#how much SKILL? artistry???

[x-i-l-verify]

#I work with horses and #Epona is INCREDIBLE- she's extremely attuned to humans and emotions. she doesn't scare easily and can keep her cool in a fight #but it's still super stressful to suddenly be in a fairly large and populated town- separated from her person#and for such an empathetic horse? Four going and TALKING to her- gently petting her nose and just being near her #means so so much! that literally matters so much to a horses mental state in a foreign situation- just having company#he checked on Epona and gave her company like !!!!!! it's so considerate and means so much for Epona! Four I love you !!!!! #with the food- I don't think the innkeeper would have free/complimentary food out- but wars wallet def had it covered #then wild showed up with potions in a cooking frenzy- but four was still shown with food behind him- he thought of everything #I don't know what's gonna happen with the shadow crystal and stuff. but no matter what happens in the future- this matters. #he did a ton of small things no one else thought of it matters he cares so much didjdkdksjfjj

I want. Four to get appreciation. Because

Four gave a ton of unnoticed help when Twilight was injured

The fight with Wild was difficult, and I know we're all concerned about his negative view of the shadow crystal

But Four did something that no one else really thought of to help- He took care of Twi's stuff

From the beginning he told Twilight to not worry about them

So Four took care of pretty much everything but the others (that Sky and Wars handled)

He took care of Epona

Which is so very important- he took care of Twilight's horse. After her arrival at the stable Four followed up on her

And for Epona, a horse so attached to her human, having some company can help so much for reassurance

He took care of Twilight's stuff

He got Twi's shield- his bags and equipment, and organized it into one place

And he was worried. He obviously found the shadow crystal while handling Twi's stuff, but his negative reactions to it were out of concern.

Also- because of his placement in this scene

I'm fairly convinced Four was ready to start cooking before Wild showed up (since he's beside the counter with food supplies). At the very least he had the basket of fruit out for everyone -but he was literally standing with food behind him- he thought of everything

And he did housekeeping!

Wars payed for the inn, so Four took care of the inn

Realistically these boys were probably not too concerned with tidyness. Four got all of Twi's things on one table, and took care of the room they stayed in

Organizing tables and Twi's things, having food supplies ready, and opening the curtains- overall he was the one tidying up the inn

Four helped in a huge way! He took care of Twi's horse (Epona is so important), his equipment and shield and bag, as well as the other rooms in the inn

Four filled in all the little tasks that others didn't think of. He helped in ways that were needed, but not obvious

There's a lot of problems with the shadow crystal and with Wild, and I don't know what's gonna happen in the future

But don't forget this- don't forget that Four was one who stepped up in an almost unnoticeable way

Don't forget that when everyone was barely holding it together, Four visited Twilight's horse and took care of his things

No matter what develops in the future- this amount of care shown is important ya know?

.

Art and comic from Jojo @linkeduniverse au :)))

[fragmentedblade]

The weight it has the fact that Mr. Xiao gifts the Trailblazer the discarded part with the fragment about Yingxing's trial, knowing Yingxing was his master.

"Remnants of the aurumaton culture linger at the Aurum Alley's Artistry hardware".

[oleander-neria]

Remember in Watership Down when they’re in the warren of the snares and the rabbits there have invented abstract poetry and visual arts, and Fiver takes one look at the poet rabbit and goes “this is the most disturbing shit I’ve ever seen and I’d rather sit out all night in the rain than get anywhere near this?” Unfortunately that is kind of how I feel about Neil Gaimen.

[omanu]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

[xian]

been away from kpop social media for so long i forget how much i despise most of it

[solxamber]

Hello! I humbly request Skully J. Graves for the spooky season, please and thank you! (Ps, I LOVE YOUR VILLIANESS SERIES SO MUCH. if you put him in the series, I would love it. Thank you.

Frights and Fancies - Skully J. Graves x reader

I've finally finished the first part of the Halloween event story and here we go! Skully J. Graves for the spooky season!

(this was written before part 2 of the event was out so it might be ooc)

It was almost Halloween, and the Ramshackle Dorm looked like it had exploded in pumpkins, cobwebs, and fake skeletons. Well, not fake enough for Skully, who was currently trying to rearrange a skeleton to perfectly mimic Jack Skellington’s iconic pose.

“This is it! This is exactly how Jack looked when he stood atop Spiral Hill!” Skully beamed, leaning back with a gleeful twirl. “I could cry!”

“Please don’t,” Grim muttered, slumped on the couch like a cat who’d had enough of life. “I’ve seen way too much Halloween today. I’m exhausted.”

You stifled a laugh as Skully pranced across the room, his long coat flowing behind him dramatically. He stopped by a cobweb you’d just hung, delicately adjusting it with reverence. “Ah, this is a masterpiece! The precision, the artistry—oh, Jack would be proud!”

“I bet Jack has a restraining order,” Grim mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Skully didn’t seem to notice the sass. “You don’t understand, Grim! Jack Skellington is the Pumpkin King! He is the very soul of Halloween! Imagine... if I could bring him here, right to this very dorm... oh, we would throw the greatest Halloween party the world has ever seen!”

“You’re throwing it right now, and I hate it,” Grim muttered, pulling a pillow over his head.

Skully, undeterred, rushed over to the pile of pumpkins by the door, holding up the largest one like a trophy. “This one’s going to be the pièce de résistance! I’m going to carve Jack’s face into it—oh, the precision, the skill! It’ll be a tribute!”

You were barely able to stop yourself from laughing as Skully started sketching an intricate face into the pumpkin. It was hard not to get caught up in his excitement, even if it was a little... obsessive.

“Hey, uh, shouldn’t we maybe, I don’t know, check the snacks or something?” you suggested, trying to save Grim from further mental collapse. “We’ve got a whole room full of sweets to prepare.”

“Oh! Of course!” Skully jumped to his feet, pumpkin forgotten. “We must create a feast worthy of Halloween Town itself! Grim, you’ll love this—there will be so many sweets, you won’t be able to handle it!”

“Sounds like my personal hell,” Grim groaned, finally sitting up. “Do we have to? I was kinda hoping to nap.”

Skully was already halfway to the kitchen, humming some eerie tune under his breath. You shot Grim an apologetic look, but he was too busy glaring at the ceiling like he was making a pact with some unseen force to end Halloween forever.

The kitchen was soon filled with the smells of spiced pumpkin and sugary treats. Skully was in his element, flitting around like a Halloween-obsessed ghost, talking nonstop about Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King, and all the Halloween traditions from his foggy village.

“And no one here at school even knows about Jack!” Skully was saying for probably the twentieth time. “Can you believe that? It’s like they’ve never even heard of Halloween!”

“Maybe they’re lucky,” Grim grumbled, stuffing his face with a pumpkin tart.

Skully either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. He had already moved on to decorating cookies, carefully icing tiny skeleton faces onto each one. “Jack’s elegance, his charisma! He’s the epitome of what Halloween should be.”

“Jack this, Jack that...” Grim sighed dramatically. “If I hear that name one more time—”

“I could name the pumpkin Jack,” Skully suggested, completely serious.

“No!” Grim snapped. “Let the pumpkin live its own life! Let it be free!”

You snorted, almost dropping the tray of cupcakes you were setting out. Skully blinked, confused for just a moment, before smiling his usual charming smile. “Ah, Grim, you always know how to liven things up.”

“I’m this close to being a ghost myself,” Grim muttered.

By the time the evening rolled around, Ramshackle Dorm had been transformed into a veritable Halloween haven. Cobwebs draped across the walls, pumpkins lined every surface, and the faint glow of eerie lights filled the air. Skully stood in the center of it all, arms wide open as he surveyed his masterpiece.

“This... this is the Halloween of my dreams,” Skully said softly, his voice full of awe. “I couldn’t have done it without you two.”

Grim gave a halfhearted wave from his spot on the couch, already half-asleep again, but Skully’s gratitude was genuine. You smiled, watching as he twirled around one more time, completely in his element.

“Well,” you said, “if Jack Skellington could see this, I’m sure he’d be impressed.”

Skully’s face lit up like a jack-o’-lantern. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, adjusting a crooked pumpkin. “You’ve done Halloween proud.”

Skully gave a deep bow, flourishing his coat as if he were addressing royalty. “Then, in Jack’s name, I thank you both!”

From the couch, Grim groaned. “I’m gonna need a vacation after this…”

As Skully danced around the room, humming Halloween tunes and praising Jack Skellington, you couldn’t help but smile. Sure, it had been a lot of work, but seeing Skully so happy—and hearing Grim’s constant complaints—made it all worth it.

This was going to be a Halloween to remember.

Masterlist

Also I'd love to add him the the villainess series, but I'll wait till atleast part 2 of the Halloween event to completely understand him before I do!

[hauntingofhouses]

uhhh thinkin about how mizu and taigen's relationship was described as "this meeting of the minds, this meeting of the swords, that they could not share with anybody else" in one of the netflix articles about the show

and i'm going crazy because YEAH they're both equally invested about swords and fighting in a way that nobody else in their lives are. and that's just. so important considering we're talking about mizu, who sees her sword as her own soul.

and it's not JUST mizu who's obsessed with fighting. taigen is too. cuz like after their duel at the shindo dojo, as taigen is examining his bald spot in the mirror where mizu cut off his hair, he literally interrupts his own turmoil over losing his honour, just to express his awe, openly admiring mizu's skill DESPITE the fact that mizu just beat his ass and stripped his honour and status from him

then in the next episode, mizu says a very similar line when she examines the cut flower that fowler had pinned to heiji shindo's robe.

this was also such a sudden thing to notice in the middle of their conversation (my interpretation of this is that it hints to fowler's own skills with a blade, and gives mizu information about her enemy being a formidable opponent), but the fact that mizu had such a keen eye and managed to hone in on such a tiny detail from like a foot or two away is interesting because it shows us just how attentive mizu is, especially when it comes to blades and anything to do with them

to mizu (when she's not spiralling and agonising over her own self-hatred and the way the world treats her), swords are not a mere tool for revenge, but an art form which she is fascinated by and loves and admires. we see this from time to time, during rare moments of respite, like when she admires the duel in the beginning of ep4

mizu also takes to heart all the teachings from her years training, while taigen is interestingly less strict about them, basically disregarding some of those teachings as mere pedantry, or even if he doesn't actually really think so, he at least tells mizu as much in his attempt to comfort her after her sword breaks

but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for the more formal aspects of his training at all. because in ep3 when he says this

this line about mount sumeru is not talking about the literal mountain in front of them, but is a recitation of a line from the lotus sutra, which is among the mahayana sutras that they learned as part of their spiritual training, as zen buddhism forms a lot of the basis for samurai doctrines and philosophy. the sutra given more emphasis in the show is the heart sutra that mizu writes on her body in ep7 during her rite of rebirth

so taigen saying this line, as i see it, is a way to bond with mizu, or at least make conversation over their shared knowledge, as we see him await a reaction as soon as he says this. but mizu gives him none, and he looks disappointed/annoyed/frustrated or what have you as he watches her walk off without a word

also we see a little more of their shared knowledge of swordsmanship in the last episode when it's clear that mizu has been training ringo in sword fighting techniques

and later taigen recognises it instantly

they're both nerds about swords and fighting!!! they both respect each other's skills!!!

