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kamisamawashinda-tte · 9 months

Note

I don't know what you ship but if you're willing, EiRitsu with "a kiss for good morning". Or you can do a ship of your choice for the same prompt!

when it comes to me, the better question is what don't i ship because i find it hard to Not see beauty and intrigue in every fictional interpersonal relationship Plus im delusional and everything is romantic to me

never change // eiritsu 1.3k gen reminiscence based on prompt 1

I remember begging time to let this stay, to let us be, and so we have if only at her mercy. I remember feeling sick with all that went unsaid, what went unseen, though memories of back then have since bled into my dreams. It's hard to say- it's gross to say- but it just might be that I liked it better that way.

or: ritsu has a fun little nostalgia trip and a totally awesome happy time

His head slumped further down against his propped up arm- not an uncommon occurrence for him- but his eyes stayed open and focused. Very uncommon for Ritsu, of course, was the perfect naptime opportunity passed up. Perhaps the most uncommon for him was not being able to let that opportunity take him. To be awake against his will really should not have been possible for a practiced and skilled sleeper such as himself.

To fail at his greatest talent... Ritsu very much wanted to pretend he couldn't figure out why. Maybe a problem left unaddressed dissolves into nothing, and maybe a young man with no problem finds sleep with ease.

He wanted to stray his gaze away from the café window, to pry his attention away from what lay just outside. What should have been harsh against the eyes, bright magenta under the unfiltered sun, poured into his own so soft and dull.

Proud, flowering larkspur swayed with grace in the afternoon breeze. Up against the building's sides where the owner kept her love to share with customers and passersby alike. All purple and pink, a bright, happy sight intended to fill the heart and calm the mind.

Ritsu could feel a tinge of strain behind his eyes from how fixed remained his stare. Threads in his chest pulled tight as if trying to unravel, while clouds in his head grew heavy and hazy in the most uncomfortably conscious way.

He frowned as his coffee touched his lips. He'd ordered coffee, for fuck's sake.

The FLAVOR meet-up hadn't gone all that different from usual, not at all in a way that could warrant such a sorry after state- even if they did end up in a café, Ritsu's very least favorite place to wrongfully dignify with such a sacred ritual.

How Hajime's whole face, typically kept composed and reserved, lit up at the mention of such a cozy spot's reopening. How Hiyori was delighted to find that two other members knew the place he'd brought up. How gently excited Tatsumi seemed to stumble across another common item of interest to bond over.

"Well then," Eichi had stood up off of the couch abruptly, "what are we all still sitting here for, hm?"

Through haste and giggles, the five of them collected up all of their tea leaves for the day and shuffled out the door of Tatsumi's shared Starmony Dorm where they had initially planned to hold the gathering.

From there played out the same old catching up, the same old gossip that some preferred to pretend wasn't gossip, and the same old refreshing wave of contentment.

The group split off at the designated hour, all but one having planned carefully around arrangements for a neat and productive schedule that left no room to dawdle.

Ritsu remarked something like that he really couldn't be bothered to get up with all the warm treats he'd indulged in. Everyone decided that this was a very Ritsu thing to do, and a very Ritsu thing to say. They exchanged their farewells and let the sloth laze.

His cup met the table with a hesitant removal of the hand that had to work without a guide. Not once did his gaze falter.

He watched the flowers dance like they meant to taunt him. How blurred the rest of the world became while those joyful little larkspurs stayed sharp and clear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~⋄⋄✾◈◆✾◇⚘⚘⚘◇✾◆◈✾⋄⋄~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...

Ceaseless colors, bright by nature but muted to better please the eye, wrapped around and dyed the endless stream of shapes that flew behind his eyelids while they rest shut. The shapes came in patterns, playing out like a program aired with no discernable purpose. As fast and clear as they'd started out, lines began to slow and blur shortly. Colors mixed, light swirled, and everything felt... fuzzy.

Ritsu Sakuma reluctantly flitted his eyes open to see two arms. One was his own, splayed carelessly against the tall, slightly wet grass. The other extended from a point just out of his hazy view. Adjacent to where his terrible mess of hair rested with grass and dirt ghosted a gentle hand from above.

The sensation of light tugs gave him the impression that those fingers had just been entwined with his hair before trailing softly down his face.

And when he lifted- well, rolled over- his head just enough to get a fuller perspective, the tender touch followed his cheek.

Eichi Tenshouin's fond look grew into a radiant smile rivaled only by the morning sun rising behind him.

"The whole night?" His words were chosen to chide but came out amused. "We leave you for a little afternoon nap in the garden, and you manage to sleep on campus for the whole night..."

Ritsu put on a little show with his eyes, throwing his gaze in every direction before responding with, "Looks like it~"

Sunlight hit them disproportionately, framing Eichi where he knelt in the grass like a halo from behind and thus coloring Ritsu with his warped shadow.

Far passed his waking, and his senpai still hadn't stopped petting his face. Rather than bothering to wonder why, Ritsu moved the arm he couldn't see from where it lay across his stomach to hold the back of Eichi's hand in his own. The silence that composed the space between them was, against all odds, quite comfortable. Reflecting in each's eye was the other, infinitely intimate and uncannily understanding.

Following more than enough stagnant air, Eichi breathed out a curt chuckle through his nose. "Do we think it is about time to get up?" His adoration couldn't- perhaps pointedly wouldn't- be masked, every word woven with warmth. "I'm sure your dearest Knights are wondering what you've gotten up to."

They were not. Both boys knew this.

Ritsu humored him anyway. "Hmm..." his eyes closed while he gently stroked the fingers playing in his hair with his own. "I don't kno~ow..." He barely even reopened his eyes before glancing back up through his lashes. "The garden is just so comfy that I don't see any point in moving without some kind of motivation, Ecchan~"

He was well aware of how his naturally absurd disregard for rationale captivated his senpai so. Well aware of the fact that if Eichi had been born just a little healthier, if he had been saddled with just the littlest bit less of responsibility, then his next course of action would most likely have been to lie right down next to Ritsu in the grass and let the clouds be their teachers for the day.

But, realistically, Eichi only had so much time.

He let his hand fall from his kouhai's hair, landing their now interlaced fingers in the grass just beside them. With that, he leaned off of his legs and more over Ritsu, all the while lowering himself so as to level their faces.

Ritsu blinked up at him lazily, expression unchanging- though not exactly that Eichi's expression had really changed so much since he'd woken up either.

Eichi shut his eyes this time around as he made the final move for their lips to meet. The speed at which Ritsu responded gave away his current charade of debilitating fatigue.

Similarly quick to his upper back was a supporting hand when he began to sit up- if only as an excuse not to end the kiss as Eichi started rising himself.

Amusement foiled them anyway, Eichi being unable to hold back a less than dignified snicker.

"Oh? Are you 'motivated' all of a sudden?"

Ritsu's eyes focused on a shining star, accentuated under the sunlight and framed by gorgeous larkspurs, purple and pink.

...

He could feel a faint tingling on his lips, uncomfortably unforgettable how soft, how sweet the kiss of a living corpse.

And very much more unbearable was the memory of a world no longer real. Of someone who would still look his way, but now with a wandering gaze.

Ritsu leaned back in his booth seat and looked up at the ceiling light. He hoped it could blind him if he stared long enough.

#eiritsu #enstars fanfic #ritsu sakuma #eichi tenshouin #fic prompt #that black tea gacha did something to me #theyre so fucking weird

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void-ink-studios · 11 months

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Incarnations AU - A Little Explored Kirby Power [Part 1]

Another day, another short. This time, a 2 parter! Here's part 1, part 2 will be posted tomorrow!

Characters: Kirby and Meta-Knight (prominently), Nightmare and Dark Matter (implied/referenced)

TW for this chapter: Nightmares, Implied/Referenced PTSD from Meta Knight.

Word Count: 1,400

Part 1 (You are here!) | Part 2

Kirby was restless.

Now, one would think that wouldn’t be unusual for such a little kid. Kids usually have endless energy, if the fights over naptime are as common as one might believe.

But not Kirby. Kirby was more than content to nap, as often as they were able to get away with. Meta usually had the opposite problem, trying to get the child to wake up and be a person. The most common solution to this problem was the promise of a snack, although Meta was trying to discourage this habit.

So Kirby lying on their bed, with an icky feeling in their tummy was more than unusual. It wasn’t icky like they had eaten something bad. This was something more… prickly. Like they swallowed a handful of cactus needles.

For the first few minutes of them being awake, they had to think really hard to make sure they didn’t actually eat cactus needles. It wouldn’t have been the strangest thing Meta had caught them trying to eat.

The less said about the Mace Incident, the better.

They decided that no, they hadn’t eaten cactus needles. Their tummy was making that feeling all on its own. But why?

They sat up and rubbed their eyes. Their room softly glowed with the star lights hung from the ceiling. Their toys were dutifully put back in the box, as Meta requested. All was quiet. Nothing out of place.

Except the shadows.

Kirby didn’t like the shadows. They didn’t appear often, only after their few trips to the castle. They always lurked in the corners, and Kirby could never look at them directly. They vanish, or slink into another corner when they try. If they approach, they disappear, and their tummy feels funny.

They don’t do much other than unsettle them, but that’s enough for Kirby to decide they maybe shouldn’t mess with it yet.

They hadn’t told Meta about them yet. Meta always seemed so tired and worried about something. Kirby didn’t want to add more to that, especially over some stinky shadows in the corners. They're a big kid, a big strong one! Meta said so!

They lightly kicked a ball toward the shadows, watching them shrink away again. While they were unsettling, they weren’t the cause of the weird tummy feeling. This felt different… more potent.

They crept around their room, looking for a potential source. They checked all the corners to make sure the shadows went away, checked under the bed, in the closet, even in the toy chest. Just to make sure nothing was hiding anywhere.

They pulled their stuffed Bun-Bun out of the toy chest as they closed it. Bun-Bun usually made them feel a little better.

So, there wasn't anything in the room. They contemplated leaving their room to investigate.

Meta would be mad if he caught them out so late… So would the crew. But they should all be asleep by now! Well, except maybe Meta. Kirby had seen him wandering the halls until dawn one time. Vul yelled at him a lot when Kirby mentioned it. It took a lot of reassurances from Axy that they didn’t do anything wrong by telling.

So, if they left, they could get caught by Meta. If that happened, maybe he could say he was getting some water. Meta would believe that, right? Sure.

Kirby nodded a little to themselves in determination, holding Bun-Bun close, as they slowly pushed their heavy metal door open.

He tiptoed down the halls of the Halberd, holding their doll closely under their chin. They followed their tummy. The prickly feeling was getting worse the further he got. Was there a monster on the ship somewhere? He’d beat the monster up if there was! Unless it just wanted some cake. Then maybe they could talk.

The prickling spiked as they passed by a certain door. The door gave them pause. That was Meta’s room.

Was Meta in trouble? That wouldn’t do! Meta is big and strong, but he was so sleepy earlier! He needed Kirby’s help!

Slowly, they opened up Meta’s door, almost feeling sick as a wave of the prickling crashed over them. Their tummy was twisted into all kinds of knots. This wasn’t good…

They watched and listened to the lump on the bed that was probably Meta as they slowly approached.

