#she should get her own unique crest
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Panel from Hell Info Roundup
We got a release teaser trailer!
CHARACTER CREATION/CUSTOMIZATION
Character creation got a revamp! More efforts were made to explain things to someone who hasn’t played D&D before, or one who hasn’t played other Larian games. Classes now also have unique animations when you select them.
Choice options now have a corresponding icon, so you can see what you’re selecting.
There are more available faces to choose from.
Dragonborn and half-orcs are playable at launch.
Warlocks are now able to call on their patron for insight and advice.
New sliders have been added for Maturity (adding wrinkles), Freckle Quantity (and intensity), and Vitiligo Pigmentation.
Horn Customization! Now you can change their color and tip color.
There are scar options.
More hair and beard options! As well as more options for hair colors (including greying) to have tri-colored hair.
Strong/buff body types added!
Piercing options have been added.
Heterochromia option has been added.
Dragonborn can customize their face, crest, chins, and jaws. Skin color options include metallic, almost duo-chrome shades. For white dragonborns, there are also pearlescent effects. Dragonborn Draconic Bloodline sorcerers will get a unique scale pattern that changes color based on your ancestry.
There is also a selection for genitals, which they did not elaborate on, but was selected as ‘default.’
You will meet a character that will allow you to reset your class and respec your abilities.
The team went back from Act 1-3 to make the game more reactive to your choices. If you’re playing something odd or unique, the game should react to it.
THE DARK URGE
They are the new Origin Character, and they are avatar-only; they can only be played by you, not recruited.
You can fully customize their race and class.
They do not know who they are; they are waking up, and the only thing they know is “the bile of their liver, the gushing of their blood, and their ruined body telling them: you’re going to kill and kill again.” They are meant to be a dark counterpoint to the story.
Has unique scenes and storylines unlike anything else we’ve seen thus far.
They have dark impulses and thoughts that tempt them; you can play as embracing it or trying to resist.
At 4:36:55, we have some gameplay of them from early on in Act 1.
KARLACH
She is an Origin Character, and you can recruit her or play as her.
Born and raised in Baldur’s Gate, was sold to slavery in the Hells, and managed to break free. She has an infernal engine for a heart.
She’s a barbarian who has a special rage animation/effect.
Curses a lot.
At 5:20:00, there’s a bit of extended gameplay and one of her romance scenes.
OTHER/MISC COMPANIONS
Many of the companions are good-aligned, including Karlach, Halsin, Minsc, and Jaheira. For evil companions, there is Minthara, who you can recruit in Act 2 depending on your choices.
Wyll has gotten a complete overhaul. Much of his dialogue has been rewritten, and he “can go in two directions” much earlier in the story. He wants to kill Karlach at the beginning of the game, and how that unfolds is up to you.
If you kill your companions, you can hire Hirelings. There are twelve (one for each of the classes), and you can customize and respec them.
Companions will join your camp and be able to come with you along your journey; you don’t have to choose between them, but can swap them out as you see fit. If anyone leaves or isn’t able to be recruited, it will be by your own choices or the narrative.
When you’re playing as an Origin Character, you’re not a mystery to yourself. You’ll get unique scenes and information that you may not otherwise get with them as your companion. For instance, when you go to sleep, you might have nightmares about your past.
A scene relevant to Astarion’s backstory was shown at 4:25:57.
ROMANCE
They tried to show “two people genuinely struggling through a hard time and supporting one another. And you’re not going to be the same person in Act 1 as you are in Act 3. Neither is your partner. Your relationship is going to have to grow along with the game’s story.”
At 4:46:10, they have a video where they discuss this and show scenes from the romances.
How you treat your companions will be reflected in how they treat you. Whether they want to be in a relationship with you, whether they leave your party, or even try to kill you -- all depends on your choices.
“Sometimes it’s actually better to have an argument, and challenge your partner about their way of thinking.”
Some characters will happily share romantic partners with polyamory; some of them won’t.
Characters may have very different romantic endings based on what happens during the game and how you treat them or what you did with them. There’s not just one scene that’s the same for all playthroughs.
You can still romance people on “evil” playthroughs, so long as you play your cards right.
Mature content warning! There is a romance scene between Astarion and Halsin that the audience helped select at 5:32:49. Wowza. Worth getting banned from TikTok?
COMBAT
Multiplayer is up to four people, with split screen.
There are 3 difficulty modes: explorer (or easy), default, and tactician (hard). Tactician mode gives enemies base buffs, but also hand-crafted difficulty increases to encounters.
The “brutal AI” from tactician mode is supposed to feel like a DM that is pushing you to your limits, which manifests in ways like attacking your squishier characters, or trying to break casters’ concentration.
At 5:44:28, there’s a video showcase on the Monk class. Two minutes later, at 5:46:13, there’s some combat gameplay showing off monks and the different difficulty modes.
STORY AND CINEMATICS
At 6:00:40, there’s a video showcasing cinematics, with various clips from the game featured (lots of enemies/creatures shown).
They estimate that running through the main story will take about 80 hours, but it can go multiple times that length if you actually take your time and explore.
174 hours of cinematics doesn’t mean you’ll see all of them; it’s more that there’s so many permutations and reflections of the choices that you made, that you might not even see them all even if you play this game over and over again.
MISC
When you go to camp, you are now able to wear “camp clothes” rather than your armor, which can be toggled on and off. You can find various clothes in the world, and apply dyes to them. You can wear them outside of camp if you want to as well.
Cloaks are added.
The devs prefer not to think of this being a story told to you, but rather a story they are telling with you. Though there are many themes, trust is a big one: who you can trust, why you can trust them, and why the world should trust you as well.
There’s an unboxing of the Collector’s Edition at 6:14:26.
There is a very heavy spoiler chunk of gameplay from Act 2, starting at 6:20:42, which closes out the stream!
#baldur's gate#baldur's gate 3#bg3 spoilers#there be some spoilers here! i tried not to include stuff from gameplay#long post#phew that was a doozy
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Fahelnik // Six of Crows // 744 words // E rated
@kinktober2023 Day 27: Double Penetration
[all kinktober fills]
Nina likes being friends with Jesper.
She likes that she has a lot of friends, and treasures the relationship she has with each of them. It is easy to cherish very late night whispering with Inej, every low taunt to Kaz, and every trip out for tea with Wylan. But those three don’t do the same sorts of things she does with Jesper.
“Yes,” Nina sighs, settling her hips down so her pelvis is flat on Matthias’. He grunts, a quiet and reserved little noise, tense below her as she settles astride him.
“Gorgeous,” a low voice murmurs behind her. Then there are warm palms coming to rest on her waist right above the place Matthias has a grip on her, and she shivers.
Nina knows that Wylan spends nights on Kaz’s floor taking orders just like she knows that sometimes Inej is happy to allow Nina to kiss her, just like she’s heard more than a few lingering rumours about the things Wylan is allegedly trying to get up the courage to ask Matthias for. It is all truly wonderful, a testament to their friendship, but this is something a little bit unique to Jesper, Matthias, and her. So it seems, at least.
She tips her head backwards, allowing it to rest on Jesper’s bare shoulder. He hums, tilting his head to kiss her neck. Nina moves her loose curls out of the way to give him room, and he makes a pleased noise. Matthias has brought a hand to the apex of her thighs, starting to rub a gentle thumb over her clit in a soothing, careful motion.
“I’m ready, you know,” she says. “Stop wasting my time.”
Jesper chuckles, and when Nina peeks an eye open she can see Matthias smiling beneath her. “Lean forward, then,” Jesper prompts. Nina does.
It’s second nature to kiss Matthias so that’s what she does, trying to relax even when it takes all her effort. Being touched back there isn’t entirely new to her, but the idea of someone fucking her from behind while she’s riding her boyfriend is. Two at once is new. Exciting, though. Nina is excited.
Much like she expected him to be, Jesper is careful. He’s kind, with the gentlest of fingers and soft, murmured words. Nina keeps kissing Matthias and tries to breathe as Jesper directs her to, adding it in as a gentle instruction alongside relax, and good girl, and tell me if you need me to stop.
She doesn’t need him to stop, he can’t stop.
Before Nina knows it Jesper is lining the head of his cock up against her hole, rubbing it slowly up and down while he waits for her to catch her breath. It takes a moment. She stays leaning forward but keeps her head up, pressing curled fists down against Matthias’ chest. He rubs one thumb lovingly over her hip bone, the other still circling her clit as if he thinks that’ll help. He’s right — it does help — but it’s winding her up, too, and making her wonder how long she’ll last like this.
Then Jesper presses in, slowly, slowly, and she can’t stop a moan. Matthias speeds up his finger and calls her gorgeous, rigid beneath her and breathing heavily like he too is caught up in the vision she makes. Nina’s mouth falls open with a startled cry as Jesper slides home, stretching her wide with a curse of his own and a gritted out explanation because shit, love, you’re tight— and Nina —
Her orgasm comes as a surprise to her, cresting over her and crashing like a wave against a rocky shore. She muffles her cry by pressing her lips together hard, both men around her gasping when she does. Matthias, to his credit, doesn’t stop touching her clit, at least not until she shoots a hand out and grabs his wrist to stop him.
“Saints,” Jesper says, voice strained. “Oh, Saints, Nina—”
“Don’t,” she gasps, “don’t pull out. Don’t stop. Just—” She takes a ragged breath, quiet just long enough for her to catch the way both Matthias and Jesper groan. She exhales, settling a little bit further down onto both of them. “Just give me a second.”
Jesper kisses the back of her bare shoulder blade and, with all the love in the world, Matthias rests his hands delicately on her hips.
“Take your time, fetla,” he croaks. Softly, Nina smiles. She is so going to enjoy this.
#nina zenik#matthias helvar#jesper fahey#polycrows#helnik#six of crows#sab netflix#dgb does kinktober 2023#kinktober 2023
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So I just finished the main story of Assassin's Creed Odyssey, and here are my thoughts for those who care:
Overall the game was good, the story was impactful and there were a lot of things I loved about it.
First of all, ALL the Isu area's were amazing in their own ways. They were all varying degrees of cool or unsettling, and gave off the vaguely 'alien' feel I always thought the Isu things gave off.
The forge area where you upgrade the spear was both familiar and new, and the orange color the lights took on was unique.
The temple for Medusa was eerie, all the stone people outside, the petrified trees, the strange almost 'slowed-time' effect in the area, the fact your horse and eagle refused to enter the area...all very good touches. I suppose the only thing I was disappointed with in this side activity was the fact Medusa had legs and wasn't a Naga. I mean, she teleported anyway, why couldn't she have had a snake half?
Likewise, the Minotaur was really cool and the maze was awesome, how everything was falling apart, the deadends and various bones and corpses, the fact that the rope you're supposed to follow is broken or missing in area's, it was all really tense with the sounds of the minotaur echoing around you. And the dilapidated palace or whatever that was built over top was a good touch.
The Cyclops and Sphinx, however, were kind of a disappointment. The Sphinx didn't have her own 'arena' or temple, even if she didn't attack you. The fact that the area was outside and open to the world (and there was literally a camp with people in it 20 feet away) was a bit 'out of character' in my opinion. Yeah you had to answer the Sphinx's riddles to get the crest or whatever, but were the Isu so sure no one would answer them correctly to leave it to chance? At the very least they could have given the Sphinx an underground temple with trials to pass before even getting to her.
And the Cyclops on the forgotten isle was also kind of...blah. By the time I could get into the area, I'd already tried to enter multiple times through my exploration. And already had fought two other Cyclops who were way cooler. If anything, all three Cyclops should have had a fragment of the crest you needed, so that you'd have to fight all three. What even was the point of the other ones?
The legendary beasts were cool and fun to fight, I only wish you didn't have to kill or be banished by Daphnae at the end of it. Why could she have run away with me?
All the various tombs/temples/sunken area's/forts and just the general world you could explore were very cool.
Now for the things I didn't care for...
The world was WAY TOO FUCKING BIG. Seriously, the main story and exploring the world has me over 147 hours, and only about 3 of those hours was me doing the mainline story missions. So...why would it take me 144 hours? That would mean it took me 48 times the amount of time it took me to finish the story than it did to explore the world... That is too much. And most of the world isn't even used in the main story line either, so there's really no excuse to have such a massive map. You actually travel very little for the main story, maybe a bit more for all the cultists, but even then some cultists were very close to each other anyway, Ubisoft didn't even spread them out despite all the space.
For really a vast majority of the places you have to go out of your way to even see them. If you're just following the main questline, there are area's you will never even go to. In my opinion, the map could have been cut in half, at least, and still be a good game with a large area to explore.
And to tie in with the large map, they made the character levels go up to 99? Why? What was the need? So that you had to continue to go around to forts and such to kill large amounts of enemies to level up so the Mercenaries can't be 30+ levels higher than you? At 147+ hours, I'm only level 79, so another 20 levels to be maxed out, with the exp cap getting larger with each one...how long am I supposed to spend on this one game?
