#(ignore that i wrote these in one sitting to avoid doing any actual writing) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madschiavelique · 7 months ago

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﹒ ✦ 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐊 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 — 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

✦﹒ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : you've been avoiding viktor, but as your next homework session comes around, he cannot help but be curious. oh and more tyler

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : crude language (not much okay), reader is having thoughtsss

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 5,6k

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : FIRST OF ALL i was sick and on my periods writing this okay so this is much more of a transitionary chapter than anything for the shitstorm to come, SECOND OF ALL i KNOW it's another 5 of wands chapter i'm sorry i forgot that i had already used this card before THUS i will probably change the card in chapter 4 because i couldn't see any other card working for this one. but i still hope you all will like it <3 (i don't know how many times i wrote "sighed" in this chapter so BEAR WITH ME)

✦﹒ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐘 : the lovely @yaffles-world

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 ．．𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐌𝐘 𝐊𝐎-𝐅𝐈

✦﹒ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch

Friday arrived for another study session between you and Viktor. The week had flown by, with one particularity: your stubborn avoidance of Viktor, and his stubborn search for you.

During classes, you always managed to find a seat as far away from his as possible. You avoided him in the corridors, ignored him when you crossed his path, and when you were in the library and you noticed him, you packed up your things as quickly as possible to leave.

Since the power cut, you'd been even more keen to avoid Viktor. Although you'd done it before, you'd simply decided you didn't want to interact with him. The last few weeks had been far too full of his presence, and you needed to get away from him both physically and mentally.

The trip to the museum, the lunch with him and Jayce, the hour of detention... Your days were far more filled with him than you would have preferred.

It had been a sudden, almost instinctive choice to get as far away from him as possible.

There was something in the air the evening of the blackout, and even today. A kind of disturbing truth was taking up more and more space in your mind: Viktor wanted to be your friend.

In your eyes, there was always a huge worry about making friends. Your circle was small, and most of your friendships were involuntary, and you were fine with it. You didn't need many friends, you simply kept the ones you trusted. But were you ready to place your trust in Viktor?

Alas, Friday was here, and Viktor was inevitable.

You had arrived a little early at the library, dropping off your things and anticipated for your study by picking up the tomes you would need during this session. The library was already busier than it had been the previous week, with your class mimicking you and Viktor as they set to work on their history topic to avoid working on it at the last minute.

You despised the very idea of doing this assignment, as it brought you too close to your years living in Zaun, to more nightmares every night, to more Viktor. You wanted to get rid of this homework, and you knew full well that to do that you'd have to actually deal with it.

But while he was away, you took the opportunity to take out a sheet of paper and dipped the tip of your quill in one of the pretty inks Eris had given you. You wanted to write to her. You hadn't received any correspondence from her for some time now, and you suspected that she too had other things to worry that were more important than taking the time to sit down and write a letter.

Dear Eris, you began.

The weeks are endless here, and I almost miss the times when the only thing we had to do all day was figure out what to do to avoid dying of boredom till night came. I've welcomed my new flatmate, Sky Young. She's nice - I could have had worse, I doubt I could have had better. Speaking of better…

You raised your feather above the paper for a moment, hesitating over the next part of your sentence. Viktor would be inevitable in this very letter, and the idea frustrated you. No matter what happened, his name was on your mind, always at the corner of your lips, ready to rub against your teeth and sound out like a finger pressing on a trigger before shooting.

Were you going to tell her about your concerns? Were you going to feign disinterest, pretend it was just some guy Jayce had introduced you to?

I'm getting a bit more used to tarot. You write as your sign of progress. This morning I drew the five of wands. From what I gather though, it doesn't look very positive. I should expect it, five guys hitting each other with sticks seems an unlikely interpretation of a general hug.

According to the little booklet, the five of sticks represented: Incendiary events. Protests. Angry people. Drama. Exciting conflicts.

You'd raised your eyebrows as your eyes roamed the rest of the descriptions: New ideas are born of passionate debate. Energy is scattered but if forces work together, powerful results occur. There's a need for unity. You're bothered by people who don't act as you'd hoped. Free yourself by surrendering to the present moment.

Well, that looks promising, you thought. The card was obviously pushing you towards Viktor, and that was bothering you.

You were clinging to what you had, to the past, to the only thing you knew: survival. Viktor was turning your finely constructed ecosystem upside down, as if he were treading on a sandcastle you'd spent hours building on a windy beach.

But something inside you was beginning to creep in; an idea that seemed dangerous, and which a few weeks ago would have seemed quite simply impossible to think of.

What if you tried?

What if you tried not to be so uptight about working with him? What if, for once, you accepted the possibility that this wasn't a competition for your life?

The idea was bitter, weighing you down with anxiety. You went back to writing your letter.

I think I know what the card is leading me to, you confessed, but it is deeply unpleasant. What more can I say... I don't think this letter is going to be very long. I don't have much to tell you, and if I do, I'd rather say it to your face than on a sheet of the Glorious Academy of Piltover. You added useless curls in your writing for the title of the Academy to emphasize the ridicule of its prestigious status. You knew Eris would laugh. Did you get any new exotic payments? Here I'm drowning in copies and bolts, but your inks and herbs keep me company.

You smile for a moment, but the thought of mentioning Viktor keeps running through your mind. You looked around for a moment, as if he would miraculously appear and snatch the letter out of your hand to read it. But nothing, just the serene calm of the library - only the sound of flipped pages as students tried finding some information were keeping you compagny.

You were right about the Emperor. Of course you were. You confessed. A new pupil has arrived and, to top it all, he's beaten me in the league table. I suppose you can imagine how I felt about the situation. Every day is a tooth-and-nail battle with him. To crown it all, we've both been assigned to a collaborative project. Isn't that great? Anyway. I miss you a lot. I can't wait to hear from you. Say hi to Ekko for me.

Ekko was a childhood friend who you spent a lot of time with. It was undoubtedly through his demonstrations of repairs and your afternoons spent working on tinkering projects that your interest in science and engineering was born.

You dipped your quill in your inkwell one last time.

P.S: The name of the Emperor is-

"How long have you been here?"

You almost spilled the inkwell on the table as your eyes rose to Viktor, standing in front of you with his satchel slung over one shoulder.

You sighed. He could at least have made his presence known by clearing his throat, not by standing still and watching you like a cat under his amber eyes. You took your letter, writing his cursed name, followed by yours before blowing on the paper to hasten the drying of the ink.

"Long enough for either of us to fall asleep in Devid's classes," you huffed as you finally folded the sheet in half and tucked it into your notebook to send it later.

He wore a small smirk, gracefully relieving himself of his satchel by pulling it off his shoulder and letting it fall gently to the floor. He sat down opposite you, taking out his things.

"Was Demacian never one of your fortes for you to sleep during his classes?" he asked about Devid, your language teacher. "I thought you'd understand with your wide panel of knowledge."

"I do understand," you corrected him as you picked up a tome to begin your work session. "I'm fluent - I don't need more of what's being said in these classes."

"Why?" he asked, placing his inkwell and notebook on the table. "Ever travelled there?"

"I never travelled outside of here and Zaun," you informed him.

He sighed, looking down at his notes. "Then you don't speak Demacian."

You frowned, raising your head. He met your gaze, waiting for your next remark.

"Why?" you questioned. "Has his royal highness, all full of Runeterrian knowledge, been on a sweet trip to the Great City?"

He arched an eyebrow, his eyes drifting over the small pile of tome to grab one.

"Any idiot knows that learning a language in classes and putting it to practice in the actual region where said language is spoken is a completely different thing."

You remained silent, trying to contain and prevent yourself from giving him the pleasure of answering. You went back to your notes, pressing the binding of your notebook to the table as you jotted down a few more bits of information you managed to find in the new tome you'd selected.

A full minute passed, after which Viktor couldn't help breaking the silence.

"Why are you ignoring me?"

You sighed. Was he a puppy in need of constant attention?

"I'm not ignoring you." You confirmed, not looking up from your notes.

"Fine," he said, searching for a way to continue the conversation, to find the keyword to unlock you. "Why are you avoiding me?"

This time he'd hit the nail on the head. Obviously he hadn't been blind to your dodges, but how could he? He was observant, always making the perfect deductions, and was smart enough to get on your nerves.

"Can we focus and work?" You tried to extricate yourself from the situation.

He sank back in his chair, staring at you for a moment. "Not until you answer my questions."

This time you won his gaze. "Too bad there's no candle for you to bargain information with."

"I can find other ways," he remarked, "Miss."

You tensed at the nickname, your lips pressing together as you leaned on the desk, resting your elbows on it.

"Oh yeah?" you replied, almost amused, "I hope these ways will be as promising as you and Jayce's attempt at cooking on a heater."

He smiled, approaching you in turn. "You seem to have forgotten that I seem to know more about you than you know about me."

"And then I thought I was supposed to be the obsessed one," your brows knit as a curious little smile tried to stretch your lips. "You're not stalking me, are you?"

Your eyes crinkled, scanning his continuously. The days were receding further and further into the night, and the sky outside was gradually turning from cyan to indigo. Under the subdued lights of the library, Viktor's eyes stood out, ever more piercingly under his long brown lashes.

"From what I have heard," he continued, as you both leant on your elbows against the table as if playing chess, "Madam Selene is truly open when it comes to questions asked by her students."

He had just put your king in danger, your lips parting in surprise for a moment before closing again, jaw clenched.

"Surely she won't mind exchanging on the pride that her legal daughter is to her?"

You inhaled heavily, chewing your cheek as his insufferable sneer spread to the corners of his lips again, raising his mole slightly.

You picked up your quill again, avoiding his gaze and letting yours return to your notebook. You dipped it in with a half-open, hesitant mouth as you considered what you were going to say, both to him and on paper.

"I'm avoiding you because I can't get to be friends with my only rival."

He seemed amused by your sentence, as if you were just a child trying to impress an adult by saying something serious and threatening with the latest big word you had learned. He rested his chin on his palm, watching you write, and for an instant you thought of the paper he'd never passed you back during detention. What was he about to say?

"Isn't there an old saying about being close to your opponents?"

"Isn't there this old thing called ‘free will’ that allows me to do whatever I want?"

He shrugged. "Your free will hasn't decided to make you leave this room so far."

You regained his eyes this time, the latter looking through you, trying to peek through the cracks in your facade for a chance to see the lights that resided there.

"Are you challenging my free will? Because I can give it some physical attributes in the scientifically accurate name of 'clenched fists'."

"I'll pass." He sneered. "I'm sure Tyler has had enough lessons on this concept."

Silence fell again. You scanned the lines of another novel where too little information about Zaun was catalogued, while Viktor had not touched his pen. You could feel him in your peripheral vision, watching you, following you relentlessly.

"Am I truly your rival?" He finally asked.

"What else would you be?"

Viktor pouted, straightening slightly. "Being your rival implies having the same goal and fighting for it. I am uncertain if that definition applies to us in this case."

Admittedly, he didn't seem to have the same devotion to his academic results as you did, which frustrated you deeply. But what about the second option he cited?

"In the Academy, we all have the same goal," you replied, watching him for a moment before returning to your notes.

There was another pause on the table, and you thought that perhaps this time he would start working. But he didn't.

"I want a truce."

You looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"...Okay," you finally say, picking up another book, "good for you."

"I mean it, Miss," he insisted. "I think you've had it wrong on me-" But you cut him off.

“What are you implying?” you asked, annoyed at beating around the bush when you seemed to be the only one working right now.

"I'm not implying," Viktor nuanced, "I am saying."

"Saying?" You shook your head, waiting for the next part.

"Yes. You know, that thing that one can do with the possession of a mouth and vocal cords? You've become an expert at it just through this conversation,” he remarked as he straightened up and grabbed his pencil, twirling it between his fingers, "as it is the most we have spoken together in a week."

"Well then, conversation doesn't seem to be such a dying art anymore now does it?" you remarked.

Viktor smiled. "You seem to like quoting me."

You stared at him, raising your eyebrows and sighing. "I'm going to use unparalleled verbal condescension: shush." Your eyes returned to the tome you were working on. "This is a library, not a café."

"You've never spat in mine, by the way, reassure me?"

"After wasting my spit talking to you, I doubt I'd waste any more in your coffee."

He didn't say a word, but you knew he was smiling. Facing you, painfully fiddling with his pen as if this whole thing was some meagre task he could afford to procrastinate on.

You hated this attitude, the simple fact that he didn't seem to work to achieve his goals, that it was innate when you had struggled to rise so high for so long.

"I mean it," he said, straightening up, putting aside his teasing tone for a moment, "for the truce."

You looked up at him, his expression unfamiliar to you. There was something gentle in his piercing gaze, as if he saw something in you that was worth seeing. You sighed, thinking for a moment.

Would this childish quarrel last until the end of the year? Would you still consider him an enemy when you could have made a new friend? Friendships didn't come your way every day - you were well aware of that. But were you ready to put aside your stubbornness after the various humiliations he had put you through?

“What would a truce even mean?” you finally asked, somehow intent on hearing more.

His lips stretched slightly as his eyes widened. He shrugged.

“I don't know,” he admitted, ”I never thought I'd go this far with you, on this topic.”

Your shoulders slumped.

“Then think of something to say next time after we finish working on this.” You returned to your page, rereading your notes. “I'll take the subjects of Boundary Markets, Cultivairs, and Hope House Orphanage. One location for each level. You should pick three too.”

“Hope House Orphanage?” He repeated, mind finally concentrating on the exposé. “That's the only good thing that can be talked about in such a level.”

You turned a few pages of your notes, running through the lines of your research.

“There's always Old Hungry,” you remarked, voice lower.

The Old Hungry was a gigantic mechanized clock tower that grew from the very depth of Zaun and built itself up till levels that could reach some of Piltover's buildings. It was too imposing to avoid, and too full of history to be left aside in the presentation.

“Old Hungry? This old scrap doesn't even give time anymo-”

“It's the Heart of Zaun,” you cut in. “It's unavoidable to talk about it anyway.”

“Why don't you take it if you're so adamant about it being on our work?”

You remembered its size, the dark wingspan and the wind blowing through the dusty gears of the Old Hungry.

“I'd rather you be the one to take it.” you confirmed.

“Why?”

“Because. Don't you want to take it?”

“Do you want to get rid of it?”

You exchanged a look with him, urging him not to be picky.

“Why are you being so mysterious about all of this?” he questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

“You seem to have forgotten that you seem to know more about me than I know about you,” you repeated, annoyed.

“Shall I ask Selene?” he said ironically.

“I fear asking her this would be a limit placed both in her knowledge about this as well as your questions for her.”

He gazed at you for a moment, clearly frustrated by the secrets, the things left unsaid. You stood up, returning the tomes you'd already read to their shelves. Viktor stood up, following you.

“Acting tough will not make it hurt any less,” he said as you climbed the steps of the ladder and he reached its base. “You know this, yes?”

You suppressed a sigh as you placed one of the tomes on the shelf, arranging it perfectly in line.

“I don't need any of your life lessons,” you remarked, placing the extra tomes. “Can you move the ladder to the left?”

“You know the magic word,” he almost crooned.

You scoffed, not intending to give it to him so easily. You leaned to the side, watching, tiptoeing to reach one of the too few tomes on Zaun in the entire library.

Viktor seemed amazed at how stubborn you could prove to be, especially about him.

“Don't tell me your leitmotif resides in what doesn't kill you makes you stronger?” he questioned as you leaned dangerously toward the books.

“My leitmotif,” you pointed out as you almost reached the binding of the tome you were after, “resides in what doesn't kill you disappoints me-”

You'd reached the book, but your sentence was cut off at the end by your sharp gasp of breath. You'd just lost your balance, your feet slipping off the ladder step as you felt the air rush beneath you and expected to slam heavily into the ground.

The sound of something falling to the floor echoed, the sensation of hands on your back and waist catching you off the ground. Your heart pounding with the shock of sudden fear, you realized what had just happened in the blink of an eye: Viktor had caught you in your fall.

You could feel his thin fingers, warm and tentative, resting on the vest of your uniform around your waist. He held you there, firmly, and you felt your back brush against his chest, his breath landing on the nape of your neck and raising the hairs on it.

You released yourself from his grip and turned to face him, suddenly backing away, heart still pounding, but unable to differentiate whether this was due to the suddenness of the fall, or something else.

He seemed just as surprised as you were, lips parted. He didn't seem to be about to make a condescending remark, a joke about your lack of balance that could be matched by his, nothing.

You leaned back against the shelf, trying to calm yourself as your muscles relaxed from the apprehension of your fall.

There was a moment of quiet, a moment when, for once, neither of you knew what to say to the other. Your eyes fell to the ground, where Viktor's cane had fallen. You swallowed on a dry throat, inhaling to try and grain back your thoughts.

You knelt down to pick it up, straightening up to hand it back to him. He studied you for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours. He brought his hand tentatively up to the handle of his cane, stretched out towards him.

“Did you mean it?” you asked in a low voice as his hand reached the pommel, his thin, long fingers a minute ago resting on your waist wrapping elegantly and slowly around his cane.

“The truce?” he questioned, his voice almost reaching the whisper, as if he feared any higher volume would burst the delicacy of this bubble you were both in.

You let go of the cane, leaning back against the bookcase again, like a prop, like your crutch.

“The other night,” you began, eyes lowered to your feet on the floor, ”you said that it seemed impossible to me that you wanted to learn more about me, out of genuine curiosity. And now, you said you wanted a truce.” You raised your head, straightening to look at him. “Did you mean it, all of this?”

You felt very small, as if you were walking and, in the middle of the nettles, had found a patch of grass where you could put your feet without stinging yourself.

He seemed touched, but this emotion seemed to give way to confusion.

“Why wouldn't I mean it?”

Why would you mean it? you wondered. You'd had enough examples of how trust was doomed to fail you. You pulled yourself upright, drawing your armour back over you, closing your heart before it went beyond the confines of your chest.

“Oh sorry,” you resumed, sarcastically. “I forgot how through your many gallantries in our discussions you have evidently shown to be the most agreeable young man in the world.”

He smiled, his cheerful attitude back in place in the blink of an eye. “I cannot deny that exchanging with someone like you brings out the more playful part of me.”

“Someone like me?” you stressed, almost offended.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Your morals are like a legend - rumoured to exist, but no proof to back it up.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you started walking back to your table. “My expectations for you were low when asking this, but somehow you still failed to meet them...”

But your sentence had died on its end, as not far from your table, an unfortunately familiar, tall figure with blond curls stood.

Fuck. Tyler.

Seeing you reappear from between the shelves, he noticed you both, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he strode towards you.

“Ah,” he smiled as he approached you, ”my tormentors.”

You sighed, standing by your table as he reached the height of your chair. “You again.”

“What?” He chuckled, feigning offense as he rested his hand on his chest. “Aren't you pleased to see me?” He arched an eyebrow. “I'm sure you've got another one of these filthy Zaunite, barbaric lessons to give me.”

“You wish you were worth the effort.” You huffed, moving closer to your chair, but he came between you and it.

You glared at him, who seemed satisfied with your reaction. He turned to Viktor.

“Your dog's got quite the bite, Moravec.” His eyes settled on you again, watching you up and down until they returned to yours. “Where did you get one of those?”

You breathed heavily, the annoyance of his remarks demeaning you to a supposedly docile and pliable being making your blood boil.

“Turns out she has a mouth and proper aligned thoughts that you could not fathom reaching, Tyler.” Viktor pointed out, coming to sit in his respective place.

The blond watched you, not letting go of your eyes for a moment as he took a step back and took his place in your chair. “How noisy insects are this time of year.”

And he was proud, of his insolence, of his overflowing egotism, which he displayed like the most expensive and chic jacket he owned in his priceless wardrobe.

“Tyler,” you began, inhaling as you tried to calm yourself, “‘piss off.’”

“Such a soft language.” He sneered, lounging in your chair as if he'd ordered its manufacture himself. Who knows, maybe all the academy's furniture rested on his family's finances. “Do they all speak like that in Zaun?”

“Why? Wanna go visit?” You inquired, crossing your arms over your chest. “I wonder what'll get taken first, your pretty blonde locks, or your tongue.”

You played on his unfamiliarity with the city, his prejudices ingrained in his mind, unfolding a terrain of fictitious threats that could be very useful to you.

It had its effect. For a slight moment, you noticed the concern in his eyes, a very silent ‘... is that true?’ that didn't cross the boundary between his mind and lips.

“My patron came to me.” He confessed, looking away as if ignoring you. “Seems like your detention ran a bit short, didn't it?”

You heard Viktor chuckle, but didn't even turn around. “It's just like you said, Miss,” he remarked, leaning forward on the table. “Looks like he is obsessed with us."

“You're not worth a thought.” Tyler spat, obviously insulted by Viktor's remark. He turned to you, grabbing one of your pencils to play with like it was his. “Didn't know you had your own patron, though.”

“Let me guess.” You sighed, placing your weight on one of your hips as you stood. “Your little clever mind aligned two dots and thought that Zaun and Patron together was an impossible combination of words here in the Academy.”

He was amused, but obviously annoyed. You must have touched a reality in his reasoning that he didn't like you to know.

“This one was a second thought.” He admitted all the same. “The first was,” he leaned in slightly, “how the hell does a girl as irascible as you managed to pull any social strings to get yourself a patron?”

You giggled. He was trying to push your buttons. Perhaps he was simply a masochist, you considered, perhaps he had a pronounced desire for humiliation. Or perhaps he was just profoundly stupid.

“Funny, I thought the same thing about you when I met you.” You offered him a smile that possessed no warmth. “But I guess walking around with a golden spoon in your mouth and shitting in silk sheets during your childhood up until now must have its advantages. Right, Hoskel?"