His wings were trembling. That was unusual. Meta’s wings only trembled when he was really, really tired. Like when he had to fly Kirby through a big windstorm that came over suddenly.

Meta was muttering something too. His back was to them, but they could see how tightly he was curled up on his bed. He must’ve been gripping the blanket really tight as well, considering how tense his shoulders looked. His dark purple locks were drenched in sweat.

Was he maybe sick? Maybe his body felt really hot, like how Kirby felt after they ate that weird mushroom.

He listened to Meta’s muttering. Who was he talking to?

“Go away… you’re not real… go away.”

Did Meta know they were here? Was he telling them to go away? No, no, that couldn’t be it… whoever he was talking to wasn’t real, and Kirby’s real!

They crept a little closer to the bed, the bad feeling in his tummy getting heavier and heavier. There was something coming off of Meta, they could feel the prickling on their cheeks and hands. It wasn’t comfy, but Meta needed him!

“...Meba…?”

Meta didn’t respond to him. He shook his head and curled up tighter.

“Don’t you dare… they’re just a child… don’t touch them!”

His wings lashed out, nearly catching Kirby in the cheek. They yelped a little and stumbled back, a new wave washing over them.

Kirby shook their head, and puffed their cheeks. Time to get serious!

They got close to the bed again, fighting off the bad feeling. They thought of things they liked to distract themselves.

Cake. Bandana Dee’s jokes. Cricket songs. Meta’s voice. Flowers. Dedede’s hugs. Grass. Candy.

It was working, they thought. The prickling feeling dulled, replaced by something warm, something seeping into their skin and bones. Like a warm bath after a day of sledding.

They hesitated for a second, as Meta’s wings started trembling even harder. His shoulders shook and… it sounded like he was crying.

Was that right? Meta doesn’t cry! He’s always so brave, even when the sky makes loud noises. If Meta was crying, he must’ve been seeing something really scary… That wouldn’t do!

Kirby steeled themselves, outstretching a hand. They pressed it firmly on Meta’s back, right between his wings. They continued to think of good things, stuff Meta would like too!

Meta reading Kirby bedtime stories. Kirby learning how to “fly” (Meta laughed and smiled so much when they showed him. His mask was one, but they could tell, he was smiling). Dedede’s shortbread cookies they share on special occasions.

The warmth seeped out of their hand, rippling along Meta’s back. Kirby watched as his wings relaxed and his shoulders uncurled. They smiled to themselves, Meta could relax and sleep well now.

Kirby looked at Bun-Bun tucked under their arm. Bun-Bun helped when they couldn’t sleep. Meta should get his own Bun-Bun. They thought for a few seconds before nodding to themselves.

Slowly, as to not wake Meta who finally seems a little relaxed in his bed, Kirby hoisted themselves up onto the mattress. They scooched until they were up against their guardian’s back, clinging to it, letting the warmth seep even faster.

“Is okay, Meba. Seep well.”

Meta’s breaths slowly stopped shuttering, his heartbeat slowing. All was well again, at least for now. Nothing out of place. All was quiet.

Kirby didn’t know when they fell asleep after that.

When Vul went searching for their Admirl when he didn’t check in this morning, he found quite the sight.

Meta Knight, as far as Vul knows, has a single soft spot, for a certain pink 5 year old. He would deny it from all five points of Popstar, insisting he was just observing how Kirby behaved as an Incarnation.

However, that all crumbles away when Vul walks into Meta’s bedroom to see him curled completely around Kirby, sleeping more peacefully than he’s seen in a long time. His wings were wrapped around the pink child like an extra blanket, face nestled in their fluffy hair. They both were dead to the world, save for their soft breaths.

Vul would leave them for now. He wasn’t about to interrupt the Admiral's one good night sleep a year over protocol.

He left. But not without several pictures to show the crew later.

#incarnations au #kirby #kirby gijinka #meta knight #nightmares #ptsd #fanfic #metadad

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justonemorechapternicercy · 2 years

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Can I have some catboy!Percy content if you have the time and motivation for it? *tries the pleading kitten eyes* Ship of your choice! <3

Maybe... Just maybe, Percy should have thought before he talked back Aphrodite. Maybe he shouldn't have used words like "cruel" or "bitch".

Percy supposed he was quite lucky for being only punished by this, and not something worse, but when he had more appendages he could move than he had normally, being thankful for only receiving this was not easy.

Maybe next time he would think twice what he is about to say...

Nah.

Percy touched one of his new appendages, and felt a sharp pain in his new fluffy ear.

There was no other explanation: he was turned into a catboy.

A soft gasp broke the silence. Percy's head shot up to look at the person, and he faced with Nico's big, round eyes.

"You..." He whispered in awe, taking a step closer to Percy. He let out a light, disbelieving chuckle, hackling Percy's fur.

"I don't see what is so funny about my situation," the new catboy scowled, his tail rigid at annoyance.

"You- you look adorable," Nico said, adoring the two fluffy ears peaking out of Percy's mess of a hair, the fur on them as black as the hair surrounding them.

Percy hissed angrily.

"I'm not adorable! I'm... Ferocious! Or fearsome! Or anything, but adorable!" He glowered harder, but he had the sinking feeling in his stomach that it was probably more like a cute pout than one of his patented wolf stares.

It was almost as if Aphrodite...

Oh.

So the punishment wasn't exactly the fact that he was a catboy. No. The punishment was to exist as a catboy.

Knowing, that nobody would take him seriously when he looked like a soft kitten ready for his naptime.

He was not ready to show his worth to camp to make them take him seriously. Again.

To add insult to injury, he could see Nico trying to suppress his laughter, pressing his lips together, eyes shining with mirth. Okay, sure, if Nico would have kitten features, Percy would behave the same. The other demigod would look adorable, with soft ears surrounded by his lovely little curls.

But that was the thing! It was Percy who was turned into a catboy! Nico was not allowed to be amused by it!

He felt his ears pulling back, and the hiss coming from his mouth was definitely not human-like.

Shit.

"Can I..." Nico started, a hand hesitantly reaching out. "Can I touch your ears?" He asked.

Percy's first reaction was to shot down the idea immediately. "No!" He hoped Nico would back off, but his hand stayed, stretched out halfway between them.

"Please," Nico begged, stepping even closer. Up this close, Nico's eyes were beautiful. How did he not notice it before?

Percy felt weakening. Those eyes...

"'kay," he murmured with annoyance. Curse Aphrodite for- for everything! It's her fault! Everything was her fault!

Nico's eyes widened, shock that he was allowed to touch clear in them, but quickly, before Percy could change his mind, he carefully brought his hand up to his left ear, and scratched it gently. Percy couldn't bite back his immediate reaction, and purred.

He fucking purred.

The delight in Nico's eyes almost worth the embarrassment. Almost. What did worth the embarrassment was the soft scratches against the soft skin. It was- it was nothing he'd ever experienced before.

"More!" He demanded, and Nico didn't need to told twice, he continued scratching, now with both of his hands both of the velvety ears.

Percy could feel his face heating up, especially after his purring continued, but as long as he could enjoy Nico's magic hands against his ears, he was okay with it.

It was fucking fantastic!

"We should get more comfortable, if you want me to continue this," Nico noted. It took no time for Percy to find a comfortable seating option, where he sat down eagerly, waiting for the other.

The son of Hades let out a delighted laugh, but didn't make Percy wait, he followed the catboy, and put his hand back where they belonged.

Percy purred contently.

Maybe his situation wasn't that bad, after all.

#here you have a catboy!percy nicercy ficlet ;)#you can't imagine how many times i wrote carboy and had to correct it to catboy xD #percy jackson #nico di angelo #nicercy #percico #pjoverse #pjo #pjo ficlet #catboy!percy #phoe 💕

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littletxt · 2 years

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A Little Mixed Up Pt.6

🧸🛌🧸🛌🧸🛌🧸🛌🧸🛌🧸🛌🧸🛌🧸🛌🧸🛌

You don’t understand how soft this made me *sobs*

Wc: 1.4k+

This story includes romantic ships including YeonGyu/BeomJun and TaeKaiBin but no sexual/suggestive content

Taglist: @i9802s @pinkheadflowers

Accidents Happen

ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

Beomie was more than happy to have a new playmate. The caregivers, not so much, as the two became double trouble. Making messes, twice the loudness, another creative mind to brew fresh ideas that would drive their caregivers insane.

One night at dinner, Beomie convinced Hyunnie to mix up all his food together as one 'big food', resulting in him refusing to eat it because they were all touching.

Another night Hyunnie helped Beomie get into the peanut butter, resulting in a desperately needed bath time for the two, in which they waited for their caregivers to look away for a moment so they could add more bubbles to the water, and then proceeded to have a water fight, soaking Soobin who was on bath duty.

Today they insisted on playing tag, having their caregivers chase them all around the dorm, ending up back in the living room where the two littles were tickled to tears when they were caught.

"Was that a yawn, my baby boy?", Yeonjun gasped and peppered kisses all over his little one's face as they settled down for an early afternoon movie.

"Nuuu", Beomie giggled and tried to tickle his Appa but paused with another yawn.

"Aww, my little one is all tired out. Come on, baby. Appa will read you a story.", Yeonjun lifted the little from the floor and held him in his arms, carrying him to their shared bedroom for a nap. Sometimes Taehyun tired Beomie out too quickly, as the 'older' little was at an age where he didn't need as many naps.

"Soobin can you get Beomie some warm milk? I'm gonna get him changed into something comfy for naptime.", Yeonjun looked to their leader as he walked past, who was happily watching over his two boyfriends who were in a tickle fight themselves.

"Kai, you good here?", Soobin checked with his co-caregiver before stepping into the kitchen.

"Me and Hyunnie are all good here... Oh no... the tickle monster... IS BACK!!!", Kai unleashed another round of tickles on his little who was squealing and squirming around on the floor.

"Nooo!! Daddy!!", little Taehyun giggled and tried to roll over and crawl away just to be dragged right back and pampered with kisses.

Soobin prepared a mug of warm milk in the kitchen and walked to Yeonjun and Beomie's shared room. He knocked first to make sure everyone was decent and handed the mug to Yeonjun.

"Sweet dreams, Beomie.", Soobin smiled and shut the door behind him, making his way back to the living room to find his two boyfriends out of breath and snuggling on the floor.

"Sit up for me, my little prince.", Yeonjun helped Beomie sit back up in bed, taking a break from their story. He had to also assist the little with drinking from the mug as they've had quite a few spills from the boy when he tried to drink on his own.

After a few sips of milk between pages of the book, Beomie's eyes became heavy and half-lidded. Yeonjun set aside the mug and had his baby lay back down onto his tummy. Only a few pages later and the sleepy little one had fallen into dreamland, stuffie in tow. With one more forehead kiss, Yeonjun left the room to join his other members.

"Wow, that was fast.", Kai looked up from his coloring activity with Hyunnie.

"He never goes down that easy.", Soobin chuckled in agreement.

"Our little Taetae really took it out of the poor boy. Can Uncle Junnie get some of that limitless energy?", Yeonjun teased the little who grinned and offered a purple crayon to Yeonjun for him to join their coloring.

"That's so sweet of you, offering your crayons to your Uncle Junnie. My sweet boy.", Soobin smiled and leaned down from the couch to ruffle his little one's hair. The four spent time coloring and playing while they waited for Beomie to wake up.

