#the best there is some of them wearing ponchos or whatever
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listen, horse girls. i'm not trying to tell you how to do your jobs. far be it from me to steal horse girl valor. but i did just try to google up some pictures of those little miniature ponies dressed up in medieval armor, and guess what?? there ain't SHIT in the results. what the fuck have y'all been doing all this time. respectfully.
#put some armor on those little guys!#like what the fuck!#the best there is some of them wearing ponchos or whatever#this is whatever the opposite of weaponized autism is
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no worries if you don’t want to or can’t complete this request, but if your up to it i’ll req Cole Cassidy x reader who is apart of Talon? thank you so much! and no worries if you don’t want to do it, no pressure ❤️
I didn’t know if you wanted headcanons or just like a oneshot so I’m just going to do a oneshot but if you ever want me to do oneshot just ask! ❤️
Tw. Cussing, mention of criminal Organization “ Talon.”, mentions of killing people, Drugs. Yk all that good. Cole may be a little oc
“ What… have you done…” he sat on the couch. His eyes shakes, he looked at you, his breath shaky and it almost seem he is asking the question to himself. His hand was tightly folded as he bit down on his cigarette, his eye had huge conflict behind it. “ what irrational thought made you decide to join Talon! Especially behind My back knowing that is what I’m fighting against!” He stood up abruptly, his signature hat falling down onto the ground as he looked at you with so much conflict and confusion.
“ Cassidy, I chose what I thought was the best of me when Overwatch left me in the dust, a long time ago, blackwatch was blamed for doing what Overwatch can’t, we did what we had to do and got blame for saving the world because we killed a bad person.” You grabbed at the door almost ripping it open before it was slam shut with much force.
He came over and grabbed your shoulders firmly, not tight enough to cause harm or bruising but enough to keep you grounded to not move. “ I’m not mad at you for whatever fucked up thing happen to make you chose that, but what I’m frustrated about is that you didn’t tell me, didn’t trust me enough for me to know you chose THAT side of the conflict. You know I wouldn’t do anything or judge you for choosing whatever you felt like was best, I just wish I had known.” He huffs as he takes a big breath of air before he wraps his arms around you.
It almost seems he was doing this to comfort himself, wrapping your arms around him you felt his heavy hot breathe on your skin. He took a deep breathe of your scent. “ please don’t ever hide that shit from me again. I’ve done some messed up things but I told you what I have done, don’t leave me hanging on what happens.” He mumbled as started patting your hair.
“ i’m Sorry, I should’ve told you, your with Overwatch and I’m with Talon…” you mumbled, but with his sharp ears he here instantly, “ I’m not going to leave Overwatch but I will never leave you, even if we both work for different organizations that doesn’t mean I will leave you behind, just please be safe when your with that shady business.” He stood up completely, grabbing the cigarette from his mouth and pushing the bud into the ash tray.
“ you need to stop making me worry, I’m growing grey hairs every single time you do this to me.” He groaned as he took off his poncho and wrapped it around your neck before he picked you up, “ we need a break from this bullshit.” He huffed as he carried you bridal style, coming to the bedroom he slammed you into the bed making you almost bounced from the force.
“ get some rest, I know your exhausted from whatever fucked up mission they took you on, but one thing you better promise me, no matter what shit they do, NEVER tell them anything about Overwatch.” He huffed as he saw you slowly nod, he jumped onto the bed laying beside you as he groaned. He almost got a major headache from this situation. “ I’m tired, you’re tired we’re going to bed now shut your eyes and go to sleep dumbass.”
He mumbled as he turned to the side your sleeping on, his eyes still held conflict and frustration but he knew he couldn’t take it out on you, he had both you and him on blackwatch who both did bad stuff, he joined deadlock and took people money and took drugs and selled them to third parties who have murder people. He couldn’t blame you for shit that you have done. “ you really need a new hobby.” He mumbled as he placed a hand behind his head and fell asleep. Still wearing the clothes he wore throughout the day.
His hat laid neatly on the shoulder of the bed. The blanket only covering his toes, his poncho that laid on your neck messy as his hair was a little messy as he watched you. Breathe in and out, it almost comforting that you can Atleast protect yourself.
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The reason why I didn’t make him like really angry or screaming breaking the place is because of the fact, Cole Cassidy already had betrayal, have done bad stuff, so as long as your not causing like big problems and blowing up the place I don’t think he would completely flip out. I think he would try to work it out with you but first let you get rest and recollect your guys mind before talking it out with you, and try to find a better solution for the both of you. This maybe because little oc but definitely when he stresses he start cursing up a storm. - Notes from Darling answers 🩷
Talon Organization has many different levels of dangerous but also Good system. Talon holds many different business some are actual better for the society, like running a local restaurant, or the Casino, it how they get money and have people feed there greed and life styles, so if Cole partner in Talon is just like a lower level than I don’t think he would be as bother as he would if you were a higher up like Gabriel Reyes and Moira O’Deorain. - Moderator. 🌊
#overwatch#overwatch x reader#darlingfics#cole cassidy x reader#cole cassidy#Talon#overwatch imagine
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A Conflicted Review of Leia's Costumes in ROTJ
Let's talk about the highs and lows of Leia's final costumes in the original trilogy.
Kicking it out of the fucking park here - just look at her! Leia is a bounty hunter! Cannot even describe how much this meant to me as a kid. I love how it still has a lovely silhouette without actually being something only a woman could/would wear. The poncho belts are great, is what I'm saying. And the boots! I remember the gloves viscerally - I need them. Anyway, she wears this in the first scene of ROTJ, where she negotiates effectively with Jabba the Hutt. And then frees Han from carbonite before she is unmakes and we see who she really is.
Female representation: 10/10 Listen, I love a pretty dress at least as much as the next girl. But I thought it was a big deal to just get her in some pants in the last movie. Now she is not only in pants but is dressed like the baddest outlaws in the galaxy. Love it!
Practicality: 10/10 I don't know what bounty hunters need to be able to do, but she looks pretty prepared for anything that might happen to her. She's protected from the sun and blaster fire, she has a helmet, her boots are great, could not love it more.
And then such a devastating change. I mean, great job Carrie Fisher, on your workout routine. But this reeks of some executive complaining that there wasn't any eye candy in these movies. In any case, obviously Leia did not choose to wear this and is a slave of that disgusting slug. It is a lot like what the other slave girl wore. But it opens up a lot of questions about the misogyny of the galaxy that was definitely avoided in the other movies. I do like that Han never actually sees her wear this, but her brother grabs her to escape, so it's a little weird.
Female representation: 2/10 I can't say it's the worst thing I've ever seen a lady be forced to wear, but it's definitely up there. And to think I praised this series for how they avoided the bikinis common for ladies in scifi at the time.
Practicality: 0/10 All that skin exposed in the desert would be deadly. And the skirt thing would get caught on stuff while the rest of her is subject to all manner of scratches or bruises.
Whew, much better. Every human character on this mission is basically wearing the same thing, which is fun. It is camouflaged as they go through the forest and everything about it is designed to help with that purpose. I like that Leia does not get a unique spin on the male costumes - she just wears the same thing. With her hair braided up under her helmet.
Female representation: 10/10 Perhaps not as good as the bounty hunter outfit, but still just as great. She matches her brother and the other dudes, and it's nice to be egalitarian.
Practicality: 10/10 At least as practical as her costume on Hoth, love that for her. The boots are great for tramping through the woods, the poncho protects her arms as well as hiding her weapons, her helmet is definitely a good choice.
For child me, this was the best thing Leia ever wore. Or anyone ever wore; I loved this dress so much. Finally, she is wearing a flattering dress that looks crazy comfortable. Her hair is down at last - there's a reason she wears this again after they have defeated the Empire. It's the Happily Ever After outfit and it's wonderful.
Female representation: 10/10 I am biased, possibly, but I think it does a great job showing Leia as feminine as she navigates befriending the Ewoks and her relationship with Han.
Practicality: 8/10 I mean, boots and a more solid skirt would help. Or having her hair out of the way. But otherwise she's pretty prepared to do whatever she might need to do.
This is what Leia wears for the final battle on Endor, the end of the war. Presumably, the earlier outfit was just a poncho over this, but whatever. It deviates from Leia's signature color but is not too far from it. The structure of the shirt is not much different from 80s fashions at the time, when women's clothes were intentionally designed to mimic men's. And it's nice to have Leia in the field during the final battle instead of just watching from the sidelines like in the first movie.
Female representation: 10/10 Like I said, she mostly kicks it out of the park (in general and in this movie). This is a great costume for her to wear in battle and it fits her style while still being like what her peers are wearing. At least in terms of design.
Practicality: 9/10 I had to take it down a notch since there is no helmet, but it is still pretty fantastic. Perfect for the final battle in the woods.
If you enjoyed this, check out my Star Wars for the Girlies Series (New episode on Leia!)
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yay ok sorry if this is long!!
• i think he is the stimmiest ever! partially because he can’t verbalize any of his feelings and partially because it’s just his personality, but he has all kind of physical stims. before he left the briar, he did a lot of happy clapping but that activates his magic—when he was all alone this was fine, the more friends the better right? but now that he’s out in the wider world he’s trying his best to redirect himself to a different stim, he likes hand flapping the best right now :)
• that’s a double edged sword though because he can’t vocalize good emotions, but he also can’t vocalize bad ones. and the nomad tries so hard to be so sunshiney and friendly to the world and it seems like most of the time all he gets is hostility in response, so as positive as he tries to stay, eventually things just boil over and it’s so hard to be the happy guy he wants to be, so when he’s in a bad mood well, that fuse is very long but when it burns to its end the result is EXPLOSIVE. he can have some of the world’s worst tantrums and they’re usually completely silent. he tends to stay self contained and doesn’t destroy anything or hit people, he just flails and kicks and swings around wildly having a very typical temper tantrum you’d see from a little one in a store or something and usually if he’s been pushed to that point there’s no getting him out of it and he usually just has to tire himself out. then he’ll be weepy and clingy for the rest of the day :(
• padded regressor ofc. yknow what all those layers are for in his outfit? hiding his dips so he can still try and do big boy things when he needs to!