Tyler frowned, hemming his lower lip in anger. His eyes shifted from yours to Viktor's. “She truly is-”

But you cut him off, placing both hands on the table and leaning towards him. “She is in front of you. And she,” your voice darkened, ”can add some new marks on your face to match the blue of your eyes.”

Tyler tensed, the seriousness in your stare convincing him for a moment that your threats weren't empty words, but promises that would come true if necessary.

He let out a nervous laugh, nodding as if you'd just given him a most satisfying demonstration. He was probably thinking, right then and there, that he was safe. That on the floor of the Academy, you wouldn't repeat the violent acts that had earned you an hour's detention.

“You, are a tough one, my friend.” He laughed. “You still have the essence of your hometown so far, you as well as he.” He turned to Viktor. “Paint stripes on a toad, it'll never make it a tiger.

Your blood ran hot, the sentence like an iron that had just burned your skin raw. You gripped his tie, pulling so hard that Tyler nearly stumbled and strangled on it as you pulled him towards your face, your face twisted with hatred.

His eyes were filled with a new fear as you rumbled, your voice low. “Say that again, and I'll fucking kill you.”

His chest bulged and sagged rapidly as his shoulders were up to his ears in fear, stressing as your knuckles turned white under the tight grip you had on his tie.

He swallowed, staying that way until, in the blink of an eye, his gaze landed on your lips.

The simple act brought you back to the reality of your proximity, of your two faces so close together that anyone could have considered this something intimate. You let go of his tie as if it carried an infection, as if it had suddenly become so hot that you had to let go of it at all costs. You frowned, stepping back, watching Tyler as he breathed just as heavily.

The great doors of the library opened, and the tiny silhouette of Heimerdinger poked his pink nose into the room. This was enough for you to put aside the previous event, same for Viktor and Tyler who both turned to the professor in surprise.

You eyes widened, straightening up as he strode contentedly towards the center of the room. What was Heimerdinger doing here?

It was unusual to find teachers in the library, and obviously all the students around you seemed just as confused about the situation. He trotted on, making his way to the very center of the room under the curious gazes of students.

“Young folks,” he called, “I have an announcement to make. Please gather around me, so that I don't have to see you all one by one in the immensity of this room."

The students exchanged surprised glances, approaching him. You looked at Viktor, who was frowning. He stood up. You approached Heimerdinger. When a small arc had formed around the professor, he cleared his throat.

“I would have liked to have waited until our next class to tell you,” he admitted, “but with the news just in and the weekend coming up, I thought it wiser to tell you as soon as possible.”

Everyone was hanging on his every word.

“You see, we've been communicating for some time, the Academy members and myself, with The Great Demacia University.”

Murmurs began to rise in the tiny group of students, whispers about the white region running through the air.

“And we have concluded, after many very promising exchanges, that a few classes from the Piltover Academy will have the privilege of traveling to Demacia as part of a school trip.”

Surprise filled the room. A school trip?

"The Academy and I,” continued Heimerdinger as he walked hands behind his back, the two elements of his sentence simply inseparable, ”consider it a real cultural benefit to be able to organize such a program to link our two schools. The trip will therefore take place in a month and a half's time.”

Some of the students laughed, the joy of the news filling them. The idea of a school trip puzzled you. You'd never left Piltover or Zaun. You'd always clung on to those two towns, and upsetting that perspective was something you hadn't quite figured out yet. But it would undoubtedly be a good way of discovering new horizons, of not having to confine yourself to the same landscape of two cities you didn't like for different reasons.

However, your thoughts paused for a moment, as you sensed that Heimerdinger hadn't finished with his announcement.

“Yes, I know.” He chirped. “The excitement of a new journey is not a small thing in young souls. However, an event such as this deserves an organizational rearrangement.”

And that's where things got complicated.

“First of all, your duet presentations that were due in two weeks' time have now been determined by myself into an overall assignment for your year.”

The majority of students rejoiced, but your heart fell into your stomach. An assignment, spread out over the whole year, that you were to do with none other than Viktor as your sole partner in this work?

You exchanged a glance with him, the latter seeming unaffected, neither hot nor cold.

“And...” The professor resumed. “The planning of this event alone will eat up a good two weeks of this year. Consequently-” Silence fell, everyone waiting for the end of his sentence, "the exams in each subject for this semester have been brought closer together, and will therefore take place in two weeks’ time.”

Your lips parted, as if the apocalypse had just been added to your diary.

Two weeks. You had two weeks to study everything. Two weeks to get to know everything.

Two weeks to overtake Viktor and regain your place at the top of the ranking.

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

#a crown of ink #acoi #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor fic #viktor x y/n #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane #viktor

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kiwihrt · 1 year ago

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cool guy? · park gunwook

summary. after some encouragement by his classmates, park gunwook decides to go up to you and confess something · high school au

park gunwook x reader · fluff · 1k words · masterlist

As the sunlight peeked through the trees and poured through the classroom window, you found it relaxing, yet blinding. You were squinting, trying to see what was written on the board, but you could only vaguely make out the large letters written at the top—something about preparing for summer break.

You put a hand above your eyes, blocking the sun so you could write down as much as you could before the bell went off for lunch. You wrote down a mere five words before you heard the shrill ring, and began rushing to get as much done as you could.

With a sigh, you pulled out your phone, deciding to take a picture and write down the rest during lunch instead.

After picking up your things, you made your way into the crowded hallway, pushing past students and slowly making your way to the cafeteria. You had your own lunch so you just tucked yourself into a relatively empty corner of the room, pulling out your food and your notebook.

It wasn’t long before you heard the chattering voices begin to float closer, and a once empty table was now occupied by a friend group. You tried your best to ignore them and let the sounds of their voices blend with the rest of the noise of the cafeteria, but they were simply too close and too loud. You let out a sigh, feeling frustrated at the lack of work you were able to get done today.

You reached into your backpack, pulling out your headphones so that you could play your studying playlist, and just as you had popped one side into your left ear, you heard a certain familiar word. A name—your name.

Your head snapped up, and you looked at the group ahead of you, finding that a few of the boys sitting at the table in front of you were looking at you discreetly. They quickly looked away, eyes darting around as they tried to pretend they weren’t looking at all. What were they doing?

You noticed one boy in particular who was sitting at the end of the table, the perfect spot for you to see his side profile. His cheeks and ears were dusted pink, as he spoke rapidly to his friends. It was kind of cute, actually. You had never seen him like this. Park Gunwook was usually the type that looked so confident in everything he did. He was the cool guy.

For a moment, he glanced at you, looking panicked when he noticed that your gaze hadn’t shifted yet. You looked back down to your notebook, confused at the current events. Why were you the topic of their conversation?

You decided to leave out one of your headphones so that you could listen in, but they were talking quieter now. You felt so awkward and seen knowing that they were probably looking at you. This type of attention wasn’t something that you ever gravitated to. In fact, you tried to avoid it.

By the time you realized that you hadn’t gotten any more work done, you heard footsteps coming towards you, and then you saw someone in your peripherals. When you looked up, Gunwook was standing there, looking far less confident than he usually did.

The moment your gaze fell on him, he looked away awkwardly, and then pointed to the seat opposite to you. “Can I sit here?”

Startled at the question, your mouth fell open for a moment, but you then said, “go ahead.”

When he sat down, there was a a small awkward silence between the two of you, followed by some groans from his friends, one of them even face palming.

“I like your pen.” You saw him pointing to the pen in your hands, which had a cat on the top of it. “It’s cute.”

You pursed your lips, suddenly feeling embarrassed that he noticed the pen. You shifted it around in your fingers, glancing at him. “Thanks.”

Before another awkward silence could fall over the two of you, you spoke next. “I like your shoes.” You tapped the table with your pen. “They’re nice.”

“Thank you.” He said, startled. Somehow his face turned more red. “I- yeah, they’re new.” He nodded. “Anyway, I was thinking…”

You looked down at your notebook, holding back a smile at the way Gunwook was acting. It was strange, seeing someone who always looked to collected, now acting so flustered.

Gunwook put his hand on the back of his neck, dropping his head down as he refused to look you in the eye. “Did you… maybe… uh, hold on— how about— could we maybe—“

“Is he serious? All that pep talk for nothing?” You heard one of his friends murmur in the background.

“Do you want… to go out sometime?” Gunwook mumbled out.

Now, as you sat in front of the boy you’ve been secretly crushing on for months, you felt your heart skip a beat. Your mouth fell open in shock, and the loud cafeteria was no longer bothering you.

Gunwook looked more nervous as the seconds ticked by, hearing nothing but your silence, but before it became too late and he started to make an excuse, you rushed out a response. “I would love that.”

Now Gunwook’s expression was mirroring yours, before he broke out into a delighted smile, his cheeks still tinted red. “Okay.” He nodded, trying to lessen his smile and… is he trying to act cool? “Yeah, okay. Sounds good. Uh, could I get your number?”

You smiled, writing your number onto the bottom corner of the page in your notebook, and ripping it off to give to Gunwook. He took it from you, unable to get rid of his smile. “I’ll text you later than.” He stood up, his hands held behind his back like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Okay.” I smiled feeling the same joy I saw in him.

When Gunwook returned to his table, some of his friends pat him on the back, and said some form of congratulations for not blowing it.

By the end of the day, you had received a message.

Hey, it’s Gunwook. You free Friday?

@ haodore

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miasmal-sweetness · 1 month ago

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Delete this and ignore it if it’s too far but sometimes I think about. And hear me out. Reth being sexually exploited by the cartel (you can’t tell me he didn’t have to be held down for those tattoos) and you’re his Favorite so he’s trying so hard to protect you from it but eventually that luck is gonna run out. What I’m saying is that if Reth was being held by the hair forced to kiss and/or fuck you in a circle of cartel members, tears in your eyes, tears in HIS eyes, but that sickly little voice in the back of his head is actually really glad that he gets to touch you. Like yeah he’s been traumatized for years and now you are too but isn’t that just one more thing you share now? Bonus points if he’s trying to comfort you the whole time. Bonus bonus points if he’s apologizing and trying to comfort you while he ruts harder. ☠️ anon

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA hello!! ☠️ anon!!

I LOVE this idea. I used to think about this for other characters, why didn’t I think of this for Reth? He would be so broken up about it, but so desperate to keep the one person that doesn’t treat him like a pariah that he’d probably cope by gaining a new fetish.

Anyway. You inspired me to write some rambly trash right after anesthesia (also after my pc crashed and lost 2 fics in progress RIP i will soon redo them and try to get them posted)

warnings n shit: Reth x gender neutral reader, noncon, voyeurism, threats of death, mdni, 18+, i wrote this basically while delirious pls forgive my shit writing

You’re his favorite.

He’s not very good at hiding it, either. If you were a little more devilish, you could have him at your beck and call and he’d thank you for it. A little more selfish, and you wouldn’t have taken care of him when he got sick; you could have rolled your eyes, told him to toughen up and find you when he was better, and he’d have accepted it and toughed it out.

But you didn’t. For whatever reason, you’re nice to him—even after the first time he had you unknowingly smuggle illegal goods right under a Watcher’s nose. He’s been more careful since then, never allowing you to make another drop until now. He promised you it would be fine, and he’d figure it out. He’d kept to his word, until doing so put Tish’s health at risk and he’d finally reached the bottom of his near-endless willpower.

But even so, he thought it would be okay. Subira—with as often as she enjoyed looking at your thighs far too long for his liking—clearly liked you enough to avoid investigating you. He thought the customers didn’t care. He thought Zeki wouldn’t know, and even if he did, what would it matter, so long as the job was done?

It wasn’t enough. There was no way to undo what the Grimalkin cartel saw as slacking—or worse, the start of betrayal.

You’re his favorite, and he’s not good at hiding it.

Even now, you’re his favorite. Especially now. You writhe in the grip of the two cartel members behind you, your arms burning from scratchy rope and your lips seared red from a cruel silencing spell. Your eyes are wide and pleading, darting back and forth from him to the only exit around—the entrance to the smugglers’ den—in an effort to urge him to get out of this horrid place.

“What—what is this, Zeki?” Reth barks, barely able to keep himself steady. He can’t look away from you, not for a second. His eyes search your nude body for any sign of injury; he finds scuffs and scrapes, but nothing urgent. He tells himself he can get you out of this, that there’s some misunderstanding, but he knows why you’re naked. He knows why Zeki has you here. He knows the eyes of that cartel member sitting in the back. He’s been in a similar spot before, after all, back when he wasn’t used to this… lifestyle.

But he’ll still ask, in some stupid hope that it isn’t true. “Don’t play stupid, kid,” Zeki warns, his claws clacking against the table he leans on. Reth had warned you before that you should stay away from Zeki, that he’s not just the town’s cute and fuzzy shopkeep. You hadn’t listened, and now he wonders if you’re hurting even more from this betrayal. “When you and I made our deal, the agreement was for you to be our delivery boy. Not anyone else.”

One of the cartel members holding your arms—the Palian one, the one that kept staring at your chest like it’d tell him where Mudan’s tomb was—jostles you a bit as he pulls you back. Your spine hits his thigh, and your head rests against his hip. The hand that was once on your bound forearm is now in your hair, keeping your head pressed close to his groin.

Reth isn’t stupid enough to ever be without a knife—not when he has the cartel watching him—but even he isn’t also stupid enough to go toe-to-toe with an entire group of them. He can’t help you. He can’t yank those hands off of you, can’t blind the eyes that ogle you. One more toe out of line, and you and him and Tish all die. Just like that. He’s gotten pretty good at lying instead of completely losing it, but he can’t remember the last time he got this close.

“I know, but—” The eyes of the grim figure in the corner cut to him, and he clears his throat. Not now. He can’t let that affect him now. “You know the Watcher’s been on my ass lately. A human can’t be charged with possession of Flow devices; you know that, Zeki. Please—let it go just this once.”

“I’m not the one so worked up about this, pal,” Zeki dismisses with a shake of his head. “But from what I hear, there’s a way you can make up for this little incident.”

And like that, Zeki abandons you both to your fate. He doesn’t look at either of you, just goes to the bar to drink with another cartel member while Reth deals with the punishment.

“Our favorite callboy is gonna put on a show tonight,” the Palian gripping you sneers. “You should be happy; your patron picked your favorite human to be your costar.”

Patron was generous. A violent, voyeuristic brute with an appetite for sadism was accurate. This isn’t the first time this man has forced him in to this situation—but never with someone he knew, never with someone who didn’t want it.

“Please,” Reth began, his voice tremulous, “Please, just let them go; I’ll work more or pay for them, but please don’t—”

The shadowy patron simply lifts his hand, and that’s enough to silence him. Reth has been reminded too many times of how easily he could be killed by the cartel or his own hands—by now, it’s rarely something he feels much fear for. Now that you’re the target of those threats, though…

“Go on,” taunts the Grimalkin holding you. “We were all looking forward to the show tonight. C’mon, Reth; don’t let us down.”

Reth sees your big, pleading eyes and feels like he could hurl his guts right then and there. He feels cold and sweaty and like he’s being choked, even if no one has touched him yet. There’s no exit. It’s blocked by one of the guards. There’s no one to help, no Watcher to run to. You’re both here, trapped, and it’s his fault.

He can’t do this to you, he thinks, anyone but you. But that Palian man is all too eager to grab you and touch you, and that Grimalkin too eager to squeeze the hilt of his knife. He has no choice; if he refuses, then you’ll be serving the entire cartel that night before being dropped somewhere in Bahari Bay—at best. At worst? You’ll wash up someday on the beach, maybe.

So Reth swallows the acid coming up his throat and stalks up to you. At least now he can shove their hands off of you, rub the skin they’d grabbed like it would clean you of their filth.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweet tooth,” Reth coos, holding you by your face. You look at him like you believe him, as if you have any reason to at this point. “I’m—I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

You nod. He’s your favorite, too, somehow. He knows he won’t be after this. He knows you’re confused when he lays you down instead of carries you out of there, knows you want to whimper and ask him what he’s doing when he spreads your legs. He’s glad now that you’ve had your lips sealed. He’s not sure he could do this otherwise.

Reth doesn’t need to glance up to know all eyes are on the two of you, but he does anyway—some sort of self-punishment, maybe. He lowers himself closer to you, shielding you with his body as much as he can. There’s no way to make this dignified, but he’ll still try.

“This’ll be over soon, sugar,” Reth promises, pressing his forehead to yours. “Close your eyes and just take deep breaths.” He wonders if you can see the tears in his eyes. He can see the tears in yours. Maybe they’re blurring your vision enough that you can’t tell.

“Enough jabbering,” gripes the Grimalkin. Reth feels the weight of his foot on his back, pressing his pelvis against you. You jump at the feeling, and his efforts to recoil in shame are futile. He’s hard, despite his fear—his cock jumped the second he saw a glimpse of your bare chest. “Either fuck the human already or let someone else try ‘em out.”

It feels sickeningly good when the Grimalkin bears down further, forcing Reth to grind against you. He gasps while you whimper; at least for now, he can blame it entirely on someone else. He breathes a heavy sigh when he feels the foot leave his back, but doesn’t pull back to allow you any space again. The two that were charged with keeping you captive are staying close now, ready to get hands-on the moment their patron of the day gives a nod.

There’s no time afforded for gentleness or sweet kisses or even the slightest hint of foreplay. Reth knows better than that. With murmured apologies, he pushes one of your knees up by your shoulder and undoes the fly of his pants. You’re just… staring at him, still lost in your own confusion, like you can’t believe that this would happen, that he’d really do this.

You wince and lock up your muscles, squealing past the spell as he forces himself in to you. You’re a little wet, but not anywhere near enough to make this any easier on you.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Reth whispers, watching your face contort in pain and fear—pain and fear that he was inflicting on you. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was getting pleasure from it. Using you like nothing more than a sleeve. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You shake your head and claw at the earth beneath you, as though you might find a weapon or escape. Your writhing and squirming only succeeds in making Reth groan and shiver above you. You’re miserable and in pain, with tears running down your face, but he’s moaning from it.

You’re his favorite, and he’d hang the moon and the stars just the way you want if you asked, even if he can see the light in your eyes that he loves so much dimming with each passing second. Little by little, he can see something precious slipping away, sand between his fingers. But there’s no stopping now, and the only comfort he can find is in the feeling of your body, of the familiarity of you, of knowing you’ll be here afterwards, no matter how wrong is feels to think that way.

You try to turn your head away so you can freely sob while Reth kisses each tear that rolls down your face. His body cages you in place and leaves you with no escape from his increasingly intense thrusts; his right hand curls around the nape of your neck, the left creeping down to violate you further.

“Shh, it’ll help,” he assures as you squirm and wordlessly protest, “It’ll make it hurt less, okay, sugar?” If he can excite you a little, it’ll add some lubricant and take some of the pain away—and maybe make it easier for him to cum if he can get you to stop crying so much.

It doesn’t take long to find the spot that you like the most, regardless of how you try to hide it. Your leg twitches when he rubs like this, and your belly tenses when he strokes like that. You cry and whine beneath him like a plumehound pup, unwilling to give him a single moan—not like he’d deserve it, he reminds himself—and even wrestle one of your arms free.

Your skin is marred with scrapes and burns now from it, but you still push up on his chest, desperate for even an inch of space between you two. Reth grabs your scraped up wrist and presses it in to the dirt by your head, glancing up to see if any cartel members were itching to punish you for your resistance. So far, they all seemed too engrossed by your whimpering.

“Just—a little longer, sugar,” he insists, his voice shuddering. “I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry… I don’t—don’t deserve you. I’m sorry.”

He showers you in kisses, squeezes you, toys with you and tries his best to please you in some sick way to make up for the pain he’s inflicting. You still cry, still squirm, and he still hates and loves every second of it. He hates himself when you finally cum, but he’s never felt anything as good as the way you squeeze him while you gasp and shiver, and he can’t stop himself from burying himself in you as deep as possible.

“Almost,” he groans against your ear. You sob from how he slams in to you, and another bout of apologies spills from him. “It’s a-almost over, sugar.” He presses your leg further up, until your knee is practically by your ear. More. Deeper. There’s no sense in denying these disgusting, primal urges now. Reth pounds deeper in to you as his cock twitches and he nears his peak, finally crying out your name and a string of curses mixed with apologies.

He can hear the murmurs of the cartel around him as he slumps over you—bets on if you two can successfully reproduce, laughs about how you’d be even more of an outcast than him from it. You’re finally still beneath him, not even shivering; if he didn’t hear your breath, he’d be concerned. He can’t bring himself to look at you or the others, and gives himself this one moment to breathe, even if it means you still have him inside you.

“Good show,” is the only assurance he’s given to your safety. A shower of coin that he at least has some sense to shield you from halfway through. And finally, the shuffling of feet and claws against the dirty old floor of the den as everyone finally leaves.

Reth listens to you breathe for another minute, before he pulls away to look at you. You’ve stopped crying, and he knows why; he did, too, the first time this happened to him. At some point, he ran out of tears, and all he was left with was numbness.

And the second time, it happened faster. The third time, he didn’t cry at all. By this point, he didn’t typically feel anything, whether it was during a “show” or those past nights in the city, selling himself to make ends meet. Reth might be the one that did this to you, but he’s also the only one you have here that could understand. So you’ll forgive him for holding you right now, he tells himself.

When you two go back in to town, you’ll have no one else. If you tell anyone, you’ll alert the entire town to the cartel—and without that connection, Tish loses her treatment. You’ll lose Reth and Tish, the two you’ve come to consider family. Beyond that, likely your own life for crossing the gang. No matter how much it hurts, you have no one to turn to but him, and he finds that thought gives him the worst happiness he’s ever felt.