Around three in the afternoon , Yeonjun's ear tuned in to a familiar sound that sent him into fight or flight. A faint whimpering could be heard down the hall and the members knew the only source could be little Beomie. Yeonjun was on his feet and at the doorway, turning the handle before anyone could question it.

"Baby?? What's the matter??", Yeonjun found Beomie, sitting on the edge of his bed, shorts darkened around his crotch area, soaked and clinging to his skin. The older didn't have time to freeze as the little cried in front of him.

"Heyheyhey... it's okay. Everyone has accidents. Appa let you have milk right before bed without a trip to the potty... It's okay, baby boy.", Yeonjun held the boy's hands, trying to reassure him.

"I wann be a big boy... it's all wet..", Beomie started sobbing and squirming uncomfortably in his wet shorts. Yeonjun sighed and cupped his cheeks as he always did to hold his little's attention.

"You are a very big boy, Beomie. Even the biggest big boys have accidents. Let's go get the bath going and clean you up.", Yeonjun smiled and lead his baby to the bathroom as his tears subsided. He ran the bath and helped his little strip out of his clothes and step into the bath. Once he was settled, he was handed a few rubber ducks and the door was left open in case he needed his Appa.

Yeonjun's next task was stripping the bed. They could always share a bed so that wasn't an issue. He wanted to get rid of the evidence so it would no longer be upsetting to Beomgyu, big or little. When he was finished he threw the dirty bedding into the hamper so he could wash it later and went back into the bathroom to help his baby wash up.

After cleaning up, Beomie played with his duckies in the bath for a while before turning in the bath water to look at his Appa.

"Evwybody has acc’dents?", Beomie's big eyes shifted back and forth between Yeonjun's, waiting impatiently for his answer.

"Yup! Even Appa has had accidents before. I bet, if we ask the other members, they'll tell you they've had accidents, too!", Yeonjun said shamelessly and leaned forward to press a long kiss onto his little one’s forehead. At first, Beomie was too embarrassed about the idea to ask his other members, but once he was dressed, he walked hand and hand with his appa to where the other members sat in the living room.

Hyunnie had insisted on watching a documentary about ocean creatures while his two caregivers were trying their best to pay attention and pretend they weren't bored out of their minds. They engaged in every curious question and excited exclamation from the boy, admiring how sweet and childlike he was.

"Beomie has something he wants to ask everyone. Do you want me to ask for you, baby bear?", Yeonjun squeezed Beomie's hand as the boy shrunk behind him. He nodded his head against the older.

"I told my little angel here that everyone has accidents, even you guys. Isn't that right?", Yeonjun looked to all of them hoping they'd all agree for the sake of his baby even if they hadn't. Soobin was the first to answer.

"Of course! It's normal. That's why I try to avoid drinking too much before I go to bed. It used to happen a lot when I was your age.", Soobin smiled at the boy who peeked out from behind Yeonjun.

"Me too! And I bet even big boy Taehyun has accidents sometimes too! Just like us.", Kai smiled and answered for his little who would surely want to deny the accusation out of embarrassment, but to everyone’s surprise, he also shyly nodded. This all made Beomie feel a lot better about his little accident and he was happy-go-lucky once again.

"Appa! Binnie! Can we make cookies??", the boy was no longer shying behind his boyfriend, rushing into the arms of his Binnie excitedly awaiting a response.

"Cookies!!!", Hyunnie grinned brightly, no longer attached to the screen as the documentary talked about different types of whales.

The caregivers sighed almost in unison and everyone made their way to the kitchen to make cookies.

💌 comment to be added to the taglist💌

Pt.1|Pt.7|series masterlist

🧸Masterlist 🧸

#age regressor #agere #agerespace #beomgyu #soobin #taehyun #txt fluff #txt imagines #yeongyu #yeonjun #tyunning #taehyun soft hours #beomgyu soft hours #yeonjun soft hours #txt soft hours #little space #sfw little community #caregiver

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years

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Fic: Sexy Nap Time

Frankie x Lady masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Frankie Morales x Jay 'Lady' Ray

Tags/warnings: PiV sex, hint of cum play, breeding kink.

Words: 2,508

A/N: REVISED FEBRUARY 25, 2022. Changed it from second person to third (you -> Jay), fixed some typos, rewrote a little to fit Frankie & Jay better. My babies have come a long way. Enjoy this fic version 2.0!

“Naptime, sweetie!” Jay announces when Alma's finished putting away the last fork in the dishwasher. “Go give daddy a kiss and I’ll come with you and read you a story.”

Alma’s usually ambivalent about naptime but today she’s clearly exhausted from her morning adventures on the beach. The sun shone from a cloudless sky when the family woke this morning and after breakfast, Jay and Frankie packed a picnic basket and took Alma to the nearby lake. She was the perfect picture of the Duracell rabbit during the three hours spent there, playing in the water and on the adjacent playground, keeping both her parents busy. When it was lunchtime, Alma was exhausted but hunger kept her awake long enough for her to stuff herself with leftover stew from last night.

Jay follows her daughter out of the kitchen and finds her hugging Frankie on the couch.

“Okay, chiquita, have a good nap. I’ll see you later,” Frankie tells her and smacks a kiss to her cheek before releasing her to Jay. She bends down over Frankie and gives him a quick kiss.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she whispers before giving his lower lip a small tug with her teeth. Frankie catches her drift and gives her a filthy smirk that sets off the pull in her groin. Jay hurries to Alma's room and tucks her in under the rainbow-colored blanket that Granny Ana crocheted for her. Alma picks a picture book to read but Jay doesn’t even reach the end of page one before the girl is asleep. Waiting a few moments to make sure Alma really is far away in dreamland, Jay eventually tip-toes out, softly closing the door. Hustling back to the living-room, now eager for a fuck, she finds Frankie still on the couch, pants pulled down to his knees, stroking his cock.

"Really?" Jay stops in the doorway, admiring the scene but pretending to be scandalized. "Dick out in the middle of the day? What if Alma didn't want to nap after all but came back in here?"

“Anyone could see that kid would be gone the minute her head hit the pillow,” Frankie tells her confidently. “Now, to get you down…”

“Clever.” She walks up to him slowly, taking her top off and tossing it to the side. She keeps her gaze focused on Frankie’s cock, swollen and wide in his hand. Her already wet pussy starts to throb at the prospect mixed with memory of being stretched out by that wonderful fucking dick…

“Hey, I’m up here,” he teases as she comes closer. She doesn’t even bother to meet his eyes.

“I fucking love your dick, baby,” she tells him instead, slightly breathless. The declaration hits home: he literally twitches in his hand. Jay hurries to slither out of her denim shorts, the panties, and by the time her bra joins them on the floor, Frankie has long since broken eye contact with her. Without ceremony, Jay pulls his shorts down to his feet and sit astride his strong thighs. Lowering herself over him so that the tip of his cock is touching her wet folds, she hums in content at the first little contact, before crashing her mouth to his. He tastes faintly of garlic from the stew they had for lunch: just enough to give a piquant flavor to the kiss. His large hands are on her waist before moving to her hips and ass, then his fingers reach between her legs and tease her seam.

"Is your pussy always like this when you read to our daughter?" he mumbles between the kisses. Jay catches his lower lip between her teeth for a gentle bite.

"Perv."

"Just wondering because fuck, baby..." A groan stops his talking when she starts to rub her slick pussy along his cock. Frankie plants his hands on her hips and throws his head back, drawing a deep breath that releases as a long moan. It ends in a surprised gasp when Jay puts a little more weight on him, pressing his big cock up against the treasure trail on his soft abdomen, and really coats him in her arousal. The head bumps against her clit and her breath comes out shaky at the sweet torture. She leans forward to kiss his exposed neck, suck a bruise where a muscle stretches taut under his skin. He tastes of sweat, lake water, and sunscreen, and she can smell the sunlight on him. Summertime Frankie, her favorite.

“Mierda, baby, you’re such a fucking tease…” he groans, tightening his hold of her hips and pressing her down against him. Jay’s hands nestle in under his t-shirt and find his nipples. As her lips touch his for another kiss, she twists them, simultaneously, and quite hard. Frankie grunts into her mouth and slaps her ass, making her grunt in return. She draws back, smirking at him, and he glares at her, half aroused, half annoyed.

“You gonna fuck me or not?” As if he couldn’t just throw her down on the couch and take her. Jay smirks.

“What’s the magic word?”

”Now.”

“No fucking manners,” she scoffs but reaches down eagerly, grabs his dick and guides it inside her. The slickness makes him slide in easily enough but it still feels like she’s being filled to the point of ripping, especially being on top. Fuck, it feels like he's all the way up there, beyond her goddamn cervix.

“Jesus,” she whines when he's completely hilted in her. “So big, baby, I can hardly take you.”

Frankie exhales in a groan, his hands finding the curve of her hips for a slow, calming caress.

“Relax, amor, you’ve done this before.”

Jay snorts, but leans forward for an almost sweet kiss. Frankie licks at her lips, hands moving down to cup her ass, a little harder now.

“You take me so well, baby,” he encourages her, and Jay moans lightly at how the changed angle makes him feel different inside her. She drags her lips across his before swallowing his breath in a searing kiss. Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she starts to rock slowly, enjoying the travel of his hands from her ass to her hips, down her thighs, then up front to cup her breasts. Breaking the kiss, she sit back, thrusting her tits out as a very simple way of asking for more. Frankie curses under his breath as he leans forward and replaces one hand with his mouth, sucking her nipple into his mouth.

"Fuck," she whimpers, a jolt of pleasure zig-zagging through your body. "That's it, I want your tongue on me, baby."

She’s still moving with slowly undulating hips, not using her thighs yet, and when Frankie reaches his free hand behind her and covers her shoulder blade, she leans into his warm and slightly dry palm, letting go of his shoulders and instead brazing herself on his thighs behind her. Her head falls back as she lets out another moan, hips moving in a slow, circular motion on his. His pubic bone is pressing against her clit and the stimulation is making her burn for him, yet she still takes it slow, warming herself and him up, giving him time to lavish her breasts with attention. His breath is hot on her tits, his teeth sharp when he sucks a bruise next to her nipple and the pleasure is so intense she can barely handle it. When he surprises her with an impertinent upwards thrust into her, she can't hold back a shout.

"So fucking hard for you," he gripes and Jay lifts her head and meets his eyes, seeing the disarray in them, the surrender. She puts her hands back on his shoulders and shoves him back against the backrest of the couch, following immediately to claim his lips. As she starts to move up and down his cock, his hands go to their favorite places on her hips, fingertips digging into her flesh, helping her along in her endeavor. Their teeth collide, she accidentally (or was it?) bite his tongue and press a close-lipped kiss to the corner of his mouth in apology before dipping her face down to his long, strong neck where he doesn't mind being bitten. Digging her knees into the couch seat, she picks up the pace, going strong and fast, the sound of her panting drowned out only by that of her thighs slapping against his, and Frankie's quick, resounding breaths that feel hot and cold alike on her skin. His blunt, broad fingertips are bruising into her ass cheeks, fuck that's good baby, it all adds up to the ticking bomb of nerve endings between her legs that's going to go off any minute now. And she’s desperate for it to tear her apart.