• I think he’s a one and done person with a cg. As in he has one very special person and that’s it. I think he didn’t start really regressing often until post melinda (the loneliness really took its toll on him) so he really doesn’t have anyone as of now but one day he’ll find his special person and that will be his main cg… he’s ok with babysitting but he wants that one person there to be his anchor and rock, someone safe he can see as mommy/daddy/bubba he can run back to whenever he needs them. I realistically don’t think it would be skout tho… she reminds him too much of melinda and it was his job to protect and look after her, so having skout as his permanent caregiver feels wrong somehow even if she doesn’t mind helping
• he’s really good at standing his ground against bounty hunters but i think he starts to involuntarily regress when he feels truly backed into a corner or when he sees one of his little object friends get hurt
• blankie!! he has a blankie!! it’s actually not a blankie at all but the scrap remains of a poncho from one of melinda’s disguises (which drew him to it even if he didn’t remember why) but whatever it’s blankie now and he’s very insecure about it in the way that it’s always in his hand (his biggest tell for being tiny) and people can look but don’t touch. no matter how much he trusts someone he gets paranoid they’re gonna take it away from him
• hat is always on, scarf is on frequently no matter what he’s wearing. if he’s wearing baby clothes he’ll still have those on because they feel like part of who he is and they make him feel safe :) also like his dips the scarf hides his paci if he ever needs to be a big boy when he isn’t in that space mentally, and the best part of being mute is that he can have his paci through all his travels because he doesn’t talk so no one will notice it impeding his speech or anything >:) hehe baby time all the time
• his favorite activities include tummy time and back time (with those baby toys, idk the name for them but they’re like an arch/bar over a soft cushion with dangling toys to bat at while baby lies on their back), building with blocks, being read aloud to (he loves hearing his cg’s voice after so many years of no one to speak to him), coloring and finger painting, naptime (but he likes to pretend to pout and sulk when he’s told it’s naptime because lots of real babies fuss over naps, but he cracks immediately when you call him out), playing with noisemaker toys like rattles and when he regresses to closer to a toddler age he likes playing dress-up and having tea parties!
• soooo many stuffies and just a little clap brings them right to life! he’ll collect a dozen stuffies and then he’ll collect a dozen more
• usually very sweet and well behaved unless he’s having one of his rare really bad days, because again I think he’s either an extremely sweet good baby or a fussy upset nightmare and there is no in between aside from when he gets weepy sometimes
• if he does get in trouble he’s not good with punishments, usually he needs to be held and gently explained to why what he did wasn’t good, because I completely agree that he always wants his carer in his line of sight and so being put in time out and not allowed to go to them or be snuggled gets him stressed and he immediately starts thinking they hate him and won’t come back for him (he’s been in time out for one minute)
• loves being helped with little things especially getting dressed. all his nomad gear is so hard to put on when you’re such a tiny guy :(
• he regresses between ages 0-3 I think and he much more commonly lands on the very young end of his spectrum
that’s all i have right now i’m sorry this is so long!! he has one of my favorite character design tropes with the hidden face and bright eyes and one of my favorite tropes in personality of the infamous one who actually is as sweet as pie so to me he is peak baby material in every way
WAAAAAAAAAAAAA oh my goodness you have blessed me with your OUTSTANDING IDEAS OA A A A A A A A I've been reading these over and over since I saw it last night AAAAAAAAAAA🥺🥺💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
Crying over Nomad just seeing too much of Melinda in Skout to really see Skout as anything past a playmate/buddy ;o; They probs tried once but Nomad just got too emotional when he saw Skout wiggling her finger at one of the rock friends (it reminded him of Melinda's magic and he instantly tried to protect Skout in case "anyone saw her do magic" ) maybe when they reach the Iron Border Nomad (and Skout!) meet someone more in a position to be a carer hehe
and waaaaaa at him just being such a tiiiiny guy! He tries to best to put on his clothes but buttons are soooo confusing and buckles are just too hard for such a little scarecrow! He was alone for quite a few years so he was a bit shy at first when asking for help but, he's gotten really good at the "I'm just going to look at my unbuckled boots until someone catches on and helps me" xD
Waaaaaa jsut YES to all of these oh my goodness- and I hear you on his design! It is peak baby (the moment I see a masked or hidden face my monkey brain is like "Oooh just a little baby right there") Tank you so so much for sharing these wonderful ideas!!!!!!!!!!!
#agere#age regression#sfw#fandom agere#mailbox#nomad of nowhere#i hope you dont mind but i might draw a few of these aaa
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@sacredwarrior88 asked: Can I please request a match-up from Disney, Haikyuu, and Free? :) Here's my info: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1LcZkbfvsemN83rwCgmKT44zPlt9rJQiJy01NvofhEZo/edit?usp=sharing
I match you with:
Bruno Madrigal from Encanto
Being in the walls for 10 years has made this man socially awkward, but he’ll try his best to start conversations to you. Be patient with him as it’ll take time for him to become comfortable around you, he’s just so used to being alone. Does enjoy your sassy and sarcastic ways, they make him smile especially when you’re dealing with someone rude.
Thinks your wardrobe is amazing and is so mesmerized by the style. He’ll ask your so many questions about it and he’ll be eyeing the steel toed boots you have on. Please buy this man some new clothing, he needs to retire that poncho of his for real. When you wear something a bit more revealing, he cannot keep his eyes to himself, he’ll try very hard, but you’re just so gorgeous he can’t help it. He’ll apologize relentlessly for it of course.
He enjoys playing video games with you, trying new games and playing each other’s favorites. He really enjoys reading himself and will have a wonderful time just reading with you and just enjoying each other’s presence. You both would exchange book suggestions and after reading, have a little book club of your own as you both analyze the book and how you liked it. It’s a cute way to spend time with each other, but a way for you both to have intelligent discussions.
Once you warm up to Bruno, he relishes your hugs and affection you show him, he can’t get enough of it. This man is touch starved and will just fold at any show of affection toward him. The moment you call him a pet name like ‘hun’ or ‘sweetie’ he’s melting on the ground, those are his weakness. He loves giving you cute pet names too and showing you affection too, he wants to show you that he adores you.
Kotaro Bokuto from Haikyuu
Be patient with him, he means well, he really does. He just has things that go right over his head and it takes him a minute to get it. Although, he does have his wise moments especially when it comes to trying to help someone, whether it’s someone on his team or even you. He’ll try his best to come up with the best answer and solution and get a smile on your face while doing it.
He’s your biggest hype man when it comes to your wardrobe. Always cheering you on and suggesting you wear specific things that he think would look cool on you when you guys are shopping. Thinks that alt/emo look is amazing on you and will buy you accessories to boot, man really spoils you and don’t ask him to stop because he won’t.
He’s very patient with you when it comes to your trust issues. He doesn’t want to rush things and wants to get to know you first before pursuing something further with you. He’ll try to get you out of his comfort zone by doing new things and going to new places. He’ll try to let you know all the details, but sometimes he gets so excited that all the details get into a blur for him. Doesn’t care that you haven’t been in a relationship before. He enjoys spending time with you and getting to know you so he’ll keep at it especially if that means you’ll be his at the end.
Man is very affectionate and you’ll need to set boundaries with him when it comes to that because if he could, he’d be affectionate with you all the time even in public. Once the boundaries are set he’ll follow them of course, he wants you to be comfortable around him. That being said, he loves when you give him pet names and he’ll give you his own pet names in return. He’d also do anything for one of your hugs, he just adores them so much to be able to feel your plush body and warmth, man’s whipped.
Nagisa from Free
He’ll do whatever he can to make you fell better when you’re going through something. No matter if that be your depression, your period pains and anything else that happens. He’ll always have medicine, things to do, things to help, he’s always prepared and he’s always down to just cuddle you and give you all of his affection when you’re ready.
Loves that your language is unfiltered, blunt and not what everyone would expect. The fact that you say what’s on your mind, really draws in his attention and he can relate to that fact. Whenever you’re in a verbal scuffle with someone, he’s not far behind, but he knows that you don’t need his help and you can handle yourself, but just in case he’s close to you ready to pounce.
Likes to have anime binging weekends with you. Both of you in comfy clothes, eating your favorite snacks and drinking your favorite drinks and just huddled in bed, eyes glued on the TV as you click ‘next episode’. Sometimes you’ll switch it up and play a round of Mario Kart or another game of your guys’ liking and go back to binging or just start watching something else entirely on YouTube. It just kind of depends on what you guys are feeling and he’s a bit of a nerd himself so he’s into a lot of different things.
He’ll make you grow your confidence, being your hype man and just showering you in compliments, soft touches, he knows exactly what to do because you are beautiful, truly, he just wishes you saw what he does. Doesn’t give up though and he’ll make sure you know just how wonderful and gorgeous you are to him. You thought he was sweet and affectionate before? Oh, just wait and see.
#matchup#matchups#free! iwatobi swim club#free!#free! matchup#disney#disney matchup#haikyuu!#haikyuu matchup
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DAY 19 - Knees Buckling (Zam Wesell & Jango Fett)
Zam was good at her shape-shifting business and she knew it.
She also enjoyed showing off whenever she and Jango teamed up, because if he was immune to her humour and charm, maybe he wouldn’t resist her competence!
Of course, some shapes were more ambitious than others, and one thing was to remain as a beautiful woman while sleeping, and another was to be a karking bantha.
Supposedly, it was all part of Jango’s brilliant plan: Zam would pose as a bantha, Jango would pose as a lone Tusken, Zam would inconspicuously wander towards the camp of the Hutt that Jabba was pretty sure was trying to kill him - so Jango had to get rid of that slug - and collect intel. Then, Jango would analyse it and make a new plan to kill the slug.
In Zam’s modest opinion, they could just blast their way in and blast their way out. Jango had a jetpack, for kriff’s sake! This whole bantha-dung (no pun intended) was clearly Jango’s very odd, very twisted sense of humour shining through.
But if Jango wanted a bantha, Zam would be the best bantha. She’d be such an amazing bantha that Jango would be ashamed of how little effort he put into his Tusken disguise - Tuskens would never wear a poncho with a hood covering a helmet, and Tuskens did not fly on Firespray ships, but what did Zam know?
Anyway, she was a bantha and she was ready to do her part of the plan, and so she set out towards the Dune Sea. The most inconvenient part of being a bantha was… banthas were slow, and Zam had no patience for slow. But she couldn’t go any faster, because she was a bantha now and if she approached the camp as a fast-walking bantha, that would be suspicious! She’d just have to endure the slowness, and the heat of the twin suns, and the karking sand shifting under her body at each step. And because Jango brought them to the desert in the Slave I, he had to land at a safe distance to avoid being spotted - which meant Zam had to walk all that distance, slowly.
It was night when Zam arrived at where the camp should be, but there were only put-out campfires, flattened sand where the Hutt’s tent was put up, and speeder-bike tracks. There was no light in the horizon, so the group must’ve departed a while ago… but not too long ago either, or the breeze blowing the sand would’ve erased all tracks by now.
Change of plans: Zam was now a dewback, because at least dewbacks could run fast for a little time. She’d approach the new camp, see what there was to see, go back to Jango and try to find a way to use her intel as leverage to get something from him as compensation from this stupid plan, like a massage to the shoulders or a vacation on some tropical planet.
~~~~
The plan was simple, but Zam had been gone for two full rotations and that was making Jango… uneasy.
They could’ve gone blasters blazing to kill the slug. Kark, Jango had his ship, one rocket from the Slave I would sort it. But he had wanted to teach Zam to be patient, to use other methods besides blowing everything up. Zam was beautiful, but she could be even more beautiful if only she used her head more often. So Jango had intended this job to serve as a lesson and show Zam she should make the best of her impressive abilities.