And now another big thing people have heard me talk about before. Why the two different character options, with only 1 set story? As in the character you choose to play as is always a mercenary whose sibling is presumed dead but is actually brainwashed by a cult. This would be fine if Odyssey was a self-contained game, but you have Alexios on the cover of the game, but Kassandra in the majority of promotional stuff, and the 'canon' protagonist who appears in another game!
Basically, Ubisoft made Kassandra too important to the AC universe as a whole to really allow for Alexios to have any space for himself. I mean, Kassandra not only interacts with Eivor at some point, but also lives to the modern times to give the staff of Hermes to Layla. And while I'm sure those parts would show Alexios if you played as him, the point still stands that it's Kassandra who appears in Valhalla.
So in my opinion, it should have been a similar scenario as with Eivor where the name is the same, just the gender is different, or it's a set storyline: You play as Kassandra, a mercenary who travels to find her family and save her brother from a cult.
Or...you know...not have Kassandra travel to other games...
In short, they've made Kassandra so important that Alexios is often an afterthought, and that's sad.
And kind of tying in with that last point, I thought it was really fucking stupid to show Kassandra getting the staff of Hermes, and seeing what happens when someone holds it too long, and then IMMEDIATELY having Kassandra appear in front of Layla to hand the staff over and die. Like, that was so sudden it really didn't have an impact on me? If you had to pull the player out of the animus and have Kassandra show up with the staff right there, why not let Kassandra work with the modern Assassin's for a bit, maybe have a big showdown with Abstergo where Kassandra helps them fight, AND THEN Kassandra gives Layla the staff and dies?
Just one after the other like that was unimpactful in my opinion. Or like...don't show us what happened when Kassandra's dad gave her the staff, fade to black with some ominous words like 'Kassandra, there's something you must know...' and then you think Kassandra's dad gave her the staff and left, so when Kassandra dies when she gives Layla the staff you're completely caught off guard with it because you didn't know for certain what would happen?
It was too rushed. Just saying.
A smaller issue I had...why were most of the romanceable npc's woman? Ubisoft gave a lot of instances where Kassandra could be a lesbian, but playing as Alexios you'd have very little men options... So either lesbians are ok, and gay men aren't, or if everyone was to play strictly 'straight' then playing as Kassandra could be seen as her being a better, more focused mercenary as she wasn't falling into bed with every man she saw, and Alexios would be a womanizer. Who knows, just a strange thing I noticed. I think I got the option with only three or four men to romance them, but like... every woman was dtf Kassandra...
Ok, now just some super small complaints:
-why could lynx's take me off my horse? they're pretty small.
-why were npc mercenaries's tamed animals so much better than mine?
-why could I not hunt whales? they're right there, I can kill sharks.
-why can't I get resources from birds? don't I need feathers for crafting arrows?
-why so many fucking ainigmata ostraka? why so many engravings? I haven't even used any of them...
-what's the point of that forge guy in Hephaistos's Workshop? He never did anything for me, so I stopped going.
-lead cultist was so predictable.
-stop pulling me out of the Animus when things are getting good!
-ugh...why should I care about Layla? I really don't... (bring back Desmond!!<3)
-also just...I find Layla annoying?? I just...can't stand her...Literally don't know why, just never liked her. (my first ever AC was origin's, didn't like her from the start so it's not 'you just don't like her cause Desmond' because...I literally knew her before Desmond...)
-Alexios forgave in ch9 far too quickly. the spear should have showed him what happened that night. simply taking Kassandra and Myrinne's word for what happened is stupid, he's been lied to by a cult his entire life...
-I got the 'best' ending with Nikolaos and stentor at dinner with Kassandra, alexios and myrinne. why is myrinne ok with nikolaos being there? he made up with Kassandra, to myrinne he's still the man that allowed the cult to nearly kill both her children. and stentor is a grown ass man adopted by her shitty husband. whi tried to kill Kassandra. just saying, best ending should not have nikolaos and stentor as part of the 'happy' family.
#assassin's creed#assassins creed#personal#kassandra#assassins creed odyssey#alexios#kassandra of sparta
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Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest
Summary: Din gives you a brief layout of his home.
A/N: Hello lovelies,
Another week, another chapter. It's funny as I'm editing, the story keeps getting longer. Lol.
Just want to remind everyone that the Razor Crest story is going to be a series of short stories dealing with the life of the Razor Crest Ranch, Ann's past and their future.
Once one series is done, there will be a two to three week break before the next series is posted. I hope that made sense.
Love oo.
Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.
Warning: feelings of safety, discussions of comm connections, mentions of protection, family endangerment, feelings of mistrust, I think that's it. If I miss anything please let me know.
AO3 Link | Words: 1,038 | Previous -> Next
Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest
THE RAZOR CREST SEVEN
CHAPTER SIX
The way she looked around the room, made Din pause for a brief second. He couldn’t help wonder what exactly had she gone through. Yet, at the same time he had no right to inquire, it wasn’t any of his business to know about her past.
He pushed the thought aside, as his mind focused back on showing the room.
“There’s a closet right here,” Din motioned to the door to his left, “it’s not very big. There’s some extra blankets and pillows if you need in the bedroom bench” he opened the end-of-bed bench as he spoke, showing off the various blankets and their varying thickness.
Camilla was an avid blanket aficionado and adamant when it came to blankets, stating over and over again whenever she walked into the house with a newly purchased one, they were a necessity. Each blanket was unique and served a different purpose, just because you might use one in winter, doesn’t mean you would use the same one in spring, and having just one blanket for each season was never enough.
As I stood in the room, this feeling of complete safety washed over me. I finally felt safe. I’m not sure if it was because of the remote location, or due to the man I met not even an hour ago who was willing to take the chance on me, or because I had an escape route with Cobb and Fenn if I needed.
For the first time in a long time, I finally was able to let out a breath of relief, tears were welling up in my eyes as a lump formed in my throat, which I quickly tried to swallow down. I didn’t want to cry.
Din watched her not quite able to understand what she was thinking or feeling. There was just a blank expression on her face as she glanced around the room, he couldn’t tell if she was upset or pleased with the room, however, he figured it was better to play it safe and assumed the former, “I’m sorry it’s not more, but feel free to make it your own after you complete your three months.”
“No” I shook my head, turning to look out the window as I discreetly wiped a tear, “No, it’s great. Cozy.” I cursed myself as my voice trembled. I took in a deep breath turning to look at Din, “Thank you. It’s quite lovely.”
The expression on her face stunned him for a second, her face bloomed with joy, the only way he could describe the radiance she seemed to have was that she finally found hope. It made her look enchanting, he glanced around the room focusing his attention elsewhere.
“I’m glad you like it,” he nodded.
“Oh, before I forget,” he continued, “personal comms sometimes have a hard time working out here. We have internet which technically should be harder to get out here, but nope that’s easy to access.” He shrugged as she tilted her head at him as to ask why, when he held up his hand, “Don’t bother asking why one and not the other. I have spent a lot of time trying to fix it, so my personal comm could work, but I’ve finally given up. I think it has something to do with the minerals in the mountains that are at my door step. Anyway, there’s a landline in the kitchen, in the bedrooms, as you can see from the one in your room” he motioned with his head to the non-portable comm, “There’s also one in the study, living room and barn. If you ever need to use the phone, you can use one of those, just not the one in my bedroom. After three months, we can talk about getting you a private line, if you wish.”
I nodded in agreement, but really who was I going to call. I couldn’t call any of my friends or family or it would put them in danger, learned that after the first time I tried to leave. It was better not to make deeper connections with anyone, yet Cobb and Fennec both said that now things were different. They’d be able to watch out for me, and provide me a layer of protection I didn’t have before, there was a hope things would be getting better. I still wouldn’t be able to reach out to my family, at least not until they’d be able to set up some way to contact them discreetly, the sheer idea of having that option weighed heavily on my heart. However, it wasn’t important to focus on that, especially since that was not a guaranteed possibility. Instead, what I needed to focus on was the here and now.
“Appreciate it. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t be entering your room unless it’s to clean or grab the laundry.”
Din simply shook his head, “Not even then.” There was a quizzical expression on her face, ion response to his statement.
“You don’t have to clean my room, I’ll do it. You can simply leave the fresh bedding on the chair in front of the door to my room. Anyway, laundry room is off the back entrance, and I have a laundry shoot that goes directly into that room. You may find on occasion some dirty clothes or towels in the mud room which is beside the kitchen and in front of the laundry room. We have a storm cellar, filled with essentials for the occasional tornadoes, the entrance is in the kitchen. There’s a faux pantry door, which leads you down there, I’ll show you when you’re ready. It’s also where I keep the wine and liquor.”
“How long could someone stay down there for?”
“Depends on the amount of people, but if it’s two or three people, I would say about four to six months. If there’s more, we’ll go through our rations a lot faster.”
My eyes widened in shock, “How … how big is it?”
“Big enough to house, two bedrooms, washroom, living room, kitchen, study, rec room/work out room and storage room.” Din chewed on the inside of his cheek wondering if maybe he made a mistake revealing too much too soon.
AO3 Link | Words: 1,038 | Previous -> Next
Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest
@littlemisspascal@sprout-fics@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @tortor-mcgee @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @chiyo13
#din djarin series#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x reader#din x reader#western din#the mandolarian#cowboy din djarin#western din djarin#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian fanfic#the mandalorian x ofc#the mandalorian#cobb vanth#grogu#mandalorian and grogu#peli motto#fennec shand#boba fett#mando fic#mando fanfiction#mando x reader#mando
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Have you ever discussed your thoughts on Rhea's choice about keeping Sitri's body in abyss? Really love your analysis posts on her and Sothis, so I was wondering your thoughts.
I always saw it as Rhea being unsure of how the uniqueness of Sitri's body would lend itself to the Nabatean's ability to recover from death/near death. Maybe grief pushed her to think that if the corpse isn't degrading then maybe it has a chance to be recovered. And if so, you don't want to pull a Buffy and get stuck in a coffin six feet under. Mainly backed by that line of rhea not wanting her to be stuck in the cold and the dark.
Might not make sense with the crest stone removed, but grief is a hell of a thing to help ignore logic
I actually did give my own thoughts on Rhea keeping Sitri's body in abyss and not letting her rest in a grave. It's in my Nabatean Slumber post!
"But here is another theory: sleeping in a casket is normal for Nabatean slumber. It could be why Rhea did not want to bury Sitri. Not just because of the cold, dark soil, but because her resting in a casket implies she could come back."
I do like your thoughts on it! Maybe you can mix that with Rhea wanting to revive Sothis who should be able to return all that she lost? Maybe she doesn't want Sitri 6 feet under when she gets to be brought back?
Who knows! Grief can definitely make you do weird shit.
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@dutyworn asked: [ APPROACH ] our muses haven’t been intimate yet and receiver finally broaches the subject to sender. / nihlus first contact
💌 some more smutty memes [ meme - accepting ]
He knew their species' governments and the Council wouldn't stay out of their personal lives forever, though he had certainly hoped it would have been longer than a few weeks before they started asking him about the more intimate details of their bonding. Not even a full month after their ceremony, and Nihlus had been forced to endure one of the most awkward conversations to have with the Council in his entire Spectre career - and the most awkward conversation to have with Sparatus in his entire life so far.
At least they're putting the pressure on him and not Shepard, as small of a mercy as that might be. But he knows it will only be a matter of time, if he tries to give her more time to adjust to... everything, given how it was her life that was completely uprooted by this whole arrangement in the first place, before they start assuming she - and thus humanity - aren't keeping to their end of the agreement. That's the last thing she needs...
He pauses as he taps a selection of items from a menu on the datapad he holds, trying to select levo foods he knows she's tried and enjoyed, and avoid anything he knows she didn't like or care for. He had wanted to spend this evening out in the Wards, taking her to dinner and to some of the local entertainment, to continue her tour of the Citadel of where would be safest for her to go on her own whenever he's away on a mission, but his earlier meeting with the Council was forcing him to change his plans.
He was determined that she would at least have a quiet dinner to enjoy, even if nothing else went the way he had hoped to spend their evening. After all, he didn't put it past Valern in particular to send spies to follow them if they left their apartment, and if he was going to have to have this discussion tonight, he was at least going to ensure they would have complete privacy, as he'd already scanned the entire apartment for bugs, and removed and destroyed the few that had been planted while no one was home.
Looking up at the sound of the door's chime announcing it's swift opening and closing, his mandibles spread in an easy smile to see Wren returning. She looks relaxed, at least, which is hopeful, as he turns back to the menu to submit the order to be delivered.
"I just finished ordering us dinner," he offers, setting the datapad aside as he stands to greet her properly. A quiet purr rumbles deep in his chest as he moves to meet her, leaning in to lightly press his crest to her forehead affectionately. "It should be here soon."
Though the matter of 'Council business' was never going to make for polite dinner conversation, he shakes his head as he gestures further into the apartment toward the bar in the back corner. "Join me for a drink while we wait? After today's meeting I had with the Council, I think we'll both be needing one," he notes wryly.
"I wanted to allow you as much time as you could have, considering how you were clearly rushed into this arrangement with even less information than I was granted. But it seems the powers that be can't leave well enough alone for more than a few weeks before trying to raise issues..."