She leans back once more to grab his knees behind her. Frankie's looking focused but dedicated: she’s used to seeing that face when she’s on top or sucking his dick but she never gets tired of adoring it. Those subtle little twitches, how his lips are pressed together momentarily before parting in a little pucker to let out huffs of air, the set line of his jaw – he’s lasting it out although he’s ready to blow. He’s waiting for her.

She gives him all she’s got. Her thighs are beginning to burn but she powers on through the muscle fatigue and the complaining framework of the couch, and she rides him home. Her orgasm explodes through her only a few seconds after Frankie's moved one of his hands between her legs and pressed his thumb to her clit. Jay throws her head back and moans loudly, lips pursed to prevent an even noisier expression of her climax - she still remembers that their darling daughter is sleeping in the next room. Frankie trembles underneath her thighs, then jerks up into her as he shoots his load deep inside her convulsing pussy. His thumb is glued to her clit and her brain short-circuits as she rides wave after shockwave of pleasure, keening helplessly when she finally can take no more. Frankie hears the protest for what it is and releases her clit with a small growl.

Drawing a deep breath, she opens her eyes – she doesn’t even remember closing them in the first place – and blinks, unfocused, at Frankie. His eyes are closed, head thrown back, mouth open and panting, forehead smoothed out. God, he's gorgeous like this, all fucked out, vulnerable and open. He’s still hard inside her so she swirls her hips lazily as she slumps forward and places a breathless kiss on his neck. He twitches and exhales with a small moan, wrapping his arms around her.

“Christ,” he sighs, and Jay smiles against his skin before scattering more kisses over his neck. Eventually, she succumbs to a rest against his warm, tanned chest. His heartbeat is slowing down from its fast-paced thundering and she dimly notices how her own heart seems to get in tune with his as soon as their chests meet.

They come down together, sharing the precious silence and peace that is so rare in a house with a three-year-old. Frankie strokes her back languidly and she kisses his neck again, knowing that she could spend the rest of her life right here in this moment, just kissing his neck.

“That was fuckin’ awesome, baby,” Frankie finally murmurs. Jay feels the reverberations of his low-pitched baritone inside his chest.

“I know. I was there.”

He chuckles, another sound that transmits to a deep ripple against her hand on his chest. The movement, however small, makes her aware of how limp he's become, so she adjusts a little to allow him to slip out. In the wake of his exit, his cum drips out of her, soaking his groin and the hem of his t-shirt. Frankie’s eyes widen.

“Dios mio,” he breathes, his voice heated. “Lemme have a look at you.”

Jay smiles a little as she leans back again, supporting herself on his thighs as she bares herself for him. Unaware of himself, Frankie licks his lips as he gathers the cum seeping out of her, and pushes it back in.

“Take it,” he mutters. “I want it inside you.”

Her pussy bottoms out in renewed lust.

"Fuck, Frankie..."

“Come here, amor.”

He pulls her in for a kiss, sweeter than expected.

“You think it took this time?” he whispers against her lips. Her heart leaps at the thought. They’ve been actively trying for another baby for only a few weeks but it’s already had a positive effect on their sex life, which was really good to start with. Frankie goes crazy at the idea of impregnating her, she knows that from when they were trying for their first baby. And if she does become pregnant, and it’s anything like when she was expecting Alma, she’ll be cock-hungry almost around the clock.

"We'll see. I enjoy trying."

"Me too," he grins at her, displaying the boyish dimple in one cheek.

"You know that this kind of naptime fuck session is going to be even more rare with two kids?" she warns him, not really worried he's forgotten. Maybe it’s a warning for herself.

"It'll be worth it, don't you think?"

She makes an elaborate thinking face that pulls a laugh out of him. As always it's infectious, so she laughs with him.

"We'll make it worth it," she promises.

"Yeah, we will." He captures her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss.

"I love you, amor."

"Love you more, my sweet man."

"Of course, you always have to be a little better than me," Frankie teases her as he runs one finger down her back.

"You love that about me," she smiles wryly, tracing her finger along his beloved, patchy beard before going down his neck. "You have like... two bite marks and three hickeys here."

"Wonder who put them there?"

"No idea."

"Must be the same person who gave you those." He points to her chest and she looks down to discover several love bites on her tits.

"Fuck, can't put on a bikini in public looking like this," she sighs, secretly happy with looking like a love-struck teenager. "You're taking Alma to the lake by yourself until these are gone."

"T-shirts exist, mamacita."

"Milfs don't wear t-shirts at the beach, daddy," Jay winks, and they both grin at one another before she climbs off his lap, her disapproving thighs trembling in protest at the effort.

“Rematch tonight?” Frankie suggests as he rises as well, wrapping his arms around her. “I want to fill you up again and again, until you’re big and round with my baby, and then continue filling you up…”

“Jesus fucking Christ, save some for tonight,” Jay groans, covering his mouth with her hand to shut him up. “You’re driving me crazy, baby.”

“You are,” his muffled voice is heard beneath her hand, and Jay removes it, replacing it with her lips for one last, loving kiss.

#my fic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales x lady

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theunderneath · 3 years

Note

Yandere platonic fam ask! I love romance! I just feel like people are sleeping on the potential of the Whitebeard crew all being yandere (or any crew really, its usually just one or two members despite the extreme lengths they go to in canon for each other)! That and I wanted to be clear I wasn't talking about a frankly massive poly ship (pun intended, lol), which I do not expect nor want to find.

I know Skypians(?) Can't fly and their wings are usually about the relative size of sexy angel costume wings, but could you write a darling who has massive fluffy (and pretty!) wings that can fly (naturally exhausting, so no cross-sea travel here)? They're on the run cause One Piece is kinda horrible on main at every opportunity and get fished out of the ocean by the Whitebeard crew and is convinced to join! Loose feathers are gifted to their favorite new family members (and there may or may not be a rule for making sure the darling doesn't rip out their feathers for gifts since it means A LOT to the darling after hiding for so long).

And they love this new family! Whitebeards don't care about their unnatural wings (cause they're soft and dwarf the darling, so cute!) And are willing to help preen them! Darling even gets to nest since most beds don't accomadate their wings right! Sure they can't fly alone or at night, but it's so nice to be worried over for a change! They can't run around islands alone, but slavers are still absolutely a concern and the darling feels safer being escorted anyway. And they don't like fighting in fear of injuring their wings, so it's nice that they're not expected to! They might use a gun for sharpshooting purposes if allowed though!

It is a little weird that they're never alone, but the ship is always bustling, so maybe not that weird? The door has a weird lock on the outside, but it was probably a store room before! They get to help out with small errands, especially with a certain crew member (your pick, treat yourself, lol!) Who loves preening their wings and joining their nest for naptime (the crew probably ships it for a lot of reasons). It's a good thing the darling just assumes they've been alone too long to remember what having a family is actually supposed to be like, or those wings might be clipped.

Or maybe just strapped down with a sort of backpack contraption for a literal grounding since Marco would be pretty upset to lose his flying partner. And you wouldn't want to make the birdie sad, would you?

I'd literally just love to see any of this period, because it is a desert of content for this crew out here! I'm fem myself but the darling doesn't have to be! Thank you and sorry for the long ask again. Brevity may be the soul of whit, but my head is empty. There are only thots.

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

I feel like, I can’t add anything to that. Like... You've already explored a lot of your own idea. So I kinda have to turn it down under the guides that I got nothing. Sorry for any disappointment.

#Sorry!#yandere one piece

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Two)

Summary: Din reflects on his impulsive decision and gets to know a little more about his newest crew member.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: It’s a little shorter than the last chapter but I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Two The Captain (Previous Chapter)

Din Djarin wasn’t exactly an impulsive man. If given the opportunity, he preferred to approach every situation with a healthy dose of caution and strategy, shying away from brash recklessness whenever he possibly could; it was once how he’d become one of the Outer Rim’s most skilled bounty hunters and how he’d recently been able to protect the child on his quest. So, when he’d asked the ex-smuggler, his client, to join his crew after only knowing her for a handful of hours, he’d surprised even himself with the spur-of-the-moment decision. He hadn’t traveled with a crew in years, not since his days as a mercenary, but what he said earlier had been correct: if he was going to successfully complete his quest to return the child to his kind, then he needed some help to do it.

But what made you choose her, Din asked himself as he curiously watched (Y/N) sew, out of all the people who’ve helped you so far, why did you ask her to stay? Maybe it was because she confused him; her demeanor was fierce yet gentle, she could pilot a ship through heavy blaster fire better than any Corellian hot-head but could also be content with quietly sewing on the floor of his ship, and her attitude was outmatched only by her thoughtfulness. But as he observed her from where he stood beside his sleeping compartment, it dawned on him that it was because deep-down, they shared something in common: loneliness.

“You know, I may not be able to see your eyes but I can feel you staring at me.” (Y/N) quipped, looking up from her work with a smile. “What is it?”

“We’ve been flying for a few hours now and since I don’t know when you last slept, I wanted to show you your bunk.” Din explained, grimacing at the half-truth; that was originally why he’d come down from the cockpit, but then the sight of the captain peacefully sewing had distracted him. He turned and pressed a button on the control panel, the compartment’s door opening as (Y/N) got up and stood beside him. “The child usually sleeps in the hammock, but he won’t disturb you; he’s a heavy sleeper.”

Instead of thanking him, (Y/N) frowned. “But isn’t this where you sleep?”

Din shrugged. “It’s fine, I’ll rest in the cockpit from now on-”

“And give yourself perpetual backaches?” She countered, her brow raised in skepticism. “I’ll make up a cot for myself out here and you can keep your bed.” Her firm expression morphed into amusement as she made her way back to her storage container and began rifling through its contents. “Besides, as far as this crew goes you’ve got the seniority; this is, after all, your ship, Captain.”

He smirked, leaning against the wall of the ship and crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s my ship but I’m no captain. You, on the other hand…”

“So what I hear you saying is that since I’m technically a captain, I outrank you even on your own ship?”

Biting back a snort of amusement at her teasing, Din shook his head and pointed a warning finger at her. “Watch it, alor’ad, I don’t tolerate insubordination in my crew.” (Y/N)’s head snapped up and her grin instantly fell, and he quickly realized that she’d taken him seriously. “No, no, I was just…! That was…that was meant to be a joke.”

Comprehension dawned on the captain’s face. “Oh…It’s a little hard to tell if you’re joking or not ‘cause of the…” She made a vague gesture over her face before clearing her throat and turning back to her storage container, obviously embarrassed by her action. Din couldn’t blame her, though, as his own face was flushed bright-red under his helmet. “But yeah, I’ll be okay sleeping out here, Mando.”

He nodded, unsure of what to say until his gaze landed on the garment she’d been working on before he interrupted. “So, is sewing a hobby of yours?”

“More like my life’s passion; my mother was a seamstress and she began teaching me her trade when I was around six.” (Y/N) smiled fondly, her earlier awkwardness long-gone; she pulled out a collapsible cot and got to her feet. “I’ve been hooked ever since. I even make my own clothes, since loose fabric is less expensive these days, but not shoes; I buy those already made.”

“What planet did you grow up on?”