But with this delay… Jango was starting to doubt his plan. Especially because Zam had no comms on her.
For another couple of hours, Jango waited in the shade of the Slave I. And just when he was about to get in and take off and go look for Zam, the readings of his helmet picked a heat signature approaching from afar. Jango couldn’t see anything yet because of the dunes, but he kept his helmet in the direction of whatever was approaching… and soon enough, a womp rat came into view. It came straight towards the Slave I, but it seemed to be moving with difficulty.
Working his jaw, Jango made it to pull out his poncho, start his jetpack, and go get Zam. But that was the irrational part of him talking, the smallest and weakest. No, maybe that really was just a womp rat. Better wait and see.
It took a few more minutes for the womp rat to approach the Slave I, and as it did, it began to increase in size and to walk on its hind legs. It really was Zam, then. As the womp rat’s muzzle began to shift into human features, Jango quickly pulled out his poncho, turned his head away, and waited, arm outstretched, until the poncho was snatched angrily from his grip.
“I hate you so much, Fett…” Zam hissed. Giving her a couple of seconds, Jango turned his head to look at her again, and there she was: her face flushed with a light shade of green and her chest heaving. The poncho barely covered her, so Jango made a point of keeping his eyes on her angry face. “The fuckers broke camp and I had to go after them. I walked across the desert the whole day, then the whole night!! And just when I got there?? They were breaking camp again! If you want to find them, then go, have fun! I’m out!”
But instead of imperiously marching off into the ship to get dressed, Zam managed two steps until her knees buckled and she fell on the sand - or almost fell on the sand, because Jango managed to catch her before she hit the ground.
She’d been out there all this time and yet… she had still made it back on her own, and she could still hold onto her favourite shape. Zam really was impressive, but Jango shook his head, dismissing the dangerous thought.
“Let go of me, I can walk!” Zam snapped, just as Jango - keeping his eyes on his boots, because that poncho really didn’t cover much - helped her to her feet. Nothing but a gentleman, Jango pulled his hands away, only for Zam’s legs to give way under her weight again.
As much as watching her fall flat on the sand was entertaining, Jango was worried. She hadn’t had anything to drink or to eat, and if she kept trying to push herself, then she’d eventually be unable to even keep her favourite shape - and Jango knew she hated when it happened.
Still looking away, Jango offered her his hand.
With a frustrated sigh, Zam took it.
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greetings humans. here's the trainer card of myself and the team here, however i myself couldn't be shown with my real look. nonetheless i hope i have a nice time here in this Arceus forsaken place.
The team's info:
Keystone the lokix: he/him rash nature, wears a navy and silver scarf, is very aggressive for the most part
Judi the Pheromosa: Adamant nature, wears a wide brimmed, black sun hat with a gold strip, curious to the world around her
Magic the misdreauvs: quirky nature, is what seems to an alpha due to their size, is a troublemaker, and is the leader of all the misdreavus in this beach house
MAH DUDE the geodude: bold nature, has outlived their old trainer, was traded from a different region, gets along almost everyone in the team seems to have a different coloring compared to even shinies
Grave O'Neil the spiritomb: ??? Nature, was found in my house and forced my hand to catch them, is also a trouble maker like magic, has a strange liking to coffee grounds (they eat them somehow when no one is looking)
Pot lid the Klinklang : recently transferred from a kalosian shelter thanks to an event, evolved during the naming of Tafiū, really likes jazz
<<Dredge the dhelmise>>: quiet nature, is barely heard in general, clings on to me the most, was found in a double shipwreck.
Tafiū the Delta bisharp: jolly nature, had just evolved during the naming of them, is a Delta Pokemon from the Torren region, was given to me by pri- I mean Roya
and heres my apperance:
Roya's info wip
"hey water bucket ill take it from here!"
i told you not to call me that you pri-
"yea yea whatever, anyways name Roya, hailed from the torren region and a ex-member of rainbow rocket (mind ya i fucking hated being in it from start to finish. especially since the boss there was responsible to everything that ruined my past life before i even joined the team out of no choice) and now im here hanging with the water bucket here! anywho heres my crew!:
Reacta the delta vespiquen: Delta and starter over at the Torren region, has a mild nature, wears a orange tuxedo vest,
Spines the cacturne: relaxed nature, found somewhere in desert area i cannot remember where, wears a poncho, likes to eat and hog sour berries
Dagger the sharpedo: found in torren, hasty nature, likes to be blunt on what he does,
Petrol the skrelp: hatched in a egg, bashful natured, im trying my best to care for this lil guy till hes ready to go battle if he desires to
Alia II the shiny beedrill: ace and partner pokemon, is a shiny, adamant nature, wears a cap like mine own but green and black, is the 2nd beedrill i own, likes to be with Reacta and petrol (will protect with her life)
a weavile that joined my team without consent: somehow snuck their way in while i was in the wild area of galar, impish natured bastard, likes to scheme behind others, hates ribbons for some odd reason
Scamp the scraggy: Found and joined my team after interfering in a trainer battle and getting healed up, brave nature, tends to put themselves into danger on their own damn time, headbutts people to say they like them
"oh and ill show ya what i look like when i get the chance to show that off"
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//additonal info here:
Main Pokemon IRL BLOG list of other blogs I own as of now:
@flowroma-town-apiary
@snowbell-glass-bar
@veil05thegrasselementbot
@slateport-welders-union
@amperage-speedway
@miss-fairylight-magician
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꒷꒦꒷꒦CHOUSOKA KANASHI꒷꒦꒷꒦
꒷꒦꒷꒦𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒷꒦꒷꒦
BIOGRAPHY-
NAME- CHOUSOKA KANASHI
Chousoka's name has something to do with being a leader meaning leader. his name was gifted to him by Kyuufu. Signifying that he is the eldest and the leader. (everyone please note that I found these terms combined them into a name as they were fitting, although I do not remember the EXACT meanings- besides that his name means leader)
AGE- 36
GENDER- MALE, HE/HIM
BIRTHDAY- December 1st
SIGN- SCORPIO
RACE/ETHNICITY- Japanese, Chinese
SPECIES- HUMAN
HEIGHT- 6'3
OCCUPATION- "priest" also known as the head of the church. Demon hunter.
Husband and father
꒷꒦꒷꒦𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒷꒦꒷꒦
RELATIVES-
KYUUFU KANASHI (FATHER)
XAING KANASHI (MOTHER)
OROSHI KANASHI (YOUNGER BROTHER)
ENA KANASHI (YOUNGER BROTHER)
KAI KANASHI (YOUNGER BROTHER)
SING KANASHI (YOUNGER BROTHER)
TAKASHI KANASHI (YOUNGER BROTHER)
TADASHI KANASHI (YOUNGER BROTHER)
AME KANASHI (YOUNGER BROTHER)
CHEN 'KANASHI' (HALF YOUNGER BROTHER)
SHOJI KANASHI (YOUNGER BROTHER)
KEIJI KANASHI (YOUNGER BROTHER)
ANZU KANASHI (YOUNGER BROTHER)
KOUKAI KANASH (YOUNGER BROTHER)
SUMIRE KANASHI (YOUNGER SISTER)
KANNA KANASHI (WIFE)
TENKO KANASHI (1ST BORN SON)
꒷꒦꒷꒦𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒷꒦꒷꒦
VOICE HEADCANNONS (NOT OFFCIAL)
TO BE ADDED
꒷꒦꒷꒦𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒷꒦꒷꒦
APPERANCE- Chousoka is a middle aged man. Though he does look very young making others believe he is in his mid 20s or late 20s. He has semi long hair reaching to about beneath his wings (bone) that he keeps in a pony tail. He is tall and slim a bit muscular as well. He is pale a joke in his church goes around that he might not be human but a snake that decided to turn human. He has a sharp jaw line and emerald green eyes that curve up.
Near the end of HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL where he is first introduced. He is seen to be wearing a tight black turtle neck, with a long black silky coat the end of it coloured white, with something that looks like a half poncho at the sides with a big sorta belt around his waist, and black pants and brown dress shoes.
He also carries around his neck three tooths of his first kills of the wolf, vibora, bat clans. He wears it with pride.
꒷꒦꒷꒦𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒷꒦꒷꒦
Personality- Chousoka is a very proud and cocky man. He see's himself as humble and prude but that is quite far from the case, he views himself higher up than everyone and tends to hype himself up quite a bit unless he knows that he is speaking and in the eyes of someone who is higher in level than him. Although that is not to say he isn't completely narcissistic. He does have SOME decency. Chousoka is very proper and has manners tends to speak in almost butler talk.
Chousoka admires his father, ever since he was a child. So he has mastered the art of manipulation, saying Chousoka is manipulative would be a understatement. He enjoys when things go his way and were he has control of a situation, so he will go to any lengths to make sure whatever is happening is under his control.
Chousoka can be seen as sarcastic as well! When he is annoyed or a person is trying to annoy him, he'll simply respond back in joking tones of sarcasm.
꒷꒦꒷꒦𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒷꒦꒷꒦
HISTORY- Chousoka is the eldest of the Kanashi family. Making him the first of the new generation of the Kanashi clan (also known as the personage) A year afterwards his younger brother Oroshi was born. He who was often neglected a lot althogh placed such a big burden as the oldest.
Wanting to be a very perfect person as it's a need if he'll be taking on things, in his words. Chousoka really had a big admiration for his father. Doing his best to impress him at every chance he could. This again going back to him wanting to be perfect for Kyuufu. The stress of trying to be good in Kyuufu's eyes caused him to sometimes rip pieces of his hair out as a child. However he could not read between the lines of Kyuufu's manipulation including neglect he did to him through out his whole childhood. His father had told him that he is born for a special reason, however that reason was not here yet so he needed to prepare himself. Most of his childhood he stayed studying.
He sometimes would watch his father and younger brother Oroshi train with each other which is how he became so skilled as a adult. Often over shadowed by Oroshi. It affected Chousoka and Oroshi's relationship as time went on. During the sidelines though, Kyuufu would teach Chousoka the more intelligence part of things, studying with him on there history as Kanashi's on the demon world, this is what caused Chousoka's hatred for the demons world and demons in general.
Chousoka was 18 when Sumire was born, he was pulled aside when Kyuufu had a talk with him about Sumire. Telling him to treat her think of her as his own life source because if it wasn't for her he wouldn't be here. He also told him that he is placing a big job for him to do, because he's older he must 'protect her' 'love her' 'keep her pure'. Even though Kyuufu made all of his sons do this he was a lot more clear about it with Chousoka. This made him believe that he truly was his favourite since his father let him see Sumire and hold her before anyone else could. Or so he thought. He became smothering and grew a obsession with her.
Beforehand, when Chousoka finally moved, he became the priest of a church, completely owning it. Even though he shows no interest in religion at all. Somewhat after that, he found a women married her and has a son. He is seen to not be loving towards either of them.
