cheng- Wayne

A loving wife, mom and in law

20XX

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I blame all the maribat writers for pulling me into this hole of maribat shippers that I can’t get out of. This is my contribution to the daminette fandom :)

For now this is a one-shot but I do have some ideas for a continuation.

** English isn’t by best subject so sorry for the grammatical incorrections- I tired

#daminette #marinette x damian #i tired #maribat #mlsalt #they all just need a hug

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onthesandsofdreams · 4 years

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Inevitable Conversations

Fandom: ASoIaF Pairing: Sansa x Sandor Rating: T Summary: Sandor Clegane is a hunter, a monster and ghost hunter to be exact. That is not the problem. The problem is, that for the past few months, he has been in a relationship with one Sansa Stark. Again, the relationship itself is not the problem, the problem is, that he has yet to admit to Sansa that he is, in fact, a monster hunter. Words: 1183 Notes: Written for Friday Night Fights weekly event, prompt # 956

Read @ AO3

Sandor Clegane is a hunter, a monster and ghost hunter to be exact. That is not the problem. The problem is, that for the past few months, he has been in a relationship with one Sansa Stark. Again, the relationship itself is not the problem, the problem is, that he has yet to admit to Sansa that he is, in fact, a monster hunter.

He’s never been shy about his profession, he has not hidden it from his friends nor his very few girlfriends (not that those lasted long anyway) in the past. But fuck if Sansa isn’t different, she’s soft and kind and sweet; she’s the living embodiment of what he images a high born lady of bygone ages would have been. And Sansa is one that spooks easily enough. At twenty five, she still isn’t one for supernatural movies and still covers her face and clings to his arm during jump scares (there’s a memorable occasion in which she nearly jump into his arms), and that… well, might be problematic for their relationship.

But he knows that he can’t avoid the conversation much longer, since his work is mostly by night, having the cover of working as a private investigator works quite well, it also has the advantage of being partially true. He does investigate some supernatural occurrences, he just happens to also kill said supernatural occurrences.

Jaime Lannister – that smug buggering bastard – has joked that his life is a constant Halloween month. But for all he’s fought the comparison, Jaime’s not quite lying, nor so far from the mark.

So, he braces himself and prepares to do whatever it takes to keep Sansa from bolting out the door and leave his life. And fuck him, that’s a first too, he’s never been one for relationships; at least not ones that actually last and where the word ‘love’ has been uttered by both parties, he knows he’s imposing, tall and broad, his voice is rough and half his face is a nightmare of scars thanks to his brother and he’s usually scowling, which doesn’t help at all. It’s a wonder Sansa even gave him the time of the day.

He marches to the market with a purpose and buys the ingredients for a fancy dinner. Living on his own has given him a mastery over the culinary arts, to the point that Sansa actually leaves the cooking to him most of the time when she spends the night – and days – over.

Sansa arrives on time – Catelyn Stark be praised for instilling in Sansa punctuality, and he’s already downed several glasses of scotch to calm himself down. How come he can face fire demons, and the thought of Sansa dumping him leaves him fucking cold. If he were religious, he’d be praying right about now.

“Thank you for inviting me, Sandor.” Sansa says as he removes her coat, the Autumn chill has finally settled in King’s Landing. “I’m looking forward to see what you did.”

“Not a problem, Little bird.”

He ushers her to the table, the food’s in the oven to keep it hot and there’s a dessert on the fridge. But now his palms are sweaty. He can do this. Demons and ghost are more trouble than this. But supernatural things don’t have his heart the same way Sansa does.

They eat and chat quietly, Sansa praising his culinary skills as usual, and has a second helping. The wine he got was also on the expensive side, but fuck it, Sansa deserves the best. And he might as well sweeten the whole ordeal.

“How about you tell me what you wanted to?” Sansa asks. “I can see you’re nervous, but, my knight in shinny leather jacket, you don’t have to be. Barring you saying you cheated, we’ll be fine.”

One thing he’s discovered very quickly that she’s very perceptive and notices things other might miss, and she’s also great at quick thinking. Some other reasons he loves her. “Ah… well. It’s complicated.”