The captain unfolded the cot and secured its legs before sitting down on its end. “Naboo. On that planet, fashion is considered an art form just like painting or dancing, and the mark of an accomplished seamstress is the ability to tell a story with a single piece of clothing. I left the planet when I was twelve, before I could begin an apprenticeship, and since I was so young when I left I know very little about my people’s customs and traditions.” Din nodded in understanding, knowing first-hand how difficult that sort of loss was, and (Y/N) let out a sigh. “I’m grateful for the knowledge I have, though.” She looked over at him a small smile. “Enough sad talk; we should discuss this quest of ours. You said that your information trail has gone cold?”

“Yes. I was instructed to locate other Mandalorians if I needed assistance, but there are very few of my kind and the ones who have survived live in well-hidden coverts.”

(Y/N) bit her bottom lip, something Din inferred was a nervous tick of hers. “There might be someone who can help, but you’re not going to like what I tell you about him.”

He frowned under his helmet. “Who?”

“A man named Gor Koresh. He’s a notorious gambler who mostly bets on ring fights, but I’ve heard some rumors that he also collects beskar. And as far as I know, beskar these days mostly comes from-”

“Mandalorian armor.” Din growled, fists tightening in anger. “He harvests Mandalorians for their beskar. Do you know where this man is?”

Once Din gave (Y/N) a tour of the cockpit and they charted their course to Koresh’s last known location, (Y/N) took over piloting while he took the child down so the two of them could get some rest. The child, however, had other plans; he cooed and babbled, gesturing towards the ladder as Din opened the sleeping compartment.

“I know that you like the nice lady but we need to sleep, kid. She’ll still be here when we wake up.” Din gently placed the child in his hammock and sighed in exasperation when his protests only continued. “I already told you, buddy, it’s naptime.” Noticing the child pointing at something, Din turned and raised an eyebrow when he saw the satchel (Y/N) had made for them. “You want the satchel?” The child squealed in delight so Din retrieved it and carefully rolled it into a bundle before tucking it into the hammock, watching as he snuggled closer to it and closed his eyes.

I guess he really does like that bag, Din thought to himself as he climbed into the sleeping compartment. After turning off the lights and making sure the child was asleep, he took his helmet off for the first time that day; sighing in relief, he ran a hand through his flattened hair and took a moment to enjoy the feeling of the ship’s cool air on his face. As he laid there in his bunk, Din’s mind drifted to his earlier conversation with his brand-new crew member.

(Y/N) was from Naboo, which explained the Mid-Rim accent he’d detected when she was yelling at him during their first meeting, and from the way she’d spoken about her home planet, it sounded as if she’d had a difficult childhood that was similar to his. But how the hell did a Naboo seamstress become a smuggler for the Rebel Alliance, he silently wondered, and what exactly did she smuggle for them?

Taking in a final breath of unfiltered air, Din put his helmet back on and made himself as comfortable as he could, quickly falling asleep with the image of the captain’s curved smile fresh in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! The next chapter will be a little longer than this one, I promise :)

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain

Chapter Three

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @zukoyonce @itsnottilly

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din x reader #mando x reader #grogu #the child #baby yoda

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reluctant-mandalore · 3 years

Text

🎃 Mandoctober Masterlist 🎃

|| Back to Main Masterlist + About Requests + AO3 ||

**This will all be completed eventually! Unfortunately I got a late start on the Mandoctober stuff and I’m a very slow writer. I’ll finish this at some point (I dont even care if Im still working on this waaaay into 2021, imma still do it eventually lol **

All fics here were written for Mandoctober 2020. Some are reader inserts, and others are just general. There is no nsfw content, all is sfw. Though please make sure to double check the warning section of each fic before reading.

Day 1: Mandalorian

The Mandalorian culture was something you did your best to learn in order to feel closer to the man you loved. One day while asking Din about his peoples traditions in marriage, you two end up deciding to swear your vows to one another sooner than expected. (gn!Reader)

Day 2: Foundling

After putting the child to bed, the Mandalorian looks over his foundling and thinks about what it means for him to have the child in his care. (General - no romantic pairing)

Day 3: Droids

After a small argument over the new cleaning droid in your possession, the Mandalorian finally explains to you why he hates droids—turning the usually stoic man into a mess of emotions in your arms. (gn!Reader - meant to be romantic but could be read as just friends if you really wanted)

Day 4: Nevarro

As a bounty hunter with the guild on Nevarro, your loyalties are tied to them and its leader Greef Karga. Well. That is until a certain Mandalorian and a small child stir up some trouble. Thus leading to you having to choose between siding with the guild you call home, or Mando and the innocent child he is trying to save. (gn!Reader - could be read as romantic or platonic)

Day 5: Target Practice

After seeing your struggle with handling a blaster, the Mandalorian decides to teach how to shoot using some target practice—which just happens to bring you even closer to the man. (gn!Reader)

Day 6: Snacktime

One sunny afternoon, you end up having snack time with the Mandalorian and the child in a flower meadow. (gn!Reader)

Day 7: Razor Crest

Being an on board mechanic for the Mandalorian had its ups and downs; both figuratively and quite literally. After crash landing, you decide to question your armored employer on why he doesn’t want to replace the ship. (gn!Reader)

Day 8: Enemy Sorcerer

Day 9: Darksaber

Day 10: Ad’ika

The Mandalorian never thought he’d get the chance to have the family he always dreamed of, but meeting the child had changed many things for him. (General - no romantic pairing)

Day 11: Sorgan

Day 12: Jawa

Day 13: Armorer

The armorer walks through the now empty halls of the covert, her heart and soul feeling heavy with every step she takes. (General - No romantic pairing)

Day 14: Helmet

After being married to the Mandalorian for a while, he finally decides that he’s ready to take off the helmet for you, so that you can finally see the face of the man you married. (gn!Reader)

Day 15: Jetpack

In all your time of traveling with the Mandalorian, you’ve never actually seen him use his jetpack. After some pestering, he decides to show you him using the device and it doesn’t turn out how either of you expected it to. (gn!Reader - could be read as romantic or platonic)

Day 16: Tatooine

Day 17: Gungslinger

Day 18: Aravla-7

The Mandalorian and you would butt heads from time to time, though none of the disagreements you shared ever really had to much weight to them. That is until one argument over him not letting you go on a job, leads to the two of you having a late night conversation about his friend Kuiil. (gn!Reader)

Day 19: Covert

Day 20: Beskar

Day 21: Flamethrower

Day 22: Naptime

The Mandalorian and his son enjoy a pleasant afternoon in a field of flowers, ending their little adventure off with a nap. (General - No Romantic Pairing)

Day 23: Rifle

After being captured, the Mandalorian is shocked to see you come to his rescue while skillfully wielding his pulse rifle. (gn!Reader)

Day 24: Bounty

Day 25: Speeder

Day 26: Whistling Birds

Day 27: Stranded

After crash landing, you and the Mandalorian have ended up stranded in a desert wasteland. Although, with the chilly night quickly approaching, your escape well have to wait, as you two soon find yourselves cuddling together for warmth by the campfire. (gn!Reader)

Day 28: Home

Day 29: Gloves

Day 30: Free Day!!

Day 31: Family

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin #baby yoda #mandalorian #din #mando #mando x reader #masterlist things #masterlist #mandoctober #din x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #my fics

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theeasternempress · 3 years

Text

Sometimes honeysuckle is too sweet

Summary - In a field with some of the sweetest-smelling and most beautiful flowers Din has ever seen, he comes to the heart-crushing realization that he can never have what he so desperately wants.

AO3

Din had no idea how he and his son had ended up in a field of flowers. The pair had been on a walk on some random planet that Din had already forgotten the name of and ended up here.

Looking around the massive field, it seemed as if they were the only ones here, which Din was more than happy about. Even though he found himself to be more social since the child came into his life, he still liked his private time.

The child’s enthusiastic, happy coos at Din’s feet proved he wasn’t the only one who found the flower field pretty. The child looked up at his dad, asking permission with his eyes to run around.

Din replied, “You can play here, but be careful and don’t go too far.”

The child giggled and ran as fast as his little feet could carry him into the flowers. The flowers in this area weren’t too tall, but the child was still so small that the only thing Din could see were a pair of green ears running around wildly. Din laughed to himself at the sight of his little one running around to his heart’s content.

Din leaned himself against a tree and sunk down to the ground so he could stretch out his legs. He’d been sitting peacefully for no more than ten seconds when the child came running up to him with a few small wildflowers in his hand. The child was breathing heavily when he stopped in front of his father, but he still presented his gift with a wide, happy grin.

“Oh, are these for me? Thank you, little one,” Din told the child in a soft voice, reaching out to pluck the flowers from his son’s small hand. The child giggled and clapped his hands before running off again.

He didn’t go far, and Din saw that he was picking more flowers. He made several trips back and forth, each time bringing a handful of flowers to his father, who thanked him and took them gently every time.

When the child returned this time, Din had a small pink flower in his hand for his son. Din presented the flower to his son just as the boy had done to him, and the child cooed happily as he took the small flower in his hands. Instead of holding on to it like his father, the child shoved the head of the flower into his mouth and began chewing on it. Din was quick to break the stem of the flower and then flick the rest of the flower out of his son’s mouth with his finger.

“You aren’t supposed to eat flowers,” Din told his boy. The child pouted for a moment, but was quick to return to his flower picking. Din laughed to himself about how easily distracted his little one was.

The flower picking went on for nearly fifteen minutes and by the end of it, Din’s hands were overflowing with flowers. The child presented him with another handful of flowers and Din calmly spoke, “Thank you, but I think this is more than enough flowers for me. We have to make sure we save some for everyone else.”

The child looked sad for a moment before he brightened up with a smile in his face. Crawling into his father’s lap, he stood up and balanced himself on his father’s thighs and began tucking flowers into the space between Din’s armor and his clothes.

Din was struck silent by the act of his son, but let him continue sticking flowers wherever he pleased until there were no more flowers left. There were flowers jutting out of every piece of armor on his body as well as numerous flowers circling his belt around his waist. In that moment he was thankful there was nobody else around; he doubted he was upholding the typical intimidation of a Mandalorian.

The child beamed up at his father, clearly happy with his work. Din stroked his son’s forehead and ears and said, “Thank you, my boy.”

The child smiled again before reaching one of his hands up to hold his father’s hand against his forehead. Din’s heart skipped a beat at the sweet gesture and rubbed his thumb across his son’s head. Father and son maintained the touch for another minute before the child climbed out of his father’s lap to run back out to the flower field.

Din watched his son with a soft smile on his face. He wished he could preserve moments like this forever and grant his son nothing but a joyful life. Din frowned as he realized that that life would never exist. These sweet, happy moments would only be a glimmer in their lives while the rest was filled with fear and blood. He could never settle down, he could never stop working, and he could never give up the Creed he had dedicated his entire life to. Now, it seemed, he was dedicating his son to the life of a Creed he had never sworn.

But Din had never craved a new life more than since he met his child. He dreamed of a life off of their ship that was constantly falling apart, even though it had been Din’s home for decades. He dreamed of an actual home, a place where he didn’t have to hang a hammock made from old cloth across his already small bedroom to act as a bed for his son. He dreamed of a little cottage on some small, unknown planet. He dreamed of an actual, true home. He dreamed of somewhere safe, somewhere warm.

