As Astarion regains his autonomy, he learns to love all the things his body can do, both for others and for himself.
His elegant hands work needle and thread with ease. He's embroidered nearly every article of clothing he owns. And maybe if you ask nicely, he'll add some much needed embellishment to yours, too.
Can't open that locked chest? Don't worry, darling, he's on it. His nimble fingers make quick work of it. He plays it off as no big deal, but secretly likes it when you praise him for his efforts. Or, he makes a gigantic deal of your praise in the most obnoxious way possible, but deep down, he truly does appreciate it.
His silver tongue can draw from you the most sumptuous moans and the sweetest blushes, but also the most jubilant of laughter. He prides himself on his quick wit and is delighted when you provide him with the sustenance of banter.
He's lithe and swift. He can dodge volleys of arrows fired at him, deftly roll out of harms way, or dexterously slip from the grasp of his captors. He's a master with a dagger and bow. Watch him take down foes, left and right. He's strong. He can lift boxes, crates, barrels, you name it. Need help lifting something? Astarion can certainly assist (but not without some amount of whining).
His voice can be soft and sultry, like when he's reading poetry to you under flickering candlelight. It can be strong and commanding when he's defending himself or you. Firm when he needs to advocate for himself. You remind him to always advocate for himself, a notion he's only recently started to take to heart.
His eyes are keen. They can see in the shadows with utmost precision. He's observant, something he's had to be in order to survive. His excellent eyesight has come in handy many a time over the course of your journey.
He likes that his nose can pick up the scent of blood from a mile away. He likes how precise his sense of smell is when it comes to differentiating blood. He likes that his ears can pick up the faintest sounds. Centuries of living in darkness, of having to sneak about have helped him hone his senses.
He likes the way he can feel delightful tingles coursing through his veins when you run your fingers through his fine, silver hair. He likes the way the fine strands of snowy white curl over his forehead, tickle his skin when a breeze lifts them.
He likes the way you describe him. It's been so long since he's seen himself in a mirror, but your verbal (or literal) illustrations of him will suffice. He's edges and angles. Paleness, crimson, and silver. Ethereal. He's pretty and he knows it, but sometimes, the reassurance is much appreciated. Much needed.
Astarion likes that he can bring you pleasure. He likes that he can feel pleasure all his own when he's with you. He doesn't have to use his body to ensure his own safety. To guarantee that you won't harm or betray him. He likes that you don't ask him to do anything he doesn't want to.
Astarion loves his body. He loves how strong it is. How swift, how fragile, how durable it is. He loves how hard it works for him. Astarion's body is his and his alone, and he loves this.
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In a peaceful, No O66 AU, Cody deserves to find a favorite bakery somewhere on Coruscant, somewhere he can order a whole box of buns and pastries to share with Obi-Wan in a Temple courtyard on some sunny day. Maybe they argue about raisins. Obi-Wan (old man-coded) is obviously very pro-raisin, but Cody finds them untrustworthy (buglike) and dislikes the way they disrupt an otherwise perfect texture (bread is perfect, to him).
If you would just try them you would like them, Obi-Wan would say, but Cody will not try them -- picks each raisin out of his pastry, in fact, and throws them to the birds. And Obi-Wan pretends he's not completely endeared by Cody's refusal to give up any crumb of bread that may be eatable. Maybe he Feels something, watching Cody's big capable hands carefully dissect a pastry, supremely fussy about what he wants and what he doesn't.
(It's just 🥺 so silly. And Obi-Wan has seen Cody's hands do so many unsilly things.)
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Relax
Tomioka Giyuu x GN! Reader
As the Water Estate's Kakushi, it was your duty to make Tomioka Giyuu's stay as comfortable as possible while he recuperates between missions.
Tags: fluff, domesticity
Word count: 0,9k
AN: One of my dearest friends sent me a message one time saying "I think Giyuu would find it so relaxing when you take care of him. Let him bathe, brush his hair so gently and while he soaks in the water, you make some tea for him." Minus the tea, I think I nailed it.