Sansa waits, when he’s unable to continue, her mood shifts and her eyes gain a glint of mischief. “You know,” she leans forward conspiratorially. “It’s spooky season.”

He blinks. “And?”

Sansa grins and winks at him, a poor imitation of her sister Arya, who has grown use to causing mischief and who Sansa is trying to copy right now. “Let’s summon something. It’s October, Halloween’s right around the corner, we should celebrate.” She gets serious. “And what better way to celebrate than to summon something?”

His first thought is ‘Fuck no’. For he, who has grown up with horror stories of summonings gone wrong, who has actually had to save people from summonings gone wrong, resists the urge to slam his forehead against the table. He can’t quite avoid the words that come out, sarcasm thick on his tongue, “Sure, like maybe a cab so you can go home.”

Sansa blinks. He immediately regrets his words, she was just teasing. Fuck him, he’s always an idiot when it comes to this woman. Bloody hell. “Ah. Joking, of course,” he tries to smooth things over as quickly as he can. “You know, that’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Sansa’s eyes narrow, and her shoulders tense, “About summoning something?”

“No, it’s just… well, ripping of a band aid, I’m a monster hunter.” There, he’s said it. No taking it back now. What’s done is done and can’t be undone. The words had been uttered.

Sansa relaxes, sighs and says, “I know Sandor.”

It’s his turn to blink. “I am friends with Brienne?” Sansa offers. “And she’s gone hunting with you, she told me, but I wanted to give you the chance to say it yourself.”

Fuck, he had forgotten Brienne. He’s an idiot. “Must you be so perfect,” he grumbles good naturally. Then he gets serious, “Are you okay with this, Little bird.”

Sansa’s smile is soft and her eyes are shinning, “Not perfect, but thank you. And am I okay that my boyfriend risks his life to save others? Not entirely, I am afraid that one day you won’t come back. But I love you, and I love the whole of you and that means making peace and accepting that you were born a hunter, so I respect that. I can even admire your dedication to your work.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, “Thank you.” Is all he manages. “I was afraid you’ll leave.”

Sansa’s smile grows and she reaches for his hand, he takes her and enjoys the softness of her skin. “I could never, the only way I’ll leave is if you break up with me, or die.”

He barks out a laugh, “Then you’re stuck with me.”

Sansa nods solemn, “There are worst fates to be had.” Then, her eyes glimmer once more and she eyes the fridge. “I’m told there’s dessert?”

And relief washes over him in waves, so he laughs, lets go of his hand and gets up to get the chocolate tart he’s made and that she loves so much. “Dessert for one Little bird, coming up.”

It’s fine. They’re fine.

#friday night fights #fnf #sansan #sansa x sandor #Sansa Stark #Sandor Clegane #asoiaf fic #au: supernatural #au: monster hunters #au: modern westeros #ASoIaF

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

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Two Sides of the Coin (7)

Chapter 7: Comfort in the Midst of Irony | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also tagging: @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 | Previous: Part 6 | Next: Part 8 | Masterlist

7 of ?

Cal had just gotten back out into the open and found the river that divides the town from the jungle where he came from. He knelt by the bank, scooping up cold freshwater and splashing it into his face, scraping himself clean off the sweat and dirt. He used the last handful of water to comb his scarlet hair using his bare fingers.

He finally crosses the bridge, upon his entrance into the town, he was greeted with the colors spread across from each end of the street, hollers of vendors and haggling buyers rung loud between the walls of the buildings. Stall owners gesture at Cal to at least look at their wares, he politely dismisses them as he passes them by.

“Be careful not to overheat your scanners, BD!” Cal beamed, knowing that the curious little BD-1 is going to scan everything left and right as they go.

“Woop, trill! Chirp.”

“Yeah, this place sure is pretty,”

“Boo! Trill, beep!”

“Oh, you meant Jidné? Yeah, she is kinda pretty,”

Cal wandered off farther into the town, the thought of the Force ripple and Jidné ran tirelessly around his mind. He recalled the nudging sensation that he’s gotten ever since he and the crew landed, then the feeling spiked when he discovered Jidné—more so when she took his hand to help her stand up. The image of her constantly flashed behind his eyes—the shy smile that responded to his awfully awkward one-liners and quips burned into his memory, the melody of her voice, and the way she moved with her lightsaber.