He could put his armor away and retire so he could create a life that his child deserved. He’d put his son in school and Din would ensure that his son was able to achieve all of his hopes and dreams. They’d have fresh, hot meals every day and Din would spoil his son rotten. Anything and everything his son wanted, he would give to him.

And with retirement, there was nothing that could keep Din away from his boy. They could spend every day, all day together making memories. Din would play with his son until naptime, and then play with him all over again once he woke up. Maybe their cottage would have separate beds, but nothing eased Din’s sleep like having his son at his side.

These, of course, were unachievable dreams. Din knew that. There would be no cottage, no retirement, and no good life. Some days, Din wasn’t even sure if he would be alive. With every day, every bounty, and every mission, Din was putting himself at risk. His biggest fear had always been something happening to his son, but his second biggest fear was something happening to him that would cause his son to be stranded and all alone in a galaxy that had a target fixated on him.

Of all of the wounds and pain Din had experienced, this was by far the worst; knowing that the thing he craved so desperately was unattainable. By swearing the Creed all of those years ago, he had unknowingly doomed himself and the one he loved the most to a life of misery. And that broke Din’s heart.

A resounding sob broke Din from his thoughts, only for Din to realize it had come from him. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks and out of his helmet, dropping down onto the flowers stuffed into his armor. Din smiled through his tears at the flowers, plucking a baby blue one from his cuirass to hold it tight in his hand. His child was happy, and Din knew he would do everything in his power to keep it that way.

Din had no idea how long he had been lost in his thoughts, but it was long enough for the child to slip out of his sight. He looked around desperately, but he saw no green ears that would alert him to his child’s presence.

Din forgot his tears as panic surged in his heart, but a deep breath later and Din had turned on his helmet’s scanner to look for footprints. Sure enough, there were little three-toed footprints embedded in the grass.

The child hadn’t gone very far and when Din found him, he was facing away from him, playing in the grass. The panic that was previously lodged in Din’s heart was replaced with warmth and adoration at the sight of his son.

The panic surged a moment later as Din realized that his child was not playing but shoving handfuls of dirt and grass into his mouth. Din sprung forward to pull the child’s dirty hands out of his mouth. He tried to get the child to spit out the dirt and grass, but it seemed as if he had swallowed all of it.

Din sighed deeply and said, “You aren’t supposed to eat grass and dirt. If you’re hungry, I can give you a snack.”

The child stared blankly at his father while subtly reaching for another handful of grass. Din, of course, saw the child’s movement and grabbed his wrists to stop him. He scooped his son up and began walking back to the ship. The child pouted and whined for a minute, but eventually rested his head on his father’s shoulder and fell asleep.

Maybe Din would never be able to achieve his greatest desire, but he would dedicate his life to these soft moments and keeping his son happy.

#The Mandalorian #baby yoda #din djarin #my writing #Hurt/comfort

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vercopaanir · 4 years

Text

Teach Me to Fly

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 3

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: Making space for yourself aboard the Razor Crest, the child enlists you to break an unspoken rule that leads to something new.

Rating: E for everyone!

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: None!

Notes: God, I didn’t intend for this series to be such a slow-burn, but it is what it is. C’est la vie! I appreciate feedback. Please forgive me if I’ve misrepresented something from Star Wars canon, I am not an expert. Also on AO3.

Keep Up | Go to Sleep | Teach Me to Fly | (later in series) Don’t Go Far

Traveling through the stars didn’t feel quite as mystical as you’d dreamed of when you heard of people going off-world. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t see it for yourself, but other than the occasional shimmy and shake of the engines, the Mandalorian was an incredibly talented pilot who flew his ship with steady hands. It hardly felt different than being on solid ground.

That wasn’t due to the integrity of the Razor Crest, either. In the two weeks you had been aboard, you’d overheard him muttering quiet curses in another language any time something broke, fell off, or rattled somewhere in the ship’s engines. He would disappear into a crawl space in the floor or wall for a few hours, and you would wait nearby in case he needed help, keeping the child firmly encased in your arms.

He never did. Or, at least, he never asked for it.

It had taken you a full week to grow accustomed to the ship. You took your time, using both hands, exploring every nook, crevice, and corner of the hull. He didn’t forbid you from following him up the ladder, but you hadn’t been invited, either. So, you kept your exploring on the lower floor. It turned your hands cold and stiff until they shook, feeling the metal structure around you, but you created the map in your mind. There was a refresher, a rather large locker that you weren’t sure of the contents, the bunk you slept in, and then...further into the hull.

“Don’t,” the Mandalorian told you one day, as you started to step towards a colder corner of the hull near the back. You stopped, tilting your head towards him curiously. “Don’t touch anything down there.”

You considered the warning, the baby holding onto the hem of your robe near your feet. “Alright,” you murmured carefully, turning back. You stepped back towards his voice, where he was standing near the ladder that led up to the upper deck. The child chased the trailing fabric of your robe. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. You weren’t sure if you would have believed him, or taken him seriously if he had. The truth was a bit gruesome to someone like you-someone who had only ever lived in such a small corner of the galaxy.

That night, you sat up with your back against the metal wall of the bunk, your knees drawn to your chest, and you stared straight at that dark, cold side of the ship. You couldn’t see the carbonite freezer he’d told you about, or the hanging encasements of his bounties. At first, the idea of people frozen in pain and fear left you feeling sick.

But the more you considered it, you felt less unsettled you were, and more respectful you became.

Living a life as a slave indentured you to an order of things. You’d seen the best and worst of most living creatures, and it was not hard to imagine the cantina owner hanging up on the rack. It wasn’t hard to envision the imperial officer who’d taken you from your home, slaughtering your village, your parents. For the first time in your life, you were seeing the bad things that could happen to bad people.

When you fell asleep, you dreamed of the Mandalorian hunting for the man who took your eyesight and drowning him in carbonite. You dreamt of him in the dark, rather than yourself, and you woke up more rested than you could remember being.

The Mandalorian found consistent work, but he never told you what planet you were on or where you were going next. Your curiosity was piqued, but you felt too timid to ask more about it. So far, neither of you interacted beyond what the child needed, and you were, in a small way, grateful. It took you days to accept you were no longer under someone’s thumb. Every time you brushed the back of your neck and felt the thin, healed flesh that had once held the transmitter, you felt dizzy. It didn’t feel real.

At least, not until the Mandalorian found you to give you a payment from some of his work. The credits were kept in a small money pouch, and you stared stupidly up at him as you held it like it was a detonator. You tried to thank him, but he simply spun on his heel and walked away before you could manage the words.

Such was the basis of your interactions. So whenever the Razor Crest landed, you gathered the baby up into your arms and stepped out into the hull, listening to the armored warrior descend down the ladder before he opened that mysterious locker.

Your questions and interest grew each time over this routine, and finally, you couldn’t keep quiet. You stepped closer, setting the child down near your feet. “What are you doing?” you asked softly, tilting your head towards the light that came from the locker that was open before him. It caused his beskar to gleam, and you admired how it must have been polished.

His helmet turned toward you, and for a moment you were both still, staring at each other. The dim light from the locker illuminated enough that you could make out his shape, and you felt brave enough to take another step closer, leaning against the locker’s door. Would he push you away? Tell you to go back to your place? You didn’t need to be in the way, after all. You felt a sudden wave of reticence press down on your shoulders, but you resisted the submissive response.

“Tools of the trade.” His voice was even and low, but it held a lightness, too.

Your stomach settled, and your shoulders relaxed. You tried to recall what little you knew of the creed of the Mandalore, and you felt your cheeks flush from your naivety. You asked, “Mandalorians use tools?”

A quiet noise came through the modulator of his helmet. It could have been a small, breathy chuckle, or even a fond sigh. He shook his head once before seeming to make a decision and reaching into the locker. He brought out something before turning towards you.

“Here.”

Frowning, you reach out and recoil instantly at the feeling of icy metal, but his gloved fingers catch the delicate bones of your wrist. “Don’t-” you freeze, letting him draw your fingers back to the gun he holds. “Don’t be afraid.”

You swallow, taking the tips of your fingers and drawing it over the well oiled steel. Some kind of handgun, you think, hovering over the muzzle before tracing back down the barrel to the grip. He held it still as you studied it, the tension leaving you the more comfortable you became with shape. The cold dissipated the more your skin warmed it, and you tilted your head. “What kind of weapon is this?”

“A WESTAR-35 blaster pistol.”

You had never touched a gun before, never handled any weapon. The solid finality of it made you feel weak and flimsy, and you curled your fingers away from it and towards yourself. “Is it...your...favorite?” you struggled with asking, the words sounding stupid to you.

The Mandalorian seemed to consider your question, turning the blaster over between his hands before you heard him holster it at his hip. “It’s essential. Reliable.”

“How so?”

This was the most you’d ever spoken to each other, and even though it was out of your realm of knowledge, you were desperate to hear him speak more. You were desperate to talk with him more. You suddenly didn’t want to break the tenuous thread between you, finding his presence more comforting than you thought possible. It was an odd sensation for you, finding comfort in a stranger. You waited for annoyance to overcome him, irritation to cloud his demeanor or color his voice.

It didn’t.

“They can fire underwater. Sand, snow, dirt-nothing jams the machinery. Impassable to an enemy.”

The words made you shiver, but your lips twitched upward. “Like you.”

His helmet turned toward you again, regarding you. “This is the way.”

A slight tug at your ankle reminded you the child was at your feet, and you leaned down to pick him up. He cooed as he gazed up at the Mandalorian, and the bounty hunter’s gloved hand reached out to pet the small child between his ears.

You followed him to the hatch, letting the hum of the lowering ramp fade before you asked, “Will you be gone long?”

He paused at that, a question you had never asked before. You wondered if he was so unused to talking with another organic life that it threw him off each time. You couldn’t blame him-no one spoke to you much either, before he brought you along in his ship.

“I wouldn’t wait up,” the Mandalorian said, and you thought he might be happy. At least a little.

“Not much else to do,” you murmured, looking toward the child in your arms as he tugged your hair for attention. “For either of us.”

Warm air from outside ruffled your robe and dress, but the sunshine outside made you yearn to follow. The Mandalorian hesitated, swaying between descending the ramp and staying on the ship. Your eyes moved from beyond the world outside the Razor Crest back to his form, blinking inquisitively.

“D-Did I say something wrong?”

The Mandalorian shook his head then, stepping out of the ship and walking down the ramp. You sighed softly, hearing the door begin to close. You shifted the baby in your arms as he cuddled closer, his naptime nearing. You felt an odd sensation, a tugging in your chest to say something, to call out after him, but you had no idea what you would say.

What did one say to a deadly warrior whose body count surpassed anyone else’s years?

“Be careful.”

He had a tendency towards hesitation when you spoke to him, and the slight pause in his stride as he walked away was no exception. You could hear it in the rhythm of his boots. You felt a small, self-deprecating smile tug at your mouth, and you reached out to the familiar electrical box that housed the buttons that controlled the ramp. You closed it, sealing you and the child in the safety of the ship, and let the sudden silence overcome you.

The baby was still tugging at your hair, and you sighed, stealing his little hand and kissing it fondly. His big eyes blinked up at you, and you gently butted your forehead against his. “Alright, let’s get you some food.”