When he found out about Sumire leaving to live with vampires, he through a massive fit as he wasn't aware of the 'adam and eve' plan. Going to his father demanding he brought her back. After his request was denied he left to go find her immediately.
꒷꒦꒷꒦𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒷꒦꒷꒦
RELATIONSHIPS
KYUUFU
Chousoka's relationship with KYUUFU is very unhealthy, same as the most of his sibling, Kyuufu used and very much brainwashed Chousoka. Although in the early staged of life for Chousoka Kyuufu had made it clear he truly didn't care much for him, Chousoka always wanted to stick to his side. It got so bad that Kyuufu finally caved in and let Chousoka stay by his side calling him his 'right hand man'. However that was simply a lie.
Kyuufu manipulated Chousoka throughout his entire childhood, he wanted to make him believe he meant something to him even if he didn't mean much. He made sure just as he did with Sumire he admired him and thought of him as god. Chousoka does in fact admire his father. To the point he completely adapted his personality to be just like his father Kyuufu.
He believed their relationship got stronger when Sumire was born, as Kyuufu began to give him more orders and speak with him on a constant. He felt wanted by him but when he found out Sumire was sent away he was told 'he can't see her anymore' and 'he no longer has any use to him anymore' this caused him to grow upset. For the first time yelling at Kyuufu where they both had a massive argument. Causing their relationship to completely change.
XAING
XAING was not a loving mother to Chousoka. They did not have much interaction with each other. Even as a adult he mentions once to Reiji that 'I don't know much of my mother, in fact dare I say I can't call her mother. I just don't know her."
He doesn't think often of her, nor does he have a opinion of her. He neither loves or hates her. Though when he did speak with her and be around her, he thought of her as "a sad women, angry and very annoying". As she would be very distant and insult him sometimes. She pushed him away at a really young age.
OROSHI
He and OROSHI had a very good realtionship when they were young. Oroshi would bring out the big brother in him while also the rowdy and playful side out of him. It wasn't until they got older when Kyuufu had started paying more attention to Oroshi then Chousoka. It caused Chousoka to be angry at him making him distant and separate himself from Oroshi. When he did try to talk with him, he noted the changed Oroshi had, and the more Kyuufu pulled him away. Kyuufu purposely trying to separate them.
The more they grow up the more upset and discouraged Chousoka felt about Oroshi getting more attention and knowing more things about their father. Even though Chousoka was the oldest Oroshi somehow 'surpassed' him in his eyes. So he constantly tries to one up him to get more approval then he gets.
Sometimes, Chousoka will feel himself think about the times when they were young. He won't admit it but he misses them sometimes.
ENA
In ENA'S and Chousoka's childhood days, Chousoka is seen to pick on him most of the time. Making fun of how he was more girly then most boys. That still goes to present time and Chousoka still will pick on him. More harshly though. Their relationship with each other grew stale and cold when Chousoka found out about Ena's incest relationship with their father, growing a bit grossed out by him afterwards. He one time punished Ena with only froze their relationship and thoughts on each other even more when he saw Ena through something at Sumire. They no longer speak with each other unless needed.
ANZU
He and ANZU did not interact with each other a lot. But that was only because of Kyuufu not allowing them to see him till Sumire was born. It was only then that he knew he wouldn't want to see or interact with him anymore. His first sight of him he felt chills down his spine. He will do his best not to speak with him. Not that he has to worry about that much though.
KANNA AND TENKO
He see's his wife and son in the same way you'd view a dog or a fish. Simply little pets he uses for his own media and appearance purposes. He doesn't care for either of them and is barely home for them to see him. His son however in the end of hdb is heard saying that "I adore my fathers work, I wish he was home more... But I hate him sometimes.. He's mean to my mom. But I want him home".
OTHER BROTHERS--
Chousoka is very stern with is other brothers, he is often seen bossing them around. Sometimes is also seen punishing them when he sees them do something that is not to his liking.
He does not have a good relationship with either of his brothers. He sees them as disobedient pawns that don't listen to their father. He doesn't enjoy when either of them go around Sumire AT ALL. He has hurt his brothers a lot when they did anything to her.
SUMIRE
SUMIRE to Chousoka is like life source to him. She is like his own source of air. Koukai mentions that Chousoka gets even more mean and rough when he is forced to leave Sumire. Due to what Kyuufu told him and the admiration he had for him, he always feels a desperate need to keep Sumire with him all the time, constantly smothering her. He once rocked Sumire in his arms when she was young when he couldn't find her. He looked panicked.
That is not to say he was sweet to her, far from it a lot. He manipulated her, quite a lot. If he was seeing her do something he didn't like he would get upset at her and grab onto her. So hard she would develop bruises on her forearms and wrists.
He and Sumire tend to be with each other a lot, because of what he did and would say to her she also felt 'happiness' when she could see him again. She is always seen talking him up. On how much she loves him and that no one could make her more happy. Even though she says that about a lot of her brothers. She speaks of him a lot differently.
His unhealthy obsession with her grew worse and worse when the years past. To him Sumire is his reason for living, and if that's taken away from him he has no reason to be alive anymore.
꒷꒦꒷꒦𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒷꒦꒷꒦
ABILTIES
Just like his bloodline, Chousoka developed and was born with amazing skill/abilities that are seen to be as similar as the demon worlds clans use. Even as a human he is more the able to crush a human or vampire, wof etc's skull. He has something very close to strength that meets these clans.
SPEED-
SWORDSMENSHIP
SMELL
HEARING
꒷꒦꒷꒦𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒷꒦꒷꒦
TRIVIA
Chousoka has one of the better relationships with the Sakamaki's, or more with Reiji. They normally can get along most of the time. Though most conversations are seen as constant comebacks and sarcasm.
Chousoka church has a big adoption place, it is said to be one of the best and most children are placed there.
Chousoka is right handed.
Chousoka is very texture sensitive.
Chousoka like stated in his history, killed someone from the vibora clan, his second kill was from the wolf clan and then vampire clan. In fact he was the one to kill Reiji's mother. Hence why they get along better.
Chousoka taught Sumire piano, also gave her voice lessons. But his reasoning for doing this was because when he and Ena were younger they both would sing with each other. Sometimes he enjoys doing things that he never got to do anymore with Sumire.
Chousoka speaks english, Chinese, and french.
When he was younger he would sing himself to sleep and rub his own back.
꒷꒦꒷꒦𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒷꒦꒷꒦
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Forgotten Ties - Chapter 17 - Part 3
*Warning Adult Content*
Marigold peeked inside one of the bags and gave Nim a nod of approval.
"I picked up a few other things as well," Nim said as he pulled out a packaged plastic poncho. "I've never been in snow before and to be honest I don't really even get cold but I thought, maybe?"
Aris took the poncho from Nim and turned the packaging over in her hands.
"Yeah, this is good. We found a sewing machine, so I'm going to stay up all night and do my best to make snow gear for everyone out of what's here. These will help block the wind and keep everyone dry. None of it's perfect but it should only take a few hours to get across the mountains. If we can keep everyone moving and all fingers and toes free of frostbite, we should be okay."
"I'll see if I can find a coat for myself but otherwise I should be fine, so don't worry about making anything for me," Nim said. "Werewolves are pretty resilient."
"Okay, but make sure you're taking care of yourself," Aris said. "You'll be our main protection, especially up on the mountain. I can do some flashy things with fire but I'm not immune to cold, so having all my clothes burn off would be extremely inconvenient."
"Will you be able to make warm clothes for yourself?" Nim asked.
"The wings seem like they're a bit in the way." Aris flashed him a grin. "Why do you think I'm so good with a sewing machine? I've been altering my own clothes for about as long as I've been like this."
She turned around to show the back of the tank top she was wearing. It looked like she'd cut a slit down the back and then put a button in at the top to fasten it around her wings.
"The wings have a lot of surface are, but they also produce more heat than the rest of me, so it works out."
"I'll make sure I can take whatever I wear off quickly so I can be ready to fight, I've never been in a fight in my life, though, so..."
Nim shrugged.
"Never? Really?"
Aris asked.
Nim shook his head.
"My mum was very serious about that. When you have strength like ours, it's easy to hurt someone more than you meant to. Even if you don't, though, you know how humans are. One way or another, hybrids end up the loser of every fight."
"Well, not anymore," Aris said. "We fight back now. Every time. Even your mum's moved on from being a pacifist."
"I'll be ready," Nim promised. "When the time comes, I'll fight."
Marigold seemed to be on top of handing food out to the kids, so Nim went to check on Skye.
One of the kids threw a ball at Skye as Nim approached and Skye grabbed it and made a low sound in his throat that was almost a growl.
He opened his mouth as wide as he could and tried to bite the ball.
When that failed, he hunkered down low on his shelf and tossed the ball to the other side of the room.
Nim caught the eye of the offending child and gave him a frown and a shake of his head.
He would never hit a child but he hoped they never realised that because they still seemed to be a little intimidated by him.
"How're you doing?" Nim asked Skye as he reached the side of the shelf Skye was perched atop of.
Skye shrugged.
"When I was a little human boy, the other little human boys used to hit me with sticks until I bled sometimes."
"Well, that's fucking awful," Nim said. "Is that why you're up there?"
"Oh," Skye said, tilting his head to the side in consideration even though he had been the one to introduce the topic. "Maybe."
"Hmm," Nim said. "Do you want to grab some blankets and go scout out the staff room?"
"Yes," Skye said, reaching his arms out towards Nim.
Nim had assumed that Skye had wanted Nim to pick him up from the top of the shelf, so he reached out to do that but Skye just kind of climbed onto him like he was a squirrel and Nim was a tree.
He ended up piggy backing on Nim, which was at least somewhere in the realm of normal, so Nim just accepted it and carried him off towards the staff room, grabbing a blanket from a large bin full of them along the way.
Seeing the inside of the staff room made Nim sad again.
There was a mostly empty cup of coffee and a half eaten protein bar on a desk and a rack of clothes someone had clearly been in the process of organising abandoned in the middle of the room.
Skye picked up the protein bar and crawled under the desk to eat it.
Nim laid the blanket out on the floor and found a couple of cushions on a small sofa in the office to complete their bed.
He lay down and let out a deep sigh.
"Would you like to talk about your feelings?" Skye asked from beneath the desk.
Nim let out an amused huff, a smile spreading across his face.
"I like the way you say things."
"I wasn't joking. I was trying to be a good friend or whatever we are."
"Hmm. Maybe those are some feelings we should talk about. Are we dating?"
"I don't think so."
"Oh," Nim said. "Well, okay then. Never mind."
"Well if you want us to be dating, you're going to have to take me on a date."
Nim laughed.
"I guess that is in the word, huh? Okay. Once we get over those mountains, I'll figure something out and then we can be dating. Sound good?"
"Yes," Skye said as he crawled out from underneath the desk.