GOD i really hope in future episodes they get to bond some more over their shared passion and common training and just samurai camaraderie in general!!! mizu clearly loves the artistry of sword fighting so much, she deserves to have a confidant who shares that with her, someone she can talk openly about these things to!!!

because like remember when mikio was telling her about the naginata, she looked soooo uwu in love!!! admiring her husband as he showed off the weapon and told her the benefits of using it!!! believing at the time that she'd found a match who she could openly share her love of martial arts with!! she was having so much fun sparring him too. everyone says fighting is part of her love language and YES it IS!!!

except the difference is that mikio—due to, among other things, their large age difference and subsequent gap in life experience—believes he is mizu's teacher, rather than her equal. this is the role he's readily taken throughout their marriage, from teaching her how to throw a knife to cut down fruit (not like she needed that particular lesson), to teaching her equestrian skills.

meanwhile taigen and mizu were both kids growing up poor in the same backwater fishing village, which means that they are and always have been PEERS. and this becomes even more pronounced once taigen is stripped of his giant ego and unlearns his prejudice, allowing them both to fully respect each other and view each other as equals

which is again why it frustrates taigen when mizu admits later in this scene that she basically doesn't care about saving the shogun. like he gets mad because it upends his initial belief in their shared goals and aligned values, believing them both to be samurai of equal standing and honour.

ALSO i'd like to add, that though mizu is the better swordsman as we see her win all their brawls and matches, she doesn't surpass him by that much, and mizu knows this.

these words coming from mizu is such a huge compliment all things considered, acknowledging that he was strong enough to deserve fighting her, because shortly before this mizu was just about to say "no one has given me much of a challenge" only for taigen to enter the scene and, well, challenge her.

now combine this with her saying that chiaki's broken blade suits him well, giving to him HER sword which SHE made AND won, as a surety, promising him a duel that he "deserves". it's proof that even though she finds taigen an annoying brat and oftentimes an obstacle to her mission for revenge, she DOES respect him and does value his skills.

IN CONCLUSION nobody else is on their level, nobody else shares their love of swordsmanship and that is such an important factor to their bond and the way they relate to each other. i rest my case your honour

[lushrue]

hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader pt 2!

part 2 of this au finally! i'm so glad people like it! comment if you wanna be added to the taglist, already planning pt 3 so there will be more where this came from 💗

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

your name was announced through the loudspeaker as you skated onto the ice, all covered in sequins and polyester. you’d always thought it was a little bit silly, the conventions around figure skating costumes. that fit that Margot Robbie threw in I, Tonya about the ridiculousness of it? yeah, you’d had a moment like that once or twice. the rough fabric scratched your arms, the glint of the sequins drew focus away from your expressions. but you still felt elegant as you set your mark at center ice, hitting your starting pose in the silence before the music began.

breathe in, breathe out. focus. momentum is everything, remember your character, focus going into your jumps.

in the moment before your routine started, you flicked your eyes up and scanned the crowd. it was something that you’d done ever since your first routine that you took to competition. usually, you were looking for your parents, their smiling faces and the flash of your mom’s digital camera. now, though, it became more curiosity, finding a spot to let your eyes settle when you weren’t looking at the judges’ table. it was then that you saw them. four big, brutish hockey players sat shoulder to shoulder in the stands. the one with the mohawk (soap, you remembered) lifted his hand to wave at you, only for the man beside him (kyle, you guessed from this distance) to swat it down.

the shock must have played out on your face, because you saw price smirk as your music began playing. you let the sound seep into your bones and just like that, it all melted away and you skated.

…

the four of them watched pretty intently for the first few seconds of your routine. price was focused on the placement of your body, how you kept your center of gravity in the middle at all times. he had to admire how precise you were in your movements, like you knew the physics behind all of it. for all he knew, you did. he could tell you were skilled and he liked that about you. talent recognizes talent, or however the saying goes.

kyle was simply admiring your choice of music. Moonlight Sonata, though basic, was like black coffee, he thought. a classic choice that never really got old, but so many things could be added to it to make it new and exciting. and watching you skate to it, he felt like he’d never heard it before. he watched your face more than anything else. you were so expressive, a story playing out in your eyes, and he soaked it all up. it was like reading a novel, and this one was a page-turner.

ghost was watching the lines of your body. it was like you were painting the air as you moved, each flick of the wrist and lift of the leg deliberate and purposeful. it all served to make a pretty picture. every now and again, he’d look at the thin lines your skates left on the ice, the swirls and curves detailing everywhere you’d been. much prettier than the harsh notches he left behind when he stepped out of the rink, he thought. just like you, they were delicate.

soap was far less interested in the artistry or skill of it and more focused on you. the way your hair moved as you spun on the ice, the way your costume clung to your skin. he couldn’t even act as if he wasn’t watching disrespectfully, thinking of what your body might look like under the spandex and sparkles. you lifted your leg and began spinning, and soap thought he might keel over right then and there. ghost nudged him as he adjusted himself on the bench, a silent gesture that told him to behave.

johnny gestured to price behind kyle’s back, getting his attention. “didn’t i tell ya, cap? a right beaut, that one,” he said, earning himself a flick to the head from ghost. price chuckled, turning his attention back to where you were winding up for a jump. two turns in the air and you landed perfectly. he knew you would, you talented thing. “yeah. a beaut,” price responded, a small smile curving his lips.

...

you skated remarkably, in your opinion. it was a relatively simple routine, but with every completed skate, regardless of skill level, came a sense of accomplishment. as you hit your ending pose, you made eye contact with your hockey players in the stands again. ghost’s face was unreadable from this distance, but you caught the pleased expressions of the other three as they clapped for you. soap had a glint in his eyes that spelled mischief and made something in your stomach tighten. kyle was looking at you like the artist you perceived yourself to be, almost how you imagined someone would look at their favorite painting. and price’s face had pride written all over it. you caught an almost imperceptible nod from him, as if to say well done.

you bowed to both sides of the rink and skated off the ice, a performer’s smile on your lips. it wasn’t entirely fake, not like it had been at some competitions. this time, it was born of the idea that four of the men you’d been watching, nay, pining after for a month were finally turning their attentions to you. for the first time in a while, you wondered what someone besides the judges thought of your routine. the worst part was, you needed them to like it. you felt the intense need to please them, keep them coming back for more.

the four of them found you in line for the concessions, grabbing a hot chocolate to soothe your cold bones in between programs. your free skate was coming up next and you knew you’d need a little pick-me-up before then. as you thanked the high schooler who’d poured your drink, you turned to walk away and almost collided with a wall of solid muscle. price, you’d realize as you looked up. “told ya we wanted to see ya, bonnie!” soap’s voice chirped from behind the broad shoulders of the team captain.

you glanced around him, noticing kyle and ghost stood off to the side. kyle was all polite smiles and ghost looked as though he was aware of how much space he was taking up, supremely uncomfortable as people brushed past him. soap was stood off to the other side of price, arms crossed over his chest. then your eyes turned up to the captain himself, feeling a sense of pride radiating off of him. you weren’t sure why; this was a man who barely knew you. but it made your stomach flutter all the same. “good performance you put on out there, love,” he said, the rumble of his baritone voice more compelling when it was directed at you. you’d seen the boys scramble to follow his orders before during a game, but you’d thought it was just his rank on the team. no, you realized, it was definitely the voice.

“thank you,” you replied sheepishly, clutching the warm styrofoam cup in your icy fingers. “i’m glad you all liked it.” kyle spoke up, stepping a bit closer to where you stood. “liked it? i loved it! you’ll have to tell me more about how you choreographed it, the musicality was insane!” “easy, garrick,” ghost’s voice rumbled from where he stood, a bit muffled by the black surgical mask. “don’t wan’ to scare off our pretty bird.” oh, you could get used to that. you spoke up, your eyes flicking between the four of them. “actually, i still have another program to skate.” you hesitated, almost worried you were being too forward. but then you continued. why not live a little, take some risks? “if you all wanted to stay, that is.”

you didn’t have to tell them twice.

taglist: @cadotoast

[botanicalsword]

Venus ✧ how you pursue love and beauty ♡⁀➷

Where Venus is located, that house is the area where we easily find satisfaction and happiness, a field where the energy of love and beauty manifests.

☽✧. ❦ • ✧• .✧ ✞

♡ Venus in the 1st House

This brings a beautiful appearance and a gentle personality to the Houser - They are skilled at dressing themselves and have good taste and temperament. They generally make a good first impression. Even if their genetics are not strong, they have great fashion and makeup skills.

♡ Venus in the 2nd House

Houser with this placement have a pursuit of a good life, and their way of earning money is related to art or luxury goods. They are willing to spend money to improve their quality of life as long as they are not severely afflicted by Saturn. Usually, they can easily earn money, and their quality of life is quite high. However, if they are heavily afflicted by Saturn, they may easily become materialistic or even take loans to consume luxury items.