This was, arguably, the most difficult time. When the Mandalorian went off for work, the quiet and dark of the ship crept in on you until you thought you might lose your mind. The child, tugging at your ankle or babbling happily up at you from your lap was good company, to be sure, but it didn’t make up for your lack of occupation. Without toys, the child seemed just as restless as you were. You could keep him distracted with stories, simple ones you remembered from your childhood, but that only lasted so long before the little one was toddling off to find something else to get into.

After finding him a small dehydrated meal in one of the crates, you suddenly realized you’d never known where the child sleeps. Usually, the Mandalorian would gather the baby from you every night and ascend up the ladder, or he’d collect him for a nap while the ship was on autopilot. You supposed the child could sleep in your bunk, and as you decide on this, you reach over to lift him up only to find him missing.

“W-Where did you go?” Your voice raises octaves higher, fumbling around the small corner you two had been occupying. Your hands frantically search for any sign of the baby, but a gurgling giggle from across the hull makes you perk up. “Oh! You little-!”

There’s laughter in your voice even as relief washes over you, and you clamber up to gather him in your arms. He tugs at your sleeve, grunting as if trying to direct you, but all that’s forward is the ladder.

“You want to go up there?” An answering coo makes you sigh. What could be the harm? “Alright. But you’re going to be napping, not playing.”

The baby fits in the bend of your elbow, and you’re able to shoulder your way up the narrow ladder onto the upper deck. It’s shadowed in darkness, and you fumble for a switch that might light the passageway, huffing in irritation. You supposed his helmet must have some kind of night vision specification, but did the Mandalorian really need everything so dark ?

Your fingers tripped over a panel of buttons, and a sudden whisper of metal opened a set of doors nearby. Instantly, the passageway was flooded with natural light.

Sucking in a breath, you hesitated before stepping inside, your sight lighting up more than it had since before boarding the Razor Crest.

The cockpit featured observational windows that bled the outside world in, and you blinked at the brightness, not unlike some deep-sea dwelling creature underexposed to the above world. The baby wiggled happily in your arms and continued to tug you forward. When he seemed to discover you responded to his silent pleas, he led you to one of the co-pilot seats where you found a makeshift cradle.

“Oh. So you sleep here?” You feel the inside of the small space, finding it insulated and padded with something downy and plush. There’s a heavy blanket inside that you suspect was upcycled from another use, but the baby pulls it happily on top of himself. You can make out his two big eyes blinking from underneath, ears tucked down, and you hear him yawn.

The scent of the cockpit hits you as soon as your mind begins to drift back to your surroundings. It doesn’t smell as metallic up here, you decide. There’s a wintry, sharp scent like trees, clean fabric and a layer of oil that comes from well preserved steel. Some of the switches on the control panel glow in front of you, and you can make out various colors from the sunlight dappling through the windows above.

You sit carefully in the pilot’s seat, feeling uneasy leaving the child alone up here by himself. That’s the last thing you would want to deal with, you decide, imagining the ship suddenly lurching off while the little beastie played with the thrusters and dials unattended. You’re sure the Mandalorian would drop you off at the nearest port, and you wouldn’t be able to blame him.

As you languish in the streams of light, you realize the peaceful quiet outside the ship. You can hear the wind blowing, faint sounds of leaves, and the child’s quiet breathing behind you. It lulls you into security, and soon your own posture-usually perfectly, unfailingly straight-slumps back as you, too, fall asleep. Kuiil’s words of rest in safety echo in your mind.

When you wake up, it’s violent and sudden. There is someone there, and you lurch forward at the undeniable presence looming nearby.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the Mandalorian’s voice says, his gloved hand resting on your arm. Your heart is thundering in your chest, eyes wildly searching for any sign of something wrong. The light is nearly gone now, save for the silvery glow of the stars, but as pretty as it is, you still feel as if you need to fight or flee. The child sits in your lap, staring up at you and cooing as he plays with the ends of a few locks of your hair, and his guardian is still looking you over. “Are you alright?”

You turn your face towards the Mandalorian. He’s knelt down by the pilot’s chair, where you still sat, and you take a few moments to assess yourself. You bring one hand up to the baby’s ear, gently stroking the little creature to reassure both of you that it’s alright.

“I didn’t mean to sleep,” you finally whisper, feeling suddenly miserable. The chair has left your back aching, your temples tight where tension is turning your neck stiff. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even...hear the hatch…”

“I tried to be quiet. It’s late.” There was another pause. “I told you not to wait up.”

You take a moment to gather yourself, frowning gently at the discomfort of sitting for so long. It felt like all you’d done since boarding his ship was sleep, but...you had never slept so well, either. Even now, waking up discombobulated and tense, it was better than any of the nights spent in the cantina’s bunks, huddled on a sparse cot or on the floor with a sheet for a blanket and no pillow.

“Did you get what you came for?” you ask, tilting your head toward him. You could make out the faint shadow of his helmet, kneeling near your legs. “The bounty, I mean.”

“Put up a chase. I would’ve been back sooner, otherwise.”

His voice was a low, raspy baritone, and you wondered if he found it uncomfortable to speak after going so long without. You knew you did, at least.

“I’m glad you were successful, then.” You slowly stand up, hissing as blood rushes back to your feet and your back seems to creak. The Mandalorian lifts the child from your arms as you stretch, and you rub your lower back with gentle fingers to chase the discomfort away. “I should do more to keep me from being idle.”

“You do plenty with this little womp rat,” he says, lifting the child up a bit higher. The baby giggles in response, and you smile at the sweet sound.

“I could-” You pause, biting your lip. You’re aware of when he turns to face you, and you take a deep breath against the intimidation you feel bubbling to the surface. “I could do more. Be more useful, I mean.”

The silence between you is heavy with hesitation, and you can only imagine what he must be thinking. You try to hope he isn’t doubting you just because of your inability to see. The thought alone brings ire in your breast, and you flex your fingers at your sides, ready to defend yourself.

“Sit back down,” he murmurs, turning the pilot’s chair so it bumps the back of your knees. Your eyebrows fly up, and without question, you gingerly perch on the edge of the seat, feeling your heart flutter when he steps closer again. A breeze of scent-the smell of trees and outdoors, clean fabric and steel brushes your face. “Have you ever flown before?”

The question is absurd, but his lack of doubt is also...incredible. You’re not sure if it’s stupid or dignified. Your throat tightens and you don’t trust your voice to remain steady so you simply shake your head.

“Right. Hold this,” he says, dropping the child into your lap without ceremony. You blink, securing the wiggling baby between your arms, and watch as he leans over the control panel. “I don’t think I can teach you how to fully fly a ship, but maybe...take off and landing aren’t complicated. You only need to know the controls for the propulsion and thrusters. The landing program does the rest.”

Your heart begins to beat wildly, and you lean forward as he takes the next few hours explaining what every module, button, switch, and handle on the panel in front of you does. You take your time, feeling everything after he names it so you can commit it to memory. When your fingers brush over a red communications link, you sigh, “It’d be easier if they were all lit.”

There’s a brief pause, and you can hear his intake of breath through the modulator. The more you hear him speak, the more you decide you enjoy the sound of his voice. “It would?”

“Yes.” The child begins to squirm in your lap, trying to reach for a metal top that’s attached to a switch. You shift the child in your lap so he can see what his guardian is doing, and he moves to the other side of the chair while you speak. “I can make out shadows and some color and shapes when there’s enough light. It’s distorted at best, but it’s not total darkness. Not unless there’s light.”

The Mandalorian is quiet, and your eyes track his movements as he unscrews something on the control panel. He leans closer to your side, and you see him drop something into the child’s eagerly outstretched hand.

“What’s that?”

“His favorite toy. There’s a button, here,” he says, moving quickly from the topic to kneel down again. “Under the panel. It lights the controls, but I don’t use it.”

“Show me, please?” you ask, holding a hand out, palm up.

The Mandalorian takes your hand, cupping your knuckles and leading your fingers to the bulky nodule just beneath the lip of the panel. His finger lines up over yours, and he shows you how to press it with a little more force than the others. Suddenly, hundreds of lights that were previously dark flicker to life before you. The baby gurgles in delight around the toy half shoved in his mouth.

You spend a moment, looking at the glowing, slightly blurry controls, and you feel your eyes begin to sting. You’d never been trusted with something like this before, something so complex and skill-based. It was a far cry from cleaning dirty glasses and serving watered down liquor.

Your companion takes a deep breath and leans his forearm on the back of your chair. “Does this help?” he asks, voice almost too soft for the modulator to pick up.

A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you wipe it away quickly. “Y-Yes. Show me how-how to take off, now,” you say, not asking so much as demanding with a childish eagerness.

The Mandalorian is a good teacher.

In fact, he’s an excellent teacher.

His voice is direct and patient, and he allows you to ask questions and make comments that don’t make you feel inferior. He stands over you, not hovering as much as observing, and you find consolation in his presence. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t treat you as if you’re made of glass, or because he’s not worried you’ll mess something up. Whatever the reason for his trust, you’re grateful for it, finding yourself smiling when you go through the motions of landing and he praises, “Good. Very good.”

The child begins tugging at your sleeve, and you realize it’s past time for him to be fed. As you start to get up, a gentle hand touches your shoulder. “Stay. I’ll bring it to you. Keep practicing.”

But he didn’t. He brought food for the child and yourself.

He set the plate of cold meat, bread, and cheese on the armrest, and you blink in surprise, looking up at his shadow. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

The Mandalorian was using an oiled cloth to wipe down the controls, not glancing at you as he worked. He points out, “You do it for me every day.”

“Yes, but-”

“Let’s practice take-off, now. It’s more in-depth.”

You sit back in the chair, letting the child pick what he wanted off the plate and nibbling on what was left, listening intently as the Mandalorian described different procedures and the pre-flight check-list. Something warm was building in your chest, slow and fervent, and every time his helmet tilted back to look at you, it deepened. You had never been valued before, cared for or thought of as more than a means to an end. And these feelings-they hurt, like the first breath of air you take after being submerged in water for far too long, but they felt sweet, too.

Taglist: @lavenderl3mons @itzagoodthing @letaliabane

If I forgot someone, please message me and let me know you want to be added. :)

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #uhhh #the mandalorian #i think that's it

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tanadidreamer · 6 years

Text

Aay’han

43 BBY

Rav Bralor paused as she walked down the corridor of the ship to find Jax standing there, leaning back against it with his arms folded and his helmet on, staring at the wall with an unusual demeanor of silence, no smartass remarks, no cracking jokes, nothing at all.

“Shouldn’t you be with your daughter and the Clan Rau survivors?” Rav asked as she walked over and stood in front of him.

“Mij and your sister have them, thery’re better with traumatized kids then I am.” Jax answered as he banged his head back against the durasteel while Rav removed her helmet and looked at him with curious dark eyes as he removed his helmet as well and rubbed at his good eye. “I didn’t know. I...I honest to the ancestors didn’t know this would happen! First Galidraan, now this.....”.