You didn’t understand before when he warned you about the cartel, warned you about Zeki, told you to stay out of it. Now you get it. Now, at least he’s trapped with his favorite person, instead of living as a a lonely pariah. It’s not always so bad down here, you’ll see.

#miasmal-writes #dead dove #mdni #dark fic #18+ mdni #just soup boy things #miasmal ruins palia #dark!Reth x reader #it was so hard not to go really far with writing this #but i didn't want to go off the rails with my want for Big Brother Reth Breeds Me and Takes Out His Trauma On Me

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xxchaosjojoxx · 1 year ago

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So idk if you actually feel comfortable writing for Luffy I am looki for one piece x reader writers who have the requests open and came across you anyway I request takes place after the time skip where reading I ask Luffy if next year they can celebrate Ace with Luffy aka next year on the day of his death instead of feeling sad they want me make sure Luffy is happy so they will spend the entire day doing things would love like eating us favorite foods and doing things he would love.

A/N : thank you for your request. I hope i understood it correctly and you will enjoy it <3 i never wrote luffy x reader so i hope it is still ok

You are not alone

You were sitting at the dinner table with your whole crew. Everyone was laughing, eating the delicious dishes Sanji created and telling jokes and stories. You couldn’t avoid your eyes, gazing at your captain.He was his usual cheerful and happy self you all know and love, despite the fact that this wasn’t real today. Today was different, his smile didn’t reach his eyes whenever he said something or did something and laughed with Usopp and Chopper. Even his appetite didn’t reach his peak today. You could think of one reason though. The day after tomorrow was the day that Ace died in his arms, protecting your captain and his little brother. It was hard for Luffy, you saw him breaking down at Amazon Lily, after you were apart from your crewmates. You couldn’t do anything except, hugging him, comforting him and just be there for him and cry so he won’t be alone during this. After nearly 3 years it was still fresh for him, but he never showed any signs that it still hurts. Of course everyone knew. They played along all the time. And still everyone knew that he will do the nightwatch on the crows nest. Guarding the ship while in reality he will use his time to be alone, crying and grieving in silence so he can be the captain with the bright smile in front of his crew. It took a hand on your shoulder and a short shake to come back to reality. You were looking in Luffy’s eyes, he looked worried. “Everything ok, Y/N? You look kinda pale.” You shook your head lightly and gave him a small smile. “Sorry to worry you. I was just lost in thoughts.” So everyone went back to eating, joking, laughing,, except for you. After dinner you helped Sanji clean the kitchen.

“A penny for your thought, my dear?” Sanji’s calm voice made you turn your head to him. He was looking at you with soft eyes. “Is it about Luffy?”

You nodded. They all knew that he tried to hide it. “I know he says that he is fine, whenever we speak about it. I don’t wanna repeat this every year. I want to see him happy.”

Sanji hummed in response and lit a cigarette. “Any idea? I would love to help you.”

“Not yet. But I am sure that Ace would want him to be happy and not sad nor grieving. We promised him back in Alabasta that we would take care of him.”

You and Sanji cleaned the kitchen in silence, both of you thinking of a plan and suddenly you had one. With quick steps you and Sanji went outside, finding your crewmates and telling them your idea. You would need the help of everyone for this.

During the next day everyone was busy, preparing something for your captain.

Luffy was sitting on top of the Thousand Sunny, watching the dark water in his sight. It was nearly midnight and then the day of Ace's sacrifice would be present for him all again. He sighed, leaning his head in his knees. Suddenly he heard a sound and searched his eyes so he could find the source of it. He saw you, climbing on top of the sunny as well. With his gum gum power he helped you. “Thanks Luffy.”

He looked at you without any emotions. “What are you doing here? I am on watch.”

You unpacked a backpack that was on your back and showed him a lunchbox, a blanket and a little notebook. “I want to celebrate with you.”

Luffy froze and clenched his hands into fists automatically. “Celebrate?” He asked with a cold tone in his voice. You tried to ignore it, while looking him in the eyes with a smile. “Come here please.” You sat down, with a blanket around you. He obeyed and still looked kinda mad at you. “We prepared something for you.”

“We?”

You nodded. “Just hear us out and let me explain ok?” You gave him a bento box and the smell of his favorite meal was visible. As he opened he looked really happy. “Is this my favorite meat? And even one piece of Chopper’s favorite Cotton Candy chocolate?” You laughed and Luffy began to eat happily. “The best for you, for today. Luffy, we know that you do this and hide yourself. Ace wouldn’t want you to be sad and grieving.” He choked on his food, while looking at you with an unpleasant look.

Before he could finish the meal he pressed the box in your hands. “Go please. I’m not hungry anymore.”

You hugged him tightly. “Oii, Y/N I said go.” Before he could shove you away, he could feel a tear brushing his cheeks. “I won’t let you be alone, Please, we are your family as well.” He slowly returned the hug. “I won’t let you be alone anymore. You don’t have to cry alone anymore. Please let us help you.” You pulled away, revealing puffy eyes and a red face. Will you come down to the rest of us? We prepared something for you.”

With a confused look and a nod the both of you jumped on the deck, with every strawhat member smiling at you two.

“Aren’t you guys asleep?” Luffy asked.

“How could we let our captain be alone? Yohohoho.” Brook said.

Franky had tears in his eyes. “Everything will be suuuper tonight, captain.”

They prepared a large picnic with Luffy's favorite dishes all over the deck.

“It was Y/N’s idea.” Zoro simply said and took a sip of some sake.

Robin and Nami were looking at you. “Did you give him the notebook?” With a smile you handed it over to him.

“Everyone helped you know?”

Luffy sat down, opening the little black notebook in his hands.

He was shocked and somehow happy. There were several hand drawn pictures of Ace.

“Nami tried to draw Ace based on our memories, his wanted poster and even a picture of you, Ace and Sabo as kids. He was talking to Zoro and Franky back in Dressrosa, remember?”

Luffy was turning the pages. “Jimbei could provide us with a few stories about him. Robin could find a few information about him and stories about Ace as well.

Luffy was flipping through every page, this was a book about him. That defined him as his brother. He let out a soft sniffle and everyone was beside him, smiling at him hugging him.

“Thank you guys.” He couldn’t say more. It was ok for your captain to be just human and let his emotions out. He needed it. A loving memory from his family about his beloved brother. He would treasure it with his life forever.

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #female reader #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy #luffy one piece

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fandomsareforlife · 4 months ago

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Lost In What You Think Of Me (And Too Confused To Choose Who I Should Be)

Zane always had felt…off. Even after learning who he is, and gaining his memories again of his father, he still doesn’t really know who Zane is. Pixal, or Primary Interactive eX-ternal Assistant Life-form,is an android with a specific purpose in mind: serve Cyrus Borg the best as she can. So when she meets the ninja, specifically one with white like her, she isn’t sure what to do about the new things that swarm her head. OR Zane and Pixal’s evolving relationship with both each other, life and gender, told over the series in a series of drabbles up to season 13.

AN: Hiiii I know I have been dead but I prommy I had a good reason. I was writing this beast of a fic! It's 12,534 words so I recommend reading it on AO3 but you do you boo

I wrote this for the Ninjago Big Bang 2024, with accompanying art from @froginninjago on Tumblr and @caseyjonesisinthehouse on tumblr!

Anyway, trigger warnings include canon typical violence, death (it is a Zane centric fic what you expect?), grief, accidental misgendering, and gender dysphoria

Read On AO3

Zane had never truly felt at peace before. He knew that he had come from somewhere, but where that was remained a mystery to him. He had no memories of who he was, nor did he have any knowledge on who he was supposed to be.

He did not know if he had any enemies in the past, or any friends. He did not know if he had always enjoyed ice cold drinks or if he used to prefer warm ones. He did not even know if his name really was “Zane,” or if that was just a name his mind came up with to deal with the lost memories of who he is. He did not even know if he was actually a male or not.

All he knew was that he woke up in a cold bed, with an elderly woman sitting next to it, in the dead of winter. She had asked him many questions, like where he was from, and what his name was, and why he was there.

Zane could answer none of them.

She gave him a funny look, her lips pursed, but she didn’t make any comments, instead telling him to take a shower and meet her when he was done.

There was an odd disconnect between his mind and his body as he bathed, but Zane chalked it up to not remembering what it was like before he ended up here, and ignored the voice in his mind that said that was not what it was.

The next months were a blur.

Zane was initially put into the orphanage, because he thought he was a teenager, but they kicked him out because he was considered too odd. He didn’t know why they thought that, but he had heard whispers about how he was “a fruity weirdo” and how he should be with the men more than the girls, and how he shouldn’t enjoy cooking as much as he did.

The comments made no sense to Zane, but he never asked for any clarification about them, instead simply leaving the village, for he figured that he should not cause any undue inconveniences on others. The old woman whose home he had woken up in was kind enough to give him a basket full of dried food, things that would last a long time, and warm clothes, no matter how much he insisted he did not need them.

Setting off into the world, Zane made a conscious effort to avoid staying in one place for far too long. He had learnt his lesson the first time: people would tolerate you for short doses, and then proceed to get annoyed at the idea of you existing, for some reason, so you had to leave.

He would stop occasionally at small villages, offering up what work he could do, mostly menial things like carrying lumber or picking crops, in exchange for money or food. At every village, he would eventually get ostracized, though, because he was "odd," just like he was shunned at the first village. And then he would be left on his own, with no real knowledge of who he was or what he was doing.

Eventually, Zane made his way down from the frozen mountains to the valleys, which, while just as cold as the mountains, were rumored to be abundant with natural resources that one could live off of if they were willing to endure the cold. Of course, no one would ever be crazy enough to do that, right?

Well, Zane was already considered crazy, and the cold did not bother him much anyway. He would take his chances.

And for a while, he was alone. He would occasionally pass by travelers trying to get to a village in the mountains, but they were far and few between. All Zane had was his meager supplies, the berries around him, and the few animals that were willing to brave the cold alongside him.

But one day, a strange man found him while he was meditating under the water. Zane was baffled as to what he was doing, but the man simply told Zane that he could come with him and have a place to stay, and in exchange Zane would train under him.

Something in Zane's mind told him he should go with the man, that he should be eager to protect the innocents, so with a nod, Zane got out of the water, and followed the man to his monastery.

~~~~~~

Getting to the monastery, Zane couldn’t help but still feel out of place, but at least here he had a purpose.

He was to be the ninja of ice, dressed in white. He was to defend those who could not defend themselves, as was the ninja way. He was getting better at his shurikens of ice, and at the obstacle course. In regards to ninja training, Zane was excelling.

On the other hand, he was not excelling at getting along with the ninja at some times.

It wasn’t like they were cruel. Not like the others at the villages Zane used to stop at on occasion, that forced him to run away time and time again from their cruelty. No, they were far kinder to him.

But he could not shake off the feeling of being an outsider. Maybe it was from how the others would talk about their families, and how they always seemed to know what to do, and they never seemed to feel out of place in their own bodies.

They didn’t seem to be drowning in something like Zane was.

Zane did try to get close to them. He played video games with them, sparred against them, cooked food for them, but…there was always a disconnect it seemed. Something always felt a bit…off.

The time this was most prevalent was when Cole showed him some of his drawings in exchange for a chocolate cake. Zane admired how realistic they were, with how sharp Kai’s jawline was in contrast to the softer edges of Jay and Nya’s, and how Wu’s hat was so detailed it seemed more like a photo than a drawing.

And then there was the portrait of Zane.

There were none of the curves in Jay and Nya’s portraits, instead only angles. Even his eyes, which Zane always viewed as the softest part of him, were harsh, the pencil lines pressed down so hard Zane wouldn’t be surprised if there were imprints on the other side of the paper. He wasn’t smiling, and the whole drawing was in black and white, unlike the others with colors splashed in.

It was probably as accurate as the other drawings, but Zane couldn’t help but feel a disconnect to it. Like he was looking at someone else’s picture, not his own. His heart ached, and his mind wanted to take the piece of paper and rip it apart and scream at Cole for making a drawing of him that was so wrong.

However, he did not tell Cole this, because he didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so he smiled weakly and said it was wonderful. The smile on his friend’s face barely soothed the ache in Zane’s heart.

—-----

As time went on, the ache in Zane’s heart grew worse and worse. The majority of days it was tolerable, but on some days it was so bad he could barely stand it.

On one such day, he was in such a state that nothing seemed to be real. He was lucky he did not injure himself while he was training, and he didn’t seem to make any large errors in socializing with the others.

When it came time to start dinner, Zane could not find his usual apron, a simple black and red one, but he did find a bright pink one that he thinks Jay got Nya for…something. Zane couldn’t honestly think of why he did it, for all he cared about was that his gi would not be at risk for getting dirty while he cooked with the apron.

Slipping on the apron, Zane felt…odd. The ache in his chest eased up just a bit, and he could breathe normally for the first time in what felt like hours. It was with a happy hum that he cooked dinner.

But when he went out, he learnt that no, boys do not wear pink, why are you wearing that, is that a joke, Zane? Zane could feel his humiliation build up and the ache come back, worse than before, as he watches his fellow ninja throw the food he made so carelessly.

After that, things seemed to go in a whirlwind. The ache stays all the time now, and Zane is left wondering where it came from.

Learning about his origins, and the fact that he did have a father, who loved his son very much, even if he was mechanical, should have made Zane feel better. Instead, it had the complete opposite effect on Zane, because he was sure that androids, sorry, nindroids, were supposed to be content to follow the programming that their creator gave them. At least, that seemed to be what Jay’s comics said.

But knowing he was supposed to be a boy made Zane feel…hollow. Why did he feel this way? He was to be a boy, so why did that idea make his skin crawl?

There was no room for such questions. So like he had so many times with things that hurt, like the lost memories and the cruel words, Zane ignored the issue. If he did not think about the issue, then he would never need to deal with it.

A perfect solution.

~~~~~~~~

Many months after Zane learnt the truth of himself, in New Ninjago City, in what would be the tallest building in Ninjago, another nindroid was being awoken in the workshop of Cyrus Borg.

Her name was Primary Interactive X-ternal Assistant Life-form, or P.I.X.A.L, or as her creator called her, Pixal.

Cyrus had built her a brilliant silver, and no detail was overlooked. She was average height for a female, and her clothing was a homage to the female rulers of the past, to remind them of all of those that came before them. Even her hair was amazing, with each strand a special blend of metals that made it flexible, yet able to hold a shape.

She was perfect. Cyrus had spared no expense for her build, and it showed.

Pixal was Cyrus’s sixteenth attempt at an assistant, and while she no longer had the issues of overheating like her predecessors, there still were issues with the artificial intelligence enhancer-emotion suppressor chip. Cyrus wasn’t sure how to fix this, however, so he simply left it as it was because quite honestly everything else seemed…perfect.

She was a dutiful assistant, as Cyrus programmed her, able to do anything he requires from her. Not that he asks for much, but it is nice to see her succeed. Like a parent might feel, he supposes.

The main issue is her lack of emotional understanding. She seemed to struggle with the idea of being her own being and not an object of Cyrus’s. But he can only be patient, and hope that the AIE-ES chip will soon be repaired so he can fix the issue.

After all, there was only one incident in which her lack of emotional depth caused any real issues, and that was quickly solved by some of the human employers.

Cyrus was sure everything will be fine.

~~~~

Zane wasn't sure what he was doing with himself when he found himself a teacher after the Overlord was defeated, and he and his brothers (for they were brothers now) were left powerless and Lloyd was gone.

He knew why Wu gave them the job of being teachers at his academy, despite none of them having any qualifications: he wanted them to have something to do, instead of wandering around aimlessly. Even if Wu said it was to have some extra help in preventing their students from getting into mischief, Zane knew better.

But being a teacher was not without its challenges. His students, former pupils of Darkley’s School for Bad Boys, were unwilling to listen to him when he taught. They couldn’t be reprimanded for long, for they did not fear the consequences. And he had no clue what he was doing, for a 6-week course was not enough to teach anyone, even an nindroid, how to be a teacher.

It did not help that being called “Mr. Zane,” made something in him hurt. He had no clue what it was, because all of his operating systems were functional, and none of his research or questions to his family could give him answers.

The ache reminded him of when he asked his father if he could modify Zane, because Zane was both terrified of having his memories removed and of having that longing in him for the rest of his life. But he only told his father of the fear of his memory being lost, because it was too hard to explain the odd feeling he felt.

But his father, the man he desperately hoped would understand, told Zane he was perfect. “I could never make you any better than you already are,” his father had said.

His father could not fix him, and he would not offer Zane any advice on how to fix himself, even on his deathbed. Zane never felt so helpless as he did when he heard his father take his last breath, on that hospital bed.

There was no time for grief, though. There never was. So Zane simply picked up the broken pieces and moved on, even if it felt like he was drowning in honey.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Meeting Zane was…odd for Pixal. He was just so human-like. He did not seem to mind being out of date, when Pixal knew if she ever got that outdated she would most likely be decommissioned.

She did not understand why she had scanned him, but she did feel…something in her system malfunction when she did. She could not understand what was the issue, so she made a note to investigate and do a diagnostic later on.

However, a diagnostic was unable to be completed, for she suddenly could not control any part of herself. She found herself moving along to the commands of the Overlord, who was somehow, against all logic, still there, and able to force Pixal to do his bidding.

Pixal could not stop herself from attacking the children, when logically she should never do unless entirely unavoidable. Logically, making copies of Zane for an army was bad, but nothing she did could stop her body from doing it. Making a body for the overlord was a terrible idea for the fate of ninjago, but she could only watch as Lloyd got his powers drained out of him.

Everytime she tried to go against the Overlord, she got the same error.

REQUEST DENIED. FOLLOW OBJECTIVE CHECKLIST.

If Pixal could feel, she would feel despair.

~~~~~

Zane wasn’t upset about being left behind at Garmadon’s monastery. He understood that the ninja needed someone to watch over the Techno Blades, and as the one who required the least amount of sleep, Zane volunteered for the job. But that did not mean that he was not lonely, all by himself.

He did not like being by himself with his thoughts. It let the voice inside of him, that whispered that being called a brother was wrong, grow too loud to ignore. And all Zane could do with that voice was ignore it.

In a weird way, he was grateful for the chance to fight something outside of his mind, even if he was annoyed that the nindroids ambushed him. Well, he was with most of them. Pixal he was glad to see, if only because she was so much like him.

When he used his technoblade on her, he did not expect to free her from the Overlord’s brainwashing, nor that the way to defeat the overlord was to use the technoblades to erase the Digiverse entirely. But he supposes that is just how life is when you are a ninja.

When they get onto a circus truck to get to the city, in order to avoid suspicion, Pixal offers to repair Zane. Zane sees no harm in letting her, even if he did not like being repaired. but quickly regrets that when she pokes at his heart. It hurt, but different from the ache he was used to. It didn’t feel wrong, it simply hurt. A blinding pain he wished to never feel again..

Pixal was apologetic, though, so Zane forgave her for it. He then tried to answer her question about why he was so different from others, but he had no satisfactory answer.

He was just different. Being different was something that Zane had gotten used to being.

However, being different did not make it any easier to hear Pixal tell him they were compatible as she powered off, nor did it make the guilt he felt go away at being the reason she powered off.

~~~~

Everything after receiving Zane’s power supply was a blur to Pixal. She somehow could feel so many more things she could have never imagined. She felt a connection with Zane, unlike any she had ever felt.

She also felt an odd sort of thing, that made her want to be Zane. She had chalked it up to having half his heart, which surely had unforeseen results.

But she felt…freer than she ever had when she was fighting with him. When the ninja called for Zane, she wished she was Zane. She felt more like Pixal when she was with Zane than without him.

(A part of her wondered if she wanted to be Zane, but that was preposterous. She was programmed to be Cyrus Borg’s female assistant, and not a piece of her code was to make her want to be a boy. It was simply illogical to feel this way.)

Her creator did not seem to understand what she meant, however, when she tried to explain what she was feeling. And it was not like she was able to explain any farther, with the nindroids coming in to attack.

What happened next would be something Pixal wishes she could save in her memories as low quality screenshots, rather than the high quality videos they were.

The ninja were sent to the digiverse. The Overlord almost defeats them. Wu tried to destroy the system. Her father was taken. The ninja were sent to space. The ninja came back.

But one moment she will keep in her memory files as clear as she could was Zane sacrificing himself.

He had grabbed onto the Overlord’s armor, and she knew that unless he let go of it, Zane would be dead. And he did not let go.

“Go, ninja, go!” Those were his final words. The words that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

For the first time ever, she had sobbed. Great, gulping tears that she could not stop, no matter how hard she tried. Because the one she was compatible with, the man she wished to be, was gone.

The funeral was locked under as many layers of security as Pixal could find. She never wanted to think of that again.

Pixal missed Zane.

~~~~~

When Zane made the decision to sacrifice himself, it was not entirely made out of pure selflessness.

Instead, he had done so partly because he wanted the constant ache in his soul to go away. He knew what would have happened if he did not let go of the overlord’s armour. He knew he would die.

Logically, he was aware of the fact that his family would miss him. If he had not made a backup of his consciousness on Borg’s computers, so he could rebuild himself from scratch after the deed was done, he might have hesitated.

But he did not need to hesitate. He would come back. Dying would not be a big deal because he would come back.

(One would say that one looks for what they can not have. Zane did not like to think of that quote. It hurt a bit too much, especially as time passed on.)

When he found himself existing only on Borg’s computers, he found himself overwhelmed with the choices he had for what his new body could look like. He decided that if he was going to rebuild his body, he would do it right.