"All right, we'll do that, then," Nim said. "A movie and a restaurant dinner is probably out of the question but I'll think of something."
Skye climbed onto Nim and flopped down on his chest.
He yawned and wriggled around to get comfortable.
"You can put your full weight on me, you know," Nim said. "You're not heavy."
"Oh."
Skye's weight instantly increased.
"I don't even really notice when I do it most of the time."
Nim let his eyes fall shut as he stroked his hand over Skye's hair.
"Get some rest. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."
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It’s getting cold out, I’ll try to help you to be ready for this.
(Note: this is being written by myself (Aspity) rather than Artemi. He is busy within one of our inner worlds, so I’ll be helping you today.)
The human body produces its own heat, and this is exaggerated by moving around. Containing your warmth is one of the two best ways to prevent yourself from freezing.
“Alright Aspity, but how could one maintain their warmth?”
The following, for wearing on yourself:
1. Jackets, often more than one, feel free to add a vest as well.
2. Hats, almost any hat will retain a small amount of heat, but “trapper hats” or “Ushanka” are my recommendation. Most supermarkets like Walmart and target sell them. So buy them if you can, or acquire them some other way.
3. Warm pants
4. Gloves (I recommend kinko’s frost breakers, sold at tractor supply)
5. A cloak (take a small blanket and you can use it’s a cloak if you can see or use a bunch of saftey pins. However a good broach is ideal.
6. Good socks, multiple pairs even. Long socks will do more for you than short ones.
7. Winter boots, furry boots, furry moccasins like what I wear, these will be very helpful.
8. A face mask, keeps your face hidden, offers some warmth, and prevents you spreading the plague if you’ve contracted it.
9. A scarf. These have tons of uses even if it’s hot out. In a pinch you can cut one from an old blanket.
10. A poncho. It keeps the wind off of you, and helps you stay dry. You do not want to be wet and cold, it sucks.
11. Body armor, even if it’s only made from some kind of resin . There’s tutorials on resin armor on YouTube, it’s strong enough to stop a shotgun slug (12 gauge). It also gets warm when you wear it all day. You can heat it up near a fire before you go out.
12. A backpack. Your back will stay a little more warm with one on, even if it’s empty.
I must note that you absolutely do not need all of these, I don’t own or use all of them. If you could only acess two of them, I’d advise the hat and the jacket. Jackets can sometimes be given to you for free at peer support locations (but not always) and a warm hat can come with it. Look for donation drop boxes near supermarkets as they are often overflowing. Whatever is outside, you can take it if you wish, just cover your face as it may legally be seen as theft.
Things you don’t wear but will Keep you warm:
1. Sunlight, at times sitting in the light can be very helpful for staying warm.
2. Another person you can (consensually) hug for shared body heat.
3. An animal to cuddle for warmth.
4. A stuffed animal can also provide a little additional warmth, and emotional comfort. I believe this point may be off putting to those who see survival as badass, but I don’t want you getting hurt, so do what you can.
5. A tarp shelter. It keeps the wind off of you, you can even roll in it loosely for added protection. I’ll teach you how to use it in a minute, don’t you worry.
6. A campfire, heating coil, air conditioning, or machines that get hot when in use.
7. A hot drink. This is how I survived -18f nights in the North Carolina mountains, it raises your core temperature.
8. A blanket.
9. A house or Prather large building, as obvious as it is.
10. Hot food.
You can lay your tarp out on the ground, stretched out, and then lay your blanket on it the same way. At such a point you can lay in the middle and fold it over yourself. It’s not ideal, but it can work. It’s also a good way to get sleep if you have to be outside.
Most gas stations will let you grab a little hot water for free, use this with a tea bag or coco powder to give yourself a nice warm drink. You can drink the hot water alone, but eating or drinking unpleasant things can mildly lower the “sanity” that Artemi has told you about.
Open spaces will be more windy than Forrest’s, if that’s safe for you it should be considered.
In the woods you can pile debris where you want to sleep, it must be at least four inches thick and spread similar to a mattress. Using your blanket and tarp you can more comfortably sleep on this Forrest mattress. Be careful not to have it too close to the fire as to risk setting alight your blanket, melting your tarp (if it’s synthetic), or setting fire to your Forrest mattress.
With all of that said, do be safe.- Aspity
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Well. This was unexpected.
A tiny bipedal lamb looking creature was right in front of her, staring at her with a look of curiosity. It was certainly a small thing, only coming up to around 4 feet tall at best, with small, tiny horns poking free of the sheep fur that surrounded it’s head, wearing a thick black collar around it’s neck with a bell, and well as a bright red poncho with white stripes. It otherwise looked harmless, if not a bit odd, but the main thing that stood out was the ominous black looking crown sitting atop their head, shaped to come to two points, a crimson eye in the middle of it’s frame. It stared forward, eerily, unblinking, while the Lamb’s face looked…mildly curious.
@dark-ambition
Missi pauses, looking down at the small lamb creature with a raised brow. This--- couldn't be one of her plushies come to life could it? It certainly looked fluffy enough to be something she would own, and just as cute in fact Missi had to stop herself from picking up the other and hugging them just out of habit. Yet their movement clearly would indicate that it was no inanimate object but possibly indeed a true living lamb... person.
Could it be some kind of substance she took to see someone like this? No. The crown atop their head seemed far too--- odd in a sense with the eerie vibe it gave off when Missi looked at it with her own single pupil. " Alright. I have to commend you for getting this far. Normally Cerberus would turn someone like you into a chew toy. So, props for getting this far. Clearly you have some kind intent to be here or-- reason? Whatever it might be it is rude to simply stare and not introduce yourself at the very least. "
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Top Nepal Pashmina Products You Want to Have in Your Wardrobe
Best Handicraft Export from Nepal
Pashmina is a type of cashmere wool. It's really soft, very warm, and can be used in a number of ways for different purposes. Listed below are some of the top pashmina products you can export from Nepal.
Pashmina (Cashmere) Shawls:
These are the ultimate fashion accessory, and they're perfect for keeping you warm in the winter months. You can wear them as a scarf, use them to dress up your outfit, or even just wrap yourself up in one when you're feeling extra cozy. They're also great for gifting!
Pashmina (Cashmere) Scarves:
These are similar to shawls but less bulky, making them ideal for wearing around your neck on a chilly day when you don't want to be completely enveloped by a blanket of fabric. They also come in lots of different styles and colors.
Pashmina (Cashmere) Bags:
Sometimes you need a bag that can carry your laptop, books, wallet, phone charger… whatever it is you carry around with you all day long. Check out our selection of pashmina bags - they're roomy enough to fit everything without being too bulky on your shoulder!
Pashmina Wrap:
A pashmina wrap is pretty much like a pashmina shawl, but it's smaller and less formal than a shawl would be for example. You could use one as an alternative to a scarf or wrap up in it on cold days when you don't feel like wearing a full-length sweater or coat!
Pashmina Poncho:
A pashmina poncho is a versatile and stylish piece of clothing that can be worn just about anywhere. Whether you're going to the beach, to work, or even to a wedding, this poncho will keep you warm and comfortable in any situation.
Pashmina ponchos come in a variety of styles and colors, but they all have one thing in common: they're made from 100% pure pashmina wool. This ensures that they'll be soft and lightweight while also keeping you warm when it's cold outside.
If you're looking for something that will keep you warm without weighing down your shoulders like a heavy coat would do then look no further than a pashmina poncho!
Nepal Handicraft Product Exporter P. Ltd. is your go-to source for high-quality pashmina products at a wholesale price. If you are looking for Best Handicraft Export from Nepal, we have got the best deal for you. We offer great pricing from a wide range of authentic Nepal Pashimina Products from Pashmina shawls, and scarfs, to sweaters.
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Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)
Rated: explicit 18+
word count: 7.6k
warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)
a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT
There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace.
Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy.
Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.
The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.
The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.”
“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”
She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”
Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.
Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.
Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—
Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it.
Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.
Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“
The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.
You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”
The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”
The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…
You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”
As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”
Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.”
He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.
“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“
He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.”
You smile. “Lovely.”
On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.
-=-=-=-
Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality.
Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.
That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.”
You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”
The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—
There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home.
You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.
His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.
You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”
Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”
He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare.
“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”
Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“
Din tips his head in acknowledgement.
“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.”
Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors.
“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.”
The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.
“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”
Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.
Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—
With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.
Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot.
Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away.
Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle.
You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder.
Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”
Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.
“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.”
A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”
Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.
Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”
He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”
Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.”
Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat.
You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.
Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”
Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”
With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—
“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."
Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder.
“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”
Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind.
You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile.
Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.
You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll.
It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit.
“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“
“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”
The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak.
“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement.
You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses.
Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short.
Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”
You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more.
Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains.
“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”
Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.
Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself.
Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist. Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”
He nods and utters a breathy yes.
Fuck yeah.
Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock.
Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh.
Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—
Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge.
It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.
Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.
He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.”
Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.
Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.
“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation.
Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.”
Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”
“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.
“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark.
Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now.
Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.
You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.
Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?
Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs.
“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question.
Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command.
Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.
As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.
You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff.
Fuck, you need more.
Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.
He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight.
That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you.
You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.
“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.
Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.
“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.
You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.
Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”
You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“
His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.”
Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs.
Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.
Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days.
Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.
Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs.
“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”
Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much.
“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”
You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.”
Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.
You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”
The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.
“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”
Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.
The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat.
“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“
“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“
Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.”
There we go.
You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes.
You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness.
“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile.
You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep.
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Shelter From The Storm — Razor 1/2
Fandom: Genshin Impact
Summary: You get lost in Wolvendom when searching for berries. Razor helps you out, leading to a new friendship.
Pairing: Razor x Reader
Rating: Fluff (SFW)
Word Count: 2,677
For future reference, all characters are depicted as 18+
You'd somehow managed to get yourself hopelessly lost on your quest to find enough berries to fill your basket. You wanted to bake a pie for Sara's birthday, and while she worked at Good Hunter and more than likely had access to the best pies in Mondstadt, you wanted her taste your grandmother's recipe. Her occupation and access to delicious pies would not stop you. But this was more than you bargained for.
You'd ventured along the path outside of Mondstadt, attempting to take an alternate route to the Dawn Winery before doubling back and making your way back Springvale where you'd get a room at the inn and then head back to Mondstadt in the morning. It was supposed to be simple. But you'd ended up in the Archons only knew, which was far from simple.
And it was getting dark.
You'd dressed warm, it was mid autumn and winter was coming soon, and while Mondstadt didn't get nearly as cold as somewhere like Snezhnaya, the snowfall was still rather intense. It was the very end of berry season and you were making the most of it. Your outfit consisted of a cotton dress layered with a wool over skirt and a long wool cloak. You wore a pair of brown leather boots as well, gloves on your hands. You tugged the cloak more tightly around your body as the wind picked up. There was forest up ahead, dense and full of restless shadows so thick you could barely see past them. You had no idea where you were.