Rav let out a sigh then as she clipped her helmet to her belt and reached for to gently cup his face in her hands. “Jax, look at me.” Rav said gently as he tried to avoid her eyes, the tone was enough for him to comply. “What happened was not your fault. Jaster had you take that position because you could do things that he would never do, he never expected you to prevent things like this from happening. We’re not dead, we can rebuild and we will thrive.”.

“That doesn’t change the fact that we still have orphans, Rav. Children that will one day seek out vengeance for what happened.” Jax pointed out as one of his hands covered her right one, looking at her wearily. “It doesn’t change the fact that our vode were slaughtered in a gutless attack.”.

“It depends on how they’re raised, wouldn’t it?” Rav points out as she removed her left hand and smiled slightly at her old friend, who rolled his eye. “Jax, tthe elder children’s first response to the attack was protecting the younger children. Clan Rau’s kids were defending the next chieftains, even little Fenn.”.

“Your point?”.

“House Ordo has always been the defenders of Mandalore, not the warriors, nor the scholars. Our duty is to protect Mandalore and -- to an extent -- the Republic.” Rav explains as she nod down the hallway. “Those kids will mourn their losses, just as we do. But they will also give Death Watch one hell of a fight when their time comes, they’re going to be the end of Death Watch.”.

“One can only hope.” Jax remarks bitterly as he kept his hand over hers. “You sure you’re alright? You did get stabbed.”.

“I’m fine, stop worrying.”.

“But.....”.

Rav just rolled her eyes and slipped her free hand behind his head and pushed his head sown so she could kiss him. “You know I’ve had worst.”.

“Eww.....” The two adults looked towards the left to find Talia and Fenn, who was peeking out from behind Talia’s legs, eyeing them both with bright blue eyes. “Are you done being gross yet?”.

“I don’t know, Rav’s quite pretty right now. I might want to kiss her again.” Jax remarks as he smiled at Rav and smiled as he tilted his head down to kiss her again, earning a giggle from Fenn while Talia made a disgusted sound, which only encourged her father.

“Daddy....” Talia whined as she walked over and tagged on her father’s hand while Fenn tottled over to Rav and hugged her leg.

“Okay, okay. You have my attention, runt.” Jax says as he rolled his eyes once he seperated from Rav and crouched down to pick up the hybrid girl while Rav picked up her godson.

Fenn buried his head against her shoulder with a content sigh while she gently ran her fingers through it. “Hello to you too, Fen’ika.” Rav greeted softly as she glanced at him. “Is it naptime already?”.

“Mama’s gone.” Fenn responds sadly. “Boo’s gone too.”.

“I know, sweetie. But everything’s going to be okay.” Rav said as she continued to sooth him and looked towards Jax who was trying to comfort his crying daughter, his good eye meeting both of hers. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”.

“Don’t you two worry. We’ll protect you.”.

Death Watch was going to pay for this but for now, they were going to mourn and recover. She owed it to Myles to watch over his boy.

#fanfic #my writing #fluff and angst #rav bralor #jax vizsla #talia vizsla #fenn rau #this is kinda sad #the aftermath of the House Ordo massacre

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gracewithducks · 4 years

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Wonder (Luke 2:1-7) - Sunday School Stories #13, preached 12/1/2019

Almost a year ago, one of my husband’s friends told Mike about the great deals his family had found at Niagara Falls in Canada over American Thanksgiving. Because it’s out of tourist season, and because Canadian children and workers don’t get a break for an American holiday, the prices and the crowds are both pretty low. Mike said, “Why don’t we go to Niagara Falls for Thanksgiving next year?”

I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes. I may have laughed in his face. Because Niagara Falls – in November – with children… all I could imagine were all the ways things could go wrong. It could be frigidly cold. It could rain the whole trip. We could get snowed in and not be able to go at all. Our kids might look at the waterfalls, shrug their shoulders, and say, “Meh. What else you got?” - - and we might not have a good answer.

But Mike was persistent. Our girls were, at that moment, fascinated with waterfalls; they’re growing quickly, to the point where we no longer have to travel with strollers or plan around naptimes. We looked at prices. We discovered all kinds of indoor back-up options. And we booked a hotel we would never, ever, ever have been able to justify splurging on without the off-season deals – a hotel overlooking the Falls. We made a countdown calendar, and our kids have been crossing off the days until our trip ever since before Labor Day.

Finally, finally, it was time to go. Our girls were nervous about crossing over into another country, only to find that Ontario, Canada looks an awful lot like Michigan. We drove past farms and forests, and lots of wind turbines, and strange foreign restaurants and shops with names like “Home Depot” and “McDonalds.” Our ten-year-old was pretty excited when we saw our first sign for Shoppers, the store mentioned in the musical Come From Away, and our five-year-old was excited with every Canadian flag we saw.

And finally we started seeing signs for Niagara Falls. We could see the towers of hotels rising on the skyline. We could see the mist rising from the Falls, and the girls rolled down their windows to see if they could hear the water’s roar. We checked into our hotel, rode the elevator to the tenth floor, walked into our room, and the girls immediately ran to the window.

Their jaws dropped. There really is no way to prepare yourself for the Falls: they are just so big; there is so much water, rushing, pouring, constantly, unendingly, more and more and more. And the mist gives a sense of magic and wonder to it all.

Our oldest looked. And looked. And looked. She excitedly pointed out to her sister the Horseshoe Falls, and the American Falls, and the little Bridal Veil Falls in between; she pointed to the Rainbow Bridge, and the wrecked ship which has hovered above the falls for over a century. And she said, with a contented sigh, “I don’t think I could ever get tired of that view.”

And then she said, “Can I watch something on the iPad?”

And we all started laughing. It became a joke this week; every time we returned to our room, one of us would look out the window, and say, “I’ll never get tired of that view… I wonder what’s on TV?”

There we were, on the brink of one of the wonders of the world – there we were, with all the people we loved most in the world – there we were, in a place people travelled from the world over to see – in a place where explorers would fall down and pray in terror – in a place where kings and queens have walked, where daredevils dreamed the impossible – there we were, and it was amazing… but it was also amazing how quickly we just got used to that beautiful site.

“I don’t think I could ever tired of that view… I wonder what’s on TV?”

How quickly we lose our sense of awe; how quickly we take even the most incredible wonders for granted. I remember the first time I ever heard of electronic mail; I was amazed by the idea that I could send a message to someone and they could see it immediately. But now many of us use email daily without a second thought. I remember when our family got our first remote control for the television, and I was intimidated by the idea that you could change the channel without even standing up. And I remember our first VCR, the novelty of being able to record a program and watch it later. These days, my husband can set the football game to record on our DVR from his touchscreen pocket telephone; we don’t have to be in the house or even in the country at the time. And speaking of phones, when I was a kid, video phones were science fiction right out of the Jetsons or Star Trek – and now it stuns me to realize that my children will never remember a world where video phone calls weren’t a thing.

And we just take it all for granted. We don’t think twice about the once unimaginable wonders around us. Machines that wash our dishes and dry our clothes. Groceries delivered right to your door. Flying machines and even a car that could travel hundreds of miles in a day were once inconceivable.

I don’t think I could ever get used to those wonders, we say… and then we turn around and ask, what’s next?

And nowhere do we see it more than every year at Christmastime. And I’m not even talking about the kids who count down the days until Christmas morning only to be bored with their new toys after five minutes and forget them entirely after five days… no, I’m not just talking about stuff. I’m talking about the story of Christmas itself.

We hear the story every year; we know it so well that we take it for granted:

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken… and everyone went to their own town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David… He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn child, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

We know the story: a Caesar, and a census; a little town, a man, a woman, and a baby in a manger. We wait for weeks every year to hear the story again; to sing the carols, to light the candles, to bask in the glow – and then we walk away, asking, “What’s next?”

We know the story; we know it so well, maybe too well – so much so that we can shrug our shoulders, and say, “I’ve been there, and seen that; I wonder what’s on TV?”

We can become numb to even the most amazing wonders – and this story is one. This is no ordinary story. This is the story of God entering into the world. This is the story of a God who so loved the world that God just could not stay away. This is the story of God entering into the world – not with fireworks and fanfare, but so quietly that, if you blink, you might miss it. This is the story of a God who surprises us, the story of a God who shows up in the lives of people who are being buffeted and shaped by kingdoms and powers out of their control.

While everyone is looking at Caesar, God is looking to the ordinary people. While everyone is bustling to arrive first, God is looking towards the latecomers, the ones who show up when there seems to be no more room.

There is a lot on our to-do lists for the month to come: shopping, wrapping, decorating, baking, travelling, taking pictures, sending cards, making calls… But my hope and my prayer is that we will take some time to enjoy the view, to remember what it is that brought us here in the first place. The story of Christmas isn’t about the presents or the decorations: it’s about a God who surprises us, who shows up in the times and the places we least expect it. Where is it, that God would surprise us today? Where are the mangers, where children have no bed? Who are our neighbors, whose lives are thrown into disarray by governments and laws beyond their control? Who are the strangers, looking for shelter, looking for a friendly face? Who are the people outside, longing for a place to belong?

Do we see them? Do we look? And do we believe that Christ is still being born, that God is still showing up, in humble and surprising ways today? We tend to associate this story with Christmas Eve candlelight services, but the story of Christmas is about as far away from stained glass and organ music and new clothes by candlelight as you can get. The story of Christmas is about a God who shows up in real life, in the messy and difficult stuff of our every day.

I want to encourage us to make a different kind of to-do list this year. And put on your list things like: smile at your cashier; over-tip your server on purpose, even if they’re having a bad day; donate to the giving tree; give non-traditional presents;

volunteer in the community; bake a pie for your neighbor; buy coffee for the person behind you in line; make it a point to compliment someone every day; donate pet food or old towels or blankets to the animal shelter; offer to babysit for some exhausted parents; visit a nursing home; donate new socks and underwear to those in need; volunteer to serve meals to those who are hungry; bring new coloring books and crayons to the children’s hospital; shovel your neighbor’s walk, or if you hire somebody to plow you out, ask them to do the rest of the street while they’re there; write another letter or make another call telling our leaders to stop separating families and get kids out of detention camps this Christmas; ask a family with a loved one in the service how you can help make their season brighter; pay for someone else’s groceries; invite your neighbor to share a meal with you – do whatever you can each day to find a way to show God’s love and bring hope into the world.

The good news is, just like the waterfalls which never stop, which keep flowing and flowing, noticed or unnoticed, appreciated or not, night and day, season after season, year after year – God’s love keeps flowing and flowing, and God keeps showing up; hope keeps being born into the world. The good news of Christmas isn’t just about a story that happened long ago; it’s the good news that God is still being born into the world in unexpected and surprising ways.

My hope and my prayer is that we won’t grow numb, that we won’t grow weary, that we won’t look away. May we have eyes to see Christ in the world this holiday season, and may we have hearts that never tire of seeking God’s presence and sharing God’s love.

O God, let your love roll over us like thundering waters; let your justice pour out around us, and your grace flow through us. Teach our hearts to be still this holiday season, to bask in your presence, to gaze on your grace. And help us to remember that being present is so much more important than buying presents;

help us to follow your lead, and to show up in the most humble and unexpected places. May we show your love to struggling families, to immigrants and refugees, to neighbors and strangers, to the hungry and the homeless – to all those looking for a place to find rest. In your peace, by your peace, for your peace we pray; amen.

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