♡ Venus in the 3rd House

People with this placement are interested in art or emotional intelligence. Generally, their communication style is pleasant and gives people a refreshing feeling. They have a great sense of aesthetics and tend to be specialist in the field of beauty. It is very comfortable talking with them without much pressure.

♡ Venus in the 4th House

This position indicates a strong concern for the home environment. They have high requirements for comfortable living and enjoy spending money on decoration and arranging their living environment. In childhood, they often come from families with love or artistic heritage tendencies.

♡ Venus in the 5th House

People with this placement have a strong sense of love and know how to indulge in romance and pleasure. They seek to experience and appreciate the beautiful things in life, such as art and music. They often have a good relationship with children as well. The 5th house represents children and Venus, a planet associated with femininity.

♡ Venus in the 6th House

In this position, the work atmosphere is usually good, or the work is related to art and beauty. Additionally, this is the house of health. Venus placed here can easily lead to problems due to unhealthy or indulgent habits. Venus is not a planet of discipline but rather seeks beauty, so it is natural to indulge in things like drinking milk tea occasionally - attention should be paid regarding healthcare.

♡ Venus in the 7th House

This position is quite favorable. The native understands interpersonal relationships well and has high emotional intelligence. They are particularly good at making themselves comfortable through one-on-one relationships, whether it is finding a partner or a business collaborator who can make their life better. However, they should be cautious not to develop a mindset of pleasing or appeasing others too much, nor should they become overly dependent or immersed in relationships.

♡ Venus in the 8th House

This position is beneficial for financial investments. They are adept at utilizing collective resources and have a keen sense. They often have good luck in inheritance and are interested in mysterious matters. They tend to have a deeper understanding of things.

♡ Venus in the 9th House

This is a sign of having exotic love affairs. People with Venus in 9th House are easily attracted to people from different cultural backgrounds and are likely to encounter romance and adventure during foreign or long-distance travels. They also enjoy different cultures and artistic topics. They are experts in discussing popular brands from abroad.

♡ Venus in the 10th House

They are highly concerned about their public image. They channel the energy of love and beauty into their careers and spread love and beauty to the public. They tend to work in industries, such as wedding photography, beauty salons, cosmetic procedures, makeup artistry, and image consulting, all of which are fields dedicated to spreading beauty.

♡ Venus in the 11th House

This benefits forming collaborations with like-minded people. People with Venus in the 11th house are often popular in groups, and they are skilled at finding common ground and creating a harmonious atmosphere. They tend to have many friends and acquaintances.

♡ Venus in the 12th House

This is a hidden placement, it often indicates the hidden traits of Venus. On one hand, people with this placement tend to be reserved in matters of the heart, which may lead to unrequited love or similar experiences. This can be used for understanding, but not for definitive judgments. Additionally, people with this placement have a good sense of art and often possess a unique charm.

☽✧. ❦ • ✧• .✧ ✞

>> Masterlist | explicit contents

[eleteo125]

"Be Mine or You Will Burn"

Rollo x GN!Reader

AN: Me and my friend are Rollo fans and they've inspired me to write this idea out 🤣

You were simply just walking around admiring the scenery of Noble Bell where you went back to the cathedral to appreciate the artistry of the stain glass. Each panel depicting how Judge Claude Frollo and his accomplishments.

Rollo, the school’s student council president has welcomed the NRC students by giving them a tour but his obvious disdain for magic users made it clear that he was rushing to get the tour done as fast as possible to get away from them. Heck you would even bet that the only reason he was able to get through the whole tour was because he only set his attention towards you barely minding the other guests. He sometimes casts a watchful eye on them but other than that he doesn’t particularly engage with them compared to you.

With those signs in display, everyone from NRC has come to the conclusion that them being invited here has an ulterior motive to it. Briefly shaking those thoughts from your mind, you admired the lights coming through the different colored windows surrounding you in a colorful halo.

My what a beautiful sight indeed.

Magic wielder or not, you’re still a student from NRC so of course Rollo has kept a close eye on you when freely strolling around the school. But he can’t help the fact that you’re devoid of any magic at all has him deeply fascinated. And to think to mingle around those…ahem.

Do not be fooled he’s only keeping watch of you because he can tell that everyone from NRC are quite attached to you especially that dragon fae. What better way to keep them in check when he has you close and in his clutches.

Walking towards you he silently stood in behind you. He held in a small chuckle as he saw you’re awestruck face looking at the beautiful work of art. “Impressed?”

Jumping a little bit in surprise, you quickly looked behind to see him “O-oh! Yes, I haven’t seen a stained glass window in person before, just through pictures.” You confessed

“Hmph of course such beauty is painstakingly crafted by hand of course you won’t see a lot of it. Craftsmanship that took people’s skill and talent with no assistance from cheap tricks everyone reveres.” He spits

“Magic?”

Rollo stayed silent at your question.

You decide to let go of the subject with his sudden silence. Instead you walked closer to the window to admire the small details. It was such detailed you can’t even imagine how long it would take to finish such a large piece.

Too lost in thought, you started to reach your hand out to the window but you’re once again surprised when you felt a strong grip around your wrist.

You were about to apologize but instead freeze up when you felt him step closer behind you. You tried to step forward to get some distance since you’re starting to get flustered at our position but realized that you don’t have much space to move in since you’re very close to the window.

“I’m sorry but those were just cleaned by the careful hands of our cleaners hands off please.” He whispered in your ear.

You shuddered at his closeness and the sensation of him speaking carefully so close to your ear. “I-I understand.” You stuttered while unconsciously leaning into his ‘embrace’.

He seems to have lost himself also since he buried his nose in your hair while his other hand rubbed your free arm.

You two stayed like that for who knows how long just basking in each other’s contact. “Why not transfer here, I can tell how ‘generous’ the headmaster is in your current school.”

“I can’t” you managed to mumble out after almost melting at the close soud of his voice yet again.

“You’re surrounding yourself with magic that is as deadly as fire.”

You leaned closer “Fire can be useful too.” You whispered

You felt his sigh in your ear and your knees almost gave up but he held you up when he sensed you were about to fall.

“Consider it.” He kissed behind your ear “Be mine or you will burn.

He carefully let you go after making sure you won’t collapse to your knees before walking put and leaving you under colorful light.

[x-uno]

Stolen Glances and Culinary Charms.

Pairing: OPLA!sanji x fem!reader

summary : your lingering gazes prompt playful remarks from usopp, and eventually, Sanji catches on.

| 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 >> | 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

YOU FOUND YOURSELF CAPTIVATED BY SANJI, gaze fixed on him without even realizing it. He was in the midst of preparing a delicious meal, his skilled hands moving with grace and precision. As your eyes trailed over him, you couldn't help but admire the way he moved—the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his lips curved into a satisfied smile as he perfected each dish. His passion for cooking was evident in every movement, and it was nothing short of mesmerizing.

Unbeknownst to you, your staring had not gone unnoticed. One of the crew members nearby, Usopp, nudged you playfully and whispered, "You've been staring at Sanji for quite a while now. Can't blame you, though. He is quite the cook." 

Startled, you blinked and turned your attention back to your fellow crew member, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Chuckling nervously you replied, "I, uh, didn't even realize I was staring. Yeah, he's an amazing cook."

He grinned knowingly and patted you on the back. "Don't worry, it happens to the best of us. Just try not to let Sanji catch you. He might get a big head about it."

With a shared laugh, you tried to be more discreet in your admiration of Sanji's culinary skills, although the memory of the handsome chef's talent would linger in your mind long after the meal was over.

Despite your best efforts, the moments of unintentional staring at Sanji continued to occur. It seemed that no matter how much you tried to be discreet, your eyes had a mind of their own when it came to the charismatic chef. Each time it happened, you found yourself lost in admiration as you watched Sanji work his culinary magic. His passion and skill in the kitchen were a sight to behold, and it was impossible not to be drawn to the graceful way he moved.

Sometimes, it was a subtle glance when he wasn't looking, other times it was an unabashed appreciation of his talent as he whipped up delectable dishes. You simply couldn't help it, and secretly, relished these stolen moments of admiration. 

The crew members had caught on to your recurring glances, and they often shared knowing looks and playful nudges when they witnessed you gazing at Sanji. It had become a lighthearted inside joke among the crew.

And while you might have been embarrassed each time you were caught, there was a part of you that secretly enjoyed these stolen glimpses of the chef. After all, there was no denying the allure of Sanji's culinary artistry and the captivating way he moved in the kitchen.

Today was no different; Lost in your thoughts, you found yourself staring at him again, completely oblivious to your surroundings. 

Sanji, who was in the middle of preparing a dish, had noticed your lingering gaze though. He had a way of sensing when someone was watching him, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of flattery at the attention.

With a sly grin, Sanji continued to work but subtly shifted his position, allowing him to steal a glance in your direction. When he saw that you were indeed staring, his grin widened.

Finishing up the dish, Sanji carried it over to the dining area, where you sat. He placed the plate in front of you with a charming smile and said, "I noticed you've been watching me cook. Enjoying the show, madam?"

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you were caught red-handed. You stammered slightly, "I..I didn't mean to... I mean, yes, your cooking is amazing."

Sanji chuckled warmly, his blue eyes filled with amusement. "No need to be shy," he replied, his tone gentle, "I'm flattered that you appreciate my skills. If you ever want to learn a thing or two in the kitchen, just let me know."

The playful encounter left you with a mixture of embarrassment and intrigue. Perhaps your unintentional staring had opened the door to a new connection with the charismatic chef.

taglist: reply to be added !

© 2023 x-uno ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. 

[deceptive-daydreams]

I Want Your Midnights

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

A New Year’s party at the mansion where you and Logan pretty much sneak away to dote on each other

Contains: Tooth-rotting fluff, drinking, allusions to sex, slight angst for like 2 seconds

This is just a cute little thing I thought up but also this is my first time writing for Logan, pls be gentle.