He sighs wearily as he pours himself a glass of brandy from the bar, taking a long drink from it before topping it off again before he continues. "There have been 'concerns', from both sides, about the 'legitimacy' of this arrangement. While it's not uncommon for turian bondmates to not rush into..."
Spirits, he's just going to get this out as clinically as he has to. Better that than risk any misunderstandings, he imagines.
"Into sexual intimacy with their partners, especially given that often one or both are still in active duty, it seems that the same leeway is being questioned given our more unique situation. I'm not certain which side decided to start complaining first, but there had to have been more than a few turians to have noted either of us lack the usual signs of being fully bonded."
A frustrated growl escapes him as he takes another drink of his brandy. "Not that it's any of their business, and I told the Council that very thing in no uncertain terms. I won't do anything without your full consent, however, so if you tell me that you're not ready, or not interested at all, then we'll figure something out. I won't let them force or coerce my bondmate into anything. I swore to protect you, and I will do just that - be it from the Alliance, the Hierarchy, or even the Council itself."
#dutyworn#dreams of elsewhere ( ic )#cool under pressure ( nihlus kryik )#shipverse || wren shepard / dutyworn ( nihlus )#shipverse au || wren shepard / dutyworn ( relay 314 | nihlus )#wren shepard || dutyworn ( nihlus )#connection / dutyworn ( nihlus & wren shepard )#there was a point to this story ( answered )#things can never be quite the same again ( suggestive )#limes cw#//fyi nihlus has no idea of what foods go well together#//so wren is getting an absolute potlock of things she showed favour to xD#//he just ordered a bit of everything she's liked so far#//since human foods are likely still extremely rare if available at all#//or they're mimics by asari or salarians
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Soul writing PM from 15.3.24
You're very close to the surface today. Is there anything you want to say?
I see an apartment building. A young girl in the street looks up and waves up to an older lady on her balcony, who waves back.
I see a snow blizzard. While driving, you can't see a thing. The windshield wiper working on overdrive. Lots of snow on roof tops and gardens. It's melting now. Remnants of a snowman, a carrot nose and stones for eyes. I bump into the car in front of me. It's a man with a truck towing a trailer with a yacht. There is still snow, but he is in a Hawaiian shirt. I don't think he noticed that my car bumped into his. He looks very happy.
There's a cat. Long-haired, yellow marble eyes. It is standing before two bowls, one with food, one with water. It is bored. Then I see the cat is suddenly donning a pearl necklace, and a little ruffled shirt. It looks very proud. It stalks up to look at itself in the floor-length mirror. The cat turns into a beautiful young lady of Indian descent. She looks like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin. She slinks to the balcony (in the same way a cat might) and looks out at the sunset.
How do I know I'm not making these scenes up? That this is real?
I see a girl with thick-rimmed glasses, wearing a bathrobe and her hair in a messy bun. She is sitting at the kitchen table, with a pen and paper. But nothing comes. She tries to write a few lines but ends up scrunching the paper into a ball and throwing it in the rubbish. There are balls of paper all around. This happens for awhile. But then she gets an idea. It appears into her mind. The epic light-bulb moment. She hurriedly scratches the thoughts to paper, the ideas flowing. The next scene, she is rich. Successful. A winner.
Then I'm reminded of the memory where I have been saying ever since finishing uni that I never, ever, ever want to participate in any type of studying ever again. The thought filled me with dread. Then basically overnight, I suddenly found the energy and motivation to enrol in that course last year and complete it. Nothings come of it (which is my choice) but I learnt a lot of valuable things and had so many experiences that wouldn't have happened otherwise if I hadn't followed that 'call' to do so.
What did you observe today? Anything of interest?
I see a flag of a crest. On one of those pole things that important people like royals wave around to announce their arrival. There's a servant holding it on a horse, and whole bunch of cavalry flanking a carriage. It's medieval times. The moat to a castle gets lowered and the carriage enters the fortress. The lady climbs out and is welcomed. She looks around, unfamiliar with her surroundings. She chats with her host, plays the game but she's not really here for that. She is looking around. Observing. Then I see that scene from Sleeping Beauty where Prince Phillip and Princess Aurora's fathers are celebrating the betrothal of their children, which will unite their kingdoms. They get drunk off wine and eventually fall asleep on the floor.
Right... Ok, so is that dude I'm supposed to have a romantic relationship on NE still waiting around for me?
I'm lying under a Japanese maple tree. It's autumn. The leaves have changed colours. Red, green and yellow. I am watching the leaves fall in slow motion. Zooming in on the details, the leaf veins, the leaf lobes, how each leaf is unique. I am enjoying my own company. After awhile I notice in the branches are some white birds, doves or pigeons. They keep their distance but I could call out to them if I wanted to. They would fly down.
Is there something about the takedown that I'm not expecting? That I should know about?
I see the Earth spinning from space. And then it turns into an apple, spinning on it's twig. It's a poisoned apple. Blood red like the one offered to Snow White by the Evil Witch. I take bites (destroying it). I keep eating the apple. I fall into a bewitched sleep. (I think this means I'm underestimating how much I'm gonna be tired af and want to recuperate for a long time after this whole toxic ordeal. I keep thinking I'm gonna prance off and do everything I want to do immediately but that won't be the case)
I am sensing Mort. He will be there. (great)
Okay. Well. Anything else?
You've done well today with processing the energy. Didn't we say the barriers would fall? They will continue to do so [I hear police sirens]. The veil is coming off the bride. Of course it was always just nothing, a piece of lace that the sun shines through regardless. Reaching it's target, always. But now there is a woman's face (you) unobstructed, smiling back toward the sun.
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Verses: Fire Emblem (WIP)
Awakening: WIP
Fates: WIP
Three Houses: Having been discovered at a very young age, Layle was taken in by an elderly couple in Alliance territory, until he was apprehended by dark mages whom used him for experimentation with crests alongside others. As one of a handful who survived, he was given the crest of Maurice- The crest of the Beast as it would be more commonly known. Once the experiment was done, he was dumped off on the side of the road in Ordelia territory. He spent a few years scraping by until eventually Count Ordelia and his wife saw him walking along a trail in the rain. Having taken pity on seeing a child in such a state, they agreed to take him in under the pretense of an errand boy.
On Layle's free days, however Count Ordelia would have noticed he had an interesting knack for combat- Giving him the proposition of training to become a vassal of sorts, with the promise of eventually getting a parcel of land should his service be sufficient. He eagerly agreed, enjoying the prospect of having a new place he may really be able to call home.
When he took breaks from his training, he noticed the young Lady Ordelia studying, and would study alongside her. Only about two years older than her, the two were able to get on well enough. After learning more about properly reading and writing, he would take more free time do do his own independent studying, so as to let Lady Ordelia go about her studies undeterred, though the two had certainly shared a slice or two of cake or other such sweets on occasions in the evening. His subjects of interest were and still generally are close quarters combat, magic, and tactics.
Some number of years passed as Layle began to prove himself proficient to Count Ordelia, having been given a proper contract that would begin his status as a vassal- With his assignment being to serve as Lysithea's bodyguard as she goes to attend the Garreg Mach Monastery.
The first to dance at an appropriate gathering, born 28th of Verdant Rain Moon.
Starting Stats: 25 HP, 8 Str, 7 Mag, 10 Dex, 7 Spd, 6 Luk, 7 Def, 8 Res, 10 Cha
Crest: Storm Dragon (Maurice/The Beast)
Budding Talent: Reason (Black Magic Crit +10)
Strengths: Sword, Lance, Brawl, Authority
Weaknesses: Axe, Bow, Riding
Reason Spells: Thunder, Mire B, Thoron, Sagittae, Bolting, Hades Ω
Faith Spells: Heal, Nosferatu, Recover, Seraphim, Rescue, Aura
Combat Arts: Hexblade, Finesse Blade, Monster Piercer, Frozen Lance, Lightning Axe, Exhaustive Strike, Monster Blast, Ward Arrow, Monster Crusher, Mystic Blow
Starting Class: Commoner
Unique Ability: Malignant Fury- If this unit reduces a foe to 0 HP with a magic weapon/combat art, or spell, the unit can act one more time on the current turn.
Skills: Sword E+, Lance E, Axe E, Bow E, Brawl E+, Reason E+, Faith E, Authority E+, Armor E, Riding E, Flying E
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July 13th
Hey y’all! Okay wednesday was super fun- maybe my favorite day? It was pretty packed, and we didn’t even leave campus. There were 4 speakers, all super interesting and engaging!
First Eric Lee, a photojournalist who focuses on Asian American identity in his photos (also, I got his permission to cite an article of his in a paper which is awesome).
Then, we heard from Alan Byrd, the Dean of Admissions at George Mason University about the college application process, which is always important to know at the level we’re all at here.
Next was breakout rooms with a lot less people seeing one speaker. Personally, I was able to listen to Anna (Rose) Layden, and she was so cool!! I say this everytime, but she was my favorite. Honestly, everyone we hear from is awesome in so many different ways it’s part of what makes this conference and journalism itself so amazing.
I got a photo with her and everything, and she went to a college I really want to go to so I’m definitely gonna ask her about it. Her perspective was super interesting, because she was really fresh out of college, graduated last year, and she’s still in the sort of honeymoon phase of photojournalism.
She still genuinely enjoys at, has nothing bad to say, goes out every day… it’s really nice to have a perspective like that after all the more experienced journalists having more negative experiences (which obviously isn’t a bad thing- just a factual one). Also her work is so awesome she’s worked hard to crest a unique style and it definitely shows- I 1000% recommend looking it up, she’s going places.
Our final speaker of the day was Tom Jackman. I was worried, because it was 9 pm and I was so worried I would be too tired to pay attention- but he was amazing. Think Brian Lamb style of presentation, but somehow more engaging. He’s a really interesting guy on his own, definitely check him out- what he did with us, is that he wrote a story after he interviewed some of us.
He asked us our opinions about the media coverage of the Roe v. Wade decision, and there was so many different ideas people had, it was amazing. He then used peoples comments to write an article (while he did that, a group member and I had a really fun conversation about books we love from school). Definitely really interesting and different.
Other than speakers, yesterday we also did a simulation thing. We were in groups or alone, I worked alone (like I wanted to be), and assigned a story. We had the story we needed to work on and a bit of background on our character kinda, and our goal was to pitch the idea to 2 editors (2 of our group mates assigned that role) to get it on the front page.
It was so fun! I really enjoyed it- I had a story about rising opioid addiction (not a real scenario) and my paper mentioned my cousin had died due to that, so I wrote it from the angle of community and talking to people affected to comfort them kinda deal. It was a local news thing.
I wrote a really detailed why I should be on the front page, specific people I had talked to, I had a real statistic… I had a ton of fun. I won, too! Both my roommates group and I made the front page news (well, in the roleplay) and I’m very proud of us. It was definitely a fun way to see the different angles people can take on a story! I could write about it for ages but unfortunately this blog can’t be TOO long, ha.
As you can tell, yesterday was amazing, and my suitemates and I were so awake at 10:30 we hung out and watched part of My Big Fat Greek Wedding… so fun.
If you couldn’t tell, I’m trying to sprinkle in some more fun little moments I had. Not all of them, still saving some for me, but it’s definitely important that I’ve had such an amazing time here. And sorry if this blog hasn’t shown that.
That said! Thanks for reading again, check the instagram (toby_wjmc22) for a post soon, and we’ll be seeing you!
-Toby B)
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ME ok I got some glue on nails today and it made me think of that meme/ text convo where a girl messaged her bf what color she should get her nails and he says “I want my d*ck wrapped in purple” which is lowkey hot SO it made me think about Din and a reader with painted manicured nails and Din noticing he quite likes when reader has their nails done because the colors look especially pretty ~around him~ and they’re also perfect for scratching his head and back and he just melts and something about the unique splash of beauty when they’re handling a blaster or throwing a punch just drives him wild and sorry this is a lot but yeah
If you vibe with any of it, a wee drabble would be LOVELY please and thank you 👀🥰🥰
Oh darling, you’ve got me thinking SOO many thots with this 😏😏 it was hard to narrow down which ones to put in here lol!
Please forgive me if this is sloppy, I have a dreadful cold right now so I didn’t do much editing on this 😅 I hope you still like it! Thank you for this request, my dear! 💖
Content: spicy thoughts and ideas leading into some actual smutty times, brief oral (m receiving), multiple orgasms, some gn!fucking, he calls you sweet names 🥰
The first time you did it was just for fun.
You ran into a little nail kit at a market and decided to treat yourself. It came with a few different colors, but the red and the black were the ones Din liked most.
When he first saw you with those pitch black nails, taking some practice shots outside while he fixed up the ship, he couldn’t stop staring at how your hands looked wrapped around that handle.
How would they look wrapped around him, he wondered. The sudden friction in his pants told him it would be good.
A couple weeks later you decided to paint them again when he flung the Crest into hyperspace. He watched your movements as you contemplated which color to use this time. He lurched in his seat when you reached for the bright pink.
“Red,” he said.
“What was that?” You asked with a furrowed brow.
He cleared his throat and tried to calm the heat rushing to his face under the helmet.