While some might say he should have left his body just as it was, Zane could not help but wish that it was more like Pixal’s body.

It was odd to think this, he knew, because boys do not want to look like a girl, but he could not help but want to look like Pixal. So he took a look at the prototypes for her, and the designs for the evil nindroids, picking and choosing what he wanted.

The time he spent in the modelling app was…informative. It allowed Zane to design his body to what exactly felt right to have.

In the end, it ended up being softer, smaller in a way. Where his hair was ramrod straight in a way, he let it have a curlier nature to it, similar to Cole and Jay’s. His shoulders were no longer as pointed, nor were they as broad. His feet were a bit more narrow, with soft curves. His hands were long and elegant, like piano players were.

Zane wanted to be soft for once. Not cold or calculating. He was still a man, just…a bit more soft.

(A part of him wanted to be soft like a girl but that was preposterous. Zane was a man. That was what he was made to be.)

When he sensed Pixal in the mainframe, he did the only thing he could think of: call out to her and start the manufacturing process, even if everything was not perfect.

“We're all different, but I don't feel so different around you.” Those words rang out true in Zane’s chassis as he spoke them through the computer speakers. He did not feel like an outsider with Pixal, but rather felt a kinship with her, most likely because of their shared experience of being nindroids.

“You are vital to me.” Without Pixal’s designs, Zane would not have known what to do with his own rebuilding and remodelling. She also gave him hope that someone out there was like him. She was the one he looked at and went, “I want to be your friend, because you look friend shaped.”

He smiled when he saw Pixal had run into the factory, and asked, “Are we compatible now?” because that was what she had told him, and before he had doubted that because she had claimed he was out of date. But now not only was he going to be up to date, he was going to no longer ache as much.

But just as the machines started to build him up, Zane felt someone overtake the systems. He could feel someone add weapons to his body, add systems he did not want to have, take away the modifications he had made and put his old body frame back.

He tried to scream, but before he could make a sound, he felt himself shut off.

The last thing he saw was Pixal, screaming and fighting as hard as she could. But with half of Zane’s heart, she could not fight as well as she could with him.

~~~~~~~

Pixal did not like to dwell on the circumstances that had led to her being uploaded to a computer in a dingy dungeon, her dismantled body just in view. She was sure if she thought about it too hard, she would end up giving herself a virus or whatever the nindroid equivalent was for a human migraine.

But she could not deny the facts: A man that her systems told her was named Ronin, had dismantled her and took her to an island along with Zane, where he seemed to be dazed and confused. There were very few moments of awareness from him, and Pixal was very sure he had lost all of his memories.

She had heard his screams as a monster, Chen she heard was his name, took his elemental power. She was not even aware that Zane still possessed it, but he did, or at least Chen thought he did.

Pixal did not hate very easily, but she thinks she could make an exception for the monster that was Chen.

The guards had talked about using Zane as bait to make the ninja come to the island, in an attempt to also steal their elemental powers. For what, none knew but Pixal knew that the ninja would come to save Zane and none of them could have any idea of what Chen was doing.

The computer did not have any sort of clock, and there was no real sign of time changing aside from the guard shifts, but 21 guard shifts later, Zane started to whimper. Pixal called out to him, wondering what was going on and risking her existence to comfort Zane, who, if she could love anyone besides her creator, she would love Zane.

Zane had quietly whispered that it was just a dream. Pixal had always wondered what it was like to dream, but when she had remarked this aloud to Zane, he did not know who it was speaking.

If Pixal had a heart, mechanical or bloody, she would have sobbed. He did not remember who she was. Zane did not remember who his family was, or that he was the elemental master of ice.

But then he asked if Pixal and him were compatible, and Pixal could have sobbed, but instead she just replied, ”Yes, Zane. Yes, we are.”

Eventually, she managed to get through Zane’s head that he needed to free himself, and together, with her limited knowledge of what exactly Zane was doing, they started to work together to get Zane out.

Although, admittedly, she did not expect for Zane to have a saw now. She did not recall that as part of his original design, so it must be a new addition from when he rebuilt himself.

When he eventually got into Pixal’s cell, she wished she could take away his hurt. She knew how much it must have hurt to see her like this, as scrapped parts, only her hard drive functional. It hurt seeing herself like this, but she had made acceptance.

That is why she told Zane to go on without her. With her, Zane would be slowed down significantly. He would not reach his goal if he was focused on her. Logical dictated-

Or Zane could just…put her hard drive in his neural drive, and input her into his hard processor. That also worked. An ingenious move by him, but Pixal did not expect anything less from the one whose heart she also shared.

She had access to every system Zane had, and she had no doubt she could be of much help as she was pretty sure he had no clue what he was doing with it-

Something poked them in the back. A taser. The body was powered off.

~~~~~~~~~~

Zane had to admit, having Pixal in his head definitely took some adjusting. Not because it was an unpleasant change, but because he had never had to share a headspace with someone before. Although he doubted many others can say they have had to do the same, so he will cut himself some slack this time.

One upside to sharing a mind, however, was the fact that Pixal was incredibly helpful in helping him out with navigating his new body. If it was not for her, he would not have known that he even had explosive shurikens! Pixal really was amazing.

And she was much smarter than Zane, which he greatly appreciated. He usually listened to her ideas, because when he didn’t…

Well, he found himself on the ground of a cave.

“Perhaps I should have listened to you,” Zane groaned as he pushed himself up, trying to regain his bearings.

Pixal huffed. “Perhaps is an understatement.”

Zane would have responded with a snarky reply, but suddenly he sees the Titanium Dragon. The one from his nightmares. The one that had been his thoughts since he woke up.

Someone was talking to him. Pixal was talking to him, but Zane couldn’t hear her, instead feeling his breath quicken. It was going to eat his head, and he couldn’t stop it! No amount of ice made it go away. No amount of cold made it back off.

He didn’t want to die. He had died, and while he might not have regretted doing it in the moment, he had caused a rift in his family and made everyone upset with him. and he was still in the wrong body, and he isn’t Zane that died but a new one, a fake one.

“You used to have a dragon,” Pixal told him, but Znae didn’t remember that. He didn’t remember anything of his past. Nothing that happened to the old Zane affected him because he didn’t remember it. He was just a replica.

And Zane was so so so afraid. The original Zane would never be this scared.

Pixal was talking again. Zane had to focus so hard on what she was saying. “Close your eyes,” she commanded, and Zane didn’t understand why she asked him to do that but he did.

The ice dragon was so loud, even when Zane couldn’t see it. Pixal asked him what else could Zane hear, and all Zane could hear was his thoughts telling him that he isn’t the white ninja, because the white ninja never felt this out of place in his own skin, never wanted to rip it off, never wanted to be something completely different-

“Who are you then?” Pixal’s voice, calm despite the franticness Zane knew she was feeling, broke through his thoughts.

It took more effort than Zane wanted to admit, but he eventually was able to choke out, “I am…the titanium ninja.” That didn’t encompass everything he was now, but he could barely care about how accurate his words were when he heard the fierce roars stop.

The dragon wasn’t…the dragon was not real. Zane opened his eyes slowly, hopeful that the monster that haunted his nightmares was gone.

Instead of a fierce dragon, roaring and making something in Zane ache, there was a sleepy dragon, curled up and purring. He had a vague memory of a dragon in his past named Shard that this was very similar to.

Gently petting it, Zane whispered, “And you are not here.”

“Anxiety levels are going down,” Pixal announced, but there was still franticness in her. “But your elemental reactor levels are going up-”

Before Zane could hear the end of her sentence, Zane felt a cold feeling encompass him. Unlike when he died, however, this was like coming home. Like this was who he was meant to be.

When the feeling faded, Zane could form a dragon.

~~~~

Being in Zane’s brain took some getting used to. It was similar to being a computer, Pixal thought, only she couldn’t seamlessly take control of Zane at any given moment. Instead, she had to go around his coding if she wanted to do such a thing…

Not that she would ever do that without his permission, but Pixal would have liked to have that option available sometimes. Especially when Zane was being especially idiotic.

Something that Pixal enjoyed about being in Zane’s brain, however, was simply the sensation of being in Zane’s body. While Pixal may not have any control over it, she could sense everything that his body did. And she will admit, she found a particular sense of peace in Zane’s body.

It wasn’t how the others treated him, or how he had ice powers, or anything like that. No, she found peace in other ways, like in the sharpness in his jaw, or the way he had large hands or in his broad shoulders with a flat chest or his height.

The things that defined him as a man. The things that made one look at Zane and go, “yes that is a man.”

Pixal knew that there was nothing wrong with being a woman. She is one, for gods sake! She just…appreciates the things about Zane’s body that make him look like a man.

It is a persistent thought, but she ignores it most of the time. Pixal does not have time to deal with this, and besides she is more useful being an assistant to Zane in his head, and if she gets too caught in her thoughts, she can not be as helpful to Zane.

Another thing Pixal likes, though, is being able to talk to Zane as much as she wants to, within reason. She knows it is silly, and illogical, but talking to Zane is just so interesting. He sees the world the same way she does, quite literally, and they tend to have very fascinating conversations.

Their conversations can range from why they were created to how similar they are to large language models to why AdBlock restrictions are irritating.

One day, after Jay had suddenly declared a ban on saying “I wish,” Pixal and Zane had a conversation that was probably the most deep and most meaningful out of them all.

“If you could have three wishes granted, what would you wish for?” Zane asked as he cooked dinner.

“What do you mean? And you forgot the salt,” Pixal replied, trying to figure out if Zane had forgotten anything else. Her boyfriend was prone to doing such silly things like that.

Zane put the salt in. “Thank you, and what I meant is if you were given three wishes, but you couldn’t wish for love or more wishes, what would you wish for?”

Before Pixal could properly formulate a response, she was responding. “I would wish to look like you.”

The spoon in Zane’s hand clattered to the ground. “I beg your pardon?”

“Then beg,” Pixal quipped back, before pausing, contemplating what she should say.

Should she tell Zane the truth? Tell him the rightness she had felt in his body? Tell him how it felt so so so good to be in his body? How, while her old chassis didn’t feel wrong, it wasn’t right?

After running 21 “if-then” scenarios, Pixal concluded the best course of action would be for her to inform Zane of this after dinner. “I will discuss this with you after dinner, if you wish. But for now, please keep an eye on your cooking. You’re gonna over cook the rice.”

Hurrying to remedy the error, Zane whispered, “I will be talking with you about this. I wish to understand what you mean.”

And that was why Pixal loved Zane so much. While many others would have left it after the first sentence, Zane clarified his intent behind his actions, rather than letting anything linger. Pixal appreciated the good communication immensely.

During dinner, Pixal noticed Zane was quieter than usual, only talking about 7% of the time rather than the usual 39%, but none of the other ninja seemed to notice, too focused on making fun of Kai’s latest piece of fan mail for some reason Pixal was too distracted to figure out.

After 34 minutes, dinner was complete and the kitchen was cleaned, and the rest of the ninja went off in their own direction to relax after dinner. Except Zane and Pixal.

When Zane laid down in his bed, Pixal was tempted to shut him off, simply so this conversation would not happen now. But eventually it would, and delaying the inevitable was illogical.

“Pixal?”

“Yes Zane?”

“What do you mean when you said you wished to have my body? Was there something wrong with yours?”

Pixal loved Zane so much. Sometimes Pixal wondered if he ever had a thing called tact, with how bluntly he asked questions sometimes.

But a question he did ask, so a response he earned. “...there was nothing wrong with my old body.”

“Then why do you want my body?” Zane’s voice was glitching, the numerous logical scenarios he was running overwhelming his systems. Pixal hated when he did that, since it made it so his systems run slower, making her slower. But this time was one where an exception could be made.

It took Pixal a while to figure out what exactly was the correct thing to say here, but Zane was patient, as always. Even when he was dying to know the answer to his question.

“...I suppose the easiest way to put it is that it feels…right to be in your body. Not to say that mine is bad but…” Pixal couldn’t explain more. There was more she could say, but there were no words she could find to explain.

Thankfully, Zane did not push. “I understand. I…If I were to make a body for you, would you like it to be based on my current design?”

“Yes.” Pixal had never been so sure of anything in her (his) entire life before. “I would like that a lot.”

Zane hummed in thought. “Thank you for informing me. Now, I believe it is time for us to rest, don’t you?”

As much as Pixal wanted to protest, to keep talking to Zane, the need for a cache cleaning was becoming too much to ignore. The numerous scenarios Pixal had performed made her (his) system laggy, and Zane was surely in a similar state.

So together the two nindroids powered off for the night, not thinking much of the conversation that had just occurred.

—-----------

Over the next few weeks, Pixal couldn’t get that conversation out of her (his) head. It was like a bug had infested her programming, preventing her from doing anything productive because all she could think about was this stupid bug.

Because no matter what she tried, she could not get the idea of Pixal being a man out of her mind. She knew it was ridiculous, that Cyrus Borg designed a daughter, that Pixal was Zane’s girlfriend, but…

The idea of having a male body, of being referred to as mister and sir? All the things that people associated with masculinity being associated with Pixal?

Something in Pixal wanted that. So Pixal did research. A lot of research.

And…Pixal realized that others felt this way. Guys who were trapped in a girl's body. Woman in a man’s body. And so, so so many more.

Pixal was a boy. And he didn’t want his old body back.

It was hard to not tell Zane all of this, all of what Pixal had discovered. But Pixal had run 42 “if-then” scenarios, and if Zane did not take this well, the chances of Pixal being left on her own devices, inside a computer, so he would not change so drastically, were too high for him to risk.

So he kept quiet about what he had discovered, and his desires for a body of his own. The conversation was deleted from Zane’s memory drives, so he did not ask anything more about it from Pixal. And Pixal tried to keep his desires hidden, ignoring them as much as he could.

He was more useful in Zane, anyway. THis was for the best.

Until one day, he was not.

—-----

Not being able to inform Nya that she needed to realign Zane’s neural inputs, not give him a new binary power core, made Pixal feel…useless. Sure, he could figure out what was wrong with Zane, but not being able to communicate it with anyone besides Zane was frustrating. He often had what he thought were excellent ideas, but unless Zane deigned to inform the others about them, or follow through with them, no one knew about them. And if no one knew his ideas, then Pixal was as good as useless to the ninja.

There was only one true solution to this predicament: Pixal must build himself a brand new body, one with better combat experience than his old one, so he can be as useful to the ninja as possible.

And if it gave Pixal the chance to have a body that was right, according to the image he had created in his processor? Well…that was Pixal’s secret to keep.

Hacking into Cyrus’s computers was simple. Startlingly so. Pixal made a note to inform Cyrus of this after he had completed what needed to be done.

It was honestly so simple to rebuild his body. Pixal had spent hours fantasizing about creating a body that was exactly to his liking, with combat capabilities and a masculine appearing figure based on Zane’s design. All Pixal had to do was recreate the image in the modeling program, and hit the start button on the machines to initiate the building process.

Uploading his hard drive info was a bit more challenging, due to him falling behind on uploading it to the cloud network that Borg utilized for all projects, but eventually Pixal managed to upload all necessary data to a spare hard drive. He triple checked that he had all memories on it, for he did not want to end up like Zane, with memories that he didn’t remember, only heard about.

When all was complete, it was time to disconnect himself from Zane’s systems. It was both somehow terrifying, bizarre and freeing all at once. No longer did Pixal have the sound of Zane’s thoughts in the back of his mind, able to be tuned into if Pixal truly wished to. No longer did Pixal have knowledge of everything Zane did or could do at his fingertips. No longer did Pixal feel stuck in a body that was not his in any way.

Instead, Pixal could insert his hard drive into his new chassis, and reboot himself. The process was rather slow, taking 4 minutes and 32 seconds, as to be expected for a hard drive that had large amounts of data on it that had to be preserved, and for a brand new chassis that needed to have all systems a-go.

But then, the moment he had been waiting for so long finally happened.

Pixal opened up his eyes, and took in the assembly room properly, not through a camera or Zane’s eyes, but his own. He flexed his fingers, strong and big, perfect for attacking others or inventing things. He flipped his hair, still long like in his old design for he didn’t want to look too similar to Zane. It was styled differently, now with most of it hanging down with only a few layers pulled back to keep them out of his face. He ran his hands over his armor, glad that the printing and the materials came out just as he had designed.

The nindroid just sat there, admiring his new body. It was sleek, elegant, and cool. And it was right. Every detail Pixal had designed felt right. There was no odd feeling anymore, like something was off. There was no need to tear off his plating because surely something must be wrong for it to feel this bad.

As Pixal sat there, an ugly thought arose in his head: What would Zane think?

Would he be thrilled? Glad that his once-girlfriend found peace in his body? Or would Zane be enraged? Upset that Pixal did such a thing behind his back, and wanted to be a fighter?

Even though Pixal’s heart wanted it to be the former, the logical scenarios he was running pointed towards the latter as the most likely scenario.

Zane would be furious if he heard what Pixal did. That was what would happen if he found out.

So Pixal simply just had to ensure he didn’t find out. Only how…

Suddenly an idea came to him, that was so stupid it might just work! Be Samurai X!

It worked for Nya, from what Pixal could gleam from Zane’s memories! It would surely work for Pixal as well, right?

With that plan in mind, Pixal made his way to the Samurai X cave, which hadn’t changed locations since the last time Zane went there, when he needed a few upgrades.

Putting on the Samurai X armour, Pixal felt like this plan would work out hopefully. Zane would get over him not being in his head. And when the idea of Zane rejecting Pixal was easier to swallow, Pixal would tell him.

~~~~~~

It has been over a year without Pixal, and Master Wu. A very long year.

Zane wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing with himself, if he was to be completely honest. He knew, logically, he was helping, running all the algorithms and making sure that the others had the supplies they needed.

But a part of him was missing. Pixal had been in his head for so long, ever since he came back in a body that every day felt more and more distant from his mental image of him, and her suddenly not being in it…

Something in Zane was broken. Not physically (he checked), nor was his software broken, but something in his heart was broken. He could barely function at first, when he realized Pixal was gone for good. Zane was able to run the systems she did, was able to do everything she could himself, but it felt wrong.

Pixal and him were a team.

Why did that have to change?

It was so hard to muster up the energy to continue on at first, but it slowly became easier to get through the days without feeling like the world was drowning Zane. The feeling of grief was not one Zane was unfamiliar with. He had experienced it with his father.

Back then, he had already mourned his father once, and he had the rest of his family all around him, and he had his students to worry about. Now, he was missing the man who had been like a father when his own could not be one, and the others did not understand the impact of Pixal’s passing like he did, having assumed for a long time that she had always been gone in a way, because they couldn’t interact with her like he did.

Anger filled Zane at the idea of him being the only one mourning Pixal, but Zane could not allow it to consume himself. If he did, then it just made all of Zane’s own flaws much more obvious, and he could barely think about himself without blue screening (literally).

The only thing that seemed to help was Jay’s idea to give Zane a hologram projector, so he could change his appearance. While Zane did not require such a thing, he did see the benefits to having it. He could assume a human appearance, and he could disguise himself as other nindroids.

Other nindroids such as Pixal…

It was wrong for him to do so. He knew it was wrong. But one night, when he was camping out in a cave, on his way to a temple that might have some answer as to where Wu was, he activated the hologram program and turned on his selfie camera on his phone.

Pixal’s face stared back at him. It was just as Zane remembered, bright white with purple circuits, and a long silver ponytail. Her dark purple tunic was draped across his chest, also a brilliant white. Looking at the face, Pixal’s green eyes stared back.

A sense of euphoria bloomed in Zane’s heart. It wasn’t him, no, but for some reason, in a hologram of his dead girlfriend, Zane felt like he was looking right for the first time in a long time.

He brought up a hand to run through his hair, but the hand just went through the ponytail. The holographic ponytail.

The illusion was dropped almost immediately after that. A sense of shame flooded Zane. What was he thinking? Why did he think that would fix anything?

He would never be Pixal. He was Zane, the master of Ice. A wonderful man, one that most would be glad to call a friend.

Zane didn’t sleep well that night, or for many nights after. The feeling of delight he had felt looking like Pixal haunted his dreams and memories for days, weeks, with no end in sight.

~~~~~~~~~~

That day, Zane and Nya were doing a routine check up on the Bounty’s computer system. The others had noticed a slow down in the system, requiring Nya and Zane to go through and figure out what issue had arisen exactly.

“It doesn’t seem that anyone downloaded any suspect files…” Nya muttered, pulling up yet another antivirus program. “Are there any background programs running that we didn’t check yet?”

“There doesn’t seem to be…” Zane sighed, before frowning at a programs’ name. SXCOMPXB “Nya, do you recognize this?”

Nya leant over, and shook her head. “Never seen it. Maybe that’s what has been slowing this down? Open it.”

Nodding, Zane opened the suspicious file. Was that against what every single technician recommended for internet security? Yes, but when did the ninja listen to common sense?

Never. Even when it was to their detriment, Zane suspected that they would rather burn along with the world than actually listen to advice from anyone besides Sensei-

Shaking his head before his mind could continue on that train of thought. Zane opened the file.

His processor froze when it finally opened. Pixal’s face was staring back at him, just like it was when she was in his head.

“Pixal…” Zane whispered, reverently. He didn’t expect a response. It would be foolish for him to. That didn't mean he did not wish for one, however.

And to his great shock, a voice that was not Nya’s responded. It was Pixal’s. “Z-Zane,” she whispered, a smile forming on her face. “I-I didn’t expect-”

Nya came closer to Zane, staring up at the screen with a scrutinizing glare. “What are you doing? I thought you were lost.”

Pixal blinked before shaking her head. “No, I…I must have uploaded my consciousness onto a computer and the Bounty’s computers must have found them and copied them onto its systems.”

It sounded bizarre but…Zane had heard odder. And besides, the logistics didn’t matter to Zane as much as the fact that Pixal was here again. That he could hear her voice. See her face.

After much talking, Nya, Zane and Pixal came to the conclusion Pixal would stay in the Bounty’s computer, and would be an ally to the ninja. Zane was overjoyed.

He would never require her assistance, but if she wanted to help, he would support her choices. And besides, now he knew she wanted to stay.

“I am glad you are back, Pixal,” he hummed.

Pixal had a smile on her face, but it seemed…off. But it might just be the graphics looking different on the Bounty’s computer screen than in Zane’s HUD. “I am glad to see you too.”