Champagne lingered on his tongue, you could taste the slight bitterness and nearly recreate the bubbly fizz you’d basked in just minutes ago.  Since then, it had been teeth clashing together mixed with endless kisses and large hands pawing at your dress.  He’d been scooping up handfuls of you like he’d never get enough, like it’d never satiate his hunger, his pure desire for you.

Maybe it was the tipsy haze you’d found yourselves in but the corner of the party quickly became your paradise, an island meant only for the two of you while everyone else counted down the seconds.  They gathered in front of the TV with their champagne flutes in hand, seeking the ones they’d kiss and embrace into the new year.

Meanwhile you’d started early, nipping on one another’s lips, noses squished to cheeks, fingers tangled in hair.  “Be right there” turned into a false statement, a lie you told to Rogue when she waved you both over into the family room.  You didn’t mean to lie, it’s just that gravity kept you in Logan’s lap, rendering you useless and unable to recall the proper motor skills to carry yourself into the other room.

Logan grinned, an uncontrollable thing that he’d deny anyone else saw should they ask the following day.  And before you could tease him, all smiley and eyes crinkled, he nuzzled into your cheek, nearly purring like a well fed cat but rather than food, your attention kept him beyond satisfied.

“Happy New Year.”  

At this he rolled his eyes, more playful as opposed to his usual standoffish self.  Always more playful in your presence.

Remnants of a deep rouge painted his upper lip, the color bleeding into his skin, coating some of his stubble.  As your thumb trailed along his scratchy jaw, you admired your unintentional artistry, hints of red that just belonged.

He was too handsome for his own good, so much so that you’d taken it upon yourself earlier in the night to undo the top buttons of his shirt.  A miniscule gesture that warned him of your intentions for later, a means to tease but done so elegantly in the plain sight of party guests and your closest friends.  

He’d caught your wrist then, a delicate yet firm hold as he muttered “Careful, doll.”  Your face had gone hot, flustered under his dark, heavy-lidded gaze.

That’s how you’d ended up in the corner, taking it upon yourselves to give into the hunger taunting you both in the midst of lurking eyes, marveling at him, at The Wolverine, soft and pliable in your possession.  

Tame.

Only you would be able to gently tuck a glass of champagne into his large hand that usually clung stubbornly to a beer.  Only you could so nonchalantly place it in his hold without a single gripe.  And it drew the attention of nosy acquaintances and even well loved friends as they stared.

Logan didn’t care for staring.

It wasn’t lost on you that he was so used to the universe working against him, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, just patiently welcoming disaster as if it were an old friend, as if it’s all he’d ever known.  Cause it was.  But with you, there had finally been peace and that terrified him.

He didn’t have to say it.  You just knew.

Intimacy scared him, getting close scared him.  And it took attempt after attempt to even scratch the surface of his ever-bleeding heart, to even begin to bandage it up and create some sort of healing process because prior to you, liquor had been his chosen antidote for life’s tragedies.

After several lingering stares, you could feel the way he’d tensed up.  He hated attention like this, didn’t know what to do with it other than scowl and storm off.  Which is why you lured him into this particular corner before his thoughts could get to him and yank him out of his content state, soon to banish him back to his room where he could fester.

Now you had him right where you wanted him, pink cheeked and kiss bitten, gazing at you through his eyelashes like the flirt you knew he could be.  A warm hand rested on your hip, thumb tracing the fabric of your dress again and again, almost to soothe himself rather than you.

“What, you’re too manly man to say it back?”  You taunted, dropping your voice an octave to mimic him.  Then, all too sweetly you batted your lashes, “Aren’t you gonna wish me a Happy New Year?”

“You’re a brat.”

You only pouted, overdoing it as you puckered your bottom lip the farthest it could go, eyebrows raising unnecessarily high.  You were always so much more expressive than him, something that pulled laughs from deep within his belly if he wasn’t careful.  Earning a true Logan laugh had become the highest honor, it only ever happened in the solitude of your room when you’d pull the most ridiculous jokes out of your ass that made no sense whatsoever but left him hunched over gasping for air.  It didn’t help if he was sleep deprived either, which was usually the case when he’d show up to your room in the dead of the night.

No one knew about the Logan laugh, no one but you and you’d keep that like an oath.  He rarely let his guard down but you’d been able to coax him out from behind the walls he built.

Playing with the hair at his nape, you leaned in, whining “Am not!”

Logan hummed, his forehead pressing against yours.  “That so?”  To which you hummed back, lovesick in the eyes.

From the other room, the chorus of counting echoed against the walls, the remaining ten seconds of the current year before the slate would be wiped clean.  Logan never believed any of that shit, he’d complained about so called “new starts” and “resolutions”, how they were false hope.  And yet he’d attended the party anyway, because although he didn’t believe in any of it, you did.

“3…2…1…”

“Happy New Year, Logan.”  You tried again,  gently molding your lips to his.

Rather than recite the words back, he cradled your head in one hand, the other cupping your face while he deepened the kiss, something passionate and dizzying.  Something so unlike the animal the world made him out to be.

Truth be told, being an animal happened to just be a piece of him, a piece that you’d never ask him to downplay or rid himself of.  But in moments like these, that animal surrendered to a more domesticated side, submissive in some manner, in a means of absolute devotion to his person.

He’d been hard headed and mean, you couldn’t lie and say he’d never been harsh with you before he let you in, but the harder you tried the harder he found it to push you away.  He knew the moment you cracked him and burrowed into his skin, into the cavern of his ribs where his cold heart rested, would be the moment he realized it was the beginning of the end for him.  For as many wars as he had been in, the most violent had been love each and every time. 

Logan fought hard.

But he loved even harder.

Instead of reciting the words back to you, he’d offered you something far more endearing.  He pulled away ever so slightly, a strand of saliva still connecting you, nose nudging into yours as his thumb caressed the highest point of your cheek.  His eyes regarded you with such admiration, a spark in them only he permitted you to witness.

“I love you.”

—

Well into the early hours of New Year’s Day, when the party had died out and girls were wandering around like zombies with their heels hanging off their fingertips, you and Logan had snuck into the kitchen.  Just as everyone was wrapping up their festivities, you two had only just begun as you reached for some cold slices of pizza and sat atop the counter across from each other.

“Tired yet?”  Logan asked as you yawned, a knowing smirk on his face.

Releasing your hair from the confines of your perfectly imperfect hairstyle, you smiled lazily, confirming “Exhausted.  Just exhausted.”  

“Gettin’ old like me.”  He teased.

Again, you pouted, an exaggerated plump lip jutting out toward him as you hopped off the counter, collecting empty bottles on your way to throw out a pizza box.

“No one’s old like you.”  You quirk a brow.

“Ouch.”  He smiled, finishing off his beer and following your lead, collecting the remaining empty bottles.

You didn’t bother turning around to see him grinning but you knew by his tone, the unmistakable sound of his upturned mouth.  “Oh, you’re my old man and you know that.”  With a sigh, you tie off a garbage bag, hiking it over your shoulder before you feel the weight of it disappear, instead a gentle hand lingers on your waist.

“Watch it, princess.”  He warns, giving your hip a squeeze before swatting at your ass, passing you to take the garbage out.  And as your lovesick eyes hold him in your sight for as long as possible, he opens the door with a wink before stepping out into the cold.

In his absence you busied yourself with tidying up the rest of the kitchen, discarding party horns and kicking balloons out into the hall.  It was Storm’s idea to go all out this year, usually you’d settle for a slumber party to ring in the new year but she’d insisted that there was change to be had and a majority of the others agreed.  It wasn’t often that Charles would allow for loud, extravagant parties but with a few ground rules, everything came to life.

Now it appeared as if the house was empty although it was anything but as everyone had relocated upstairs to pass out for the night.  A few individuals lingered in the family room, snores faintly heard down the hall as you chuckled to yourself.

A pile of confetti on one of the counters caught your eye, underneath it appeared to be a collection of polaroids, the ones Rogue had been taking all night of everyone.  They had been temporarily forgotten amongst celebrations and toasting but come tomorrow they would showcase precious moments printed in time that everyone would treasure. 

One in particular pulled a gasp from you, the kind that made your heart ache in the best way possible.  Right before your eyes on glossy paper was the tender moment between you and Logan in your secluded corner, or what you had thought to have been secluded at the time.  You sat in his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck while he gazed up at you with adoration dripping from his expression.  Both of his large hands held your waist and it seemed you were talking his ear off.  The moment seemed so fragile, your cautious fingers holding it by the corner.  

Just as your eyes well up with unprecedented emotion, familiar lips press against your temple, strong arms wrapping around you from behind.  

“What do we have here?”  Logan murmurs into your skin, “Most sexy woman alive taking pity on the old man-“

“Shut up.”  You laugh wetly as you turn in his arms to push at his chest, still holding onto the photo like a delicate artifact.  At this rate it would have to be pried out of your cold, dead hands.

Logan’s brown eyes softened on you, his knuckles reaching up to brush your cheek before asking, “What’s wrong, bub?”  

What he failed to realize was that nothing had been wrong at all.  In fact, it was the total opposite.  For once everything had been exactly how it should be.  You were right where you should be.  Years of trying to fit in meant nothing to you when you fit so effortlessly right in his arms, right by his side, just with him.  

“Nothing.”  You whispered.  And meant it this time. 

[ratwars2023]

sigh. “vocaloid is the same as AI art” if you spent even ten minutes messing around in utau you would understand how much skill and artistry tuning takes. apologize right now.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

WOVEN BONDS IS AMAZING!!!!! Pls make part 2,3,4,5,6 😭🫡💖

woven bonds pt 2

this was very requested so here we are!!

You've been sold to an orc by your father, and after shutting yourself in for a few weeks, youve finally started to come to enjoy your new husbands company

warnings/tags- bedrotting, arranged marrige but pertah loves you so thats nice, pert'ah speaks with semi-broken english

word count- 1167

The days that followed were filled with silence, but it was a different kind of silence. No longer filled with the heavy weight of anger or hopelessness, it was instead filled with uncertainty. Pert'ah continued his routine—bringing you food, speaking to you in soft tones, always giving you space while he worked outside or wove intricate tapestries by the hearth. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.