Looking back, he rarely—in fact, never—encountered another Padawan who wielded a purple blade. The only person he knew who did was Master Windu.

Cal found himself into a modest-looking pub, light instrumentals filled the establishment as its patrons chattered amongst themselves over their drinks. He regretted that he didn’t wear the kind of poncho that had a hood; fortunately for him, no one seemed to have noticed the boy come in the bar. Cal scanned the place and saw no sign of Stormtroopers doing patrol, he sighed in relief.

“Something mild,” he orders to the bartender.

While waiting for the bartender to work on it, Cal surveyed the place again—the cantina was filled with so many species that he couldn’t name them all. The humans were also bizarre-looking: cosmetic implants attached to certain parts of their bodies, hair dyed in outlandish colors that match or complement their facial tattoos, with matching makeup on their eyes and lips to boot—especially the women.

The bartender slid Cal’s glass towards him, to which the boy halted the sliding with the cushion of his palm. The first sip was always the strongest one, no matter the alcohol level, a hot sensation seared his palate; he smacked his tongue against the insides of his cheeks until the fizz leaves his mouth. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a Haxion Brood hunter and the HURID droid; before they’d spot him back, Cal slightly angled his body so the back of his head faces them—though it doesn’t help him much because his red hair was the only defining feature they know to identify him.

Cal scooted a bit closer next to a Talz, hoping that the size of the creature would shield him from the hunters’ sights. It worked, but only for a moment. He had to move quick. He left his glass half-empty, slipped a gold credit to the bartender, and attempts to vanish in the pub. Little did he know that the hunters noticed him turn his back to leave the bar; he sensed them following him, so he briskly walked towards the denser crowd to blend in and lose the hunters at the same time.

“There he is!” the human hunter pointed with his bionic hand.

Both hunters shouldered their way through the crowd in the marketplace, especially the HURID droid who practically plowed his way through the people—it’s highly likely that the people he’s shoved and push will have a bruise pop out of them any day after that—meanwhile, Cal was careful in going through the crowd, matching their pace, regretting some more that he didn’t wear the hooded type of poncho.

“Out of my way!” the HURID droid bellowed, pushing away a local who stumbled upon the stall he was browsing at.

Cal picked up his pace while continuously mumbling “Pardon me” and “Excuse me” to the people he shoulders through. When he got into a wide space, enough for him to run, he bolted through the market’s streets—it didn’t take long until he came across another wave of people filling the road. He didn’t slow down for that though, he continued to run, looking over his shoulder from time to time—as consequence, he bumped into a stranger as he ran and they stumbled to the ground together.

From the fall, the cowl revealed its owner to be Jidné.

“Cal?”

“Jidné?”

Jidné groaned as she rubbed the back of her head, Cal’s brain was going haywire—deciding whether to bolt away and miss Jidné or simply hide with her tagging along against her will.

“Where is he!?” the HURID droid roared, drowned amongst the crowd.

There was no time for questions, Cal chose the latter option that his brain made in the last minute. He snatched her wrist as soon as she sat up and dragged her along. They crawled towards a market stall, sitting into a tucked position as their backs hug the wooden planks that make up the kiosk’s wall.

“What’s going on?” Jidné whispered.

“Shh!”

Cal braced her with his entire arm, both of them huddled together to the dust—just so they’re in the same height as the short-fenced market stall. Jidné was startled with the entire rough-and-tumble but she immediately knew what Cal was trying to pull.

The stampeding footsteps of the Haxion Brood hunter and his HURID companion approached their spot, they stopped just a few inches past the stall; both the young Jedi and the bounty hunter stuck their backs against the wooden planks more—both youngsters were frozen in place as they couldn’t look away from their pursuers, Jidné’s eyes fixed on the two goons, the human hunter was scanning the area. Not waiting for that hunter to turn his head to their direction, Jidné clutched for Cal’s arm on her shoulder and then put all of her focus on using her ability.

“What was that?!” the hunter snarled, abruptly twirling to face Jidné and Cal’s general direction.