~~~~~~~~

There was honestly no intention on Pixal’s end to come out to Zane as a man. He had his doubts before, but connecting to the Bounty’s systems, and seeing Zane’s face light up at the idea of Pixal as an assistant….

Znae would never accept him. Would never see Pixal as a man.

So Pixal was content enough to stay hidden away, spending more and more time as Samurai X, protecting those who could not protect themselves.

But then his system got hacked. A foreign entity was introduced to it via Zane and….

Pixal felt so helpless, being unable to fight back against the intruder that was inside of him. Felt violated, like someone had exposed everything about Pixal to someone he had never even met before. Had never even heard of before.

All Pixal could do was connect to the Samurai X mech and start flying it towards the bounty, and in doing so, that made everything fall apart around her.

“Samurai X is approaching,” Pixal announced, dread filling up.

Cole nodded. “He must be here to help us!”

If Pixal could swallow, he would out of sheer anxiety. “I am afraid that is unlikely.”

“What? Why?”

“Because my system is overrun.”

Kai hit the table. “You’re making no sense, Pixal. What are you talking about?”

“This would be a good time to make a minor confession.” Pixal glitched, but he hopes his confession got through.

“I am Samurai X.”

There was pandemonium for only a few moments, before all of a sudden, Pixal was unable to control the Samurai X mech. Instead, he was fighting against his friends, and he could do nothing.

It hurt, hearing his friends cry out that Pixal was betraying them, and to hear them call him “she.” There was no time to dwell on that, however. Pixal had to reboot the system to purge the foreign agent before he caused serious damage.

But Pixal was not successful. The reboot was too late. The sword still hit the thruster.

Despite the ninja’s many efforts, they still crash landed. It might have been less damaged than if Nya had not attempted to control the rain, but Pixal didn’t need to be connected to the computer to know that the ship was badly damaged.

As everyone caught their breaths, Pixal made a split second decision. He pulled on his helmet, revealing his new facial features to the ninja for the first time.

“Zane,” he called out, his voice low like it never was when he was in the computer.

Zane turned around in an instant, staring. “Pixal? Is that actually?”

Nodding, Pixal forced himself to keep his eyes locked with Zane’s as Zane came closer. “It is me, Pixal, yes.”

A cold hand grabbed his arm. “What…why do you look different?” he whispered, looking at Pixal, voice glitching from something besides damage.

Before Pixal could respond, Kai yelled, “What about Lloyd and Harumi?”

The ninja and Pixal all froze. The two youngest were still missing. No one knew if they were even still alive.

Zane and Pixal locked eyes and nodded, coming to the same conclusion. There would be time for explanations from Pixal later.

Now was the time for searching.

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

Zane wasn’t sure what to do about the fact that Pixal wasn’t dead apparently, and had rebuilt a body without informing Zane at all.

On one hand, he was happy! He had missed Pixal desperately, and it was nice to have her back!

On the other hand, it was odd to see Pixal so different. Her voice was much lower now, and her body was designed in a way that reminded Zane of his own, or the nindroids from so long ago that worked with the Overlord.

Perhaps she had simply uploaded her consciousness to one of the remaining chassis that were not used for security bots? That would explain the more masculine appearance and voice, even if it didn’t account for the hair.

But those thoughts were pushed to the side, as the two had to first search the surrounding areas of the Bounty for Lloyd and Harumi. Nothing came up, but Pixal was hesitant to allow the others to wander far in the dense jungle, at least without comlinks.

The ninja then had to try to repair the thruster, but it was clear that would be a lengthy endeavor, even if Jay’s reactions were humorous…or maybe Zane’s funny switch was on too high again.

Seeing Pixal’s body relax at the sight of the Samurai X’s mech made the tightness in Zane’s chest relax a bit. Pixal was going to be fine, hopefully.

Hearing that Lloyd and Harumi were alive was an even bigger relief.

The two pieces of good news made the others much more motivated to work on the thrusters, and with Nya there to turn the thrusters on and off, Zane and Pixal could go work on the computer.

Unfortunately, there was not much success with that. No matter what they tried, the computer would not turn on.

“Try now.”

“No.”

“And now.”

“No.”

Pixal’s voice was tinged with frustration, her responses clipped, making Zane frown. “I detect frustration from you, yet that emotion is not needed for this task. Is something wrong?” he asked, hoping to not set Pixal off even more.

Pixal sputtered. “No!” She then looked away, crossing her arms. “Yes!” Eventually, she turned to look back at Zane. “Zane, may I ask you something?”

Zane’s response was automatic, if inaccurate. “You have half my heart. You can ask me anything.” Technically, Pixal did not have his heart, if the hazy memories of Chen’s island were anything to go by, but Zane hoped she figured the sentiment nonetheless.

Pixal gripped the controls to the computer. “Are you upset with me for building a new body?”

“What-No! Pixal, where did you get that idea-”

“You seem upset when you look at me. Was I that much more useful in the computer?” Pixal questioned, desperation evident in her voice.

Zane walked around the computer and grabbed her arm, forcing Pixal to face him. “I…I did not expect you to reuse an old chassis, that is true, but I would never force you to be something that you do not want to be. You did not like being in my head, right?”

“I did not, you are right.” Pixal tilted her head. “What do you mean by an old chassis? I designed this myself.”

Now it was Zane’s turn to be confused. “Well, I know your old body was destroyed, and if you had rebuilt it, I would assume it would be just like your old one, so surely this is just an old-”

“I designed this body to be what I want it to be.”

If Zane could breathe, the wind would have been knocked out of him. “What do you mean?”

Pixal hummed. “I feel…better in this body. I did not like being in my old body, and being in your head…the main reason I tolerated it for so long was because it felt right in a way mine never had. And when I saw an opportunity to create my own…I designed it after yours.”

All of a sudden, a memory that had been deleted resurfaced. Zane and Pixal talking about what would Pixal wish for if Pixal could wish for anything. Pixal saying that Pixal would wish for Zane’s body.

“...I suppose the easiest way to put it is that it feels…right to be in your body. Not to say that mine is bad but…”

“Zane?”

Zane jerked out of his thoughts, and stared at Pixal, realization growing. “Your new body…does it feel right?”

Pixal nodded. “It does. It feels so right.”

“Then I am happy for you.” Zane tucked a piece of synthetic hair behind Pixal’s ear. “Anything else you wish to tell me?” he asked, half joking.

Pixal bit her lip but nodded. “I…You do not have a girlfriend anymore, but rather a boyfriend.”

Zane blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The reason this body feels so much more right is because…I am a man.” Pixal’s voice was quiet, but her words left no room for argument.

Smiling, Zane hugged Pixal as tightly as he could, tighter than he would for any human. “Well, I am glad that I still have a boyfriend. I was worried you were breaking up with me for a second.”

Pixal snorted, pushing away. “Well, you might not have one if we don’t figure out what is wrong with this computer.”

Nodding, Zane went back to his place on the other side, pulling on different wires. “Now?”

“Still no.”

Sighing, Zane went back to trying to figure out what was wrong. He ignored the funny feeling in his heart.