Yet, you felt a change inside yourself.

It was small at first. One morning, after he had left a bowl of fruit by your bedside, you reached out and took a piece, biting into it with a sense of resignation. It was sweeter than you had expected, and you found yourself eating more. That night, you ate a bit of the stew he left. It wasn’t the same as the dishes from your old home, but it was warm, hearty, and made with care.

Pert'ah noticed. You could see the relief in his eyes when he glanced at the empty bowl later that day. He didn’t say anything, but the gentle way his lips turned upward spoke volumes. 

As days passed, you started to leave the bed for longer periods. You’d sit by the window and watch him work outside. Pert'ah would spend hours weaving, his large hands surprisingly nimble as they guided the threads into beautiful patterns. Sometimes, he would carve small figures out of wood or clay, his concentration deep as he brought the raw materials to life. The more you watched him, the more you saw the softness behind his hardened exterior. There was an artistry to everything he did, a careful thoughtfulness.

Slowly, you began to speak to him.

It wasn’t much at first—a word here, a question there—but Pert'ah’s eyes lit up each time you addressed him. His responses were always careful, his voice soft and unsure as if he feared saying the wrong thing and scaring you away.

One evening, you found yourself standing outside the hut, watching him work on a large tapestry. The orange light from the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting warm shadows over his figure. He glanced up when he noticed you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he couldn’t believe you were there.

"I… I work on this for winter," he said, standing up slowly, dusting off his hands. "Keep us warm."

You nodded, stepping closer. The tapestry was beautiful, its rich colors weaving together in patterns of leaves and flowers. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, a testament to his skill.

"It’s… it’s beautiful," you said softly, your voice quiet but sincere.

Pert'ah’s eyes widened slightly. He looked at you as though you had given him the greatest compliment in the world. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he took a step toward you, his large hand tentatively reaching out as though he wanted to touch your arm, but he hesitated.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice low, almost shy. "I… I make it for you. For us."

You felt something in your chest stir at his words, a warmth that was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Pert'ah had been nothing but kind to you, patient in a way you had never expected from an orc. And now, as you stood in the golden light of dusk, watching him look at you with such raw vulnerability, you realized you were no longer as angry as you once were.

In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn to him more and more. Pert'ah would tell you stories of his clan, how he had been raised as a weaver and how orc culture was not as warlike as humans believed. He would sit by the fire in the evenings, his deep voice filling the room as he spoke of the orcs’ long history of craftsmanship, of art, and of building rather than destroying.

And slowly, your barriers began to crumble.

One night, after dinner, you sat together in the hut, the fire crackling softly as you both shared a quiet moment. Pert'ah was working on another carving, his large fingers skillfully shaping the wood into something delicate. You watched him for a while, fascinated by the contrast between his size and the gentleness of his craft.

"Why… why do you make so many things?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Pert'ah paused, looking up at you with a small smile. "I make because I love it. It make world… more beautiful." His eyes softened as they met yours. "And now… I make for you."

The way he said it, so simple and yet so full of meaning, made your heart skip a beat. Pert'ah wasn’t just making things to fill the space. He was making them for you, offering pieces of himself in every woven thread and carved figure. 

Over time, Pert'ah became more than just the orc you had been forced to marry. He became the person you looked forward to seeing each day, the one who spoke to you with care and treated you with a tenderness that slowly melted away your fears.

Pert'ah, for his part, was falling deeper in love with you with each passing day. He adored every small smile you gave him, every word you spoke. It was as though you were the center of his world now, and he wanted nothing more than to make you happy. He would wake up early to prepare your meals, always trying new dishes to see which ones you liked. He would carve small figures for you, weaving your favorite flowers into tapestries.

His love grew more intense, almost obsessive, but never in a way that felt suffocating. He watched you with reverence, always making sure to give you the space you needed, but it was clear in his eyes—Pert'ah was head over heels in love. You had become his muse, his heart, and every moment with you only deepened his feelings.

One night, as you sat together by the fire, Pert'ah spoke softly, his voice filled with emotion.

"[Name]… I never think I can feel like this. You make my heart… full." He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "I love you. I love you more than anything. I do anything for you. Alway.."

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession. You could feel the depth of his feelings, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of rejection or acceptance.For the first time, you didn’t shy away. Instead, you reached out, placing your hand gently on his. His skin was warm, rough but comforting beneath your touch.

"I don’t know if I’m ready to say that yet," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But… I do care about you, Pert'ah."

His face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart flutter. "That enough for me. I wait for you..alway.."

And for the first time since your marriage, you smiled back.

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 3

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 4.6k

warning; blood, vomit °°3

notes; hello hello everyone, here is the part 3 a bit earlier this time ! Please take into account the warnings it's nothing to big but I rather mention them before. Otherwise don't hesitate to comment (I'm down to see if you guys have some theories for the next parts :)) ) or ask to be on the tag list ;)) See you soon, bisous bisoussss

here is the link for part 2 or part 4

---

The morning sun had barely risen over Velaris when you began preparing for your trip to the Winter Court. The crisp air carried a hint of frost, a promise of the cold that awaited you in Kallias’s domain. Your latest commission was an intricate and challenging one—a weapon requested personally by the High Lord of the Winter Court. The order was for a ceremonial glaive, crafted with a blade of shimmering, icy blue steel that seemed to capture the essence of winter itself. The hilt was designed to resemble the ancient trees of the Court, with delicate, frost-like etchings that trailed along its length, meeting a pommel embedded with a crystal that glittered like freshly fallen snow.

You admired the weapon one last time as you packed it carefully in a protective case. The glaive was a masterpiece, a blend of artistry and power that you were proud to deliver personally. But as you were finalizing your preparations, Alex approached you, his expression a mix of determination and concern.

“Nana, I think I should stay in Velaris,” Alex began, his tone firm despite the lingering traces of the boyish enthusiasm he usually carried. “The shop needs someone here, and I can handle things while you’re gone.”

You paused, turning to face him fully. “Alex, it’s not just about the shop. Leaving you on your own in Velaris for a week, it’s not safe.”

Alex crossed his arms, his brows furrowed in a way that reminded you of your younger self. “But Nana, you’re the one who taught me how to take care of myself. And besides, business is going great! We can't afford to close the shop for a week, maybe even longer. I can just tell customers that we’re temporarily closed for new orders, but that we are still selling regular weapons.”

You sighed, considering his words. “It’s not just about the money, Alex. It’s about making sure everything stays secure. The shop, our work, you—it’s all important.”

Alex stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “And that’s exactly why I should stay. I know how much this place means to you, to us. I’ll make sure nothing happens, I promise. Stellan can stay with me for protection, and you know he’s more than capable of keeping any trouble away.”

You glanced at Stellan, who was lounging nearby, his dark eyes watching the conversation with quiet understanding. The direwolf had been your protector for years, and you knew that with him by Alex’s side, there was little to fear.

“But Alex, you’re still young. I can’t help but worry,” you said softly, your concern evident in your voice.

Alex’s expression softened, but his resolve didn’t waver. “I know, Nana. But you’ve trained me well. I can handle the shop, and Stellan will keep me safe. Besides, I’ll just be here in Velaris—it’s not like I’m going anywhere dangerous. You’ll be back before I know it, and everything will be just fine.”

You hesitated, the protective instinct within you clashing with the knowledge that Alex was more capable than you sometimes gave him credit for. The truth was, he was right. Business was good enough that closing the orders for a week wouldn’t be a disaster, and with Stellan at his side, the risks were minimal.

Finally, you sighed, nodding in reluctant agreement. “Alright, Alex. You can stay, but promise me you’ll be careful. No taking on new orders, just handle any clients who come by and tell them we’re temporarily closed for them. And if anything happens—anything at all—you send word to me immediately.”

A grin spread across Alex’s face, a mix of relief and excitement. “I promise, Nana. I won’t let you down.”

You smiled, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I know you won’t, Alex. Just remember, Stellan’s there to protect you, but don’t take any unnecessary risks. I’ll be back before you know it.”

As you finalized your preparations, you brought Stellan downstairs, where he immediately positioned himself near Alex, his massive frame a comforting presence. “Keep an eye on him, Stellan,” you said softly, rubbing the direwolf’s head. Stellan’s eyes met yours, and you felt reassured by the silent understanding between you.

With everything settled, you turned to Alex once more. “I’ll leave early tomorrow. You know where the emergency contacts are, and if anything comes up, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Alex nodded, his expression serious now that the plan was set. “I’ve got it covered, Nana. Just focus on your trip and getting that amazing glaive to Kallias.”

You smiled, feeling a mixture of pride and a hint of anxiety as you realized how much Alex had grown. “Thank you, Alex. I’ll bring you back something from the Winter Court.”

Night had fallen over Velaris, and the familiar routine of winding down the day had set in. You were seated in your bed, sketchbook open on your lap as you meticulously worked on the designs for your next project. The soft light of the moon filtered through the curtains, mingling with the warm glow of the candles, creating a peaceful ambiance. Alex was fast asleep beside you, his breathing slow and even, the day’s events having worn him out.

Stellan, ever vigilant, lay at the foot of the bed, his eyes half-closed but his senses still sharp. As you sketched, you felt a deep sense of contentment, the tranquility of the moment wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. But that peace was suddenly shattered.

Within seconds, the atmosphere in the room changed. The air felt thicker, charged with something ominous that set your nerves on edge. Stellan’s ears shot up, his body tensing as a low growl rumbled from deep within his chest. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you felt a chill run down your spine.

Before you could react, a dark shadow coalesced in the corner of the room, and Azriel, the shadow singer, materialized before you. His face was grim, his usual calm demeanor replaced with urgency. "We need you," he said, his voice clipped and direct, wasting no time on pleasantries.

Without another word, he reached for your arm, his grip firm but not harsh. The world around you blurred as shadows enveloped you both, and in the blink of an eye, you were no longer in your apartment.

You arrived at the House of Wind, the sudden change in surroundings leaving you momentarily disoriented. The grand, familiar architecture did nothing to ease the confusion swirling in your mind. Azriel was already moving, his expression dark and unyielding as he led you down a corridor.