You turned in a full circle to try and regain your bearings, and after a moment or two, you realized you could see Mondstadt across the lake. There was the cathedral, backlit by the sinking sun, and all at once, you realized just where you were.
Wolvendom.
Oh. Lovely. I'm going to be eaten by wolves.
You felt a raindrop splatter against your cheek and you looked up, face falling as you watched menacing clouds roll in, obscuring the stars that had just begun to freckle the sky. The God of Anemo was not on your side tonight. Your eyes scanned the area in front of you. The last thing you wanted was to be caught in one of Mondstadt's thunderstorms without shelter.
"Thanks, Lord Barbatos," you muttered sarcastically.
The wind didn't calm.
You heard a twig snap behind you and you turned, tucking your basket against your chest almost like a shield.
There was a hilichurl standing in front of you. It said something in that weird language they all spoke, something that didn't sound particularly friendly.
"Um," you stammered, "please don't hurt me."
It said something again, waving its club in front of it. You struggled to unsheathe your sword from its scabbard, the vision pendant hanging from the cord attached to your belt glowing softly in response.
"Hey, can you just—"
The hilichurl lunged and you dropped your basket, blocking the club with your sword, swinging a leg out to hit the backs of the hilichurl's knees, making its legs buckle beneath it. You sent a blade of water sailing through the air as the hilichurl struggled to its feet, causing it to stagger back, knocking its head on the side of the ledge behind it. You scooped your basket up and made a run for it, only stopping once you were safely behind a tree.
The lone hilichurl was joined by a mitachurl, and you were suddenly in over your head. You had a vision, sure. You could fight, yes, of course. But you were no Knight of Favonius. And your longsword was no match for a massive axe. You couldn't make it work like Cavalry Captain Kaeya. All your combat training had come from your father, who was a knight and from your mother who knew more than a few tricks of her own.
Of course you could fight. But this was a bit much.
You slid your sword back into its scabbard, but the rasp of metal against leather alerted the monsters, and your eyes went wide.
Uh oh.
You tried to scramble up the tree you were hiding behind, but managed to twist your ankle, making you yelp in pain. Nevertheless, you persisted, hauling your body into the branches.
A scream left your mouth when the hilichurl began shaking the tree. You wrapped your arms and legs around the trunk, hanging on with all your might, but the rain was beginning to fall, and the sudden slickness wasn't helping with keeping your hold on the tree. Your world shuddered as something struck the tree, making you scream again, and you didn't have to look to know that the mitachurl had struck with its axe. A few more swings and the tree would be down.
You grunted with effort as you attempted to pull yourself farther up the tree, hopefully to where the branches thinned enough so when the tree fell you wouldn't end up being trapped. You would not die here, damn it. You refused to. Your hair was now sticking to your cheeks and forehead as rain water streaked your face, the freezing kind of rain that even hydro vision users like yourself weren't all that fond of.
You had no choice but to cry for help, not knowing if anyone would hear you and seriously doubting that they would.
"Help me! Help me!"
Your voice sounded desperate, but at this point, you were desperate.
You heard a shout after the tree shook with another strike, then the crackle of thunder. There was the sound of exchanging blows, something that sounded like a snarl, something animalistic. The ground shook, jostling you free, and you lost your grip, falling down to the next branch, crying out in pain.
The ground shook again and you fell, straight to the ground, into a heap of limbs and messy hair, your basket flying from your hand.
You saw a figure crackling with violet energy before everything went dark.
————————————
You awoke to a loud bang, followed by rumbling. Thunder.
Where... am I?
Your head hurt. Hell, your everything hurt. There was something laying beside you, something warm and furry and soft. An animal? You didn't move to touch it. Your mind was muddled with confusion, but your eyes finally snapped open when a hand lifted one of your own hands.
There was a young man hovering above you. He was wearing a brown hooded coat and a light brown poncho sort of top with tribal markings. The rest of his toned torso was left exposed. A necklace with what looked like fangs hung around his neck.
His hair was long and messy and silver in color, and he had a handsome face, his eyes a shocking shade of scarlet. There was a scar on his left cheek. He looked to be around your age, maybe a little older.
Who...?
He blinked in surprise when he noticed your eyes were open.
"You wake," he said. His voice was a rough sound, low and almost raspy. He sounded like he didn't speak much.
You took note of your surroundings.
You were in a cave. There was a fire crackling a few yards from your feet, and from what you could see through the mouth of the cave, it had begun to pour outside. Thunder was growling overhead, lightning flashing, the brief light making it look like daytime. You were laying on a collection of pelts and a few pillows. The cave was otherwise empty except for the silver haired boy and you. You turned your head to look at whatever was beside you.
You were met with a wall of grey fur, and it took you a moment to realize you were staring at a wolf's back. There was a wolf beside you. You tried to jerk into a sitting position, but the young man pushed you back down.
"No," he simply said, "rest."
He made a good call. Your head was spinning.
"What... Happened?"
He glanced at you. You noticed a bowl of what you recognized after a few moments as wolf hook berries, as well as a bowl full of what looked to be crushed up ones beside it. There was a rock stained with the juice sitting beside this bowl.
"You fall from tree. I save you from monsters."
"...Oh."
"How long was I out?"
"Hours."
The young man turned to the bowls behind him, then looked back at you.
"Your name?"
It took you a moment to realize what he was asking.
"Oh. It's (Y/N). My name is (Y/N). What's yours?"
A beat of silence as he studied you.
"I am Razor."
Razor reached into the bowl of paste, smearing some of it onto your palm, which you didn't notice had been scraped up. It stung.
"Medicine. Will help you heal."
You'd heard about the medicinal properties of wolf hook berries from Barbara at the cathedral before, so you didn't doubt that Razor was doing this to help.
"Thank you," you said, shifting, "for helping me. I should go, though—"
"No!"
You started at the sudden volume of his shout. "No?"
Razor looked sheepish, his voice quieting. "You rest. You are hurt."
You relaxed back into the pelts, sighing. "Okay. I'll rest. But I have to go when the rain stops."
Razor shook his head. "Your ankle is hurt."
You moved both your ankles, met with a painful stiffness in your left one. Razor was right. It was most likely sprained. It would be hard to get back to Mondstadt like that, and it was a beyond stupid idea to try and get anywhere in this rain, let alone on an injury.
A massive grey wolf suddenly entered the cave, startling you. It was carrying something in its mouth. You recognized it.
"My basket!"
The wolf walked over to you, setting the basket down beside you, then promptly turned and left. Another smaller wolf entered a few minutes later carrying what looked to be the leg of a small animal.
Razor took the leg from the wolf, and then turned so his back was to you, working with his hands. He then dropped the meat into a pot you hadn't noticed was over the fire.
"You don't eat it raw?" You asked, and Razor shook his head.
"No. Makes me sick. Heat helps."
"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," you said, "humans can digest raw meat, but we can also get sick from it. Cooking it makes it easier to eat and gives more nutrients."
Razor stared at you for a moment, something almost like awe sparkling in his eyes. It was a little endearing. You smiled.
Was this guy... raised by wolves?
He certainly looked the part.
His body was toned and covered in scars. He looked wild.
"Sleep," he said, "I will wake you to eat."
You were tired. You rolled onto your side, realizing for the first time that you'd been stripped down to your underclothes, left in your blouse and the cotton skirt you'd been wearing underneath the woolen one. Your shoes were gone, so were your socks. You spotted said articles of clothing on a rock, presumably drying.
"I shouldn't," you said, "I might have a concussion."
He tilted his head curiously.
You tried to think of a way to explain what that was. You didn't think that Razor was dumb, far from it. He'd successfully treated your wounds and figured out how to cook without much outside interference it seemed. If anything, Razor was very intelligent.
You sighed. "It's something that can occur if you hit your head really hard."
Recognition dawned on his face. "Oh. I think I know."
"Know?"
Razor nodded. "Yes. Has happened to me. I fall into hole. A red man helped me."
You furrowed your eyebrows. Red man?
"Someone from Mondstadt?"
"Do not know."
You ran through a mental list of any men that fit the description of 'red,' but Diluc was the only one who came to mind, so you settled on him.
"I need to stay awake, just until the dizziness passes," you said.
Razor simply nodded, turning back to the fire, and you relaxed against the pelts beneath your body.
You tried propping yourself up a few times to check and see if the dizziness had gone, and when it did, you fell asleep fast.
You faded in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waking only when Razor shook you in order to feed you. You ate greedily, not realizing how hungry you were until the tender meat was gone. After eating, you fell asleep again.
You awoke fully in the morning, and you rolled over to find Razor sound asleep beside you. The wolf that had been beside you before was now gone. The rain had stopped, leaving behind that musty smell that rain left behind.
"(Y/N)!"
You started. That sounded familiar, even if the voice was far away. You propped yourself up on your hands, wincing at the remaining tenderness of the scrapes. They could have gotten infected if not for Razor, and you were thankful for his help.
The voice called out again, and you realized with a start who it belonged to. Amber.
Was there a search party?
You put a hand on Razor's shoulder, about to shake him awake, but when you looked down, his eyes were already open.
"Who is it?"
You smiled. "Amber. She's an Outrider for the Knights of Favonius. Someone must have come to the knights to tell them I was missing."
"You were... missing?"
"Yeah," you said, "I got lost."
You cupped your hands around your mouth. "Amber! In here!"
A beat of silence, then the sound of distant running footsteps getting closer. Amber appeared at the mouth of the cave, relief washing over her face as she hesitated before entering the cave.
"Razor," she said, "can I come in?"
Razor nodded. "Red girl is friend."
Amber walked towards you at a hurried clip. "What happened?"
You smiled. "I got attacked by hilichurls as the storm started and Razor rescued me. Wait, you two know each other?"
"Yep!" Amber said, "as an outrider, I know everyone in the Mondstadt region, including those in Wolvendom. You were in good hands."
"Razor helps friends," Razor said, matter-of-factly.
"Thank you for helping her, Razor. I'll take her home."
Amber helped you get redressed, and it felt good to have the comforting weight of your sword on your back again.
As you began to walk, supported by Amber's shoulder, you turned back to Razor.
"I'll come back to visit. I'll bake you a pie."
Razor seemed to like the prospect of you coming back.
"Visit again, friend!"
You smiled.
After getting back onto the main path, Amber spoke.
"You really need to be more careful, (Y/N)," she said, "we were all so worried! What were you thinking?"
You chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry, sorry. I wanted to find an alternate path to find more berries. I got lost. I couldn't have predicted that a storm would roll in. The Anemo Archon was not on my side."
"Yeah," Amber said with a note of bitterness, "he's finicky like that."
You snickered. "You say that like you know him."
Amber simply laughed.
You looked down at the basket in your free hand, noticing that not all of the berries inside had been lost. It looked to be just enough for one pie.