He didn’t want to change like Pixal. He couldn’t.

~~~~~~~

Pixal couldn’t believe how everything changed so fast.

It sometimes felt like just the day before he was still stuck in Zane’s head, stuck as his girlfriend.

But then he was out of Zane’s mind, by his own violation, and he was fighting as Samurai X. He helped the ninja take down the Sons of Garmadon, had fought with the Resistance, and even faced the terrifying Oni.

Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that Pixal had checked five times, he would have assumed his memory banks were damaged somehow, if only for how absurd everything seemed.

(Sometimes, he wished he could, if only to erase some of the reactions he had received after telling people the truth about his identity. Most of them were positive but a few made Pixal shiver from something besides the cold.)

Ninjago seemed at peace for once. No major crimes were being committed, and the ninja were rarely called out by the police to help with arrests.

But then came Aspheera.

Honestly, if Pixal could have, he would have never allowed the ninja to go on such a foolish quest. They should have realized that would end up in disaster.

However, the ninja were so desperate for something to do and it was supposed to be a simple sort of adventure. Not one that ended up with a Serpentine being released from a prison with a vendetta against Wu.

Pixal wished that it just ended with the city destroyed. Wishes rarely came true.

They thought Zane had died. Thought he was gone for good this time. No consciousness was left behind for them to rebuild a body. Not even a wire was left for them to remember him by.

Zane was just…gone.

Or so they thought.

As they quickly learned, Zane was not dead. He was just…in a realm that was so dangerous the First Spinjitzu Master was afraid of it.

No big deal. (That was sarcastic. It was a very big deal.)

Pixal sometimes wished he had gone with the ninja to the Never-Realm. However, he knew that it was probably for the best of Ninjago that he did not go. The multiple crimes he had to stop as Samurai X proved that leaving the realm undefended except by Wu would have been a bad idea.

But it was…startling to see Zane so off. He still smiled and sat with him to do their routine repairs, but there was a distance between them now. A distance formed by the sixty years he spent alone in a realm of ice and cold, as the cruel ruler who forced the subjects into an endless winter.

There were many changes to Zane now, caused by that experience.

Zane would wake up with horrific nightmares, and Pixal would spend hours trying to soothe him, often until the sun had risen.

Ice formed around his feet, either gentle swirls when he was happy or jagged edges when he was furious.

He could barely stand any sort of heat, and would snap at Kai whenever he sparked up even a little bit.

Instead of using his trusty bow and arrows, Zane had switched to a staff. The way he fought with it was both mesmerizing to watch and terrifying to be at the other end of.

Even the ninja seemed distrustful of Zane, referring to Zane as just a teammate and not as their brother, and treating him like he would break at any moment.

There was a desperate hope in Pixal that things weren’t as dire as they seemed. That things had not changed so much that they were not compatible anymore.

He had both dreaded and was relieved when it came to a routine file cleaning. Him and Zane had made it a monthly date night of sorts, sitting in the workshop and going through the memories they had stored for those that they had deemed significant. The ones that would just come back if they hid them for forever.

(They had both learnt that lesson the hard way with the Overlord Virus that had almost destroyed Zane, formed by Zane blocking out the memory of his death so deep inside of him.)

But neither of them were looking forward to this date night. Tonight, Zane and Pixal would have to go through over 60 years of memories of a real life horror show, to determine what atrocities must be retained and what Zane could get rid of.

Zane was nervous when they hooked him up, leaning back in the squishy office chair as per usual. Pixal gave him a smile, and held his hand. “It will feel so much better when you get rid of those memories. I promise.”

Swallowing, Zane nodded. “I hope you are correct.”

“Shall we get started then?”

“Okay.” The response was not loud or enthusiastic, but it was consent from Zane for Pixal to dig through the memories of the Never-Realm.

If Pixal was human, his hands would be trembling from nerves. As it was, his hands were steady as he tapped on the keys, opening the software to examine the memories.

The first memory he booted up was one of Zane with a mech, in a cave. A man was there as well.

“That is Vex,” Zane whispered, clenching his fists.

Nodding, Pixal turned back to the memory showing, hoping a clinical approach would make this much easier.

“Oh, such a pity. You truly have forgotten. You're unwell, my Lord, but do not fear. I will take care of you. It is my sworn duty.” Something about Vex’s words made Pixal want to throw something, but he refrained. Calmness would make this much less painful.

“Your duty?”

“You are the Ice Emperor, the ruler of this realm.”

“I am?”

“Of course. Why look.” Vex handed the Scroll Of Forbidden Spinjitzu to Zane. “Here is your scepter.”

Zane looked at the scroll, before turning to Vex with a frown. “But I am not a man.”

Pixal blinked at the revelation, wondering what Zane could have meant. He turned to Zane to ask, but before he could, Vex was speaking again.

“What do you mean, My Emperor?”

Levelling Vex with an unimpressed look, Zane toyed with the staff. “I am not a man. I am…a woman. And thus I am the Ice Empress, Vex.”

The screen was turned off suddenly, and a sob came from behind Pixal. Pixal whipped around, coming face to face with Zane sobbing quietly, ice forming around him. Her?

Footsteps quiet, Pixal approached Zane and cupped Zane’s cheek. “Zane? What is wrong?”

All he got for a response was incoherent sobbing, so Pixal decided to just climb onto Zane’s lap and hug Zane until Zane felt better.

After eleven minutes and forty three seconds, Zane finally choked out,“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Sniffling, Zane squeezed his eyes shut. “F-for lying. I-I know I should have told you I pretended to be a woman in the Never-Realm, but I was scared.” Zane’s voice was glitching, presumably from how upset Zane was.

Well, that would simply not do. Pixal cupped Zane’s chin, forcing Zane to look up at him, in the eye. “What were you scared of?”

“That you would leave,” Zane whispered.

Pixal softened and hugged Zane again. “Well, that was illogical. Why would you being a woman make me leave?”

Wrong thing to say. Zane tensed up in his arms. “I do not want to be a woman.”

“So that whole-”

“I do not…” Zane took a deep breath. “I do not understand fully why I did what I did but…I do not want there to be even more changes. The others…they just assume my memory was so damaged I did not realize I was a man, or that Vex made me pretend I was a woman for reasons unknown.”

Rubbing his thumb over Zane’s cheek, wiping away tears, Pixal hummed in thought. He was pretty sure Zane did want to be a woman but…

Pixal remembered how hard it was to fully accept himself as a man. How he had battled it out in his head for months. While he could simply…force Zane to accept herself, it would most likely do more harm than good.

So instead, Pixal just petted Zane’s head. “If you wish, we do not have to f-”

“I want to finish.” Zane sighed. “I have a feeling if I do not tonight, I will end up deleting everything and hurting myself.”

Nodding, Pixal scooted off Zane’s lap and booted up the computer once again. “Okay.”

That night, after watching decades of loneliness and violence and destruction, Pixal slipped into Zane’s bed and laid with her throughout the night, soothing her after the inevitable nightmare.

The experience was bad but it did bring one good thing.

Zane, for some reason, started to be okay with heat and fire again. Kai was overjoyed.

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

Showing Pixal the memories of the Never-Realm was…bad. Zane was sure there were better words to describe it, but she did not want to think of them.

Another thing she did not like thinking of? The fact that the way she figured out what that weird feeling she had been plagued for the entirety of her existence was by becoming a genocidal empress.

Of course, Zane was not going to tell anyone that she was a woman. It was too risky, and besides the others were already wary enough of her as it was after the Never-Realm.

So Zane kept it hidden, never revealing anything to anyone. Not even Pixal, her beloved boyfriend. But in secret…

It was a dirty little secret, in a way. One that Zane tried so hard to keep concealed.

Late nights became research time, where Zane delved into the intricacies of the transgender experience, reading story after story of other women who felt like she did, and were accepted.

Upon learning that some transgender people burnt things that reminded them of their past negatively, Zane gathered anything that made her think of dark and sad memories of her past and set them all to fire.

It should have terrified her, the flames growing larger than her. But she just watched with a small smile at the past going up in flames.

If anyone were to ask, she was just getting rid of some old junk. Not that anyone did ask, but if they did, she would say that. All anyone did was show surprise that she was okay with fire once again, after being so vehemently against it.

Zane might have been able to get away with this secret, but then came Prime Empire.

It shouldn’t have caused anything major to happen. Just another villain trying to take over Ninjago, albeit in an unique way this time, trapping people outside of Ninjago rather than destroying the city.

But then came the detective costume and all the performing that went with it. Zane would admit afterwards that was not as effective as she had hoped, but in the moment?

The act of performing was freeing in a way. It reminded Zane of the anecdotes she had read of drag queens, who found peace in the art.

As the detective, Zane wasn’t just Zane, the ninja. She was a private investigator, looking for clues about Unagami. She was something besides herself.

It was, dare she admit it, fun.

But then the mechanic came and captured her. Captured Zane to use as an energy source to free Unagami from the game.

The pain was blinding. It was one memory Zane wished she could delete from her memory drives, if only because of how much it hurt. The electricity coursing through her circuits was higher than she had ever had felt before, and Zane wasn’t sure how Jay could ever manage to deal with this.

She thought she would die before anyone could rescue her.

When Unagami was released, all Zane could feel was exhaustion. She was exhausted.

But that experience opened her eyes to how easily she could die. How easily she could have another funeral, and no one would know she was actually the daughter of Dr. Julien, and Pixal’s girlfriend and the ninja’s beloved sister.

In the dead of the night, a few weeks later, Zane, for once, made an impulsive choice. She broke into Borg Industries, and fired up the machines needed to build a new chassis.

The design was hastily made, taken from Pixal’s original design with a few minor changes. The main difference was the hair. Where Pixal had a long ponytail, Zane had two braids, one on each side of her head.

But aside from that, Zane was the splitting image of Pixal when she first met him, just in a ninja gi.

Not long after Zane had transferred her consciousness to the new chassis, the door to the factory was slammed open.

Standing there were her family, and Pixal, looking around for a threat. The ninja looked around, confused.

“Are you sure that there are bad guys with Zane here?” Jay whispered.

“Well where else would Zane be? And you heard the report, there was activity in here!” Kai hissed back.

Zane quickly realized what was going on. They did not realize it was her who was using the machines, and thought villains had taken her to the factory for…something.

Clapping her hands, the lights turned on, and the ninja all turned towards Zane. Shock colored their expressions.

Pixal was the first to regain his composure. “Zane? Is that-”

“It is me.” Zane’s voice was quiet, but it felt like she was screaming in the silence.

Metal clanked against metal as Pixal made his way to Zane, cupping her cheek. “You look beautiful,” he whispered.

“And you look handsome,” Zane whispered back, hugging Pixal.

“Will someone explain-”

Cole cut Jay off. “Looks like we have another sister, Zaptrap. Nice to see you’re not captured Zane!”

“I am glad to not be captured as well,” Zane chuckled, letting go of Pixal to look at her family.

Lloyd smiled. “Yeah, I am too. But…a little warning next time?”

“Yeah,” Nya snorted. “We thought that the Mechanic got you or something.”

Smiling sheepishly, Zane nodded. “Alright. I will remember that.”

Kai yawned. “I don’t know about you guys, but I want to go back to bed. Can we all agree that Zane’s amazing and go back home?”

Laughing, Zane nodded. “Of course. I did not mean to worry.”

“You never do.” Pixal slipped his hand into Zane’s. “My very silly girlfriend.”

“My lovely boyfriend.”

Pixal’s eyes glowed with happiness as they followed the rest of the ninja, who were eager to go back to bed.

For the first time in her life, there was no hole in Zane’s heart, a desire she could not fulfill.

Together, Zane and Pixal walked out of the factory, for once at peace entirely.

#art’s silly (or not so silly) things #ninjago #ninjago pixal #ninjago zane #lego ninjago #t4t fanfic #anyway no it was not supposed to be this fucking long but i had a plot hole #ninjagobigbang2425 #anyway yeah #no one tell Aero I wrote most of this today shhh I totally finished this on time and not at the last minute #Also docs hates this fic becaue it is so long so be warned about writing long fic

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

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So~ Arab!Reader has been living in my head and heart for a while now so I wanna share some Reader-isms that are closer to my own cultural experience (ignore this if it's annoying btw no hard feelings whatsoever)

-Her love language is arguing, has not met a hill she wouldn't die on. will sometimes get on the table or ask him to crouch down so they can look eye to eye as she fights tooth and nail over something she stopped caring about like 10 minutes ago but she's having too much fun. calls him "your majesty" or Sultan/Sheikh sarcastically in every argument.

-He told her to just buy candles instead of burning incense that produces so much smoke since "they do the same job anyway", she reacted like he just insulted her ancestors.

-Not a drinker but has a minor coffee/tea addiction, knows every cafe nearby by heart and has a whole set up at home, loves making him try new drinks she found online or from her childhood.

-Will take a million pictures of everything and especially him, doesn't matter what's happening, it must be recorded "for our grandbabies, habibi🥺"

-Desert camping trips!! König can start the fire while she's in charge of preparing tea and coffee. she's mostly excited about finding a dune buggy to rent for a day that's actually comfortable for his size, they ride until sunset when both of them are a sand covered giggling mess. finally they get to cuddle and star gaze, keeping each other safe from the cold desert nights.

-if they ever get married this is an inevitable conversation:

"Liebe, you said we are having a small wedding"

"Mhm"

"the guest list is 600 people minimum..?"

"...yes?"

poor guy, his saving grace is that men have a very small role in weddings here, just sit, take pictures, cut cake, then leave with your bride. no need to write vows, dance, or even kiss in front of people.

-NO PDA!! hand holding is the most they do in public and even that's scandalous sometimes. he tried to kiss her hand in a shop once and she pulled it back so fast he was pouty for like two days after the fact. He learns to appreciate this though because he can clearly tell when she's feeling possessive in public when she clings to his side, loves to tease her about it; "a hand on my lower back, schatz? how indecent of you"

-Cat-calls him as he's going out of the shower but only in Arabic, so he doesn't know how to respond to the wolf-whistles and enthusiastic yelling, the only reason he's sure it's positive is that he gets his face squished soon after, he can at least make out the stretched out word 'Habiiiibiiiiiiii~" Cue flustered mess König

-calls him her Antara, one of the most famous and celebrated warriors in Arabian history, who was also a great romantic and wrote so many poems about his beloved Abla. (Antara Ibn Shaddad, if anyone is curious)

Oh god I'm going feral I’m not even kidding ❤️‍🔥💀

The arguing thing would get soooo interesting because I think that König has an anxious/disorganized attachment style so he’d try to avoid any kind of arguments and disagreements with his woman. If König can’t tame his darling, he’ll just let her have her way so that he doesn't have to suffer from the sudden tightness in his chest.

But... If she’s doing shit like climbing on the table to stare him down, König wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. He'd soon relax into the situation and then start to tease her about her temper. Corrects his posture so that he's still taller than her, and gives her a warm, knowing smile :) His Liebling is so cute when she's angry.

And lol König would be suspicious about the incense, he’s not used to that kind of stuff at all, but he’ll be damned before he says anything. Discreetly tries to open the window sometimes but closes it immediately if darling walks into the room (no use, she already saw him and he's going to get an earful).

But omg no pda??? Very hard for König but he will respect your wishes in this. You can see it in his eyes that he’s being a bit of a sad sulking puppy about it, of course it all dissipates if you put that hand on his lower back... This will be like foreplay to him, you're a forbidden fruit until you two are behind closed doors, and if you “break the rules” while he’s playing nice then whoo. Prepare to get your guts rearranged when you get home!

Still, if König can’t kiss his bride at the wedding he’ll start a war. 600 guests is negotiable, as long as he can kiss her in front of everyone and declare her as his own.

#oh and the Antara part and the desert camping trip have me howling at the moon #longingly #I'M YEARNING #answered

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pedroshotwifey · 2 years ago

Text

Favorite Bounty Chapter 2

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Chapter W/C: 6.7k

Chapter tags/warnings: Nothing to warn about yet, fluff, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, canon-typical violence, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE

Chapter summary: You get settled into life on the Crest with Mando and his adorable kid. Unfortunately, that means getting used to having heart attacks every time Mando manages to almost get himself killed.

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

You have been aboard the Razor Crest for two agonizingly slow, awkward, and very silent weeks. The Mandalorian is quiet. He’s been so quiet, you have found yourself wondering if he’s actually a droid under that heavy beskar armor. If you hadn't already seen the flash of tan skin under his flight suit, you would be convinced.

You didn't mind the silence at first, you assumed that it was because he just wasn't used to having another person around. At this point, though, you’re pretty sure it's because he finds you annoying or something.

The first time the thought occurred, it had bothered you that he might think of you as a nuisance, but you’ve taught yourself not to care. After all, if you really bothered him that much, he could have dropped you off on any random planet already, so that couldn't be it. The fact that you are still aboard the crest is enough proof that your company can’t be all that bad.

You do your best to stay out of the way anyway, but there have been a couple of times when you and “Mr. Cold Shoulder” have had no choice but to cross paths. The ship is large enough for you to avoid him for the most part, but unfortunately, you can't predict what hall he will be going through and when.

On the occasions that you have had to squeeze by each other, it has always been in one of those damned halls. It usually ends up being you who has to hug the wall as he walks through, ignoring you just as much as usual. Entitled asshole.

The first day, surprisingly, wasn’t the worst. You hadn't remembered falling asleep, but when you woke up on the metal floor of the ship that morning, you found that you had been covered by a blanket. You had been flattered to know that the Mandalorian had cared enough to give you one.

That flattery quickly faded though when you went through the rest of the day hearing practically nothing from the man. The only times he had talked to you was to order you to stop touching things.

After a few times—one of which you swear you weren't actually touching anything—you retreated back to the corner of the hull you had slept in. You had picked the child up on your way, glaring at Mando as if to dare him to snap at you for that.

Now, two weeks later, you sit in that same corner, on the same blanket, bouncing the same baby on your lap. You can tell the Mandalorian has grown used to you handling the kid because he doesn’t even spare you a glance when you reach for him at this point.

You look at the kid wobbling around on top of your legs. He seems to have gotten used to the constant handling as well. At least one of the boys actually enjoys your presence.

You playfully stick your tongue out at the child as you continue to bounce him on your leg. He babbles something in your direction and reaches his tiny hands out. You grab one of them with the hand that's not supporting him and pretend to slow dance.

You have grown fond of the little goblin and he seems to have taken a liking to you as well, sometimes opting to reach for you over his dad–who you can tell definitely glares at you from under his helmet when the child chooses to do so.

You used to feel bad about the kid picking you over the Mandalorian, but your pettiness has taken over at this point. After all, it’s the only way you can get back at him for being such a dick all the time.

You know the man wouldn't dare deny that kid something he wants just because he didn't like it. Even if he might not want to admit it, Mando knows that the kid enjoys having someone else to play with. Maker knows his father can’t be much fun.

You are pulled from your thoughts when you feel the kid start to slump in your lap. You sigh as you scoop him into your arms and bring him back to his crib. You know you can't rely on the child to keep you company all the time, you need to find other things to occupy your time. There are not many things to do on the crest, and you feel like you have already exhausted all of your options.

The third day, you had woken up to the ship touching down on some unknown planet. You had no idea that Mando had intended to stop. You thought that surely, this is where he planned to leave you. After all, you couldn’t have thought that he would just change his mind and move you in.

You collected your belongings and remained sat on your bed until you heard Mando jump down from the cockpit. Without looking at you, he walked to the ramp and lowered it. You didn't make a move to get up until he glanced your way, obviously wanting you to follow him.

You scrambled up after him as he descended down the ramp. As usual, nothing was said between the two of you as you made your way through that small town.

It was hard to navigate through the thick crowd and you were thankful that you had Mando in front of you, cutting you a path. It seemed that people naturally tried to avoid him. You probably would too if you didn’t know him.

You still have not gotten over how intimidating he can be. You figure a lot of it might have to do with the fact that he doesn’t ever talk. You never have any idea what he might be thinking, and it's unsettling to know that—good or bad—it could be about you.

After a few hours' worth of weaving in and out of shops, the Mandalorian had started to backtrack to his ship. It took you a little while to realize that he finished whatever he had to do in town but when you did, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There is no way he is taking you back with him. When you left your home planet, he had told you that he was going to drop you off somewhere else.

Didn't he want you gone? He never said that you would be staying with him on the Crest. Maker knows he doesn’t want you to. Did he expect you to just leave on your own at some point while he was looking around through the shops?

You stood glued to the same spot while you tried to sort out what you were supposed to do. Chewing your lip, you stared ahead at the ground. You were only pulled out of your questioning state when a pair of boots stopped in your line of sight.

You looked up to see the Mandalorian standing in front of you. His helmet tilted to the side ever so slightly when you reached his gaze. You’re weren’t sure what to say. Should you just be straight forward and ask him what you are supposed to do?

You had wished then more than ever that you could read his mind. Especially when he turned back around and continued walking away. You stare after him, not sure if you should follow him or not.

He had answered your silent question though, when he had turned his head back around mid-stride.

“Are you coming or not?” is all he said.

He stood waiting for you for another second before you jolted forward to catch up with him. You weren’t really sure why you had wanted to go with the Mandalorian so badly, but you figured it would be better than trying to start over on some strange planet.

Although confused as to why Mando had given you the choice, you weren’t going to question it. You had already made yourself a bit at home on the Crest and you sure as kriff weren’t going to be upset if he allowed you to stay,

You have figured since then that it was probably because you had proven yourself useful. You kept the ship tidy, you took care of the kid, and you stayed out of the way for the most part. Well, you figure, if that's what keeps you aboard, you are going to continue doing so for as long as you can.

By the fourth or fifth day, you had cleaned the entire ship—save for the Mandalorian’s quarters—until it looked almost brand new. In the days after that, you had repaired a couple of minor wiring issues and fixed up some of the paneling in the cockpit and in the hull.

Maker, you feel like you’ve done everything from fixing issues with the GPS to scrubbing the floor of the fresher. You try to scan your brain for anything you may have missed, but you know it’s hopeless.

You eventually decide that you would rather go sit in the cockpit with the silent Mandalorian than be alone in the hull with nothing to do but stare at the wall. At least this way you will be able to watch the streaks of hyperspace. That way you won’t have to be in complete solitude.

Even silent company is better than none at all. You know it might not be the best idea to risk bothering the man, but you begin to climb the ladder nonetheless.

You slip into the cockpit as quietly as you can and take a seat in the chair behind the voiceless pilot. The two of you sit in the quiet of hyperspace for what seems like hours before you break it with a sigh. It was a bit over dramatic, you’ll admit it. You’re just so tired of sitting in awkward silence when there is another person completely capable of having a conversation right in front of you.

He cranes his neck slightly to look at you over his shoulder. You keep your eyes trained on him and raise your eyebrows as if to say “Is there something you need?”. You’ve given up trying to be nice. You figure if he isn’t going to show any effort to be friendly, then neither should you.

He doesn't say anything as turns his head back around and flicks a couple of switches. He stays facing forward for a minute and you decide that that is likely the most interaction the two of you will have today.

You sit up a bit to tuck one of your legs underneath you and set an elbow on the armrest so you can prop your head up on your closed fist. You sigh, quietly this time, and look up to watch the white flashes through the dura-glass.

You think about going back down to the hull so you can fall asleep early, but decide against it. You know you aren’t tired enough to be able to do that right now.

You hear a barely noticeable creak come from the Mandalorian’s general direction and snap your attention back to him. He has turned his chair around to face you completely. You can’t miss the way his legs are spread wide, as if he was subconsciously taking up as much space as he can.

You hate the way you are attracted to his stance. He bleeds confidence and intimidation without even trying.

Your eyes wander to his crotch before you can catch yourself. You only look for a split second before you correct yourself, but it’s long enough for you to catch sight of the rather prominent bulge in his pants.

Your eyes widen slightly and you tuck your head into the fist that is resting on your cheek to try to hide your blush before the Mandalorian can realize what happened. Before you can stop it, visions float to the forefront of your mind. They come in flashes as you work to push them down.

You see the Mandalorian above you, slamming into you hard and fast, dominating you. You see him below you, watching as you bounce in a steady rhythm bringing you both to a climax. You envision him right in front of you as you are seated in the copilots chair and he wraps a hand in your hair and guides you toward his-

You quickly pull yourself away from that thought. That's too real, too in the moment, too dangerous to be thinking of how much you wish it was. It seems like it could happen so easily, but you know that it would never be.

You try to stop your eyes from widening again as you look up at his helmet. You pray silently that he didn’t notice your little mishap. He cocks his head ever so slightly. He definitely noticed.

You swallow slowly and maintain eye contact even as you feel your face burn even more than it had before.

“I-I um,” you surprise yourself as you speak. “I’m going to head down for the night,” you say, trying desperately to get yourself out of this situation. Your voice sounds squeaky, but you don't bother to try to fix it. You would probably end up saying something you would regret.

He says nothing but gives a slight nod in your direction after you make no move to get up. Once you get the approval, you try not to stumble as you get up and walk out of the cockpit as quickly but smoothly as you can.

When you hear the door behind you shut back into place, you let out the huff of breath you had been holding as you curse yourself. “Nice going, dumbass,” your head screams at you. You stay in place to try to collect yourself before you attempt the ladder back down to the hull.

You sit down on your makeshift bed on the floor and try to collect yourself. You’re not an idiot, you have noticed the sexual tension between the two of you that seems to just keep growing, but you didn’t think that the Mandalorian was as aware. With his recent display though, it seems that he knows exactly what he's doing.

You can't help it as the image of the warrior from just moments ago seeps back into your head. He was the absolute picture of masculinity. His musky smell seemed to have filled the room as soon as he had swiveled around to face you.

It was almost intriguing, the way he had looked so relaxed yet so sure of himself at the same time. To be honest, you don’t know if there is any way for the man not to look confident at all times. He radiates pheromones and seems to automatically dominate any place he wants to just by being there.

You wonder if he is trying to do the same to you.