Cal’s felt his heart fall to his feet when he met eyes with the hunter, but it occurred to him that the hunter apparently cannot see them. He swears that he’s face-to-face with the Brood hunter right now! The hunter is literally one step away from him, he shuddered at how close he is with the enemy but the Brood agent isn’t doing anything.

Cal looked to his side and saw the steely expression in Jidné’s face, he felt her hand around his, she afforded a quick side-eye as she caught him staring at her—he was beginning to grasp that she was doing this.

“You see ‘im, Fazer?” asked the bruiser droid.

The human hunter, Fazer, squinted his eyes and panned that one empty nook right beside the market stall.

“Argh! Nah, probably just a vermin or somethin’ I heard,” he grumbled.

“He must’ve went that way!” the droid pointed to their direction up ahead and then darted through.

Soon the footsteps receded, Jidné didn’t remove her hand from Cal’s until there was no sight of that pair. She scrambled to her feet, still crouched to the same level as the market stalls, and then peeked out into the street while ignoring the startled locals looking between them and the two hunters running ahead.

“I think they’re gone,” she turned around to Cal, still seated on the dust, mouth gaped open as he still tried to comprehend what happened seconds ago.

“How did…?” he mumbled. It was so quiet that Jidné didn’t hear it as she checked out their surroundings.

“You seem like you have a knack for attracting trouble.”

“Yeah well, there’s a bounty on my head for being a Jedi. The group that’s after me isn’t exactly the friendliest bunch,”

Jidné bit her lip. The whole thing is so uncanny that it hurt her on the inside.

“Right,” she hummed as casually as she could.

When the coast was truly clear, Cal brought himself up his feet and dusted off the yellow sand that clumped on his jacket and pants.

“Sorry, I kinda dragged you in there for a moment,”

“Wait, did you think those Haxion goons were gonna come after me too—that’s why you pulled me in with you?”

“Yeah, I…” Cal was patting off the dust from his sleeve until it occurred to him, he jerked his head to face Jidné. “Wait. How’d you know they were Haxion?”

Oh fuck! Jidné’s conscience screamed so loud that her mouth nearly replicated the words.

“I had my own run-ins with them,” she shrugged her shoulders. She nodded at the alley on her left. “Come on, this way should be safer. Less open, more hidden.”

Jidné led Cal into the narrow annex of the main road, doors lined the walls—assuming that this was another residential area that sits behind the business establishments—and worked their way out of the crowded part of town.

“You got yourself into a bar fight or something?” Jidné blurted.

“No, I was just out to get a drink until I spotted them—I guess they spotted me when I was about to leave,”

“Sounds like you haven’t truly mastered the art of subtlety,” she clapped back.

“Hold on,” he pressed. “What was that just now?”

“The what?”

“That!” Cal gestures at the space behind him, but Jidné knew what he exactly meant. “You saw the hunter, he was literally right in front of us! But… he didn’t see us? That couldn’t be me—I’m sure as hell that that’s not me!”

Jidné was calm, completely the opposite definition of Cal’s hysteria. She sighed. There’s no escape for her with these kinds of questions again.

“I don’t think this is the best place to explain, don’t you think so too?” quipped the young hunter.

Cal surveyed the area, residents standing outside their homes—for reasons unknown—and children playing in the narrow annex with their balls and playthings laid out on the road. Some of the folks have already noticed the two of them standing awkwardly together by the wall.

“Alright, I suppose you lead the way then?”

“Just stay close,” she sternly instructed.

——————————————————–

The intricate network of roads, annexes, and alleys in the town of Ombari was confusing, but if one knew the landmarks and kept it in mind, then it would be easier to navigate through the town. Jidné and Cal passed through some intersections here and there, they were looking for a spot that wasn’t too crowded—a few people wouldn’t be a bother, Jidné only preferred to have less people around and Cal concurred with that.

Cal kept his questions to himself. As they go along, more and more questions pile up in his mind—particularly, questions about Jidné herself.

They found themselves in the base of the hill where the town was situated. There were more small-time businesses lining up the path just right in front of the main entrance, but farmers and tillers mostly resided at the stretch of landed where they had plotted their modest farms and vegetable gardens. Their harvests were already in display for those who wanted to buy, they were no different from the vendors in the town proper though—except the noise wasn’t a factor in their part.