"Azriel, what’s going on?" you demanded, struggling to keep up with him. The urgency in his movements only heightened your anxiety. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I don’t have time to explain," he replied, his voice tight with controlled emotion. "You’ll understand when you see it."

That statement did nothing to calm your nerves, but you followed him without further question, your heart pounding in your chest. The path he led you down seemed endless, the tension in the air growing thicker with each step. Finally, he pushed open a heavy door and ushered you inside.

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of herbs and something far less pleasant—blood. Your eyes immediately landed on Rhysand, who stood near the bed with a look of barely-contained worry. Madja, the healer, was at his side, her face set in grim determination. But it was the sight of Cassian that made your breath catch in your throat.

He was lying on the bed, his usually powerful and imposing figure reduced to a broken and battered state. His wings, once magnificent and strong, were shattered—twisted at unnatural angles, with blood staining the once-proud feathers. The sight was enough to bring a sharp gasp to your lips, your hand instinctively covering your mouth.

Madja’s eyes met yours, and in that moment, you understood why Azriel had brought you here. There was no hesitation in her voice as she spoke. "Y/N, we need your power. You’re the only one who can heal him."

Your heart raced, fear and uncertainty clawing at your insides. You had never used your abilities on something this severe before, and the mere thought of it sent a wave of doubt crashing over you. But as you looked at Cassian, writhing in pain and clinging to consciousness, you knew there was no other choice.

Steeling yourself, you stepped forward and surveyed the state of his wings. The damage was extensive, and you knew that to heal them properly, you needed to use your power to its full potential—a process that required something very specific.

You turned to Azriel, your gaze falling on the blade at his side. "Truth-Teller," you said, nodding toward the dagger.

Azriel hesitated for a moment but then handed you the blade without question, his eyes dark with concern. Taking a deep breath, you positioned yourself over Cassian, holding your arm above his wings. With a swift motion, you made a shallow cut along your forearm, letting your blood drip onto the mangled wings below.

Azriel's eyes widened as blue flames flickered to life where your blood touched, spreading over Cassian’s wings. "Y/N, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You glanced at him, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Don’t worry. The fire doesn’t burn—it heals."

As the flames grew, their warmth enveloping Cassian’s broken wings, you focused all of your energy on mending the shattered bones and torn flesh. The process was intense, your body straining under the effort as the flames worked their magic, knitting together what had been broken.

But as the flames did their work, a frown creased your brow. Something wasn’t right. You could feel it—a lingering darkness that wasn’t being touched by your fire. Once the wings were fully healed, you stepped back, still frowning as you scanned Cassian’s body for the source of the disturbance.

"Rhysand, Azriel," you said, your voice tense, "help me turn him over."

They moved quickly, carefully shifting Cassian onto his back. You placed one hand on his face and the other over his heart, closing your eyes as you focused on the strange, dark presence that clung to him.

Madja watched you closely, her expression filled with concern. "Y/N, what’s going on? What do you feel?"

Your eyes snapped open, and without answering her, you leaned down, your instincts guiding you as you pressed your lips to Cassian’s mouth. The taste was bitter, acrid, and wrong. You inhaled sharply, feeling the dark presence surge up, and with a gag, you spit out a thick, black liquid.

But it wasn’t over. You reached into Cassian’s mouth, your fingers searching, feeling for the source of the darkness. Your hand closed around something cold and solid, and with a grimace of effort, you began to pull. 

A long, snake-like spirit, dark and twisted, slithered from Cassian’s throat, its form writhing in your grasp. It fought against you, but you held firm, your determination outweighing the horror of what you were doing.

"Hold him straight!" you commanded, urgency in your voice.

Rhysand and Azriel quickly moved to hold Cassian upright, their faces etched with shock and concern. As they did, Cassian began to vomit, thick black liquid spewing from his mouth and covering you as you knelt in front of him. You didn’t flinch, your focus entirely on the cursed spirit in your hand.

With a final, forceful pull, you yanked the spirit free from Cassian’s body. It writhed in your grip, hissing and snapping, but it was powerless outside of its host. You held it aloft, the dark entity thrashing violently as you turned to the others.

Rhysand, covered in a mixture of concern and gratitude, stared at you, his voice calm but firm. “I think we all need some explanations, Y/N."

Breathing heavily, your body and clothes drenched in Cassian’s vomit and the remnants of the cursed spirit, you nodded wearily. "I’ll explain everything," you said, glancing down at yourself with a hint of exasperation. "But first... I need a shower. I’m still covered in Cassian’s… well, everything.”

—— 

Rhysand led you through the winding halls of the House of Wind, his pace measured and deliberate. The tension from the night’s events lingered in the air, a heavy reminder of the seriousness of the situation. He stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a room that was both elegant and functional, with the understated luxury typical of Velaris.

The room was furnished with deep, rich fabrics, the bed draped in dark, sumptuous linens. A fireplace crackled softly in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the walls. A balcony at the far end of the room offered a breathtaking view of Velaris, the city’s lights twinkling like stars against the backdrop of the night sky. Beyond, the Sidra River glimmered in the moonlight, its gentle flow a calming presence.

Rhysand gestured toward an adjoining door. “The bath is through there. Take your time, Y/N. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

You nodded, your body aching with exhaustion and your mind still spinning from the events that had just transpired. As you entered the bathroom, you were greeted by the sight of a grand, sunken bath made of smooth marble. The water was already drawn, steaming gently and scented with soothing herbs that filled the air with a calming aroma.

You sank into the bath, letting the warmth seep into your bones, washing away the grime and tension. The soft light of candles flickered around you, the scent of lavender and eucalyptus soothing your frazzled nerves. As you soaked, you allowed your thoughts to drift back to that night long ago when everything had changed.

You had been just a child, wandering through the woods late at night. The night was alive with shooting stars, bright streaks of light cutting across the dark sky. You’d been entranced, watching the stars fall when you stumbled upon a glowing entity lying in a small crater, its form otherworldly and beautiful. It was like a scene from a dream, the world around you shimmering with magic.

The creature had been weak, its light flickering like a dying flame. It had reached out to you, a small, scared girl, asking for your help in a voice that echoed in your mind rather than your ears. You hadn’t understood the full weight of the decision at the time, but you had agreed to help it, to take it into yourself, binding its essence to yours. From that night forward, you were never the same.

After your bath, you stepped out and found a set of clothes laid out for you—fitting for Velaris, yet with a touch of practicality that matched your own preferences. A tailored tunic of deep indigo, embroidered with subtle patterns, paired with fitted leather pants that allowed for ease of movement. A sturdy yet elegant belt completed the outfit, cinching at your waist with a silver clasp. It was both comfortable and suited for someone who needed to be ready for anything.

Once dressed, you stepped out onto the balcony for a moment, letting the cool night air brush against your face. The view from the House of Wind was nothing short of spectacular, the city of Velaris spread out beneath you like a sparkling jewel. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to breathe in the peace of the night, to let the beauty of Velaris ground you before you had to face the others.

When you returned to the main room, Rhysand was seated near the fireplace, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. Azriel stood off to the side, half-hidden in the shadows, his gaze flickering toward you as you entered. He didn’t sit but remained in the shadows, a silent sentinel. There was something different in the way he looked at you now—something intense, as if he were seeing you in a new light.

You moved toward them, your steps measured as you took a seat across from Rhysand. The silence between you all was thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken questions and the lingering shock of what had just occurred.

“How’s Cassian?” you asked, breaking the silence, your voice quieter than usual.

Rhysand’s expression remained neutral, his violet eyes sharp and assessing. “Madja is with him. He’s stable, thanks to you. His wings will heal in time, and the curse… whatever it was, is gone.”

You nodded, relief mixing with the residual tension in your chest. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Rhysand’s gaze didn’t waver as he continued, his tone calm but probing. “Madja told us about the healing flames, but what you did tonight—extracting that curse—it’s something we didn’t expect. We need to know, Y/N. How is it possible?”

You took a deep breath, the memories of your past stirring once more. You could feel Azriel’s eyes on you, a strange, unreadable intensity in his gaze that only added to the tension in the room. But you pushed it aside, focusing on the question at hand.

“We all make mistakes,” you began, your voice steady, though the weight of the words pressed heavily on you. “When I was young, I made a contract with a creature that fell from the sky. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before—an entity of pure power, beautiful and terrifying.”

Rhysand leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable as he listened. “A contract?”

You nodded, your gaze distant as you recalled that night in the woods. “I was just a little girl, alone and afraid. I was out in the woods, mesmerized by the falling stars when I stumbled upon this creature. It was weak, dying, and it asked for my help. It needed a host—someone to share its power with, in exchange for life. I didn’t understand what I was agreeing to, but I said yes. I took its essence into me, and from that moment on, it became a part of me.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he remained silent, his posture tense. There was something almost protective in the way he watched you, though he kept his distance, as if struggling with his own thoughts.

Rhysand’s gaze remained steady, assessing you as you spoke. “And that’s how you gained your abilities.”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “The creature’s power is vast, but it’s also dangerous. I’ve had to learn to control it, to keep it from consuming me. The blue flames you saw—they’re just one aspect of it. But tonight, with Cassian… I could feel the curse inside him, a darkness that my flames alone couldn’t touch. I had to draw it out, to confront it directly.”

“And the curse?” Rhysand asked, his tone careful.

“It was tied to something much darker,” you explained. “The creature’s power allowed me to see it, to pull it out before it could do more harm. It was a risk, but I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Azriel shifted slightly, his gaze softening as he listened. There was a tension in his posture, as if he were grappling with something internally, but he remained silent, letting Rhysand lead the conversation.

Rhysand exchanged a glance with Azriel before turning back to you. “You’ve been carrying this burden alone for a long time.”

You nodded, the weight of your confession settling over you. “I didn’t want to involve anyone else. It’s my responsibility, my mistake.”

Rhysand’s expression softened just slightly, though his voice remained firm. “You’re part of this court now, Y/N. You don’t have to face this alone.”