***

You wake up the next morning to the ship jolting to a sudden stop. You don't remember when you had fallen asleep but you figure that is probably for the best. What you do remember is the multiple sexual scenarios featuring yourself and Mando that had intruded into your dreams. You blush again at the thought as you recall some of the scenes that had played out last night.

It feels so wrong but so right at the same time to picture Mando in these ways. You guess you could describe it as your guilty pleasure.

The first time you had fantasized about Mando, you had startled yourself with your forward thoughts. You hadn't realized that you had even been attracted until you had caught yourself in the middle of an erotic daydream. You had criticized yourself and shook the unwelcomed visions from your head.

Since then though, you have slowly come to find your private fantasies a vital source of entertainment. When you often find yourself with nothing else to do, even though you still feel a tad bit guilty, you allow your daydreams to play front and center while you stare off.

Not to mention the times when Mando is away hunting a bounty, and you get the ship all to yourself. After you put the kid to bed, sometimes you will allow yourself the pleasure of getting your release as you make up new images alone in your cot.

A couple times, the Mandalorian has walked in on you while you are lost in a private moment, only the times when you had been staring into nothingness, thank the maker. Each time it happened you would feel the blood rush into your cheeks, but you would do your best to play it off as though you had simply been dozing off.

You knew you couldn't do much more than that but pray to the maker that the silent warrior hadn't put the pieces together and caught on. That would be the day you would jump off the Crest and into the welcoming vacuum of space.

You sit up on your blanket and stretch your hands into the air. Your back hurts from sleeping on the floor of the ship every night, even if it is slightly cushioned by the layers of blankets you set up. The pain now though is nothing compared to when you were working at the junkyard back on your planet, so you can't really find it in yourself to care much.

Suddenly, you hear the thumping of Mando’s boots in the cockpit above you. You groan as you remember last night's little incident. Honestly, how embarrassing can you be? You scold yourself for acting so transparently.

You hope that somehow, the Mandalorian wasn’t able to tell your feelings for him by your flustered actions, but you know it's wishful thinking. He would have to either be dumb or extremely ignorant, which he most definitely is not.

Even if it may be the cause of your downfall, you admire Mando for those qualities. He always seems to pay attention to small details that anyone else would be likely to miss. You figure that's what makes him such a damn good bounty hunter.

Since you have been traveling with him, he has brought in six bounties. It never took him more than a few hours in each place before he was walking back up the ramp with the criminal in tow. Barely glancing in your direction, he would walk past you, making sure you’re at least out of reach of the unwelcomed company, and then shove them into a carbonite chamber.

The first time he came back with a bounty, you had to scramble away to a different part of the Crest to hide the blush creeping up on your cheeks. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help how turned on you got as you watched the silent warrior manhandling the twi'lek bounty through the ship.

You’re not sure if it was the way he tossed the thug around so effortlessly, or if it was the way he ignored the crook as he begged for his life, without a morsel of regret or hesitancy. Maybe it was the image that popped into your head of how easily he would be able to take control of you and take whatever he wanted - knowing of course that you would give it willingly anyways.

You try to shake the vision from your mind as it appears again now. You have really got to stop doing that.

The fuzziness of sleep starts to dissipate when Mando steps into your vision. You look up at him as he struts to the ramp of the ship and lowers it. You wonder for a second if he is going to leave without saying anything to you, but he turns around while the gangway continues to descend.

“I'm going to be gone for a while this time.”

A gust of freezing cold wind blows snow into the ship and you shiver. You pull the blanket that is still on top of you up to your shoulders to shield yourself from the frost.

You feel like a little kid as you stare up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He doesn't. “Okay,” you nod at him. He nods back and turns around towards the open ledge. “Stay close to the ship,” he tells you. “This place is an icy skughole”.

Your eyebrows furrow. You don't like being told what to do, but you know that he’s right to tell you to stay. Once he steps onto the planet’s surface, he tells you to look after the kid before he pushes a button on his vambrace to bring the ramp back up.

Okay then. Nice talk.

***

After a few minutes, you get up to see if the child is awake yet. He’s not, so you decide to hop in the fresher since you have the time.

The fresher doesn't get very hot, so you turn the water up as much as you can and step in. you sigh as the stream hits the tense muscles in your back.

As you scrub shampoo into your hair, you think about Mando. You try not to worry about him—he's been doing this long before you met him after all—but it's instinct to wonder if he will be coming back in one piece.

You have always had a deep respect for bounty hunters—the good ones anyway. You couldn't imagine trying to track someone down and then having to manhandle them back to wherever you were instructed. A person would have to be practically made of pure muscle to be able to fight someone through the adrenaline their opponent is experiencing.

You smirk as you think about how much muscle the Mandalorian must be carrying. You had felt the firmness of his thigh as you had patched him up on that first day. You weren't paying much attention to that detail then, but now you savor the memory as it feeds your out-of-control imagination.

You think about how strong and comforting being wrapped in his arms would feel until the water runs cold. You flinch at the temperature change and jump out of the fresher, rolling your eyes at yourself for getting distracted again.

You hear the kid babbling as you step out so you secure the towel to your body and grab him a breakfast portion on your way to his hover-pram. You set him down on your makeshift bed and turn him to face the wall before handing him his portion.

You can't help the grin that creeps up on your face as you watch him play with a small metal ball while he nibbles his breakfast. That kid is too damn cute for his own good.

Not knowing what else there is to do, you figure you will take the child outside to see the snow after you get ready. You wonder to yourself if he has ever had the chance to see it before.

It warms your heart to think that you might be the first one to show him. Maybe you will show him how to make snow angels. You might make a snow fort with him, he would probably love that.

After toweling off and waiting for your hair to dry a little, you throw two layers on and then add a coat for good measure. You are grateful you picked up some new clothes on the last planet you stopped on.

You weren't sure about getting the heavy coat, but as you start to warm up, you’re grateful you did. The kid finishes his breakfast as you pull a woolen cap over your head. You scoop him up and wrap him in a small blanket as he coos at you.

You frown as the blanket swallows his form. When you get back inside, you will have to sew him a cloak out of one of the blankets you sleep on. You could spare one for the little gremlin.

“You want to go see the pretty snow sweetheart?,” you ask him excitedly. He claps his little three fingered hands together and babbles back at you. You take that as a yes.

You hit the button next to the ramp and watch it lower, covering the kids eyes as the snow blows in to dust the edge of the ship’s belly.

Once the ramp is all the way down, you walk down it and take a step into the snow. The kid looks up and laughs at you when you let out a sharp “yip” at the feeling of the freezing powder biting your skin halfway up your calves.

You can't help but laugh at yourself too; you weren't expecting the snow to be so deep. The kid starts to make grabby hands at the ground so you lower him and cautiously set him down. Luckily, he does not weigh enough to sink down like you did.

You imagine trying to explain that to Mando. “Yeah, sorry about that, I set the kid down and he just disappeared right into the ground!” You chuckle at the thought because in reality you know you would probably be dead before you could get a word in.

Sometimes, you’ve learned, you just have to laugh so you don't have to worry. It works for the most part so you don’t really see a negative in it.

You taught yourself to do this within the first few days of knowing Mando because it felt like you had to worry all the time. It was exhausting. You figured maybe if you didn't seem so on-edge, he would relax a bit too.

So much for that idea…

You look down when you feel a little hand grip your pant leg. The kid is trying to pull your weight out into the clearing. You smile as you obey his request and step away from the ship.

Making sure not to go too far, you step in front of the child and lead him to a particularly fluffy looking spot. A smile crawls onto your face as you crouch down to take a handful of snow.

Seeing your actions, the kid reaches down and grabs a fistful for himself. Waiting until he seems to be satisfied with his bunch, you slowly start to pack the powder into a ball.

You hold it out for the kid to see and watch as he attempts to copy you once again. He packs a little too hard and the snow crumbles back to the ground.

You give him an encouraging smile and hand him a new bunch. You demonstrate again with your own and make sure to exaggerate how softly you are tapping the snowball as it takes shape.

He seems to get it because soon enough, he is holding a little ball of his own. He coos and you laugh back at him.

Looking around to make sure you have enough room, you back up and begin to roll your snowball through snow. You make a full circle around the kid and then make a trail in front of him, watching as the ball grows bigger with each step.

He giggles at you when you stop in front of him with what you have decided will be the base of your snowman. You can't help but giggle back when he plops his snowball back to the ground and begins to run it in a circle as you had done.

Once the snowball is built up to the size it needs to be for the body, you grab it and stack it on top of the first. You hand the kid the last one and tell him to roll it until it's just a little smaller than the last one.

Once satisfied with the size, you grab that one and stack it at the top. You step back and pick up the kid so you can both admire your hard work.

You smirk as an idea pops into your head. Mando may kill you for this but it's going to be so worth it.

You set the kid back down and he immediately gets to work in the snow, making more snowballs and setting them into a neat stack. After making sure he's content to do that for a moment, you turn back to the faceless snowman and get to work.

You pick up some more snow and start to pack it onto the head to give it the shape of a helmet. It's not perfect, but it makes you laugh out loud when you find the right shape.

You round out the top and start to hollow the cheeks out a bit to make the ridges as realistic as you can. Still smiling, you turn around and search for two sticks for arms and two smaller ones to complete the helmet.

You find what you are looking for and put the arms onto the torso of the snowman so that they are sticking out. After making sure the arms aren’t going to fall out, you move back to the top.

You push the first stick horizontally near the top of the “face” and then put the second one vertically under the middle section of the first. You step back and admire your work one more time.

You laugh and pick the kid up to show him your work. “Look, It's a snow-mando!” you tell him through your wheezes. He stares at the figure for a moment before he too starts to giggle.

You know Mando would probably hate it, but the idea was far too enticing to pass up on. Looking at the finished product, you have no regrets.

***

After both you and the kid got your fill of playing in the snow, you clambered back into the ship and fixed up some lunch. You put the kid down for a nap after he finished eating and got back into the fresher for a second just to warm back up.

As you get dressed, you think about what you can do to occupy yourself for the rest of the day. When you tug on a light jacket, you remember your plans to sew one for the kid.

You grab the blanket you planned on using and plop yourself down on the floor next to your makeshift bed. You tug a short container over your way and start to pencil in a design to cut out.

Halfway through cutting the pieces out, you hear a commotion towards the front of the ship. You go to jump up but then remember that Mando had told you he would be gone for a while.

Did he just mean a few more hours than usual? Deciding to take a peak, you lift your head up just so that your eyes are above the crate sitting next to you.

The ramp is open, but other than that, nothing appears to be out of the ordinary. You shoot your head back down when you hear a hissing sound come from where the carbonite chambers are.

It sounded like one of the chambers had been activated, but that doesn’t make any sense, you didn’t see anyone on board.

Knowing you need to be able to protect the kid from any potential danger, you shakily rise to your feet. keeping your head ducked down, you inch around the crate toward where you heard the sounds.

You gasp as you see a figure splayed across the floor in front of the chambers. You almost fall back down when you realize that the figure is clad in beskar.

“Mando!” you exclaim as you scramble to him. He doesn’t respond to your voice or to your movement and you feel tears well up in your eyes.

As you rush toward him, you see the carbonite settling around a large figure that you assume is the bounty. You calm down a little knowing that at least there is no threat waiting to pop out at you, but there is no way you can relax when your gaze turns back to the unconscious Mandalorian.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod-

Not knowing what to do, you loosen the fabric around his neck and press two fingers under his helmet, trying to find a pulse. It's there, but it's faint.

Maker, he’s freezing! You gasp as you make skin to skin contact. He feels like he had been laying in the snow for hours. You need to warm him up, which feels like an impossible task in this icebox of a ship.

You push back your anxiety and check your surroundings before you slam the button next to the ramp to bring it back up. That should at least keep it from getting any colder in here.

After the ramp is back into place, you get back to Mando and carefully check his body for any injuries. You see none so you focus on building a plan to warm him up.

It only takes a moment for you to figure out what the best course of action would be. You take a deep breath and move towards the ladder that leads to the top part of the ship. With shaky hands, you grab the first rung and start to pull yourself up.

As soon as you reach the top, you veer to the right and step into the generator room. You put your hand on top of the ship heater but hesitate for a moment. Turning it on would mean that fuel would burn quickly, hence why it hasn’t been on this whole time.

You know that Mando would be furious if he knew you turned it on, but you decide that a mad Mandalorian is better than a dead one—you hope.

Before you can doubt yourself any further, you push a button and turn a knob until the heat is all the way up. It only takes a second for you to feel the warm air starting to circulate into the Crest. You sigh at the feeling and turn back around to the ladder.

Once you reach the belly of the ship again, you snatch the stack of blankets from where you sleep and start to drag them to Mando. You cover him with the layers and lean down to feel for his pulse again.

When your fingers touch his neck you hear him gasp and you almost jump out of your skin. “Jeez Mando, you scared the absolute Bantha shit out of me!” you tell him as you jerk your hand back. You hear a tremble in your voice that you had no idea would be there.

As relieved as you are that he seems to be responding to you at this point, you know that this must just be the calm before the storm. You are smart enough to know that he is going to be pissed about probably every single thing you had done within the last ten minutes.

You decide you should just cut to the chase and get it over with. You don't feel like having to do this later tonight. You begin to tell him everything that you had done since he came back to the ship.

“I figured you would be upset about the heat, but for makers sake Mando, I thought you were going to die!” as you said the words, it really hit you just how scared you had actually been.

What hit you even harder was the realization that you would have been devastated with the loss. It wouldn't have just been an inconvenience if Mando had died on the ship—It would have hurt you deeply.

You take a deep breath and sit down next to the Mandalorian. You feel him shift into a sitting position beside you. You have no idea why he hasn’t said anything yet, but you would rather him be silent instead of reprimanding you right now.

Ignoring the movement beside you, you continue on with your shaky explanation without making eye contact. “I'm so sorry…I just didn't know what to do.” You look down at your feet when you feel like you have said everything you needed to.

You didn't even realize you had started to cry until you felt a gloved thumb brush a tear away from your drenched cheek. You flinch away at first, not used to the contact.

Once you get past your initial shock, you tilt your head up to look at the Mandalorian’s visor. He still has not said anything. Not like that is too surprising.

Your breathing begins to slow as Mando flattens his gloved hand to cup your chin. “Mando I-”

You are cut off by the swipe of his thumb across your lip, the touch light as a feather.

The Mandalorian shifts his position to be more comfortable and brings his other hand to rest at the base of your skull. you are too stunned to speak as he gives you a gentle nudge so that your face is resting against the space between his shoulder and neck.

Still shaking slightly, you let out a shuddering sigh and allow yourself to breathe in the sweet scent that can only be described as Mando. You can't help but relax in his grasp as he removes his hand from your chin and uses it to pull you onto his lap.

Cradling you in his lap, he begins to sway slightly in a comforting motion. You curl up and try to steady your racing heart as you wrap your arms around his torso.

You both sit tangled in silence as your tears begin to dry and your heart slows back to a normal pace. The closest you have ever gotten to Mando was when you had patched his wounds that first night, yet sitting here in silence with him feels like the most natural thing in the world.

You relax as if you and he had done this hundreds of times before, you can't help but feel like this is where you belong. The sense of belonging overrides your confusion and you close your eyes at the comforting feeling.

“Shh cyar’ika,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. “Everythings okay now.”

You have to stifle the sob that threatens to protrude through your lips when you hear his gentle tone. The only time you have ever heard him speak in that way has been when you overheard him comforting the child.

You hold on to him tighter and lift your head up to meet his gaze. “You’re okay?” you ask him, worry clear in your expression and the slight quiver of your voice.

The Mandalorian is grateful you can’t see his face because he wouldn’t have been able to hide the way he melted when you looked at him that way. He is not used to having anybody being worried about him, and, like the stupid fool he deems himself to be—he didn’t realize that you had.

He felt a sting of guilt as he recalled the recent interactions between the two of you. Of course he cared for you—how could he not? You took such good care of him and the kid, not to mention the way you paid attention to the ship. He just never figured that someone as precious as you could ever care for him in that way, so he figured if he kept you at an arm's length, he wouldn't risk doing anything he might regret.

Deep down, he knows that he is undeserving of your affection, but he also knows now that you fear losing him. Now that he is sure, he is not going to let you go. As he holds you tight in his arms, he vows to himself that he will do everything in his power to keep you safe.

“Yes pretty girl, i’m okay,” he tells you before he lowers his helmet to rest on top of your head. “Go to sleep now, you’ve had a big day.

Naturally, you want to protest, but you know you can't fight the exhaustion that is slowly pulling you under. You don't think you have the energy to reply with words, so you just nod and put your head to his chest.

At some point, you feel Mando carefully lower you down with him until you are both laying down. You are still on top of him when he reaches down and covers you with a light blanket.

As you drift off, you hear the Mandalorian whisper quietly - so quietly that it may have been a dream.

“Everything will be okay cyare,” he says, “I've got you now.”

****

Thanks for reading!! Taglist is open <3

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lilyofporcelain · 7 months ago

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Home for the Holidays

She didn’t care for holidays. Certainly, when she was younger, more naive and foolish, they were enjoyable. But the older she got and the more she saw what the world was actually like and how her worth was determined, the less she wanted to do with it. Any of it. Yet as she stood in an apartment that didn’t belong to her. An apartment she had, eventually agreed to stay in. Laeynna wasn’t sure she was meant to keep with older traditions she had put into place.

What normally happened during the holidays? Nothing, honestly. She worked. She avoided people. She sought her solitude. Normal people didn’t do that, of course. They had friends and family they spent it with. But she wasn’t normal. Laeynna Emberflame was a monster. No one in their right mind should have wanted to spend such things with her anyway and she wasn’t certain she wasn’t broken in some bizarre way to be adequate for social gatherings and galas.

Or was that an excuse? Folding her arms across her chest, she wasn’t fully convinced. She certainly had wanted to begin breaking herself out of the self-imposed prison of ice she’d contained herself in for years. If not for herself, then for the sake of the man whose apartment and time she was taking up. What were his plans? She hadn’t asked. In truth, for the most part, the notion of the holiday had escaped her. At least it had until she heard it in passing as she was going through the streets on market visit. Pilgrim’s Bounty, right?

He had friends she suspected he was going to spend it with. There was really no sense in asking.

Laeynna’s posture shifted and her gaze moved onto her father’s book, which she’d left on the coffee table in the sitting room. It wasn’t just her father’s book. It contained all of her diagrams and research, just as it had included his. Despite the years putting her in the position she had gone, it was the one thing she had that linked her to her family. After her trial and subsequent sentencing, she had never reached out. Assumed they had no interest in hearing from her. They never showed to the trial and for that, she was thankful. She had caused them so much trouble in her youth and she had brought them nothing but insult, driving the Luridveil name into the ground where her sister might have saved it.

If Ankalei hadn’t died. Or whatever it was she… was. Zaihne would have known better than she did. Could have asked, but…

Maybe that wasn’t the point. Maybe the point was that in order for her to move forward, she had to stop running from everything she’d spent years trying to escape. The fact of the matter was that no one could actually run forever. Years spent running already had left her ragged. Experimentation had left her a shell of who and what she once had been. She wasn’t even physically capable of continuing to run. Not the way she once had, anyway. Sometimes she swore she felt so brittle that she’d simply trip over something and every part of her would shatter into pieces.

Wasn’t it time for her to… stop running? It felt so much easier to think than it did to say.

If she did stop, what was the first step? Where did she begin? Writing to her family? Every time she went out with Andaeros in public, she was afraid someone would recognise her. Already, there was the notion that her uncanny resemblance to her mother was pointed out, something that she had quickly hurried on from and ignored. Well. Had attempted to. They still lived in the city. She knew that much for certain. It was only a matter of time before she crossed paths with them. Wouldn’t it be better to write than it would for them to stumble upon her in the flesh? They’d likely thought her as dead and gone as Ankalei.

If she wrote, what was she supposed to say?

Yes, hello. Apologies for destroying our family. I have finally grown up and realise I am in no position to ask this of you, but I want to have a relationship with you. Also Ankalei is okay.

No. That was sure to be a disaster. The thought of inviting her parents for dinner and reaching out to Ankalei seemed… daunting. A fever dream at best. In an ideal world they all could have sat together. Could have introduced them to Andaeros since the connection there seemed to be quite serious and it might have been a good display for her to show just how seriously she thought of it. Maybe invite Zaihne, too. He’d said he liked Ankalei or something to that effect. Maybe. Perhaps he’d only liked her because she was a necromancer’s dream without having to do any of the rising himself.

It wasn’t really any of her business. Loosing a soft sigh, feeling overwhelmed by everything, Laeynna shook her head. No. Not this year. She’d spend another year alone trying to handle the things that had fallen into her lap. A visit to Silverpine was right around the corner and she couldn’t have been more thankful. Anything to think about something that wasn’t family or how terribly messed up she was as a person.

(Soft Mentions— @andaerosdawnflare)

#world of warcraft #lilyofporcelain #in character #writing #pilgrim's bounty 2024 #laeynna emberflame #andaeros dawnflare #reknon luridveil #seilahs luridveil #ankalei luridveil #zaihne velios

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royal-songbird · 2 years ago

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The Origins of Etho's Dishwasher

Hello all !! I got bored so. i decided to write out this silly little drabble of grian first discovering his magma cube, ethos dishwasher, in my secret life apocalypse au :D i wrote this for fun, so ignore any mistakes or whatever

Word count: 508

Grian has terrible impulse control. He’s quite good at pretending he actually does have good control over every little thought pinging around in his skull, and only indulges in them for the bit, but in all honesty, it's almost abysmal how little he’s in charge of his own thoughts.

Of course, in general, this isn’t much of a problem. The worst that comes out of his incredibly impulsive nature are months-long prank wars, but those usually end on a good note, with everyone pitching in on the cleanup. In fact, Grian would even argue that his prank wars help bring everyone together, no matter how much the others may insist otherwise.

But that is not the point of this observation. What brought Grian to this unsurprising realization is the little glob of hell sitting at his feet, blinking innocently up at him, as if it's done no wrong.

And, one might ask, ‘glob of hell? Isn’t that a bit dramatic?’, and no, no it is not. The creature in front of Grian seems to be made up of actual lava, its eyes a burning orange, chunks of the molten rock swirling beneath its dark, hardened exterior. Grian’s wearing pants, but he can still feel the heat radiating from the thing, like standing too close to a campfire.

Now, that brings another question around- Why is Grian with a glob of hell in the first place? Well, that’s where his impulsivity plays in. He’d been out looting, as one does in the middle of a world-end apocalypse, when he had stumbled directly into the ‘corrupted’ part of the city. It had been long since overtaken by a strange, other-worldly growth with towering, basalt spikes and strange red trees and vines, pools of lava seeping through fissures in the streets. Basically, a walking death pit.

But, Grian being- well- Grian, did not retreat like a normal, logical person would do. No, instead, he headed deeper into the city, ignoring any scrap of self-preservation he might’ve had. Look, he had thought there would be more untouched supplies there- he hadn’t once seen a single survivor go in there, so logically, there had to be some things leftover. In the end, his brave exploration did not yield much, aside from the glob of hell now following him around.

He had run into it after narrowly avoiding death from a giant, floating octopus-like creature that shot fireballs, and it just…hadn’t left his side since. Grian tried getting rid of it, he really did, but the thing refused to leave. And now, against his better judgment, Grian has gotten… a tiny bit attached to it.

In his defense, the creature is quite cute, if he looks past the made-from-lava part. And sure, there’s an apocalypse going on right now, and taking in a pet is probably not the best idea, but is that really such a big deal?

Grian frowns as he looks at the magma cube. It blinks back, letting out a gurgling noise, lava bubbles popping inside it.

Yeah, this is fine.

#sl!apocalypse au #secret life smp #secret life #mcyt #grian #secret life grian #secret life fanfic #mcyt fanfic #grian fanfic #finch does stuff

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davepetea · 1 year ago

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((just ranting abt writing fanfics you can ignore me lmao. I'm just in a weird place atm but I'm feeling kinda passionate abt writing rn so I'm gonna vent

originally I wrote a lil of this in the tags but then decided to just chuck it under a readmore so people aren't subjected to it against their will. then it got really long.

I'm not actually expecting anyone to read this im just sorta venting to myself. it helps me get my thoughts sorted if I write them down. I can also look back through my #.vat file tag in a few years from now and hopefully be like "wow I'm doing so much better than THAT now", so if that's the case, hi future Vatta! I hope you're having a good day. and if you're not future me, then I still hope you're having a good day, I love you, and this is your chance to turn back bc my rants are boring and LONG

(not turning back yet? ok. your funeral)

so, I haven't been online much bc I've just been in a weird limbo lately and I'm really busy when I'm at home either sorting stuff out or, with my PDA, doing anything I can to avoid my responsibilities lmao

I've been rereading my Tokyo ghoul light novels (I only have Void and Days ? I think they're called), rewatching Zankyou no Terror, and Bungou Stray Dogs (plus the live action Beast film which was? hilarious but I don't think it was supposed to be), and just suffering lmao

(you're still here? wow. you need a hobby. jk. ily)

I've been locked out of the systems at work for a bit, but I still need to be there and wait for the IT ticket to be sorted, so I've gotta be at my desk, cant have my phone or anything, so instead of sitting there doing nothing, I've either been reading, doing codeword puzzles, or I've been writing up 'drafts' for potential fanfics.