“Use the red one… I want to see it on you.”
You grinned despite your confusion and took out the little red bottle.
~~~~
“On your knees for me, baby.”
You gave him a sloppy kiss before dropping down as requested and pulling Din’s cock free from his briefs. He let out a low, guttural growl when your hands wrapped around it, your deep red nails standing out against his skin.
“So fucking pretty,” he said, “I want you to ruin those nails on me.”
You whimpered and took him in your mouth, making sure to flash your nails up towards him whenever possible.
Who knew that under all that silver, Din had a thing for color?
When he started wrecking you and you clung to his back for dear life, he chuckled into your ear.
“Go on, sweetheart, dig into me with those nails.”
You did. You shouted in ecstasy and clawed down his back as he brought you to orgasm. He praised you through labored grunts.
“Just like that, baby,” he leaned up and stared down at you. “Touch yourself.”
You reached down and played with yourself while he watched, your nails moving in quick gestures just above his cock. His brow contorted at the sight, his cock growing harder inside you.
The way your nails looked around him was one thing, but seeing them on you was pure heaven.
“Fuck, just like that,” he growled, “So. Fucking. Pretty.”
Each word was accented with a deep thrust, his big hands digging into your hips. The filling sensation had your eyes rolling back in your head, your back arching up.
“Din, I’m gonna cum again,” you whispered through your moans.
“Oh you better baby, I’m gonna cum with you,” he said with a grin.
He leaned down over you and you ran a hand through his hair, giving it a tug just before he sent you over the edge, his own roaring release coming just after.
Once you both came down from your highs and you were relaxed in his arms, he took your hand and kissed your knuckles.
“I like this color.”
****
#answered#the mandalorian#din djarin#din djarin x reader#drabble#request#I hope you like it boo!#thank you for this lovely request!
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Death and an Angel part 3
Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader
Summary: You and Din have an unexpected heart-to-heart about what it means to be Death and a Cupid on route to a planet where Din’s potential soulmate lives.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,500
Warnings: Pining, smidge of angst, more plot development, Razor Crest (RIP I miss you darling!), a made-up home world for the reader (yes, yes, there’s like a million I could have picked but my brain said NOPE)
Author Note: Ahhhh, the comments are so amazing from you all! Thank you everyone out there sparing time to check out my little universe, it makes me sooo happy you have no idea! As always, I hope you enjoy this new segment as I try to plot this story out and get these two idiots to acknowledge there just might be something between them.
Also special thanks to @codenamewitcher for including the first two parts on Weekly Fanfic Recs. Be sure to go check out the list for a whole bunch of fantastic stories!
Links to Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4
Photo Inspiration: (What I imagine is beneath the armor in this scene...*dreamy sigh*)
There is a distinct silence that can only be found in hyperspace when the stars outside resemble sparkling streaks of silver tinsel and your breath is trapped within your lungs as you’re awestruck by the sheer beauty of it all. You experience this silence aboard the Razor Crest, sitting in the cockpit behind Din as he pilots his beloved gunship. It isn’t the first time you’ve been a passenger, having traveled with Din on two previous ventures where your Cupid services were required on planets far away from your home on Umbriel.
Off-world assignments for you were generally rare since your bosses were more inclined to choose Cupids of higher ranking to handle those clients, but sometimes you were the only available option left. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how you became the one roped into meeting with Death every full moon. Your bosses decided someone needed to check up on him to make sure he wasn’t reaping anyone before their fated time and thus messing with the natural order of things. You privately have reached the conclusion it was a decision made during a fit of paranoia as you had yet to find any evidence suggesting Din ever broke a single one of the universe’s rules, let alone even considered the mere possibility.
When you did travel for assignments, you never stopped feeling like a goldfish being dumped out of your familiar little bowl and into a massive ocean full of strange oddities. You would often find yourself wasting time trying to successfully navigate the unknown world when you should have been focused on tracking down your client’s soulmate.
That’s why Din had offered to start traveling with you. Actually, in his own words it was because, “You think about love so much you don’t see trouble until it’s an inch in front of you. Someone’s got to be there to look after you.”
You’d tried to argue, told him you had never experienced trouble and that if you did then you could handle it with your bow. All Cupid’s were required to master archery for self-defense purposes, though Din’s responding snort of derision made you suspect he wasn’t convinced of your skills. You wondered if he thought, just as humans incorrectly did, a Cupid only used their bow to spread love and lust. Or maybe he just thought you weren’t capable of such finesse. It was an insulting assumption, fueling you with the burning desire to prove him wrong. One day, you keep telling yourself, a repetitive chant. One day you’ll show him just how capable you are with your weapon and you imagine his look of shock, whether worn openly on his face or hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, will be utterly priceless.
But in the meantime, you’re in no hurry to encounter trouble. Finding enjoyment in taking these trips with him on his ship instead.
The Razor Crest had actually been a complete surprise to you when Din first welcomed you on it; primarily because the notion of him using such a primitive form of transportation despite the powers he possessed as Death was too outrageous to wrap your head around. However, it took less than ten minutes soaring through space for you to discover just how many details of the universe you were missing by relying on your Cupid abilities to teleport yourself between locations. Never would you have imagined Death to be the one to teach you to love the slowness of travel, to let your eyes linger on all the beautiful wonders along the way. But that’s exactly what happened.
You turn your head away from the window to look at Din. From your angle, all you glimpse is the back of his helmet, reflecting the passing starlight. Soon you’ll be introducing Din to the first immortal on your list of potential soulmates.
Death, you quickly correct yourself. He’s only Din when he’s around you.
You initially thought he elected to wear his armor because you told him he could to ease his comfort, but now you think it’s because this is him meeting his potential soulmate as himself. It is easy to forget sometimes this is the image of Death—a warrior enshrouded in beskar, cunning and ruthless—that is recognized throughout the universe. And feared.
If the handsome face he concealed was known instead, you wonder if mortals would readily choose to embrace the ending of their lifetime, rather than foolishly seek to run from its inevitability.
“What is it?” Din’s baritone voice startles you as it shatters the quietness. The modulator within his helmet gives his tone a low raspiness that never fails to send a chill down your spine when you hear it.
“Huh?” You respond ineloquently.
“You’ve been staring at the back of my head for the last five minutes, angel. I figured you had something worth saying.”
“Oh, no. I was just thinking about you.”
Immediately you wish a meteor would collide with the ship, providing you with the necessary distraction to escape and find somewhere you can hide until the end of time.
“...What about me were you thinking?” Din wonders after a solid thirty seconds of pure silence, voice somehow conveying an equally blended mixture of intrigue and wariness. He flips on the ship’s autopilot and turns in his seat to pin you with his gaze, apparently unwilling to let you try and weasel yourself out of the conversation.
You roll the question around in your mind, wanting to give an answer that satisfies him without it also embarrassing yourself further.
“I was thinking how much of an enigma you are,” you murmur at last, leaning back in the chair with your arms crossing over your stomach. “You wield such incredible powers and yet you choose to wear a human face, to call this man-made ship your home and to also spend your spare time living amongst those you will eventually reap. Why are these your choices?”
He tilts his head, and you just know there is a little crease of bewilderment appearing between his eyebrows right now even if you can’t see it. For as much as he is a puzzle you can’t put together, he is also at times an open book that you will never tire of reading.
“I would think you, more than most beings, would understand the discomfort that stems from loneliness and the lengths one will go to ease it,” he says, not unkindly. He mirrors your position, maneuvering himself until he’s comfortable in his seat and totally oblivious to the dilating of your pupils as you observe every subtle shift of his armor-clad body. “Isn’t that the true purpose of Cupids? To spare individuals the ache of living a life of solitude by introducing them to someone to love so they no longer feel it.”
“That’s a poetic way of putting it,” you answer, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “My superiors would just quote our mantra back at me when I used to ask. Amor vincit omnia.”
“Love conquers all.”
You shouldn’t be surprised he’s able to translate such an ancient and obscure language, but your eyes widen regardless. “That’s right.”
His voice is unusually soft when he asks, “Do you like being a Cupid?”
You stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he’s changed the topic of the conversation from himself to you. You’re used to taking orders and being thanked for your services, but no one has ever asked you if you liked doing any of it.
“I’m good at it,” you finally say, even though it’s not really an answer.
He nods his head still, as if he understands. A part of you thinks he actually does.
You lick your lips, eyeing him hesitantly. “Do you...like being Death?”
“I’m good at it,” he echoes, but your words sound somber coming from his lips.
The cockpit fills with hushed silence again, but there’s a unique tenderness unlike ever before. Minutes seem to stretch on for entire seasons as you watch one another, content to simply coexist and revel in each other’s presences.
It would be so easy to slip off his helmet and kiss him right now.
You stiffen, stunned at your own thought, but you aren’t given the chance to analyze it further as an alarm on the ship’s control panel announces with a resounding beep you’ve reached your destination.
Din spins in his seat, reclaiming control of the steering to begin the ship’s landing process. You look out the front window at the large green-blue planet drawing nearer with every anxious tick of your heartbeat.
“We’re here,” you say needlessly, forcing excitement into your voice. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that the human expression?
“Who is it we’re meeting on this backwater skug hole?” Din asks, pressing a series of buttons above his head.
You kick the back of his seat. “Be nice,” you scold when he shoots you a look. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he turns back around, prompting you to roll your eyes. “She’s a goddess of springtime and motherhood. The locals call her Omera.”
Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @eleine-t1d, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee
#the mandalorian#mandalorian x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#Din Djarin#Mandalorian#soulmate au#my fic#my writing#death and an angel#Pedro Pascal#pedro pascal character fanfiction#din x you#din x reader
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In the Steel Steeds Heart
Chapter 32: NightMare
Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, blood/gore, violence, brief animal death
Summary: Juniper finds herself in a strange place with an unlikely companion.
Feedback appreciated, 18+
“What are you doing?” Heisenberg watched as Juniper drew at the opposite desk.
“I’m trying to make a sewing pattern.” She held it up for him to see.
He nodded.
“I want to make a horse stuffed animal for the baby.” She smiled over the paper.
“Because of the crest?” His lips twitched.
“Mhm.”
“You are cute.”
“Shut up.” She stuck her tongue out playfully before turning back to the desk.
She worked for hours at the opposite desk, following Donna’s teachings the best she could. Heisenberg would glance over to her every so often over his own work, his heart swelling.
“….hmmmm.” She finally spoke. She sat back in her chair looking over her creation. Heisenberg stood and walked up behind her.
He stifled the sound that bubbled up in his throat. Whatever the little creature she made was…it definitely wasn’t a horse.
“It’s….unique.” Heisenberg commented.
“It’s terrible.” Juniper sighed.
“First attempts are never what you imagine.” He soothed, “Try again.”
She pouted at the desk, “Donna made it look so easy.”
“Dollmaking has been in her family for generations, she’s been sewing since before you were born, kitten.”
When she didn’t speak he continued, “Do you know how many times it took me to make a fully functional Soldat?…Eighteen times!”
“Soldats are a bit more intricate then a stuffed animal Heis…”
“I didn’t try creating life first project. You start small and learn. This is the small.” He pointed to the misshapen stuffie, “Try again. You’ll do better.”
“Alright.” She looked over her pattern, “I might have to tweak the size of the legs…”
Heisenberg smiled, leaning down to drop a kiss onto the top of her head before returning to his own work.
~
After many attempts and Heisenberg leaving to go work with the forge she finally made something she was happy with.
Juniper burst into the forge room.
Heisenberg set the mold down, turning as he pulled the thick forge gloves off. “Show me, kitten.” He chuckled.
“Look!” Juniper beamed, offering out the little plush. It was a chubby little horse, made from soft brown fabric, with button eyes and dark tail. It looked cute, with a larger head and little tongue out.
“It’s perfect, love.” Heisenberg smiled, loving her happiness.
“I added something.” She held it closer, “See!”
Heisenberg felt out with his powers, realizing there was a metal washer tucked deep within the cotton interior.
“So you can get it easily for the baby.” She beamed.
Heisenberg pulled her closer, “You did good, love.”
Over dinner Heisenberg started to talk about work, happily giving updates as he ate.
“The latest Soldat Jet should be ready for a test drive soon…hopefully.” He spoke as he cut through his pork chop.
“Was that what you were making the parts for?” Juniper asked.
“Mhm.” He nodded, “The last one exploded so I need to remake some parts.”
“Exploded?” Juniper frowned, moving potatoes around her plate.
“Yea, they need a lot of power and the last one…”, he took a bite, chewing as he thought for a moment, “Well, the bastard overheated when it tried to stay aloft and he…exploded.”
“So do you think they’ll really be able to fly?” Juniper asked.
“Not like a full, long flight. But I think I can definitely make them be able to, say, hover or get over big obstacles. They won’t be realistic to make a large amount of them but a few specialized ones should work just fine.” He explained.
Juniper nodded as she ate.
~
Juniper was outside, in the dark and twisted trees. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there, or why it was so cold. The winter had already passed, but the night sent bitter chills straight to her bones. Juniper hugged her thin nightdress closer to her as she trudged ahead. The sound of an animal approaching made her freeze.