Azriel’s gaze met yours across the room, and for a brief moment, something unspoken passed between you—a connection that felt both new and ancient, as if something had shifted irreversibly between you two.

As you finished recounting your story, the room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of everything hanging in the air. You sighed softly, rubbing your temples as the exhaustion from the night caught up with you. Finally, you stood, a sense of duty pulling you back to the reality of your responsibilities.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done,” you began, glancing between Rhysand and Azriel. “But I need to get back home. Tomorrow, I’m supposed to leave for the Winter Court to deliver Kallias’s order.”

At your words, Azriel’s expression immediately shifted. His brows furrowed, and he took a step forward, his posture rigid with concern. “That’s not possible. You can’t go alone—it’s too dangerous.”

You met his gaze, a flicker of frustration sparking within you. “Azriel, I’ve been traveling alone for hundreds of years. I’ve crossed continents, faced dangers you can’t imagine. I know how to take care of myself.”

Azriel’s frown deepened, his eyes darkening with a mix of worry and something more. “Things have changed. After what happened tonight, we can’t take any chances. The roads to the Winter Court aren’t safe, especially not for someone like you.”

You took a step closer to him, squaring your shoulders, determined not to be underestimated. “I’ve handled myself just fine, Azriel. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not some fragile thing that needs protecting. I’ve faced worse than bandits or creatures in the wild. I can deal with it.”

Azriel opened his mouth to argue further, his wings flaring slightly in his agitation, but Rhysand raised a hand, cutting him off. “Azriel, calm down,” Rhysand said, his tone soothing yet firm. He then turned to you, his expression more measured. “We know you can handle yourself, Y/N, and we trust your judgment. But just promise us you’ll be careful.”

You nodded, appreciating their concern but determined to maintain your independence. “I will. I’ve been traveling for centuries, and I know how to handle whatever comes my way. I’ll be back next week, and we can talk more then.”

Rhysand offered you a small, understanding smile. “We’ll look forward to it. There’s much more to discuss, and we’ll be here when you return.”

Azriel, still tense, stepped closer, his gaze intense but still filled with worry. “I’ll fly you back to your place,” he said, his tone steady but leaving no room for argument. “It’s late, and you should rest before your journey.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Azriel.”

Before you could step out into the cool night air, Azriel shrugged off his jacket—a soft, dark leather that still carried the warmth of his body—and draped it over your shoulders. The jacket was far too big for you, the sleeves hanging well past your hands, but the warmth and the gesture itself made your heart skip a beat.

“It’s cold out,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper in the quiet of the night. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he added, “And the wind can be biting when we’re flying.”

You pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, the scent of leather and something distinctly Azriel surrounding you. “Thank you,” you murmured, genuinely touched by the small act of kindness.

With his jacket securely around you, Azriel stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you effortlessly as his wings unfurled. The warmth of the jacket and his presence eased the chill of the night, and as he took off into the sky, the cold wind seemed to matter less.

Flying with Azriel, wrapped in his jacket, you felt a strange comfort. The world around you blurred momentarily as the ground fell away, and then the night opened up before you—a vast expanse of stars and the twinkling lights of Velaris below. The city was breathtaking from this height, the Sidra River winding through it like a ribbon of silver, reflecting the moonlight in shimmering patterns. The rooftops of the city glowed softly, the night alive with a quiet, serene beauty that took your breath away. Everything became a blur of twinkling lights and darkened streets, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, soaring through the night sky, sharing a silence that felt more like an understanding than anything else.

The cool wind whipped through your hair as Azriel flew, his strong wings cutting through the air with practiced ease. Despite the speed, his flight was smooth, each powerful beat of his wings propelling you forward with a steady, unerring grace. You found yourself momentarily entranced by the view, the way the world seemed so peaceful from up here, so distant from the chaos and dangers you had faced below.

Azriel’s grip on you was firm but gentle, his warmth a comforting presence in the cold night air. You could feel the tension in his body, the silent worry that still lingered despite your reassurances. It was as if every beat of his wings was fueled by an unspoken need to keep you safe, to ensure you returned to Velaris unharmed.

The flight was over too quickly, and before you knew it, you were descending toward your apartment. Azriel landed lightly, setting you down with care. The ground felt solid beneath your feet again, but you couldn’t shake the lingering sensation of being cradled by the night sky.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, offering him a small smile. “I’ll be fine, Azriel. I’ll be back next week, and we’ll talk then.”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening just slightly. “I’ll be waiting. Just… be careful, Y/N.”

“I always am,” you replied, giving him a reassuring look before turning to head inside.

As you thanked him one last time and made your way inside, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the jacket—a comforting reminder of the connection that had silently grown between you two.

As you quietly made your way up the stairs to your apartment, the door creaked open to reveal Alex waiting for you in the living room, his arms crossed and a comically exaggerated look of suspicion on his face. Stellan was by his side, watching you with calm, knowing eyes, but Alex’s expression was what really caught your attention.

“What is going on, young lady?” Alex began, his voice mock-serious. “A guy intrudes our place, you run off with him without a word, and then you come back hours later with different clothes, a MEN’s jacket, and then he flies you home? Hmm, hmm, hmm…”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his over-the-top delivery, the tension from the night finally breaking as you took in his antics. “Alex, I promise, it’s not what it looks like!”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a smirk. “Oh, really? Because it sure sounds like something out of those romance stories people talk about. Are you sure you’re not hiding something from me?”

Still chuckling, you shook your head, stepping further into the apartment. “I was helping a friend, that’s all. And the clothes were a necessity after… well, let’s just say the night got messy.”

Alex’s grin widened, clearly enjoying every bit of this. “And the flying home part?”

You sighed, though your smile remained. “That was just Azriel being… protective. And practical.”

“Uh-huh,” Alex nodded sagely, as if he had it all figured out. “Sure, sure. Just Azriel being ‘protective.’”

You reached out to ruffle his hair, playfully messing it up. “Enough, you little troublemaker. It’s late, and we both need to get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Alex laughed, batting your hand away but finally relenting. “Alright, alright. But you’re not off the hook, Nana. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

You gave him a mock salute. “Duly noted, Captain.”

As you headed to your room, Stellan trailing behind you, you couldn’t help but smile at Alex’s antics. Despite the seriousness of the night, his playful teasing was exactly what you needed to lighten the mood.

And as you finally settled into bed, the weight of the day easing off your shoulders, you knew that no matter what challenges the Winter Court or the future might bring, you were ready to face them—with Alex’s humorous observations always keeping you grounded.

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[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 2

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.5k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

fic summary: When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

a/n: it's time to figure out what Karga's plan is. 👀 See my notes at the end and on the masterlist about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: gen, ballet terms (see end notes and the masterlist for definitions and videos), a bit of angst, a bit of fluff

Chapter 2

You were one of the last people to enter the studio for rehearsal and realized the entire company had been gathered together. You hurried over to sit by Adrian and Owen before looking around and noticing Djarin was in the corner, deep in conversation with Kuiil. Maybe they had met before, after all.

Karga walked in just as you sat down and clapped his hands. “Well! Hello, everyone. First, let us welcome our newest company member, Din Djarin.” He paused and gestured towards the corner where Djarin was standing, smiling as you all clapped and stamped the floor. You glanced over to him and saw that he was leaning against the wall with his shoulders loose and arms crossed, expressionless mask back in place. “We are very happy to have him join us. Please introduce yourselves and welcome him when you see him.” Djarin didn’t react and you wondered how those introductions would go. “Now, we have a few announcements about changes to the spring programs.”

You felt Adrian elbow you and you elbowed him back without looking. 

“As I mentioned earlier this week, we won’t be making any changes to Midsummer, Swan Lake, or Cinderella.” You heard Adrian breathe a sigh of relief beside you and you nudged him again. “But we will be making some changes to the other shows. As you know, we have three mixed programs planned for spring, as well as the 5th anniversary gala.” 

Karga waved one hand and started to tick off his fingers as he continued. “For the first program, we’ll be adding a solo performance for Din. Given that one is so soon, in January, we don’t want to disrupt things too much.”

You heard some murmurs and saw some of your fellow dancers nodding. That made sense, and it sounded like they were going to spread out the changes. It also added a draw for the audience, to get to see Din Djarin alone on stage. A real showcase for his skill and artistry.

“For February’s program,” Karga turned to Talia, who was mostly in charge of that one, and nodded. “Din will be joining the Balanchine ballet. You’ll discuss that in your next rehearsal.” Talia nodded back at him, and then glanced over the dancers. You tried to not to wince – someone would be losing a role, then. Probably more than one person. But it didn’t make sense to not play to Djarin’s strengths, and something as technical as Symphony in C was perfect for him. And it was possible that he’d performed it before at CBC, anyway — they didn’t do a lot of Balanchine, but if they did, they’d pick Symphony in C.

“For April, we’ll be adding something new.” Karga looked over to one of the choreographers, Vince, who nodded at the room. “More to come on that, but it will be a small group.” You wondered if they would give the dancers who would be demoted in Symphony a chance in this new number – Karga was usually good about things like that. You glanced at Adrian and knew he was thinking the same thing as he glanced around at some of the others. 

“And finally, the gala!” Karga grinned hugely. You all knew he’d been looking forward to this for months, if not years – May would mark the 5th anniversary since he’d taken over and then renamed and reinvigorated NBT. The gala was his baby. You could feel a sudden tension move through the room – many of the dancers were slated to do something new or interesting during the gala and you knew no one would want to give up their roles, which were meant to be a true showcase of the company’s talent. You briefly wondered if they’d be adding Djarin to the longer ballet again, and if so, how much strife that might cause with the principals who were supposed to be in it.

But it seemed Karga had a different idea. “We will keep what is already planned just as it is, with one exception. We’ll be adding a three-part pas de deux to the program for Din and a partner. it will be spread over the course of the night, woven between the other numbers.” You blinked, surprised – it was definitely a novel idea, and you could see others trying to hide their surprise as well. “We will announce Din’s partner, and any resulting changes, soon. Kuiil will choreograph this new pas de deux.”