You watched as the first few buildings of Springvale came into view, making a mental map of the area in your head. You'd have to write down the location of the cave when you got home. You'd be seeing Razor again soon, this time bearing gifts instead of injury. Sara's pie would have to wait. After all, she did have access to the most delicious pies in Mondstadt, what with working at Good Hunter and all.
You had a feeling this was the beginning of a wonderful friendship.
You just hoped he liked berry pie.
#razor#razor x reader#razor genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact#fluff#My writing#cross posted from wattpad#fanfiction#I have some Xiao fics#so stay tuned
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You're A... Inexperienced Chapter 2
Summary: On watch one night you find out some thing that Daryl has never done. And you offer him some experience.
Category: Friends to Lovers, Eventual Mild Smut, just a good ol’ time
Paring: Daryl x reader (second person)
Warnings/Includes: General Walking Dead grossness, Smut (but not in this chapter), swearing, use of weapons, non-graphic hunting, mention of past child abuse, (let me know if you see anything else)
Word count: 3k
Chapter 1 Masterlist
Chapter 2 Naked in a Lake
The next few days were fairly uneventful. Seeing Daryl only in passing. He stayed outside when you were in; you stayed outside when he stayed in.
Not even shifts brought you together. Since the fall of Woodbury, there have been plenty of new people taking shifts to give you all a break.
Most of your time was spent helping with the kids in the library when Carol was too busy doing important things to “babysit”. Or you occasionally helped out at the farm on the south side of the prison. Rick and Hershel had started it over the past few months, and already it had yielded some fine meals.
Those meals were also made courtesy of Daryl, who went out into the woods on the daily, not going far, but far enough to be out all day and come back with a belt full of squirrels and rabbits by night. You had no idea how he did it or how far he went, but he seemed to be used to the days of solitude, in nature alone.
That was all until he planned to go out a bit farther, only for a couple days, but that was more that he had been gone in a while, more than anyone had been alone for a while. When he shared these plans, you decided that you would go out hunting with him, you know, because there is safety in numbers, (and you were dying to see what he spent so much time doing everyday).
So when morning came, and it was time to leave you brought your bag and followed him to the gate. He squinted at you being blinded by the morning light that rose over the prison. “I’m coming with you, is that alright?” You asked him knowing that he couldn’t argue. You awaited his response, but it never came, instead he had the gate opened and held his arm out like a gentleman letting you lead.
You guys walked past the spikes that guarded the outside of the gates, just as the queens guards once did outside of Buckingham palace. Kicking rocks and dust clouds along the path, walking went fairly slow. Not much to say, not much to do this early in the morning. You hadn’t even waited for Carl and Carol’s shift, which normally signified morning, to start before you had left. (You were sure he had said good-bye to them, Rick, and Judith the night before though. He was good like that.)
When the sun, which was barely peering over the land when you left, had risen enough to give you a long shadow, stretched out in front of you; you decided it was time to eat. Taking the backpack off your shoulders, and unzipping it when it was in front of you, you pulled out a small loaf of bread. You broke it in half and handed some to Daryl. He gnashed into it like a rabid dog, grunting a thank you in between bites.
You nibbled off bites as you walked, trying to savor it as something to do. The scenery of trees and a dirt path was getting old. You couldn’t understand how someone could go out along this path all day every day.
It was hot, too. Hot and sweaty. By mid-day you felt as though you were dragging, lifting your legs in a pedantic manner. Daryl’s hair was stuck to his forehead, and he had stripped his poncho, just left in a cut off flannel. He seemed to be perfectly fine in the heat though, barely even touching his water.
You wonder if he stayed outside a lot before as well. There’s something about him that makes it so hard to imagine him in his house, in a domestic setting. Did he do the dishes, and make himself food? Was his room clean, did he make his bed every morning before work? Did he have a job? What did he do? But you know that wondering these things will only pass the time, because there is no way he’d ever casually mention his previous life.
People had tried guessing, to no avail. Beth’s new boyfriend, Zach, was the leader of the guessers, being followed by the children, and you’ve even discussed it with both Michonne and Carol before. It would really take something special to make him confess his stories to someone, who knows who could get that close to him though.
You spent the majority of your walk picturing him in an office setting, wearing a tie and answering phones. Or at a gas station glaring at little kids who try to stuff candy bars up their sleeves, scaring them into obeying the law.
Mechanic seemed to fit best. Not a sleazy mechanic that finds more things to break to get
some extra cash, but one that spends day and night tracking down an original piece to some old beat up motorcycle. He wouldn’t charge extra for labor, cause he’d be doing the thing he loved most. He would treat each bike as his own, tirelessly making it perfect until the finishing pieces were in their exact place, like the sprinkles on a sundae.
“Gonna cut into the woods, right here.” He nodded, directing you.
“Oh yeah, sorry,” you said, snapping out of your little daydream.
“Ya’ okay?” He ducked down, meeting your eyes though his hair.
“Yeah, I’s just thinking.”
“‘Kay, just watch out in here. Can’t make too much sound.”
You walked through the dense forest, making as little noise as you possibly could. Heel, toe; heel, toe. Only cracking branches and crunching leaves every few steps, listening to Daryl’s deep steadying breaths in between.
He taught you how to lay traps, and snares; different knots and when to use them. By the end of the day you could set your own, with the reassurance that he would help kill whatever you caught. No matter how many walkers you would kill, and how much bad shit you’ve seen. It still felt weird killing animals to eat.
The trapping, and mapping out your paths came to an end as night fell. The darkness made it too difficult to achieve the superb knots you were tying, and the sub par snares that Daryl would set, so you two decided to call it a night, sleeping in shifts back to back.
The next day went the same, but it was now time for the actual hunting. You left the killing to Daryl, using your lack of a silent long range weapon, like the crossbow as an excuse. You guys sat up wind, and out of the line of sight of any animals that may pass. It was quiet, and you understood why he liked it.
Hunting wasn’t all killing like you had imagined; hunting was 99% sitting quietly in nature, 1% killing.
You can’t lie about the fact that when a deer came into sight, you closed your eyes and didn’t open them until you heard the click of the trigger on the crossbow. You didn’t want to see the animal die, but you can’t feel bad about how many people that deer could feed.
Daryl took care of the dirty work, cleaning, and “prepping” the deer to be taken home. You sat by and watched.
Once the task was complete, you started back for the prison, hoping it would cut some of the time of the walk back tomorrow. This time was cut short by the approaching darkness of night.
You two set up a small camp to spend the ever closer night. And with cans on strings, as tripwire, and your backs to each other, you two felt it was safe enough to get some rest, that was until the cans rattled.
The sounds of metal clanking, shook you from your not so deep sleep. You whipped around to see a walker reaching over your barricade of tangled fishing wire and old soda cans. It stumbled over and grabbed Daryl's boot, luckily he tied up his pant legs with cords to keep from being scratched. You scrambled over to a half awake Daryl and pulled his knife from his pocket, stabbing it into the undead's brain. He nodded graciously as you handed his knife back. You both sat still in the early hours of the morning, breathing heavily until your adrenaline died down.
Your eyes stung from lack of sleep, but it was nothing compared to how Daryl looked. His eyes were puffy, and had dark purple craters around them, and what little you could see of his eyes were bloodshot. His hair stuck up in every which direction, the bangs that normally cover his face, were defying gravity, and exposed his forehead.
“You can sleep, but let's face each other this time,” you planned.
“You sure?” he said groggily.
“Yeah, if you saw yourself, you’d be sure too.”
He scoffed, and pulled his vest out as an acting pillow, tucking one arm under it, and laying his head down. He fell asleep shortly, and you watched.
The expression he made was soft, and innocent, less like a child and more like a puppy that tired out running in a field all day. He subconsciously held his thumb to his mouth. He breathed heavily through his mouth, with quiet snores escaping occasionally.
You didn’t sleep at all that night, you couldn’t let anything disturb the peace. You weren’t tired, though, you actually felt like you had gotten a full night’s rest.
The two of you started home at the crack of dawn, with dull yellow light illuminating the grass you stood on. You took to the woods for your trek home, rather than the long road you took to get there.
Halfway through the day you happened upon a lake that looked beautiful, a direct juxtaposition to everything you had been used to seeing. The water sparkled, and light refracted off the ripples in every which direction. Birds made chirping sounds that echoed through the dense forest, and made a song through the trees.
Daryl grabbed a plastic bottle, and some of the sandy silt that covered the edge of the water, making a makeshift water filter. As he did so, you took off your shorts and threw them aside, wading into the water. The water was greenish, but you could see your feet, and the dust clouding around your steps. The water was warm enough to not give you the chills, but cool enough to be refreshing.
Once the water hit your hips, you took your shirt off and threw it a few feet away from Daryl, joining your shorts, and shortly after your bra. You watched him finish his contraption and fill it.
“Should have some water in an hour or so…” he looked up and saw you, then quickly looked back at his bottle.
“Maybe we could catch a fish or something, too,” you said, smiling at his back. “You should join me in here.”
“Nah” he shook his head.
“Yeah, when was the last time you got cleaned up?”
“I ain’t gonna, someone needs to be a lookout.” He looked up at you, standing his ground. “Anyway, I gotta piss.”
He started walking away and you yelled to him, “Yeah, sure you do, Dixon.” You splashed his way, but he had already walked behind the trees.
A noise came from your left, behind a couple of thick trees. Two walkers stumbled out, slipping on the sandy hill. You didn’t have any weapons on you, and getting back over to your clothes seemed like a death wish. They were closer to the clothes and things than you were. Daryl didn’t even have his crossbow with him, it was in the pile next to the water filter.
You yelled for Daryl, hoping he’d get back before the walkers could reach you. You yelled again, and it drew their attention. They were about at the edge of the water now, and you were fucked… but a whistle came out of the woods.
Daryl showed up and whistled loudly to catch the attention of the dead walking toward you. It worked. They started toward him at a slow pace, and you ran over to the pile of stuff. You picked one off with the crossbow. Daryl tripped backwards on a rock, and the walker stumbled towards him, wishing to bite into the leg that was trying to kick it backwards. He grabbed the rock, lifted it over his head, and smashed it down onto the walker, and hitting it again smashed his head open, covering Daryl in it’s blood. He leaned back and dropped the rock. He took a second to catch his breath.
“Hey, thanks” You said to him as you were naked and dripping like a wet dog.
He sighed and raised his eyebrows. Which you will take as a “no problem.”
Daryl’s hair dripped with blood, guts, and rotting chunks of flesh. His shirt was wet, red, and sweaty. The muddy sand covered his pants and hands, leaving him dirtier than before.
“I guess you have to join me now” you said, still mostly naked.
He begrudgingly kicked off his boots, and slid his vest off down his shoulders, letting it drop on the floor. He started walking to the edge of the water, when you had to stop him.
“What, NO!” You said haulting him, “You are not still wearing your socks.”
He took off his socks, and his pants. He walked into the lake, a couple feet in and the water hit the bottom of his shirt.