She saw a black mare walking in the snow, it’s hooves crunching into the thick layer of frost. It’s breaths came in plumes of silvery mist as it snorted out.
It’s movements were labored, Juniper suddenly realizing the creature was heavily pregnant as it came closer. She went to the creature, it paused, sniffing at her through large nostrils.
After a moment the mare nuzzled into her offered hand. Juniper placed an arm around the creature's neck, walking alongside it looking for shelter.
The night was silent, save for the sound of wind and snow falling. No sounds of humans or lycans anywhere. They shared their warmth, Juniper's limbs began to feel numb.
An old shed came into the distance, Juniper thankfully led the horse into the small building. It was at least out of the wind. The mare lay heavily down on the old straw. Juniper's skin felt frozen, her fingers discolored.
How did she get there, where even was she? She sat down against the horse, trying to feel her warmth.
Rustling above them drew her attention. Juniper looked up to see dozens of small sharp eyes glowing in the darkness from the ceiling rafters. The shed was full of hungry ravens, their eyes watching the pair with interest.
More than the cold made her shiver now. She returned her attention to the mare, running her hands through her short onyx fur.
As the night went on the mare started to shift uncomfortably. Juniper stayed by her.
The mare gave a grunt of pain, side spasming as she pushed. Juniper tried to sooth her the best she could, a wet sound drawing her attention.
A wet mass of fur and legs was pushed out into the old straw. The mare’s head fell against the ground, exhausted.
The baby colt broke free of the birthing sac, rolling to sit up a bit. The little thing had messy grey fur and big pale eyes, not the eyes of a horse.
A rustling made Juniper glance up. The ravens were snapping their sharp beaks, eyes hungry. The smell of blood drove them into a frenzy.
The mare made a whinny of distress, unable to stand.
Before either could react, the storm of birds was upon them. Their sharp claws dug into Juniper’s arms as she shielded her face.
The brunt of their attack, however, was on the new colt. The newborn cried out a mixture of terror and pain as it was consumed by the mass.
Juniper tried to swat the birds away, the cries becoming shrill.
The birds pulled away bits for themselves, beaks bloody and savage. Cries of the mare mixed into the chaos. The black wings sounded like the rumble of thunder in the cold air.
Juniper suddenly sat bolt upright in bed. The dying wails of the colt were still ringing in her ears. Juniper looked around the room frantically, heart in her throat. She was in her bed, softly in the apartment. She’d kicked off her covers at some point, her skin cold.
Suddenly the apartment was bathed in a flash of light, moments before the familiar growl of thunder rumbled overhead.
It was a dream….just a dream.
She tried to calm herself. But the death cries of the newborn and the creature’s big innocent pale eyes were branded into her mind. She felt a shiver run through her as hot tears scored her cheeks. She pulled her knees up to her chest, burying her face into her skirt as she cried.
She hoped the storm would mask her state from Heisenberg.
Her hopes were dashed when after the next clap of thunder she felt the man stir beside her.
She tried to gulp away the tears to no avail. Now that she started her body was hell bent on spilling out all its sadness and fears.
Hearing her distress, Heisenberg pushed away from the bed worriedly.
“Buttercup?” He reached a hand out, movements dulled by sleep, “Come’re.”
Not giving her the option of protest he pulled her by the arm into his warm embrace. Juniper made a little squeak as he enveloped her in his strong arms.
“What’s got you all worked up?” He yawned, nuzzling into her.
She pressed a wet cheek into his chest, trying to focus on the sound of his heartbeat.
“Is it the storm?” He ventured.
“…no.” She admitted, swallowing, “It was just a nightmare.”
Very accustomed to his own share of nightmares, he nodded in understanding. “Want to talk?” He offered.
Juniper shook her head, burying her face deeper into him, snaking her arms around his soft sides.
“Alright.” He kissed the top of her head, already feeling sleep pulling him back in.
~
Even though she didn’t want to talk about her dream, and told Heisenberg time and time again she was ok, it was obvious whatever nightmare her brain thought up was affecting her.
The next day he caught her staring out the window, watching the raindrops race across the glass with lips a thin line.
“Doll?” He placed a hand on her side.
Juniper jumped, not hearing him approach. “Oh…hey Karl.” She murmured looking down at her feet.
“You ok?”
“Yea, yea of course.”
“You’ve been looking out that window awfully hard.” He frowned.
“Just thinking.” She shrugged, “I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t look convinced, a length of silence bubbling up between them.
“The jet is almost done right?” Juniper pointed out, “Go finish it, love.”
“Hm.” Heisenberg stepped back, “Fine.”
He needed to get work done, fingers itching for progress, and she knew how to propel him forward with that hunger. He relented, giving her space to think in the dreary apartment.
~
Nights later…
Heisenberg woke to an empty bed, feeling around in the dark. The sheets had grown cold. He sat up blinking, worry waking him up further. He stood, hearing a muffled sound from the bathroom. Walking towards it, the sound became more audible, broken sobs hidden behind the door.
He found it unlocked, opening it slowly. Moonlight filtered into the room, illuminating Juniper. She sat in the dry tub, legs drawn up as she cried into her hands. Her raven hair shining in the silvery light.
“Buttercup, you ok?” Heisenberg asked, sleep thick in his tone.
Juniper looked up suddenly, her eyes glowing reflectively. She sniffed, “I’m ok…I’m just a little overwhelmed.”
Heisenberg nodded, understandingly, padding in. He closed the lid of the toilet, sitting down.
Juniper wiped her face on the sleeve of the shirt she wore, easing her legs down.
She was starting to show, her belly beginning to swell.
“I’m just…I don’t know.” She frowned. Heisenberg made a rumble of acknowledgment .
She looked at him for a long moment before speaking, “I felt it move.”
“The baby?”
“Yea…felt it jolt a bit.” She admitted, “And I already care about it…I care so fucking much, I just want it to be ok.” Tears fell down her face.
He leaned forward to touch her cheek, she knelt into the contact.
“What if there’s something wrong with it?” Juniper sobbed, “What if whatever Miranda did hurt it?”
Heisenberg felt a pang of anger shoot through him. He would do whatever he could to keep Juniper safe and the baby secret. The thought of Miranda already sinking her claws into them again made bile rise in his throat.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” He lied, “Normal for them to move around right?”
Juniper gulped, nodding, “The book says it’s healthy.”
“See, it’s good for ‘em.” Heisenberg dried her tears, “You know what’s not good?”
“Hm?”
“My little mama crying her damn eyes out in the bathtub all night.” He began to stand, “Let’s get you back to bed.”
“…ok.” She relented, accepting his offered hand. He helped her up. They made their way back to the bed, snuggling under the blankets.
Heisenberg wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so her back was flush against his chest.
His hands drifted downwards, placing his palm flat against her growing belly. He waited for a moment curiously.
“Wanting it to move again?” Juniper whispered.
“Mhm.”
“I don’t think they do that too much this early, but the book says as they grow they move a lot more.” She explained, “If they move a lot they are a strong baby.”
“Then let’s hope the pup dances.” Heisenberg kissed her ear, causing her to let out a little giggle.
#resident evil village#karl heisenberg#heisenberg x oc#re8 oc#in the steel steeds heart#heisenberg#resident evil
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exchange | din djarin x reader
the crest’s one and only crewmember buys mando a few shirts, and he gives her a gift in return.
---
2k words
mentions: none, this is fluff!
this is part 1 of my valentine’s week special! you can find the other parts here!
---
You take notice of it when you’re doing the laundry.
Mando’s got the Crest cruising through hyperspace, course set for Nevarro, and you’re catching on up on chores in the meantime. The baby’s three little outfits are clean and stain-free, you’ve set aside a pair of your own pants for mending, and Mando… Mando, you come to find out, has two shirts. Total. As in, two shirts including the one he’s currently wearing under his armor. You know he had more than that the last time you did the washing, but— but shit, he got cut by a quarry last week, and another one of his beat-up long-sleeves ripped and bit the dust shortly after that. So yep, Mando’s small wardrobe is now even smaller, and that makes you sigh. Even now, the brown cloth you have in your hands feels thin and worn, rough fibers catching your fingers every now and then. You think about telling Mando that he needs some new clothes, but you know he’ll just put it off or insist that whatever he has now is fine. And so you decide that you’ll resolve the issue yourself, knowing that something from the bazaar will probably do.
Sure enough, you find just what you need. The textile vendor says he can match Mando’s measurements without a problem after you show him Mando’s singular extra shirt, and a droid whips up the garments for you right there. You come away with two black and two brown, all long-sleeves and all made from the same material Mando seems to preder. Two are a bit thicker than the others— something for him to wear in the cold— and you decide that they’ll do nicely for his needs. Back on the Crest, you leave the stack of clothes on Mando’s bed and then promptly forget about them, distracted by the baby’s antics further back in the hull.
Mando asks you about the shirts later, holding the stack out to you like he’s looking for an explanation.
“What are these?” he asks, and you’re too busy with dinner to make a big deal of it.
“Those are for you,” you tell him, cutting the heat under the stew you’re making. The baby’s trying to get his hands in the pot, so you snatch him up, settling the little green boy on your hip as you add the finishing touches on tonight’s meal. “I realized you had like, two shirts when I was doing laundry on the way here.”
Mando sounds absolutely floored. “You bought these for me?”
That earns him a little laugh, and you hand him the baby. “No, Mando, I stole them off an Imperial transport vessel. Yes, I bought them for you! What kind of crewmember would I be if I let you run around looking ragged?”
“I…” Mando trails off, settling the Child in his arms. “Thank you.”
And then the two of you don’t talk about it again, the matter quickly forgotten in the midst of the evening ritual and your departure from Nevarro.
Week later, the Crest touches down on a distant planet, a place you’ve never been that Mando knows well. He tells you that the three of you will be spending some time here, and that makes you happy. It seems like a nice place, and the locals are kind.
Two days into this little excursion, you’re about to crawl in bed, only or stop short when you see a little satin pouch sitting on top of the covers. It’s pale blue, blue like the sky on your home planet, and no bigger than your palm. Curious, you pick it up gently, examining the little white embroidery on the edge, the way the drawstring pulls the fabric together just so. It pulls open easily, and you dump the contents into your palm without a second thought.
Scores of pale, pearly little beads glint in the light, strung neatly on a thin, delicate chain. Nothing about the trinket is particularly special, but it’s the simplicity that makes it stunning, in your eyes. You’ve had jewelry over the course of your lifetime, naturally, but never anything so dainty and pretty as this. The beads and the way they’re strung are styles unique to this planet, and you’ve seen countless people wearing necklaces similar to this one over the past few days.
There’s only one person that could have placed this here for you to find, and you go up to the cockpit to speak with him not five minutes after his gift falls in your hand.
Mando’s a bit busy when you go up there, fiddling with something on his vambrace in the pilot’s chair. You feel a little shy as you come to stand before him, the string of beads dangling from your fingers.
“Did you buy me this?” you ask softly, and that’s when Mando finally looks up at you.
“I—” The helmet tilts in the direction of your hand, and it’s like he’s a whole different person. Mando becomes nervous, back stiffening in his chair as he looks from you, to the necklace, and then back again. “I, um. Yeah, I did.”
Just hearing him say it makes you feel lightheaded, but you tell yourself not to get your hopes up. “What for?”
Mando stutters terribly, but he does manage to give you an explanation. “You— Well, you got me those shirts a few weeks ago, and you take good care of the baby. And the ship. And me. I just— I thought you’d like it, that’s all.”
You study the beads carefully for a moment, admiring the way they shimmer in your hand.
“I don’t just like it,” you declare, “I love it.”
And then you’re threading Mando’s give around your neck, reaching behind your head to do up the clasp. The jewelry is just as light as you thought it would be, sitting daintily against your collarbones. Mando watches you do all of this, and not the hundredth time do you wish you could see his face.
“Thank you, Mando, really.”
He nods. “You’re welcome.”
---
“Ah, so my suspicions were correct.”
The sound of the fruit vendors voice catches your attention, and you find yourself face-to-face with her satisfied smile when you lift your head up. You’ve been doing business with her every so often for almost a week now, always intrigued by the selection she has to offer. She also likes the baby, and he’s more than happy to coo at her for a free morsel or two.
“Excuse me?” you blurt, completely lost here. The old woman shakes her head at you, white braid swishing from side to side behind her back, and the smile on her face only deepens.
“Your necklace, child,” she says, pointing at the beads strung around your throat. You touch it on impulse, the baby wriggling in your other arm, and grow even more confused.
“I don’t understand,” you tell her, feeling stupid now, but the old woman just laughs. Her wrinkled fingers are soft on your cheek, the mirth in her eyes unmistakable.
“You don’t have to be secretive with me, my dear,” she chuckles, “I knew you were the Mandalorian’s woman from the minute I saw the both of you together. No man watches a woman that closely if he doesn’t care for her. And now he’s gotten you a necklace, so.”
She punctuates this with a shrug, behaving as if the meaning of your new accessory should be obvious, and you think you might actually pass out.