The room couldn’t hide its reaction this time. There were murmurs and glances that betrayed everyone’s shock – Kuiil was a very contemporary choreographer, with an only somewhat neo-classical repertoire.

And everyone knew Din Djarin was a master of the classical style. You’d never seen or heard anything that would suggest he had any familiarity with, or even interest in, more contemporary or expressive styles.

You wondered if this had been the subject of their argument in Karga’s office.

“And so that is our plan! Thank you, everyone, for your attention. I leave you to your rehearsals.” Karga nodded and swept from the room. The door closed behind him and the noise level rose sharply as everyone began to discuss his announcements. You heard Adrian and Owen start guessing at the changes in the February Balanchine number and your eyes strayed across the room to find Djarin.

But he was already gone. You caught only a glimpse of his shoulder as he slipped out the door.

…

The next few days were unremarkable, despite all of the recent changes. Djarin attended morning class but always slipped out the door as soon as it was over. As far as you knew, none of the other dancers had even had a conversation with him yet. He seemed to always be slipping out the door of every room as soon as he could. 

With opening night only two weeks away, your rehearsal hours were filled with the Nutcracker and little else. As Djarin wasn’t going to be in it, you never saw him in the afternoons. You heard updates from the others – Clara told you about some of the changes to the February Balanchine ballet, and Yuri had seen Djarin working on his solo for January with Talia. They had apparently chosen a medley of moments and scenes from La Bayadère, which seemed perfect for someone with Djarin’s level of skill. Talia had to be beside herself – technically challenging ballets were her favorite.

Adrian had the full rundown on who had been shifted around and who had been given new roles in the April show, and it sounded like everyone was at least mollified if not happy about the changes.

You didn’t see Djarin again outside of the morning company class for almost two weeks. It was late in the evening on a Wednesday – you’d had some physical therapy exercises for your ankles to complete after your last rehearsal, and you were finally headed home to have dinner and rest before a couple of easier days of show prep. The two-week run of Nutcracker performances would start on Friday and you needed the rest before the chaos began. 

You turned the corner into the building’s large lobby and found him kneeling on the ground in front of a small child. Maybe 4 or 5 years old, if you had to guess. He was adjusting the kid’s jacket and talking to him softly.

You retreated around the corner and tried not to draw attention to yourself, but you couldn’t help but stare as you came to a stop. 

“Hey,” Djarin’s deep voice sent a shiver down your spine. It was soft and warm as he spoke to the (his?) kid. “You ready to go home?”

The kid nodded, and his little green hat flopped around on his head as he did so. You glanced between them and for the first time, you saw Din Djarin smile. It spread across his face and you watched, mesmerized, as a dimple appeared in his cheek and his eyes crinkled. 

It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Shit. 

“Alright, kid. Let’s go.” Still smiling, he stood and held out his hand. The kid grabbed two of his fingers and they headed for the door. You were pretty sure they hadn’t even noticed you were there.

You blinked, a bit dazed. As you slowly moved towards the door yourself, you decided it had to be his kid – he’d mentioned going home, after all. And it put all of his quick exits in a new light, if he had childcare to worry about. 

You resolved not to mention this new possibility to the rumor mill.

…

By the end of the two week run of Nutcracker, you were exhausted. Long days of class, sometimes a short rehearsal, and early call times for shows left you worn out and ready for a break. On the Monday after a final show you always felt like you’d been hit by a truck, and this Monday was no different. You slept in for once, looking forward to a few days off for the holidays and a slow return to steady rehearsals after the new year.

In those few weeks you hadn’t seen any sign of the kid again. You’d barely seen Djarin at all, once again only catching sight of the back of his head as he slipped out of the door after morning class. (Whether you’d been watching him even more during class wasn’t something you wanted to own up to, even to yourself.) Given the hectic Nutcracker schedule and the fact that he wasn’t in the show, you weren’t really surprised that you hadn’t run into him.

You spent a comfortable few days relaxing, cleaning, and visiting friends before starting to prepare for the busy return to rehearsals in January.

During your first few days back in the studio in the new year, you focused on getting through class and warming yourself up. A few days off wasn’t enough to get truly rusty, but it felt nice to stretch and focus on moving your body.

After class on Thursday you found yourself alone as you walked down the hallway towards rehearsal for the January mixed program. You’d stopped to chat with Alexa for a few minutes about a tricky section of your choreography as Hermia in Midsummer, which was coming up at the end of February. It seemed everyone else was gone by the time you were done – you said goodbye to her and stepped out into an empty hall. As you walked you went over the choreography again in your mind, remembering Alexa’s advice about staying connected through the movements and briefly closing your eyes to focus.

Eyes still closed, you turned the corner to walk past the administrative offices and collided face-first with something tall and warm. And muscular. Your hands came up belatedly to catch you.

“Oh!” You startled and opened your eyes to find both of your hands resting on a broad chest in a tight black shirt. You blinked and lifted your gaze, pretty certain you knew who you would find. 

Din Djarin looked down at you with an unreadable expression. You blinked and realized his big hands were cupping your elbows, holding you upright.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking—“ you cleared your throat and tried to step back from him, but for a moment he held you in place. You met his eyes again and couldn’t read anything in them. 

Then he released you suddenly and you both took a step back. “Sorry. I was thinking about some choreography and not where I was walking.”

Djarin nodded and spoke the first words he’d ever said to you directly, face still expressionless. “It’s fine.” His voice was deep and somehow warm, despite how closed off he seemed.

You hesitated, remembering how Karga had encouraged all of you to be welcoming, weeks ago. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself.” You did so then and bit your lip. 

He nodded and did the same, even though you obviously knew his name. “Din. Nice to meet you.”

You nodded, too. “Are you heading to rehearsal?” You motioned behind him in that sort of let’s-walk-together way that people tended to do. He nodded and turned and you found yourself walking casually next to Din Djarin. You wracked your brain for a topic of conversation. 

“Um,” you started without looking at him. “What are you working on this afternoon?”

You felt him look at you but didn’t look back. “My solo for later this month, with Talia, and then joining the Balanchine rehearsal for February.” You felt a shiver travel down your spine. His voice – you weren’t sure you were going to get used to it any time soon. It was so deep.

You nodded, glancing at him. He was still looking at you. “How’s it going?”

His expression didn’t change at all. “It's fine. Most of them were in Nutcracker so it’s picking up more now.” You nodded again. You weren’t sure what to say next, but to your surprise, he asked you a question.

“Have you danced the lead in marzipan before this year?”

You were surprised, but answered easily. “Once. I was in it but not the lead last year, and Yuna was sick for one of the shows. She was sugarplum this time. I, um, just made first soloist this year.” You could hear your self-deprecating tone and hoped he wasn’t thinking you weren’t up to it. You didn’t think he’d really noticed you – or anyone, for that matter – in class. 

But he surprised you again. “I saw one of the shows. You danced it well. Like you know it perfectly, but you made it your own. It felt light and airy. Like it should. I liked what you did with the pirouettes in the middle. And the rond de jambes at the end.”

With each compliment in his steady, matter-of-fact tone you felt the heat rise more in your cheeks. Your mouth fell open in surprise. You’d never heard him say so much all at once. “Oh! Um, thank you. I– well. Thank you.” He’d noticed you? And not just you, but the small ways you had tried to make the choreography your own? He’d seen that? You were stunned.

You looked at him again but found nothing in his expression. It was impossible to tell what he might be thinking. You wondered if you should say something else, or compliment him in return, but you’d reached the rehearsal studios and he turned to enter the smaller one. 

“See you in class.” He slipped through the door and was gone. 

You blinked and turned slowly to continue down the hall. You found Karga walking slowly towards you from the opposite direction.

“Hello, my dear,” he smiled warmly. “I see you’ve met Din.”

You nodded. “Yes, well. We’ve been in class together, of course. But yes, we just met. Officially, I guess.”

He patted your shoulder as he passed you. “Good, good. Have a good rehearsal.”

You thanked him and continued towards the studio in a daze, with Djarin’s – no, Din’s – voice running through your head. You danced it well. 

You couldn’t wait to tell Adrian. He was never going to believe it.

...

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a/n: we've met Din! 👀 some ballet notes ~

Classical vs. contemporary ballet - this is a pretty good (short) overview. Din's old company (CBC) was basically classical-only, which is how some are. Here's a short clip of a classical performance vs. a very contemporary one.

"Mixed programs" vs. story ballets - most companies will have some number of story ballets on the schedule every season (think Swan Lake, Cinderella, Giselle, Sleeping Beauty, etc.) which draw a bigger audience, and then various "mixed programs" that fill in gaps between them. Mixed programs are a chance for in-house choreographers to share their new creations, or for the company to showcase their skills with other known works, ex. Balanchine's shorter ballets (~20-30 minutes). Many companies have certain numbers in their repertoire that they can pull out for this reason.

Nutcracker - many companies have some number of Nutcracker performances on their schedule during or just before the holidays, and sometimes they cast (local) kids in various roles, too. Reader is dancing the role of Marzipan, and she also mentions the Sugar Plum Fairy. These roles have semi-set choreography, usually, depending on which version a company is doing (there are many famous versions). This short video is great and gives some insight into the ways a dancer might try to make very prescribed choreography her own (with voiceover from Emma Von Enck that inspired Din's compliments about pirouettes and rond de jambes). Many dancers have been in the Nutcracker because a lot of local companies and schools do performances of it every year (think school-aged kids doing it for the community).

Pirouette - a turn on one leg (in a variety of positions)

Rond de jambe - a half circle made with the leg. It's kind of like drawing the letter D on the floor or in the air.

Din's solo - they decide that Din is doing a sort of medley of variations (solos) from La Bayadère, a classical ballet, in the January program. Here's one of his variations and here is another from later in the ballet. (Here's a few dancers doing that first one, and Isaac Hernandez, also featured in the fic header!)

Symphony in C (the Balanchine ballet Din is joining) - a 32 minute ballet with over 50 dancers. There are some videos at the link. It has 4 movements and each one features a principal couple and a few other dancers.

tag list coming in a reblog!