You never took Daryl as the type of person to not be okay with taking his shirt off, but here he was: standing in a lake with his shirt on, contemplating whether he should take it off or not. He stood there for a couple seconds before looking at you, and when you gave him a reassuring smile, he took it off. He looked good with it off, you didn’t see a problem, until he turned around.
He whipped around fast to throw his shirt on land, and as he did, you saw his back. He was covered in scars. Yeah, some could be new, from fighting, from surviving, but you take it he’d been surviving for a lot longer than the rest of you had.
The slashes that riddled his skin were old. He could have gotten most of them when he was still a kid. You swallowed hard, he turned and faced you but neither of you met each other's eyes. He got quiet. And as his hand pensively rubbed the back of his neck, as he thought about what you must think of him.
“Hey, come on in the water’s fine,” you said to ease the tension.
It seemingly worked, because the next thing he did was dive under, swimming to you in a second. The water rippled along the path he had swam, and broke around his emerging body. You met his eye. He nodded to you as a thanks, and you shook your head back at him in a no problem kind of way. This practice had become routine, it was easier than constantly owing thanks to the other person for some trivial task such as saving their lives.
He broke eye contact and looked down, “Still gotta piss.”
You snickered. Then stepping back a couple of feet you gestured for him to go right ahead.
He looked at you, head cocked a little, and then the realization hit and his ears turned bright red. He turned around, and you got a better look at his scars. Some were short slashes, some longer, and others crossed over each other. You couldn’t fathom the person that would hit a child, let alone Daryl; Daryl was sweet, and could never have done something that deserved this treatment.
He finished up and faced you, but didn’t meet your eyes. You got a look at him, the man that just pissed in the pool in front of you, his ears were red as well as his cheeks making a bridge across his nose. The blush trailed down to his upper chest in splotches, like watercolors splaying out.
He chewed the corner of his thumb and said, “Ya’ know, I used to piss the bed as a kid.”
“I mean we all did,” You said. “Come here.”
He complied, “Nah, I mean ‘til I’s like 8 or so.”
“Bend over,” you told him.
He leaned back and you started washing his hair for him, detangling it with your fingers, and picking things out of it like you were monkeys.
“I remember a couple times it happened, had to sneak out late at night and do my laundry in the bathroom, so no one’d hear me. But this once, my dad wasn’t home so, I didn’t get… but my mom had this whole ‘nother way of doing it. She took my clothes. Pinned me down, Merle helped. She put a diaper on me, made me sleep outside.”
“When you were 8?” You cupped some water and dumped it over his head.
“Uh huh, made me wear ‘em to school, too. Under my clothes. Said if I took ‘em off she’s gonna tell my dad, so I didn’t.” He went back to biting his thumb.
“That shouldn’t have happened to you,” you said, moving to wash his shoulders.
He shrugged, and flinched away when you ran your finger over a scar on his back.
“You know, stress and trauma cause children to start wetting the bed later on in childhood, it's called enuresis, it wasn’t your fault,” You splashed water on his shoulders, noticing the freckles made by the sun.
“Done?” He asked, standing up straight.
“What?”
“Am I done?” he asked and shook his hair out like a dog.
“Yeah, you’re good.”
Daryl quickly made his return to land, you however stayed in the water until the filter was done giving you each a bottle. Every once in a while you catch him glance over at you floating naked in the lake, but his eyes would quickly divert.
#daryl dixon#daryl x reader#twd fanfic#twd#daryl dixon fanfiction#the walking dead fanfic#the walking dead#tw past child abuse#I love the lake scene
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Western AU idea
Sakura came to awareness in a rush of panic, not recognizing her environment, only to settle into a jaded calm once the memories from the previous night came flooding back; bonfire, booze, boys.
Oh yeah.
She rubbed at her face, pushing some of the hair of her eyes and grinned when she saw the exposed shoulder of her bedmate. He was dead to the world and lightly snoring so she made sure to keep quiet as she shimmed out of bed and found her things.
It was an hour or so after dawn, but townsfolk liked to rise a little later than the ranchers, so the town of Amegakure was still enjoying a soft awakening. People in the boarding house were going to be out and about soon, so it would be better to scuttle before anyone else saw her in the hallways.
Sakura picked up the colorful open front poncho but didn’t bother wearing it properly as she caught her hat off the bedpost. Boots in hand, she tip-toed out the front door, closing it as softly as she could without sparing her partner another glance.
In the hallway she crept up the stairs to the second, then the third floor, holding onto her boots before she found her own room. It took a bit more time to produce the key but eventually she managed to get the door open just in time to hear someone down the hall step out for the morning.
Safe inside she took the time to change, tidy up herself, and pretend she hadn’t tumbled a cute young visitor with the railroad company like a horny teenage. Not that anyone on two legs would judge her in Amegakure, but it was less the tumble and more the lack of wherewithal she wanted to hide. She had a reputation as being pretty reliable that she didn’t want to lose.
When she heard the knock on her door a while later she hesitated before recognizing the familiar pattern of knuckles on wood. Only one person knocked like that.
“Hey,” Temari greeted with a bright smile and sly eyes. “Missed you last night. Did ja have fun?”
“Plenty,” Sakura laughed before standing to the side to invite Temari in.
“Well you look rested and dressed enough for some breakfast. Don’t bother staying in, I’m treating, remember?”
Sakura didn’t remember, but she wasn’t the type of person to turn down free food so she grabbed her hat to carry out and locked the door behind her.
On the ground floor a few more bodies were bustling about, stirred by the warm smell of boarding house food. Shizune saw the pair of them coming down the main staircase and greeted them with a wink before clearing a table. Sakura tapped at Temari’s shoulder, nodding to the opposite side of the room where Konan was managing the front desk.
“I’ll join you in a second.”
“Fine, I know what you order anyway.” Temari left to grab them a table and let Shizune know the both of them would be eating in, ‘so please go easy on the coffee.’
Konan was in front of the oversized log book used to record the business of the boarding house and all its guests. She looked up when she heard Sakura coming and smirked as Sakura let herself in behind the counter.
“Temari was complaining when she couldn’t find you last night,” Konan chuckled with an arm extending in offering.
Sakura slipped in under the arm and hugged Konan around the waist, resting her head on the older woman’s shoulder. “I’m sure she found her own sort of fun.”
Konan hummed, scratching at Sakura’s scalp in comforting circles. “Your boy came down in a dizzy looking for you a little while ago. Do you want me to say something next time?”
Sakura had the decency to blush before giggling. “If you sent him out to the competition for breakfast I think you already had a clue.”
Konan made a noise of agreement. “Yes, he seemed the clingy type, but he dressed well and Nagato said he recognized the brand of watch, so the kid had that going for him. You’re not interested in a rich young beau?”
Sakura rolled her eyes, less motivated by material goods than the average unemployed freeloader. “I don’t care about those things. What did your other husband say about him that I should know?”
In the background the front door swung open and the visitor looked around before heading to the front desk. A few linger patrons were making idle chat at their tables, enjoying their coffee and breakfast.
“Yahiko’s been busy with the delay in mail so I’m not sure he has any advice for you in matters of romance, but catch him later and see if he has better news.” Konan pushed Sakura away enough to see her more clearly before kissing Sakura’s forehead. “We just want what’s best for you, precious. Don’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing.”
“Um, excuse me,” the visitor tried to interrupt, clearing his voice when no one bothered to look at him.
It was like a candle being extinguished as all the warmth rushed out of the older woman’s expression when she turned to the visitor. “Shut up before I make you choke, can’t you see we’re having a conversation,” Konan hissed, saffron eyes flashing in enough anger to make the visitor weak in the knees.
Sakura pulled on of Konan’s hands off her shoulders and kissed the knuckles, thankful for every day the older woman and her family took Sakura in. Sakura would always be indebted to the three of them, even if she paid them back a hundred times over, it would never measure up to the love she had received.
“I’m going to have breakfast, we can talk later,” Sakura whispered loudly.
Konan frowned but rubbed at Sakura’s forehead once more before turning to the log book to start writing down the man’s information. It appeared he had a reservation.
Across the room Sakura pulled out a chair for herself and sat down next to Temari just in time to thank Shizune for the morning special with coffee. “No Kankuro?” Sakura asked around a yawn.
“Not if I can help it,” Temari said with a roll of her pretty blue eyes. “He’s off with Yahiko trying to track down that missing mail coach. They should be back soon enough so let me enjoy the peace and quiet while I can.”
“Where have you been the last eight years? It’s never peaceful or quiet in this town,” Sakura laughed, stabbing at her eggs.
“Quiet enough. I’ll take the drama of she said he said over straight up murder in the town square any day,” Temari snorted before drinking her coffee. “Damn. It’s bitter again.”
“Sugar is expensive, love,” Sakura replied on almost a reflex.
She was thinking back to the early years when Temari and her brother came in on a stagecoach, rescued by Yahiko. Like Sakura, the pair of siblings had come from a messy place where the law was a little more crooked and the justice just as dirty.
From the stories she heard, Sakura suspected Amegakure was just as bad as any other place before Yahiko and his crew cleaned up the town and turned it into the haven it was.
“Are you going to tell me about the boy?” Temari’s teasing cut through Sakura’s thoughts.
“No,” Sakura snorted, amused at the attempt. Temari knew better than to ask if Sakura hadn’t already volunteered the information.
“At least tell me if he was better than Deidara,” Temari asked with a pout.
Sakura just laughed and ate her food, unwilling to bring up ancient history for the sake of her best friend’s amusement. Yahiko would murder Deidara if he caught wind of their trysts, even if Konan thought they were funny. Yahiko was the overprotective, energetic dad while Konan worried more about Sakura’s happiness as a women. Nagato fronted well enough to convince most people he was just as open minded as Konan, but behind his wife’s back Sakura knew Nagato hated more than one potential beau in his own way.
Temari thought their dynamic was hilarious and claimed to be jealous of Sakura’s adopted parents since all she had was a great grandma who was half dead and twice as cranky.
Whatever their conversation might have devolved into was interrupted when the front doors opened suddenly and a familiar figure ran in, pushing back his hood as he searched the room for his sister. Sakura saw him first, thanks to the position of her seat and waved him over.
“Kankuro, over here!”
Temari looked up, ready to tease her brother until she saw the look on his face. “Bro, what is it? Get over here, why are you looking like you saw a ghost?”
“It-we found out where he is,” Kankuro gasped, nearly out of breath as both Sakura and Temari went still. “We know where Gaara is! He’s in Avarice.”
Temari was the one who dropped her coffee but Sakura felt like she was the one who got punched in the gut.
#writing drabble#writing idea#writing#my fic#idea#BAMF Sakura#gunslinger Sakura#thinking about pairings for this#maybe GaaSaku and SasoSaku#but also Deidara goes with her cause he's hooked#IDK who the boy is in the beginning#who do you think?#guesses#fanfiction#maybe I'll try writing some of this another time
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