“I—” You huff, grasping for the right words. “I’m not— I don’t know the ways of this planet,” you say finally, mostly because it’s the truth and mostly because you don’t know how to so much as mention anything else the fruit vendor’s said.
It feels like you’ve been slapped across the face, like someone picked you up and shook you and until your brain rattled around too hard in your skull. Mando knows this place, he knows this city... Custom and culture are sacred to him, even if they have nothing to do with his own, and you find it difficult to believe that Mando gave you this gift without first considering its meaning. This is the man who speaks with the Tuskens, a man who has committed himself to a creed, a man who never wants to be rude or imposing unless he’s dealing with an enemy—
No. No, Mando definitely bought this for you on purpose.
In the thirty seconds it takes for you to form these thoughts, the fruit vendor comes to realize that your confusion was no act. You must look terrible, for she puts a hand on your arm as if to keep you upright.
“My dear, surely— I mean, the two of you care for this baby, and he is always watching over you. I simply thought there was something there, several people in this market did. Forgive me, please, I had no idea—”
“No, no, forgive me,” you blurt, rushing to reassure the woman that she has caused no offense. “I had no idea what these meant. I would have— Maker above, I should have—”
The old woman’s bewilderment matches your own, and you realize that you’re raving like a lunatic.
“I have to go!”
And then you are going, going and going until you’re back on the Crest. The baby seems content to laze about in his pram, thank the stars, and you put him down almost without a second thought, mind racing a thousand kilometers a second. You clamor up to the cockpit like a woman possessed, the noise movement drawing you there. Sure enough, Mando’s right where you thought he would be, parked in his pilot’s chair and fiddling with something on one of his blasters. He doesn’t even turn to look at you when you come up, completely calm despite your frantic movement.
“How was the—?”
“Why did you buy me this?” you cut, bisecting his question with one of your own. Mando’s hands still at once, and he tucks the gun back in the holster at his side.
“Someone told you,” he declares, finally turning to face you. All you can do is nod, heart beating so hard it almost hurts. You can almost taste it, this thing you’ve been wanting for months now, it’s right there on your tongue— but you don’t want to speak, don’t want to be the first one to suggest it. It’s never worked out for you in the past, and with a man like Mando thrown into the equation, you’re not sure what that kind of bravery might get you.
Mando sighs, heavy and tired. You watch him more closely than you’ve watched anyone before in your life as he stands, coming to face you. It’s cramped in this little room, and if you took even just half a step forward, the two of you would be pressed flush. He doesn’t say a word to you, just stands there and stands there until you can’t take it anymore.
“If you didn’t mean it like that, Mando, it’s fine, but I just want to know—”
“I… I’m not good at talking.” These first words have you cutting yourself short, and Mando continues like you never spoke in the first place. “To people, I mean. I can do what I need to do to conduct business, but other than that, I’m useless when it comes to things like this.”
“You talk to the baby,” you offer, and Mando nods.
“I do talk to the baby. Sometimes I even talk to you, but not enough.” He takes in a deep breath, seemingly gathering the courage to continue. “That’s why I did this.”
Mando runs his fingers along the beads at your throat, and it takes all you have not to fall down.
“This… This said everything for me. Or it was supposed to, at least.”
You melt at that, shoulders sagging. “Mando, I didn’t know, not until today.”
“I know,” he says companionably. “It’s not your fault I’m a coward.”
“You’re not a coward,” you declare, shaking your head. Mando brings his hand up, pressing it to your cheek like he’s been doing it all his life.
“If I’m not a coward, what am I then?”
All you can do is smile. “You’re mine.”
#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin fanfiction#my writing#valentine's week 2021
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A Day Spent Alone- Din Djarin x Reader
(This amazing moodboard is done by the wonderful @jedi-jesi !!! Seriously, I love this girl. She’s amaze balls!)
A/n: So here is the next chapter to Days filled with Love. I hope you all enjoy it. Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment, I love hearing what you all have to say. It makes my day! :)
You can find the first part here!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Nervously, you rub over your beskar covered husband.
“We’re going to be fine.”
“Are you sure. Okay so don’t forget the twins diaper bag, it has all the bottles. I pumped every second I could, so you should have more than enough for them. Also, make sure-”
“Cyare,” Grabbing your wrists, he holds your hands still. “We are going to be fine. Stop stressing about it. We will only be gone for a day and a half at most.”
“Remind me why I can’t come.”
“Because you do too much and need some alone time.”
“But I like family time!” Pouting you lean into his body.
His hands release your own and move to rub your back. “I know you do, but everyone needs a day to themselves. Look at me.” Lifting your chin you peer into his visor. “We will be back tomorrow aftertoon and nothing is going to happen while we are gone. Okay?” Nodding you look down at your feet. “Come on mesh’la, I need to hear you say it. Okay?”
“Okay.” You can’t mask the sorrow in your voice, even when the introvert in you screams out in delight.
He raises his helmet from his head and presses one last kiss to your lips. It’s not a fast lustful kiss, but rather a timeless portrayal of his devotion to you. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” Glaning up from his chest and over his shoulder, you watch your five kids wait for their father on the Crest. “Tell them I love them.”
“I will, but they already know it.” Giving you one last kiss, he rips himself from your hold and walks over to his ship.
All six of your family members wave their goodbyes and the ramp closes, making your heart long to run after them and demand them to never leave your sight again.
The crest rises slowly and shakily from the ground and you smile. Myles must be flying it.
Recently, Din decided that Myles is old enough to fly his own jet and that at the covert “three year olds were learning to fly so he is more than old enough.” You just raised an eyebrow and didn’t think much of it, yet here you are, watching your son fly the Crest.
Finally, the crest zooms off into the sky and your home becomes silent. What once was a yard filled with laughter and children has become a field of swaying grass. The only sound to comfort you is the soft laps of water that meet the shore.
Well, now what?
You have absolutely no idea what to do. Usually there is at least one kid in your arms while you are cooking some meal. You’re not complaining, you love being a mother, it’s just that… you’re always busy.
“Oh I know! I’ll catch up on that book I never finished!”
Rushing inside you plop yourself down on the couch under a nice fuzzy blanket, you open the book to the last page you read.
***
Finally closing the book after having finished it, you look up. Waves crash on the shore as the moon paints shimmers on the water.
A yawn takes over your senses and you're suddenly made aware of how long you've been sitting in the same position. Stretching your legs out, you lift the blanket from your form.
Walking into the kitchen you reach into the fridge and grab the patter of cut fruit your husband has left you. A note rests on the very front.
Cyar’ika- stop worrying and go take a bubble bath. You’ll find a new present on the toilet for when you finish. I love you.
Smiling to yourself, you carefully pin the note to the appliance with a magnet. It fits in perfectly with all the artwork and grocery lists that cover the once wihte fridge.
Taking the platter you walk into the bathroom that is connected to yours and Din’s room. Turning the hot water on, you look at the toilet. On it, rests fancy and expensive perfumes for the water and oils for your skin.
There’s a smaller container that when taken a closer look at, it reveals itself as the facemask you’ve been wanting to try. Another note in his quick chicken scratch handwriting waits for your attention.
Mesh’la- Yeah, I know crazy. I actually pay attention to your skin care. I picked these perfumes out because I know they will work wonders with your already sweet scent. In the closet, you’ll find my last gift. I would recommend going to grab it now. I love you.
Giggling, you practically skip over to your closet. Opening the doors a brand new fuzzy robe hangs in front. You practically moan at how soft it is. Hung underneath it is a new pair of pajamas, loose and silky, just how you like them. On the hanger rests another note.
Cyare- You probably have the biggest smile right now, and I wish I was there to kiss it off your face. But tonight is a night about you. Just you. No kids begging for your attention and no “whiny grumpy tin can” either. Enjoy your time alone. I love you so much. P.S. I want to see you in these pajamas when I get home.
Setting his note on your dresser you grab the clothes from their hanger and bring them into the bathroom with you. The scent of lavender and honey floods the tiled room as you pour the perfumes into the steaming water.
Shrugging off your clothes you step one foot into the water, perfect temperature. Your other foot follows and soon your chest is under the surface. Every muscle relaxes and you lean your head back, allowing a long overdue sigh to be released.
***
Birds chirp and sing as the sun rises. Your eyelids flutter open and your heart swells at the thought of your family coming home today.
Walking down the stairs, the house is bright and the various indoor plants you have seem more alive than ever. Looking out the large window of the living room, light dances over the lake’s surface.
You can still hardly believe that this land belongs to your family. No more flying around with the Crest being your only home. No more cramped sleeping quarters with no room to spread your limbs. No more crappy camping stove.
Now you’re a woman with two stoves! And a house that has more windows than you’ve ever seen before. And a place to call home for your family to thrive.
***
You’ve spent all morning laying on the beach and soaking the sun up. Where could they be?
It’s too quiet without them running around, it was nice at first, but now you miss their voices.
As if on cue, the Crest flys over the horizon and you gasp. Your heart jumps and a smile breaks out onto your face. Rushing out the door, you wait for your family to arrive.
Slowly, the ship lands and you can see Myles on Din’s lap in the cockpit. His little hands grasp the yoke and under his helmet you know his eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration.
As the feet touch the ground, the hatch clicks and starts to fall. “MOMMY!” Reeza yells out and she jumps down from the hatch. Her little feet carry her as fast as she can over to you.
Falling onto your knees and opening your arms, she slams into your embrace. Your arms wrap around her and cradle her further into your hold.
“Mommy I missed you!”
“I missed you too sweetheart.”
“GAH!” Looking up you watch as Grogu scurries down the opened hatch and runs over to you. As fast as he can, he makes his way over to you.
Opening one of your arms, you scoop him up and pull him into the hug you and Reeza are sharing.
“MOM! Did you see me? Dad let me fly!” Myles emerges from the ship and also runs into your open arms, helmet left on the ground.
“I did see you, you did great! I’m so proud of you!”
“I HAVE TO USE THE POTTY!” Reeza yells out before wiggling from your embrace and rushing into the house.
Laughing you just tuck Myles and Grogu further into your neck. “I missed you guys so much.”
“Did you have fun by yourself Mommy?”
“You know, I really didn’t. It was nice but having you guys in my arms beats anything else.”
Myles leans back, his eyes scan over your face, searching and analyzing your facial expressions. His eyebrows knit together and he just offers you a nod before leaning back into your arms. A gesture so uniquely your husbands there is no doubt in your mind that he is his child.
“I love you Mommy.”
“Love you too.” Pressing a kiss to Grogu’s head you smile, “Love you both so much.” His large eyes are closed as his little fingers grasp at your shirt.
After a minute they decide that they’ve hugged you too long and squirm from your embrace, rushing into the house. You can only smile wider and laugh as Grogu follows his brothers every step. If only Myles knew how much his siblings adored and looked up to him.
“Where's my hug and kiss?”
Gasping you look up. There, standing tall as ever, is your husband with a twin in each arm. Isabet is curled against his chest as she sleeps, you’ve never met a child who can sleep as much as she can.
In the other arm Tobbi coos and babbles while his arms reach out for you. However, when Din walks closer you realize his arms aim more towards your chest. His little golden eyes are trained on the low cut of your shirt. Giggling you notice how your husband has the same greedy look at your exposed flesh.
Taking your son from his arms his little fingernails scratch at your neckline and he babbles. “You’d think I never fed the little womp rat.”
“He just takes after his father.” You brush away Tobbi’s tuff of brown curls and press kiss after kiss to his face. He giggles and it makes your heart swell with love.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hmm, never full and always wanting a peak at my boob? Sounds pretty similar to me.” Wide eyed, your husband stops his hand midair as it was making way towards one of your mounds. Laughing, you lean up and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He growls and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his lips. “Missed you too much,” he moves to nip at your jaw, “love you so much.”
It’s hard to stop your smile as his scruff tickles your skin and just from the absolute overwhelming feeling of being adored.
Isabet stirs and one of her eyes open. “Mmm… ma… mama!” Her arms fly in the air and she is suddenly wide awake.
Both you and Din freeze, your eyes meet and you share the unspoken question of, “Did she just?”
“MAMA!” Isabets small arms raise and her eyes tear up. Your husband lifts her so she is right in front of your face.
You attack her with kisses and your own eyes tear up. “Yes! Mama! That’s me!” Ticking her tiny tummy her frustrated tears turn into giggles.
“Good job, adi’ka, yes this is Mama. Can you say Dada?”
She turns her little head and gives him the meanest scowl you’ve ever seen. But when she turns back to you, her face lights up and a smile forms again. Your husband scoffs.
“Oh don’t be jealous, both Myles and Reeza said your name first.”
Taking both twins into your arms, you smile as Din wraps his arms around you. “I’m not jealous.” He says in his very obviously jealous voice.
“Mm hmm, okay. Whatever you say.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next Part: Snow Day
Goodness, I love them all so much. If you haven’t been able to tell yet, Isabet may or may not be based off of Pero Tovar and I love it. She’s my favorite little grump of a child.
I hope you guys liked it!
As always, feedback is always appreciated.