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It wasn't the first time you prepared a bath for him nor was it the first time you saw him naked - though it had been entirely innocent the last time, as you wanted to help him relax by giving him a massage. It was the first time you offered to wash his hair though, and also the first time you were in the large bathtub with him - in a bathing yukata, of course. Giyuu hadn't protested, and you'd taken it as a sign of approval.
You moved your sleeves away from your hands while preparing for it. Giyuu's hair was… a mess, a tangled mess which would need quite a long time untangling, but determination filled you anew. He spent days, weeks, years fighting demons to keep everyone safe; it was your duty, a kakushi’s duty, to support him in any way you could, even if it was as small as helping wash his exhausted body.
"I will tilt your head back now, Giyuu-sama," you murmured before you acted, keeping him nice and pliable under your hands. You had already taken off the tie which usually kept his hair back.
You used a small cup to collect the water before you carefully poured it over his hair. With gentle hands and gentler touch, you used the special hair soap your friend recommended you on the mess on Giyuu's head, trying to work it in to let it work its magic. To make the wait less tedious, you made sure to give Giyuu's scalp a massage.
The Hashira, on the other hand, was on cloud nine. It had been years since he felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable in front of another person. And you? You brought him so much of that comfort he could melt under your skilled hands. A slight flush took over his cheeks, one he would blame on the hot water if you pointed it out.
As you worked through each knot and tangle loose with your fingers, you hummed a simple rhyme you learned from your father when you were young. Your fingers were sore and pruney by the time you deemed Giyuu's hair sufficiently soaked.
While washing out the hair soap, you took time to scratch him gently, eliciting a shudder that made you smile in secret. He seemed to be enjoying himself if the blush on his face and peaceful expression were anything to go by.
Once done with his hair, you used a tie to hold it up and got to washing his back gently. His skin was littered with scars of various origins, and you tried to be gentle around them, knowing the nerves can be a bit sensitive. Yet again, you made sure to scratch him lightly with your nails and knead his muscles where he accumulated the most stress of his days, particularly in the shoulder area. His sighs of content were music to your ears.
As the water gradually got lukewarm, you coaxed him out of the bath.
Your bathing yukata was thick enough to not be see-through thankfully, and he quickly put a robe of his own on while you averted your gaze. The air was thick with steam and smelled faintly of sakura blossoms.
“Giyuu-sama, please sit here,” you fetched a stool for him so you could continue the hair treatment, this time with oils to help with combing. You’d also noticed his hair was a little- okay no, very dry, and you were damned if you didn’t try your best.
You quickly found out the ends were irreparable.
“May I cut your hair, Giyuu-sama?” you whispered, trying not to break the tranquility of the bathroom. He tensed under your hands as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Just the ends.”
“Fine,” he muttered, not unkindly.
A smile bloomed on your face and you quickly grabbed scissors from the box where you kept your bath products. You’d been meaning to cut your own ends soon, but Giyuu took precedence.
Giyuu always took precedence.
You straightened out his hair as much as you could with a boar-bristle brush and snipped away, evening out the choppy hair strands as much as you could and cutting through some of the unsalvageable knots. You continued humming the tune from before as you worked.
This kind of domestic peace was rare with your charge… and crush. You were determined to enjoy it to the fullest.
You put down the scissors when you deemed that part done; now you just had to comb out his hair.
Giyuu was so quiet you nearly didn’t hear him.
“Thank you.”
Heat rose to your cheeks. “It’s no problem.” I enjoyed it.
It brought you joy to be able to glide through his hair smoothly now, though you knew he would go and mess it up by going to bed with wet hair the minute you released him from your clutches. An idea sparked in your mind - one which you immediately acted upon.
Starting at the nape of his neck, you weaved a simple braid into his hair, tying it off with the tie from earlier.
“All done, Giyuu-sama,” you told him and took a step back, collecting all the products and putting them away, quickly getting rid of the mess of snipped strands as the Hashira walked off.
You wondered if he noticed, and if he did then if he liked it.
He did notice and insisted on you caring for his hair the next time he stayed at his estate again. One day, he would also offer to wash your hair, he promised himself.
dividers made by the amazing @/benkeibear
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