“That spot by the riverbank looks okay,” Jidné nodded at her north, gesturing at the river gleaming underneath the afternoon sun.

She and Cal sat on the other side of the river, across the hill where they could observe the farmers till and plow their crops, underneath the shade of the trees that framed along the winding river.

Both of them were getting tired—or perhaps, fed up—with the same old silence that always hung heavily around them, no matter the space in between, it’s always there. Neither of them saw it a sign for either of them to start a conversation.

“So, about what happened back in the marketplace?” Cal prompted.

Jidné exhaled and prepared herself.

“Can you like… cloak anything or anyone?” he added.

“When you put it that way, yeah,” she looked at him in the eye, then her eyes wandered to her own hands. “At first, it was simply just activating and deactivating it—in a way—it was hard for little ol’ me that time. I was fresh out of the Initiate Trials back then.”

Cal didn’t avert his gaze from Jidné, he shifted between examining her hands and then to her whenever she spoke.

“But now that I’m older—even back then when I was still a Padawan—I learned how to wield it better. I can manipulate how transparent I want things or people to appear, whether they’d be as thin as smoke or as invisible as the air we breathe.”

“Do you really need to touch in order to make things almost or completely invisible?”

Jidné clenched her fist, “It makes it easier for me if I do, and the area of effect varies too. Not touching them but still focusing on my target can have them be under the influence of my Force Shroud, but only for a time. Whereas being in physical contact, it’s the same—except twice or thrice as better. It all boils down to a matter of distance, really.”

He let all of that information sink into him, trying to grasp how Jidné’s Force ability worked. It wasn’t difficult to understand, though he could imagine the possibilities if one could master such a power.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of another Jedi with an ability like that,”

“My master thought the same thing,” her tone became more somber at the memory.

Cal’s next question might be one of the most personal ones, but he had a feeling that his master might have known hers. Regardless, he put that question for another time—he figured it might have been a topic too heavy for her, considering that she was also a Jedi who must’ve lost everything.

And lost everything she did.

“So, you got anything special in you too, ginger?” she initiated.

Instead of using words, Cal searched for a target—any target. He spotted a pile of shards from earthenware that beached onto the shore of the river, hidden well between the reeds; he scooted closer to the shard pile and hovered his hand over it. Jidné watched and she could feel the slight ripple send out a weak shockwave and a gust of wind.

“These pots were used by farmers to ferment the grain and wheat into some kind of liquid. They collected water to continue the fermentation process, but some wild animals jumped on them and broke them,” Cal explained.

Impressed, Jidné flicked her eyebrows up at Cal, who seemed proud of his little demonstration and proved it with a smirk across his lips.

“I think I’ve read about a power like that a long time ago. You touch an object and you get a glimpse of its past… A Force Echo.”

“Exactly,”

“Interesting,” she hummed, a smile involuntarily curled along her lips.

For a moment, Jidné forgot that she was a bounty hunter. The feeling of having someone to connect with something familiar from a distant past was intoxicating. She and Cal continued to banter about topics that weren’t exactly correlated with one another—for instance, their own droids.

Jidné told Cal the story of finding ID-3 in a disposal bin. She was expertly vague in leaving out some details that could go unnoticed. She recalled the time when she took a look at ID, he was apparently still in tiptop shape—all he needed was a circuit wire replacement and a good power recharge.

“The poor thing wasn’t exactly given the right attention,” Jidné cooed, petting ID-3’s flat-topped head. “So I patched him and now he’s mine!”

“What else did you do to ID-3?”

“Oh, just added some little perks and tweaks that might come in handy sooner or later. The little saucer never failed me so far,”

The black droid chirped happily, absorbing all of the compliments that poured out of Jidné’s mouth and she truly meant them.

Cal and Jidné whiled away the afternoon bantering some more and letting their droids get to know with one another. This was one of the rare moments where Jidné allowed herself to let loose—although the moment was lighthearted and happy, she couldn’t ignore the irony that gleamed blindingly in front of her face: the irony that such comfort is coming from the exact person that she is hunting down.

20 notes · View notes