Love, Lordy :)
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#din djarin#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#mando#mando x reader#mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#days filled with love#isabet is a grump and i love her
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His Queen
Rating: T
Word Count: ~3k
Summary: You’re a little hesitant about wearing makeup due to a past experience. Din has no problem changing your mind.
Warnings: childhood trauma??, little bit of angst, fluff, steamy makeout
Note: After the amazing response I received on my last fic I decided to write another one. After all, these ideas are still going to be swirling around my head even if I don’t put them in writing. I hope you enjoy!
Sidenote: Imagine him looking at you like this *swoon*
“Are you sure we don’t have any additional rations in the crates?”
“No, the kid snuck into the stash last night. I didn’t notice until after he polished off the last of the rations.”
Din just sighs.
“I can make the trip to the market while you finish the repairs.”
“No, I’ll go, I don’t want you to deal with all the bantha shit that goes on at these markets.”
For some reason-don’t ask why-it’s incredibly attractive to hear him curse.
It’s touching to hear the protective note in his voice, but you feel that you are well enough equipped to handle yourself. As a teenager, you had been taught the essentials of self defense by a family friend.
“It’s alright. I’ll have my comm with me and it won’t take long if I just place an order for delivery of the rations.”
“Alright, if you insist. Be careful.”
“I will.”
He stands from his kneeling position on the floor, where he had been checking the netting beneath the bench for any additional ration packets. You prepare to leave, patting down your pockets to make sure you have your credits, your blaster, and your comm before you set off. When you look up again, he’s standing in front of you, a tilt of his helmet betraying his inner thought process. A smile tugs at your lips.
“Looking for a goodbye kiss?”
He sighs again, and you’re certain he’s rolling his eyes beneath the helmet.
“Ner verd’ika, you are a tease.”
You giggle before raising your hands to the sides of his helmet, eyes fluttering closed as you tilt it upwards. With an accuracy born from hours of practice you lean forward, raising on your toes to press a quick kiss to his lips before allowing the beskar to fall back into place. He lets out a disgruntled huff, his hands falling to your hips and tugging you against his torso so that he can rest his forehead against yours.
“Be careful.” He repeats.
“Always.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s surprising how many people can squeeze into the small marketplace, vendors and townsfolk chattering away as they bargain for an agreeable price. Animals bellow in the distance, adding to the noisy buzz that fills the crowded streets.
You find yourself enjoying the bustling atmosphere, welcoming the stark juxtaposition to the quiet serenity of the Razor Crest. Before you can become too distracted, you steer your feet towards the largest area of the forum where several shops display food and beverages.
After placing an order of rations and directing the shop owner to deliver the crates to the spaceport, you find there are a few spare moments to wander around the market before returning to the ship and tending to the delivery.
After traveling with Din for some time now, it has come to your attention that each planet you visit boasts a unique variety of wares. The citizens of this particular planet seem to possess a fascination with water-colored mugs and delicate embroidery. Not that you are complaining, everything that greets your eyes is absolutely gorgeous.
Upon rounding the next corner though, you stop dead in your tracks. Before you stands what is obviously a cosmetics shop. Holoimages are projected against the walls of the stand, each image featuring breathtaking models who-to your immense surprise-don't have you feeling even a dash of envy. What has you so enamored is the crowd of young women that peruse the shop. They are obviously a group of friends, but what shocks you the most is the presence of their mothers. Each parent is eagerly pointing out cosmetic items and encouraging the younger women to apply the samples that are provided. Bitter tears bite at the surface of your eyes, and you blink furiously in an effort to keep them contained.
As a young woman you had constantly been dissuaded from wearing makeup, told that it wasn’t appropriate at your age. You feel pathetic, chastising yourself and turning around with the intention of returning to the ship. But you don’t get very far, a feminine voice floating past your ears.
“Miss, Miss? Would you like to join us?”
Not wanting to expose your current state of turmoil, you scrub frantically at your tear-stained face, hoping to avoid further humiliation. When you feel presentable, you turn slowly, coming face-to-face with a girl that stands even shorter than you. Practically an impossible occurrence at your height, Mando would have teased you if he was here.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you were by yourself, and well, on our planet it’s tradition for women to join together and add to their makeup collection on this particular day. It’s like the New Years of cosmetics.” Her eyes are shining, and she seems so genuine that you feel silly for your earlier judgement. “Although I am almost certain you are just visiting, my friends and I would be honored if you would join us.” Almost as if on cue, her friends rush up behind her, pleading with you to stay for just a little bit.
“Well, I…” Din will be expecting you back soon, and you don’t want to worry him.
“Pleeeaaaase!” They all beg, drawing out the word as they stare at you.
“Alright, just for a few minutes.” He won’t mind, you think to yourself. He and the kid can catch up while you are gone anyways, they haven’t been able to spend much time together lately.
The girls’ smiles are blinding and the first one grabs your hand, pulling you along as they all return to the stand to continue shopping. “I’m Tasha, by the way.” She beams. You smile back, sharing your name as well.
“What will you purchase?” Another girl questions.
“Oh, actually I don’t wear makeup.”
“You don’t?” They looked like you just told them Life day was made up.
“No, I....I never learned how to apply it.” That was close enough to the truth.
“Don’t worry, we’ll show you how!” Then Tasha is beckoning her mother over and soon they are exchanging ideas so quickly that you lose track, only picking up on fragments such as “transition”, and “complementary shade”.
“Could you please sit for a moment?” Tasha’s mother inquires, gesturing to a chair that rests next to the booth.
You’re a little hesitant, the assortment of items that they are both clutching in their hands has you yearning to turn your back and run.
Take a deep breath, it’s just a little bit of makeup, it’s not going to kill you.
After your flight instinct recedes a little, you move to sit in front of the older woman, trying not to flinch as she gently dabs several types of cream-like products on your face. She tuts here and there, discarding some of the products that she is holding as she works through all of the samples. Eventually, she finishes, holding out a wipe as she gestures for you to wipe your face. Once that is accomplished, she’s attacking the various assortment of products that Tasha is still holding. You idly wonder if it’s sanitary to be layering so many products over the sensitive skin of your face, but assume that it is probably alright if this is a common practice for most women.
What feels like hours later, after your face has been contorted into every position imaginable, your eyes weighed down by what seems to be a boat anchor attached to your eyelashes, Tasha and her mother proudly declare that you are ‘finished’-whatever that means. Then Tasha is holding out a bag of products for you to take. You eagerly accept the bag, feeling quite mature all of a sudden, and swagger over to the counter to pay the clerk. To your immense shock, Tasha’s own mother is sitting behind the register, and when you approach she insists that the items are ‘on the house’, refusing to accept any form of payment.
With a blush, you suddenly realize you have no idea how to apply any of the products yourself, but before you can even open your mouth, the older woman is sliding a piece of flimsy towards you. A detailed assembly of holoimages decorates the flimsy, demonstrations and instructions outlining the correct application technique for each product. There are tears welling in your eyes again, but you blink them back and circle the table to engulf the woman in a heartfelt embrace. She accepts the action with an affection you can only describe as motherly, patting your back gently until you pull away, then fixing you with a radiant smile.
Suddenly your heart drops into your throat, and your own smile fails. You can’t return to the ship looking like this! Din will be appalled that you delayed your departure from the spaceport to indulge in a personal shopping trip. Tasha’s mother frowns, watching as you suddenly turn frantic, scanning the nearby vicinity like a child who has been caught stealing a dessert cube. You reach for the packet of makeup wipes that sits upon the table, hastily rushing to explain the thoughts running through your head.
“This makeup is lovely, but I can’t return to my…” kriff, what should you call him...“friend looking like this.”
“And why not?” You are taken aback a little at the tone of your voice. She’s not angry, though there are hints of disapproval and surprise laced into her words.
You stammer for a response. “He...I…” Your brain sputters as you try to conjure the right words.
“Oh, I see. He’s that kind of friend. Well, if he doesn’t like the way you look, then you seem like the type of person who will have no trouble putting him back into his place.”
She continues speaking even as your jaw falls open.
“However, I heavily suspect that won’t be necessary.” The knowing grin that spreads across her face is like that of a loth-cat that just caught a canary.
“....” You can’t manage to utter a single word, trying to force down the blush that is rising to your cheeks.
“Here, take a look into this mirror.”
Woah, is that your face? Whatever had been applied to your eyes had caused the color to pop, drawing attention to your now piercing gaze. Every feature appeared to be enhanced, and you couldn’t help but note that your jawline seemed capable of cutting through duraplast, like a vibroblade through bantha butter on a hot Tatooine day.
“I look...wow.”
The older woman chuckles gently. “You look amazing dear. Embracing your natural beauty is important, but you shouldn’t be afraid of enhancing it either. No matter what, your inner beauty always speaks louder than any outer appearance ever will. Now go catch that man of yours. I’m sure he will agree with me too.” She ends with a pointed wink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shadows stream past you as you jog back to the Razor Crest, hoping you are not too late to meet the merchant who is delivering the order of rations. Of course your luck is worse than you expected, and not only is there no merchant in sight, but it seems that Din has already finished the repairs. Kriff. Well, you’ll just have to return to the shop and apologize to the owner before pleading for another delivery opportunity. Then, after you settle that, you will need to prepare an explanation for Din.
Kriffing hell.
How do you always manage to get yourself into these situations?
“And here you had me thinking that you might have finally ditched me.” Din startles you, but there is a teasing lilt to his voice.
How is he still in a good mood? Wait, where is he?
“Up here.” He’s chuckling now too, probably at your apparent confusion, the bastard.
You look up and place your hands on your hips in disbelief of what you’re seeing. A shake of your head does nothing to help you understand what exactly is going on. At the moment, Din is flying figure eights in the air using his jetpack, the kid tucked securely in his arms while he squeals in delight. You shake your head again, looking down at the ground as a rush of affection floods your chest. The damned Mandalorian can be such a romantic without even realizing it.
As of late, it has been difficult for either of you to discreetly purchase jetpack fuel at a decent price. Yet, here he is taking the kid for a ride, probably because he looked into those big brown eyes and couldn’t resist indulging the kid in a quick flight.
Their maneuvers continue for a few more minutes, and you wonder if you should head back to the market while Din and the kid are still occupied. Abruptly, you decide to take a seat inside the Crest for just a moment before jogging back to the store. It’s not until you scale the ramp that you notice the newly delivered crates resting inside the storage netting.
“The delivery arrived before you did, so I made sure that it was unloaded onto the right ship.” If you weren’t so relieved you might scold him for scaring you like that. Then again, he probably enjoys sneaking up on you. You scowl goodnaturedly, he’s lucky you lov--. Oh no, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no.
No, no, no.
No, no.
No.
He’s lucky you love the kid. That’s right, that’s what you meant to say.
Whew.
You move to rub your forehead, then realize that you’re still wearing what feels like fifteen layers of bantha paste and an entire canister of glitter on your face. Uh-oh. Has Din seen your face yet? You don’t think so. Your back is still facing him, but at any second he’s bound to step in front of you and notice that you’re all decked-out in makeup.
Despite the kind words from the woman back at the market, you feel yourself begin to panic. What if he thinks you look silly, or worse what if it changes his perception of you?
His footsteps advance forwards and you hold your breath, only for him to continue towards the kid’s hammock. It’s then that you realize the kid has fallen asleep in his buir’s arms, obviously worn out after his latest adventure. Din is exceedingly gentle as he sets him into his hammock, rocking the child for a few seconds to ensure he remains fully asleep.
As you bask in the sight of a soft, caring Din you don’t realize he’s turning around until it’s too late. He lets out a punched out sound once he is face-to-helmet with you, and although you are never sure where his visor is pointing, you know without a doubt that it is currently directed at your face.
Neither of you move, gaze fixed firmly on the other for several minutes as a lingering tension brushes at your spine. Before you can explain yourself the lights flicker and plunge the hull into darkness, gloved hands and a beskar covered chest suddenly slamming into you, pinning you against the nearest wall so quickly that your back aches a little from the force of the impact.
“Kriffing hell.” He manages.
Oh, you definitely shouldn’t find that as attractive as you do.
“Is this what you were doing all afternoon?” His words are followed by a resonating clang, and you find yourself begging whatever deity is above that he is about to kiss you senseless. Sadly, he seems too interested in pressing a kiss to your neck while he whispers shamelessly into your ear. It’s a close second though, and you're definitely not complaining, especially when the position allows you to drop a hand down to squeeze his perfectly sculpted ass.
He lets out a growl at your feistiness, sucking at your neck in a manner that is sure to leave a visible hickey. “Maybe I should send you to the marketplace more often if this is how you’ll return.”
You let out a pleased mewl at that, proud that you are able to elicit such a passionate response from your usually stoic companion. “Sounds...sounds good to me.” Your reply is breathy, and there is no way that your lungs are supplying sufficient oxygen to your brain right now. It doesn’t help that Din has decided to wrap one of your thighs around his waist, your body erupting into flames at the suggestive positioning.
“Look so good.” It’s muttered between butterfly kisses, his lips charting the skin of your neck like it’s a flight path. “So pretty.” Another scorching kiss on your neck. “My sweet girl.” It’s half spoken-half growled against your throat.
A moan is ripped from your throat at that last sentence, and your free hand is scrabbling for purchase in his hair, using your touch to coax his lips to meet your own neglected ones. This man is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it. He’s mewling into your mouth, half-chuckling because he knows how much you appreciate that specific action, then he’s pressing his tongue in as well, sliding it across yours as he dares you into a battle of dominance. You can’t help but indulge him, fingers tightening in his curls as you allow yourself to be a little more aggressive, pushing into his mouth as you lead him on a merry chase. Even in the most intimate of acts, Din is ever the hunter and he takes control in a record amount of time, knotting his hand in your hair so that he can position your head in whatever manner he desires. The whole act is absolutely delicious and your toe curls as you wedge yourself even closer to his armor-clad chest.
“I sure hope you have more of that stuff.” He mumbles against your lips when you both separate for a breath.
“Huh?” You finally manage after gasping down a breath.
“It makes you look like a queen.” He elaborates.
There’s no point in arguing with him, especially when his mouth returns to yours to shut down any rebuttal you might have.
It’s safe to say that any of your hesitations towards wearing makeup were cleared up after that particular incident, and you learned a couple valuable lessons that day. The most important being to buy extra makeup wipes for the Mandalorian himself. Let’s just say Din was an...enthusiastic kisser.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ner verd’ika: my little warrior
Buir: (mother or father), in this case it pertains to ‘father’
Life day: the equivalent of Christmas in the star wars universe
#mando reader fluff#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian fanfiction#pedro pascal#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin fluff#the mandalorian x you#mandalorian fanfic
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Title: Like Silver
Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.
It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out. And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief. A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.
Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.
Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.
Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)
AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes
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Chapter 2/?: A Poetic Sort of Procrastination, Indeed
Sakura saunters home late in the evening, admiring the stars above her in a daze of spring air and clutching her tote bag to her shoulder as if her very life force is tethered to it.
In the flurry of emotion, she completely forgot about returning her library books, but she doesn’t give a damn.
She drudged through her entire pile of paperwork, though it was an almighty effort requiring every ounce of her discipline. Even after Sasuke left, she kept tearing up and just gawking at the impossibly beautiful gift he’s given her, affection requited bubbling up inside her ribcage and unleashed into the air she breathes like some sort of ambrosial perfume she can finally afford to bask in. She has always known there is a softer side to him, that there is much more beneath the surface than he lets on with his laconic demeanor, but this is something else.
It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out.
And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief.
A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.
She hangs her tote on its entryway hook and carefully removes the box inside once she reaches her apartment. After she’s padded her way to her bedroom, she flips on the two lamps before placing it tenderly on her bed.
Sakura briefly contemplates taking the lid off then and there, but she knows she really should shower first, because otherwise the evening is going to quickly spiral away from her, whirlpool of tender feelings that it already is.
It’s the quickest shower she’s ever taken in her life; berry-scented soap floods her body and seems to take forever to rinse clean in her haste, although it can’t actually be more than a minute or two in reality. It’s also the quickest she’s ever toweled off and changed into pajamas, scurrying back to her room and grabbing the first pair she lays eyes on from her dresser drawer.
Once she has shimmied them on, she opens the box again, and just looks.
It still exists - it doesn’t disappear or dissolve as a figment of her imagination - so she picks it up with careful hands.
It is so, so pretty, exquisite in a way that makes her heart hammer relentlessly against her sternum, a catharsis in her chest sweeter somehow than anything she’s ever experienced.
It’s unavoidable; her eyes well with tears again, because he said he had it made for her. Not found in an antique shop off the beaten path or some happenstance market who knows how many miles away. Not just something that reminded him of her.
Made for me.
Which means he thought of this himself. Silk that shifts colors like the Uchiha crest, fastidiously stitched petals, and a cherry blossom tree, carved light wood that is startlingly similar in tone to the accents here in her bedroom.
And the way he looked at her, after, a storm of silver and obsidian that took her breath away.
And he kissed her.
Sakura doesn’t know how she’s supposed to fall asleep tonight, deliriously happy as she is, or how she’s going to spend any of her free time from here on out not staring at this supernal treasure. She strokes the wood with careful fingers, bringing the carving upwards for closer inspection. Every inch of it is gorgeous; she is especially enamored with the pink and pearlescent stitching, coruscant in the low light. She assiduously counts the slivers of bamboo, too, and follows the rivulets of fine branches stretching upwards to the boundaries of the framework. Upon her inquest, she notices an impossibly tiny etching, faintly whittled on the interior of one of the slats of bamboo. Tai Ro, it says; she assumes that must be the craftsman’s signature. She wonders where it came from, which far-off land Sasuke traveled through to commission something so resplendent.
She has never seen anything so bewitching, except maybe silver flecks.
Tearing her gaze away from the fan, Sakura eyes the vanity by her balcony door, an idea brewing.
It’s an aged piece, of a bygone style featuring small drawers on each size and a sunken point in the middle, from which rises a large circular mirror. A framed copy of their original Team Seven portrait sits pushed against the framing, right in the center. She placed it there because she enjoys seeing it as she gets ready for the day. It’s a good memory, one of her favorites, sentimental in a way that makes her heart swell, after everything. A pale wooden hairbrush also sits perched atop its surface, given to her by her mother forever ago while she was still at the Academy.
“I found it in the market today, just after swinging by to pick up rose food from Ino’s mother. It’s old, an antique, but I think it suits you, my dear,” she’d said, ruffling her hair, still long at that point and chattering a mile a minute in the overbearing way she has always tended to. She’d brushed her already combed locks in the manner that Sakura thinks all mothers must with their daughters, even when they are starting to become too grown for that sort of thing. “What I wouldn’t give for your hair! So unique; you should have something lovely to brush it with. You’re already such a pretty girl, but someday you’re going to bloom, and when you do, heaven help the boys.”
There’s a cherry blossom on it, too, adorning the back simply with five perfect petals.
When Sakura moved out of her parents’ house, she chose the tones of her bedroom accents, inclusive of the frame, with it in mind; she’d been using it for years by then, and had developed a fondness for pale wood rooted in familial nostalgia. Most of her actual furniture in the room is secondhand, of an older variety and painted with a white stain to make them somewhat match - she prefers things with a little bit of history, has since her mom gifted her that hairbrush - but the few frames and wall-mounted shelves are lighter washes of wood.
Many of the surfaces in her apartment are cluttered with books and other knick knacks she has accumulated through the years, but she tries to keep the vanity’s top clear, almost like an altar, an ode to the things she finds lovely atop it to give her hope with which to greet the day.
Still clutching the gift tenderly in her hands, Sakura ventures over to it.
She holds the fan close to the frame as well as the brush, comparing the color, near an exact match, a fresh memory making her heart swell in a completely different way, a way she had previously thought was maybe unrealistic.
She’ll get a stand for it, she decides, and display it in the spot the frame currently sits; it would look perfect there, the curvature echoed above it in circular looking glass, a hairbrush of a similar stain beside it. Then she’ll be able to gaze at it every morning and evening. There is no way something this precious to her could ever be stored away in a box and only seen on special occasions; it’s the same reason she struggled with the idea of hiding his letters away in one.
No, Sakura is resolutely sure that admiring it will be a daily ritual.
She can relocate the photo frame to her bedside table, maybe, next to An Introduction to Electrocardiography , or perhaps to her living room, though it doesn’t really match the wood out there.
That gets her thinking. We’re... together now, right? He’s kissed her, and she really hopes he will again, surprisingly soft lips against hers, an aroma of woodsmoke, and butterflies unleashed in her stomach. Maybe she should put the frame on the shelf in the main room. He might come over, sometime; it would be good to have it visible, situated in a place where he can see it.
With the utmost care, she lays the fan on the surface in front of her. Sakura combs through wet locks, coaxing out tangles with an old gift and appreciating a new one with watery eyes. When she’s finished, she carefully clutches it again and admires it atop a lavender comforter for the better part of an hour, alternating between mentally mapping its fine stitching within the confines of her hippocampus and paging through her book of Sasuke’s letters in a way that is more than fond, affection freed from her chest after so very long. The jubilance crests to a sense of omneity as she does so, moon glow filtering in by way of the gauzy white curtains that shield the balcony’s glass door.
She absolutely can’t wait to see him tomorrow. She sincerely hopes she’s not dreaming all of this.
She is so enamored with it that she doesn’t even drink her customary evening tea, her being warmed in an entirely different manner she is as of yet unaccustomed to, better than earl grey or some variety of dessert. It’s immensely difficult to pry it from her own hands when the time comes to do so.
Always is the last word she thinks of before she succumbs to slumber, curled up in soft colors and hoping he has found somewhere comfortable to sleep. Treasured memories emanate from objects old and new, brewing together before a looking glass where she’s placed them for safekeeping and admiration.
XXX
When she awakens in the morning, Sakura jerks upright in bed, turning to her vanity to ascertain if it was all a dream, cozened in by her subconscious as she slept.
It wasn’t. The fan is still there, precious and so enchantingly beautiful, dawn flavoring the memory of Sasuke’s return just as sweet as it had tasted yesterday with his lips on hers.
She brushes her hair again, working at the task way longer than necessary and trying not to cry out of sheer happiness. She feels so light, as if being pulled upwards by a latterly existent force of gravity, theoretically possible in terms of relative physics and with the right circumstances, but never actually experienced.
Birds are singing on the balcony when Sakura finally steps outside, snacking on seeds from her bird feeder as she gives her fledgling plants a drink before leaving for work.
It is such a lovely morning.
XXX
Sakura makes it through work as if encapsulated in a brand of inertial navigation system, floating as if she’s a bizarrely sentient cloud from patients to test tubes. She feeds the mice and records the brief observations she usually does on Wednesdays, and then a Genin is being brought in with a linear fracture in their tibia, twisted wrong and impacted during training. She gives instructions to nurses, too, taking care of smaller tasks in between, part of her feeling like she is barely there.
Well, not barely. She still keeps her wits about her and heals people; she takes pride in what she does. She just… daydreams a little, too, sage, smoke, and silver occupying her spare moments, flitting in between the corridors of her head as she flits from exam room to exam room.
She’s sitting at her desk, eating an early dinner and working on a new pile of paperwork before her next appointment arrives at five thirty, when one of Naruto’s clones bangs on her window.
Her gaze shifts to the glass at the familiar boisterous whining of her name - “Sakura-chaaaaaaan!” - and she rises to open it the rest of the way, allowing him entry into her office, an easy grin coming to her lips.
“Naruto!” A million thoughts run through her head. He has to know Sasuke’s back at this point, right? Has he seen him? He must be so happy.
Cyan bores into her, and he grins as he steps down. “Sakura-chan, teme’s back! Can you believe it? Though I guess you knew since yesterday.”
Sakura’s cheeks warm at the implication of that, wondering how he knows this information, but her friend is plowing onwards.
“Anyways, wanna have an original Team Seven reunion dinner on Saturday night? Or maybe Sunday night? Kakashi-sensei said Saturday would be better for him, if it works for you. And we should also make it a housewarming party for teme, but Kakashi-sensei says DON’T tell him that, or he won’t agree! It’s a surprise.”
Laughter erupts from her chest, rich and joyful, because it is crystal clear in that moment that Naruto is as elated at Sasuke’s return as she is - okay, maybe not quite on the level that she is, but close - even through a clone. “Of course, we should! I don’t have anything planned for Saturday night.”
Her teammate grins, all infectious happiness in the way that is so utterly characteristic of him, eyes crinkling at their corners. “Good, great, awesome! Be sure to mention it to him when you see him at seven. I’m sure if you suggest it, he’ll definitely agree.” Sakura blinks in surprise, cheeks staining darker. “Man, this is gonna be so great! Team Seven is fucking back ! I can’t wait to get a mission! It’ll be just like old times. I gotta tell Hinata-chan, too!”
She can’t help it; she smiles so wide that it hurts her face, tears paying her another visit. Sasuke’s back. He’s really back. And-
“Well, anyways, I’ll leave you to eat your dinner, Sakura-chan, but we have to force him to be social. I can’t wait to spar! But also, we gotta have a picnic, and no tying me to the pole this time. We could even challenge Kakashi-sensei to get off his ass and give us another go at the bell test. And, and! We should have a movie night. And go drinking! I’ve never seen teme drunk. I bet he’s a lightweight, and he’ll probably say all sorts of embarrassing shit! And-” Naruto’s clone’s expression turns unexpectedly serious, blue eyes suddenly narrowing in a way that is all-seeing and a tan finger suddenly pointing at her accusingly.
“-I mean social outside of you and him, Sakura-chan! Don’t think for a second that you’re gonna escape my questions later, when my brain isn’t fried from staring at that stupid scroll Kakashi-sensei has me slaving over. I want answers. ”
And then Naruto’s clone disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving her blinking in a strange combination of bewilderment and somehow, shyness, too.
And ebullience. Mostly ebullience.
She stands there grinning like an idiot for a long time. She can’t wait to see him at seven.
#naruto#sasusaku#ssfanfiction#cherry writes#like silver#fanfiction#labor day weekend = finishing things
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