in this year of our sufferer 2024. I've been writing up some self indulgent homestuck college AU lmao. I've written over 60 sides of a5, (not inc the inbetween sections where I wrote some stuff on the chromebook at home) some notes, some accidental first draft, bc I wanted something to take up the time. but my handwriting is terrible, I don't write fast enough for my brain, I have a lil dyslexia so the letters and words get jumbled sometimes, and I have this weird thing where I don't do spaces right. but I've been trying to upload it to Google docs with Bixby's photo text extraction. it's pretty good considering how bad my writing is, then I just need to go through and touch it up, the main issues are things like names, there's some letters I do weird like my v turns into an r, or every p it thinks is a capital, but overall. amazing how technology do that.

(see my long ass rambling isn't just confined to venting. I also pretend to write actual things. you can still leave you know. I'm not holding you hostage until you read all this. you have free will)

can't remember how I ended up back in fanfic hell but I read back through like all my old published fics (aside from the cringe ones I orphaned) and the writing isn't terrible. I don't think I actually finished any of them though, which really shows my true nature lmao,,, but I've picked up a few things on my writing style now. and I've got a few things I see other people do that I wanna avoid bc I personally don't like it, and it's mostly about balance, like using names too often/not enough, being too descriptive like All The Time and making the writing really nice, but not much happens in the story so you take like an hour to read each scene, vs not enough description so everything is happening but you don't really get a visual or a breather to appreciate what's happened so far. I've been working on finding my right balance, which is imo easier if you're writing fanfic bc first up you hardly ever have to describe the characters. if someone's reading it they already know who they are. and for scenes you can take some inspo from the source material. does the original work put alot of effort into setting a cool scene? if not, then you don't have to either! if it's 90% scenery then you've gotta do it too I don't make the rules

I'm losing steam now I'm so sleepy and I've gotta go to work in a bit ugh.

(bet you're sleepy reading this too huh. told you it'd be boring)

I've been thinking about trying out writing some BSD fics but on an anonym not linked to my main Ao3, bc the themes are doozys and I kinda just wanna have the freedom of anonymity. also I'm a baby and if someone publicly criticises my stuff without it being a requested critique then it makes me bleh (I've had a few comments in the past of just general negatives, not even constructive feedback, not that I asked for any anyway...), but the abilities are tricky to write for, so it's effort lol

anyway I'm gonna stop now ive gotta get ready for work

(if you actually read this then thanks for going on this emotion deep dive with me. tune in next week when we'll get back to my usual mental breakdown)

#ooc post.#.vat file #genuinely I haven't been online on any blogs lately bc I'm doing. v bad. mental wise.#/rant off

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years ago

Note

80, 86, and 102 for Eddie munson please?? :)

80. “i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know.”

86. “don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

102 “don’t cover your face, i want to see you”

warnings: smut (18+ only, oral f receiving, unprotected penetrative sex), enemies to lovers (or, enemies that are also lovers, aka hatefucking), cheating (reader is dating someone else), bullying, angst, mild violence (a punch)

word count: 4.8k

You couldn't even focus in class with him sitting behind you. You knew he was going to do something to bother you, distract you, irritate you-- anything to get your attention and get on your nerves. Yeah, that was why you couldn't focus. Not because you couldn't stop wondering if he was looking at you, or if your hair looked good in case he was looking at you, or because just the smell of him drove you crazy. No, it wasn't any of that; it was because you were anticipating that he was going to do something to bug you. He always did.

"Psst, hey," he hissed under his breath when the teacher turned her back. You ignored him at first, simply rolling your eyes, but he kept leaning out of his chair and if she turned around now, you'd both get in trouble.

"What?" you returned in a harsh whisper.

"Are you okay?"

You wrinkled your eyebrows together. What was he doing asking you something like that? You looked at him, something you'd been avoiding, and god he had such a punchable face. And grabbable hair. And kissable lips, and--

"Seriously, are you okay?" he insisted. "How are you not in horrible pain right now?"

"Huh?" you frowned. "Why would I be in horrible pain?"

"Cause sitting like that must be pretty uncomfortable-- with the stick up your ass and all," he smirked.

His friend sitting behind him snorted out a laugh, and you rolled your eyes so hard it made your vision blurry for a second. "Jeez, Ed, have you been saving that one for a special occasion? It's so creative. Maybe you should put that genius writing skill into your essay so you can finally pass this painfully easy class."

"Maybe you should work on your essay," he returned, "if you're willing to take a break from writing Mrs. Michael Robinson all over your notebook with hearts over the 'i's."

You shook your head and looked down at your book again, hoping to at least appear like you were paying attention. Eddie hated you because he hated your boyfriend. Well, he hated you independently, too, because you and your boyfriend actually got along-- he couldn't stand that you were popular and happy and that Michael was on the basketball team.

"You're just jealous," you insisted, like you had a thousand times.

"What, of your snobby boyfriend?" Eddie dismissed with an eyeroll of his own.

"No," you grinned proudly. "Of the stick up my ass."

His smile faltered for a second; busted.

"Mister Munson!" Ms. O'Donnell snapped, making both of you look up at her. Of course, you'd been sitting quietly in your seat when she turned around, but Eddie had been leaning halfway out of his to whisper to you. You fought down a smile as she glared at him. "Do I need to remind you again not to bother your other classmates?"

"S-Sorry, ma'am," he mumbled. "I was just--"

"You can tell your story in detention," she sneered, "because I'm not interested in it."

Eddie shot you a glare just before he stood up from his chair. You gave him a little smile and playful wave as he started to gather his things.

Impulsively, you tore a strip of paper out of your notebook and wrote on it quickly. As he started to leave, you slipped the paper in his pocket; he gave you a look with a raised eyebrow. "A little reading material for detention," you explained softly.

He shrugged and threw his backpack on over his shoulder, heading for the front of the classroom and disappearing out the door.

Finally, some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, now you had no excuse to goof off in this class...

You were at your locker, checking your lip gloss in the mirror inside the door, when Eddie appeared behind you in the reflection-- he was shooting daggers at you with his eyes, and you smiled proudly as you turned to face him.

"Hey, freak," you greeted, tilting your head and crossing your arms. "How was detention?"

"You think this is funny?" he snarled as he pulled the crumpled up slip of paper from his pocket; he unfurled it and held it right up to your face, where you saw your writing right in front of you.

I'm not wearing any panties... just thought you'd like to know. With the 'i's dotted with hearts, naturally.

You snatched the paper from his hand with a frown. "Someone might see," you warned.

"Yeah, wanna bet?" he scoffed, his lip twitching for a second with visible rage. Oh god, he looked so sexy like this; you loved making him angry. It didn't help that it was so goddamn easy. "Are you..." he lowered his voice, looking around before leaning in to make sure no one nearby could hear, "are you really not wearing any...?"

You shrugged. "Wouldn't you like to know..."

"Oh, c'mon, baby--" he choked, and you felt your heart pound because he'd never called you that at school before... all your confidence fell in a moment, and you felt your eyes flutter as you reached up to rub the back of your neck shyly.

Just then, Michael appeared beside you, draping his arm over your shoulders. You straightened up, trying to compose yourself, as did Eddie. "Hey, it's the freak bothering my girlfriend again," Michael observed. "Could you just leave her alone? She doesn't want anything to do with you, man."

"What trouble is it if she and I wanna have a conversation, huh?" Eddie challenged. "What's the harm in that? We're grown, we can talk-- doesn't seem like it's any of your business."

"It's my business because you're creeping on my girl," Michael explained. "She told me you make her uncomfortable, won't leave her alone, trying to make a move when she told you she's not interested--"

Eddie looked at you for a second, and you looked away; you couldn't take it, the hurt in his expression. "Did you tell him that?" Eddie asked you, genuinely. You were going to speak up for yourself, say that you did say that but try to mitigate it, but Michael spoke first.

"Yeah, and you know what else?" he continued. "She told me your little club is actually a bunch of devil-worshippers. So, I don't want you around her, trying to curse her or-- or trick her into doing some freaky shit with your demonic spells or whatever."

Eddie swallowed, looking at you angrily one more time before returning to staring down your boyfriend. "You know what, Robinson? You don't have to worry about me talking to your girl. I wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole."

"I promise, the feeling's mutual," Michael shot back as Eddie turned on his heel and walked away. You felt guilt curl in your gut, but as much as you wanted to chase after him and apologize, Michael was already tightening his grip on your shoulder. "Hopefully that guy leaves you alone for good this time," he said.

"Yeah..." you sighed. "Let's hope so."

You waited, sitting on the wooden table with your feet on the bench, bouncing your knee anxiously. It was getting pretty dark, and cold, and your little cardigan wasn't doing much for you anymore. You kept glancing around the treeline, but you'd already given up; you knew he wasn't coming. You and Eddie usually met here, somewhere that no one would see the two of you together, but after how hard you'd burned him today, you were pretty sure he'd never--

"Hey," you heard a voice from the other side of the table, and you whipped around to see Eddie there, pushing his hair back with one of his hands.

"Oh," you jumped, "uh-- I didn't think you were coming."

"You know I can't stay away very long," he chuckled thinly, a sadness to his tone. "Even when you really, really piss me off..."

"Listen, what Michael said before--" you began.

"No, hey, don't sweat it," he shrugged, hopping up over the table to sit beside you. "Say whatever you need to to keep him off our scent, I guess. I mean, it's working-- everybody at school knows you wouldn't be caught dead with me."

You glanced away again, shivering with guilt-- well, it was sort of from the cold night air, too, but mainly it was guilt.

"Need me to warm you up?" he purred, wrapping an arm around you and leaning into kiss your neck. It was simple enough, but it worked; you relaxed into him right away, sighing as you felt his warm breath and wet tongue tease your skin.

"Eddie," you whimpered. "Don't tease me too much-- been waiting too long for this..."

"Mm, but that's not very fair, is it?" he noticed. "Not after you teased me today. That little note of yours had me fighting off a boner the rest of the day. I wasn't allowed to leave detention long enough to jerk off in the bathroom or anything."

You chuckled proudly, imagining Eddie trying to hide a massive bulge in his jeans while waiting in the principal's office. God, that was actually pretty hot...

"Is it true?" he asked, quieter. "Are you not wearing panties?"

You giggled and nodded, hearing him groan lowly as he put his hand on your leg, moving up higher under your skirt. You both moaned a little when his fingers met your pussy, already hot and soaking for him.

"Fuck, baby," he purred. "Does your boyfriend know?"

You shook your head, and he growled, leaning back onto the creaky wooden table and pulling you on top of him. "It was just for you, Eddie," you smiled, loving the way he bared his teeth when you said it. "Plus, they're pretty hard to put on, considering the stick in my ass."

He snorted a laugh.

"I mean, that was weak, dude, even for you," you scolded.

"Okay, okay!" he raised his shoulders defensively. "So I'm not as good at being mean as you are. But you know what I am good at?"

He pulled you down into him and kissed you passionately, slipping his tongue into your mouth right away; and you let him, because you couldn't help yourself. He was a really good kisser, he made your body melt with just the slightest brush of his lips on yours, he made your knees weak and your pussy drip. Worst part of all was that he knew all of that, and used it against you constantly.

"Gettin' needy, baby?" he whispered into the kiss, and you realized that you'd been moaning into his mouth without even meaning to. You nodded, and you felt him smile against you. "Well, come on, then-- don't be shy now, get up here and sit on my face."

You weren't very shy with Eddie, that's for sure; you were shameless. He made you feel too good to act innocent or coy at this point.

Breaking the kiss and sitting up, you climbed over him until your hips hovered over his face. You couldn't see his face well with your skirt in the way, but you heard him growl just before he grabbed your hips and pulled you down right onto his mouth.

Instantly, you moaned; his tongue lapped at you roughly, just the right mix of pressure to get your hips rocking right away. With a tight grip on your thighs-- tight enough to leave bruises you were going to have to explain somehow to Michael later-- he kept you from moving too much so he could taste you exactly how he wanted.

"Eddie, fuck," you groaned, reaching down to grab onto his hair. He circled around his tongue around your clit a few times before finally sucking on it, and you struggled not to sob out loud.

This was the only time he wasn't talkative; he normally liked to say all kinds of shit, but with his mouth full, all you heard were his little moans here and there, his heavy breathing through his nose, and the filthy slurping sounds he made as he sucked on your clit and thrust his tongue inside you.

"F-fuck, yes," you whimpered, letting your head fall back. "Yes, Eddie, just like that-- oh god--"

You could feel him smiling. Smug bastard. Say what you will about Eddie Munson, but when the man heard just like that, he knew how to keep doing exactly that to push you closer to the edge as fast as possible. Of course, knowing that he could do what he was told only made it more frustrating when he didn't.

"Fuck, please, please," you begged when he returned to his slow exploration of your folds. "I told you not to tease me, Ed, please? Please-- just wanna come..."

"Mhm?" he mumbled, sort of the only thing he could say while he was down there.

"Please!" you shouted again. "C'mon, Eddie, you know how bad I need you... I-I need you to make me come. I'm sorry for all that stuff I said, I just-- I was afraid he'd figure it out. I was afraid that he could see it all over my face, how much I--"

How much I love you.

"How much I think about you," you blurted out instead. "I swear, Ed, I never stop thinking about it-- and I'm so close already, all cause'a you, c'mon, please? Please just let me come..."

Feeling him smile again, he moved his hands up to grab your waist and returned to his faster pace, doing exactly what you needed him to to send you speeding towards the precipice of pleasure.

"Ohhhh fuck, thank you," you sobbed, "thank you, hng I'm gonna come-- you're gonna make me come, Eddie, fuck-- fuck!"

You tightened your fists in his mess of hair, your insides clenching tight on his tongue as the first wave of ecstasy hit you; you made a high-pitched noise, nearly a scream, and threw your head back. Your hips wanted to rock on his face more than anything, but his strong hands held you still and forced you to take everything head-on. Literally, since he was giving you head.

"Yes, yes!" you whimpered, toes curling inside your sneakers; it became too much all at once, and you bucked wildly as your body lost control. He finally stopped, moving your hips back, and his face popped out from under your skirt with a wide, glistening grin.

"God, you're too easy, baby," he sighed. "I was gonna tease you longer, really draw it out, but you just begged so sweet for me... like I said, I'm not very good at being mean."

"Want me to return the favor?" you offered, even though he wouldn't come quite as quickly as you did-- well, maybe he would, if he'd actually been hard since third period.

"No, fuck no," he breathed, shaking his head, and you wrinkled your eyebrows together. "No, baby, not now-- I need to be inside you."

In an instant, he'd grabbed you and flipped you onto your back, hovering over you as he made quick work of his belt. "Did you bring a condom?" you asked.

"No," he answered quickly, already pulling his cock out and pressing it up to your hole; he knew you weren't going to make him wear one, not after a few weeks ago when he begged you to let him put it in raw, 'just for a second, babe, I swear', only for both of you to become addicted to the feeling and end up totally unable to stop. Of course it was better for him, but you were surprised at how different it felt for you-- at how much your body craved to feel him with nothing in the way.

You still used condoms with your boyfriend; he didn't even know you'd gotten on the pill. You figured that was part of the appeal for Eddie, too, knowing he was the only one who got to feel you like this.

A moan caught in your throat as Eddie slipped inside you; even with how wet you were, it was still a bit of a stretch to take him. He always gave you a few seconds to adjust, but never quite long enough-- because he liked watching you struggle for a second. "Fuck," he breathed, "I almost forgot... how perfect you feel. Jesus..."

"Fuck me," you begged, "please."

He certainly didn't need to be told twice, and in a moment he was thrusting into you fast and desperately. "Oh, baby," he praised, leaning down over you and letting his head hang limp by your shoulder, "this is all I was thinking about in detention. Thinking about you spreading your legs for me... thinking about fucking your pretty hole open. Thinking about-- fuck, uh-- thinking about coming inside you."

You gasped, holding onto his shoulders as he fucked you a little faster. You two hadn't actually done that yet, he'd always pulled out-- just to be safe, he said, even with the pill and everything. Apparently, safety was less important now; and you weren't going to stop him, not when just the thought of it made you so wet that you started to drip down and stain this poor abandoned picnic table in the woods.

"I want you to," you admitted. "I... I wanna feel your come in me."

"Fuck, really, baby?" he grinned, watching you nod. "God, that's so sexy-- I will, then. I'll come inside and let you feel it all."

You whined and arched your back, everything so much more sensitive after he'd already made you come.

"I-- I don't think I'll last too long," he admitted in a whisper. "You feel too good..."

You smiled to yourself. "I don't care-- just come, Eddie, I want you to come, please..."

"Oh god," he gasped, fucking you faster and faster, "keep talking."

"Y-you fuck me so good, Ed," you whimpered, "you e-eat my pussy so good... nobody's ever fucked me like you do, you're the best-- you know that, right? The best I've ever had, nobody else has ever made me come like you do--"

"Shit," he hissed, "m'gonna come-- fuck, I'm gonna come inside you, baby, I'm gonna come so deep in your pussy, oh my god--"

"Yes, yes," you encouraged, entangling your legs with his so he couldn't pull out even if he wanted to. "Yes, Eddie, right there!"

"Ohhhh fuck!" he shouted, slowing his pace suddenly as you felt his cock flex inside you. You moaned at the feeling-- warm and shockingly gentle, every pulse of his cock stretching your walls that much more. You didn't know it would feel like this... now you were never gonna let him pull out again.

Going limp, your legs released his hips and he slowly pulled out; it was dark out now, but with his eyes adjusted to it, he could lift up your skirt and get a pretty good view of his come starting to leak from your hole.

"Wow," he whispered, and you shut your legs to hide from the awkward exposed feeling; your face was warm from him looking at you like that, and you covered it, too, with your hands. "Aw, don't do that," he cooed, reaching up to pull gently on your wrists, "don't cover your face, I wanna see you."

"You know what I look like," you dismissed, glancing away to run from his penetrative stare.

"Yeah, but you look prettiest like this," he grinned, "right after I fuck you good-- best you ever had, huh?"

Biting your lip, you nodded shyly, and he smiled even wider.

"Shit, you give out medals for that or something, certificates of achievement? 'Cause I want that in writing, best you ever had," he said wistfully. "Oh, does Mikey Robinson think he's your best? Poor guy."

He was just joking, but it hit you where it hurt and you felt your smile fall, suddenly shoving him away so you could sit up and look out into the trees-- away from him. You were so sick of feeling guilty for all of this-- guilty for how you treated Eddie when Michael was around, guilty for how you treated Michael by going behind his back with Eddie. Couldn't you just be happy with one of them, at least? But no, they were always talking about the other. That Munson freak gets on my nerves, Michael would rant to you, you let me know if he ever bothers you, okay? I know you just think he's annoying but, I dunno, a guy like that could really be dangerous. I mean, he's a criminal-- and a Satanist! And then with Eddie, who was supposed to be your escape, he had to go out and say shit like that, like he wanted to shame you for what you were doing even though he was the one you were doing it with!

"I-- I should go," you decided, hopping up off the table.

"Wha-- already?" Eddie questioned, following you once he'd put his dick back into his jeans and zipped them up. "What about pillow talk?"

"There aren't any pillows here," you noticed, starting to walk back to the school so you could get in your car and go home and take a shower and forget about all this-- until tomorrow when you were coming back for it again. God, you hated yourself in moments like this...

"Okay, we can go to my place, there are pillows there," he offered.

"Eddie, seriously," you rolled your eyes, turning around to look at him again. "You know we can't do that. You know that's not what this is."

He paused for a second, just long enough for you to spin back again and keep heading for the tree line. "Let me drive you home," he insisted.

"We can't be seen together," you reminded him, still walking away.

"Well, where the fuck are you gonna go," he shouted, "with my come running down your thighs, huh? You gonna go back to your shitstain boyfriend?"

"Don't call him that!" you yelled back, stopping but not turning around. "He's not perfect, okay? But he's not a bad person-- he's not a bad boyfriend. And he doesn't deserve any of this!"

"Not a bad boyfriend?" Eddie repeated incredulously. "Has he ever made you come like I do? If you and him had to sneak around to be together, like we do, do you think he'd do it? Or would he just go for any of the other girls that go fucking mental for a guy on the basketball team?"

"Shut up," you scoffed, facing him this time, and noticing that he was standing closer to you than you realized, "you don't know anything about him."

"I know he's not good enough for you," he replied, crossing his arms.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because here you are!" he shouted, throwing his hands up for a second before letting them fall down to his sides with a clap on his jeans. "With me! In the fucking woods! You should be with somebody who you love enough to just be with. Exclusively. No secrets, no hiding."

"W-well, I do love him," you assured, frowning when Eddie began to laugh.

"God, you don't even know what love is, do you?" he realized. "You're just a kid, how could you know?"

"Fuck off," you spat, "I'm not that much younger than you-- I'm eighteen and everything."

"Yeah, but you don't know shit about anything, you know that?" he sneered. "I guess those nasty rumors about you are true after all. You're really just a stupid slut."

It wasn't until you felt the pain in your fist that you realized you'd punched him, square on the jaw, hard enough to knock him off balance.

"Fuck!" he yelped.

"And I guess you're just a freak," you shot back, shaking your head as you left for your car-- for the last time.

As you walked, you felt tears welling in your eyes; you wiped them away before they fell, because then you weren't really crying over Eddie Munson... your eyes were just watering. Allergies; all this pollen out here in the forest, that's it. Not that the guy you were in love with still hated you-- as he should. Not that you trusted him and he said all that shit to you, and deep down, you believed him. No, it wasn't any of that; just the pollen.

"Wait," he called after you, but you didn't stop. "Wait, damn it!"

In a moment, he caught up to you, and as he spun you around to face him, you hated that he was seeing you cry.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "I swear, I didn't mean any of that. Well, I didn't mean the stuff about you-- I pretty much meant the stuff about him."

You tried not to laugh, but you did, even through the tears.

"Aw, see?" he cooed, "there's that smile. I love when you laugh... it's the best thing in the world. Even better than when you come-- I mean, it's close, but... that's what I miss most, when you're with him. And yeah, it makes my blood boil to imagine him touching you, holding you, loving you-- but really, what I can't stand is knowing he gets to make you laugh, and smile, and he can kiss your cheek and hug you and--"

"Eddie," you breathed, your head sinking a bit, "he doesn't make me laugh."

"No, I've seen it--" he interjected.

"It's fake, okay?" you groaned. "I have to pretend to think he's funny, 'cause he's my boyfriend, but he's so not. We used to have fun, a long time ago, but I can barely remember what that was like..."

"Wow," Eddie smirked, "so you really have to fake everything with this guy, huh..."

You snorted out another laugh, and he laughed with you. "Could you stop making me laugh? I was really busy crying over here..."

"Sorry, sorry," he soothed with a smile, pausing for a second before speaking up again. "Come on, baby, why are you with this guy? Really?"

You chewed the inside of your cheek before sighing. "Honestly, I don't know... I just wanna be with you..."

It took all the courage in your body to say it, but you did, and you shut your eyes as you felt him kiss your forehead. "I wanna be with you too," he replied. "I don't think anything else matters but that."

You started to cry again-- much more bittersweet than it was before-- and he lifted your face with his hands and wiped your tears away.

"You hear me?" he insisted. "Nothing else matters, okay? Not what any of them think, not if your parents approve of me, not if I'm just a loser and you're gorgeous and popular--"

"You're not a loser, Ed," you promised.

"You know what's crazy?" he smiled. "I don't feel like a loser. When I'm with you, I mean. And then you go back to him and I feel like complete shit, but-- really, when we're together--"

He stepped closer, pressing his body up to yours, and you took a shaky breath.

"When we're making love," he whispered, "or-- or just talking, or not even that, just laying there not saying anything at all... I don't feel like a loser anymore. I'd rather be with you than be President or be a superhero or a rockstar..."

His tone got a little more serious before he continued.

"Even if you can't break up with him, I'd rather be with you."

You sighed again, hating that he would stoop so low for you. Then again, you'd stooped pretty low for him. "I can't do that to either of you anymore," you breathed. "It's not right, it's not fair to any of us... I..."

Your body was fighting not to say it, terrified of the consequences, but your heart had been screaming it non-stop for weeks.

"I love you," you whispered.

He sighed and dropped his head down, pressing his forehead against yours as he kept holding your face. "God..." he breathed. "Say it again."

"I love you," you repeated.

He kissed you hard, rough, suddenly; you whimpered into it, throwing your arms around his shoulders, and he started to stumblingly guide you backwards. "One more time," he demanded.

"I love you, I love you," you chanted, until he cut you off with another kiss.

"I love you more," he finally replied, and nothing could stop you from breaking into a beaming smile in that moment.

"You love me more than I love you?" you wondered.

"No-- I love you more than anything," he explained, and you felt your back press against the wooden table again.

"Eddie!" you giggled. "I've gotta go-- I have to tell Michael it's over--"

"It can wait," he insisted, "I've finally got you and I'm not letting you go so easy... I need to feel you again."

"But we just--!"

He kissed you, laying you back on the table and gently pressing his weight into you. Instinctively, you moaned softly and opened your legs for him, and you felt him smile. "That's what I thought," he winked.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #ONCE AGAIN i went off for NO REASON

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messers-moony · 4 years ago

Text

Secret Boyfriend | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Lupin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Keeping secrets seem to run in the Lupin family but one of the two twins has a bigger secret than the other can imagine.

Pitter-patter could be heard inside the Gryffindor Common room. The Scotland weather never really seemed to make up its mind during the period between winter and spring. Nevertheless, it brought a calming atmosphere to the red and gold common room. The five Marauders sat in front of the fireplace, speaking to one another. Remus, Y/n, and Sirius sitting together on a couch. James on an armchair, and Peter sitting on the ground in front of the sofa.

“So, Little Lupin.“ James drawled, “When are you getting a boyfriend?”

Remus chuckled, quickly putting an arm around his twin sister, “Hopefully, never.”

“Maybe I already have a boyfriend, and you lot just don’t know.” Y/n snipped as she elbowed her brother in the ribs slightly, “Oh, come on, paws!” James exclaimed teasingly.

Paws was Y/n’s Marauder name. Her animagus was a Siamese cat, which resembled her personality quite well if you asked Remus. Y/n was quick-witted, independent, intuitive, curious, and affectionate when comfortable. She and Sirius were known to flirt all the time but recently - meaning a couple of months - they hadn’t done it at all. Perhaps Y/n was actually avoiding his flirtatious remarks. Nevertheless, Y/n’s animagus was a direct correlation with her personality.

“Yeah, paws, you’ve been neglecting me recently. I’m not too happy with it either.” Sirius added with a fake pout, “Oh hush it, you two. Leave my sister alone. She’s got no hidden boyfriend.” Remus defended, looking at his sister.

“Right, Y/n?” Remus coughed, and she jumped out of her daydream, “Mhm! Of course.”

Conversation went on as usual. They began discussing new pranks, but Y/n’s jumper pocket felt heavier than usual, knowing what’s inside. It was a cream-colored envelope with the Black family crest as a seal. Y/n knew more than anyone that Sirius wouldn’t be happy to see the familiar logo, but this wasn’t from his parents. It was from his little brother, and Y/n was anxious to give it to him. So when James, Remus, and Peter went upstairs, Y/n pulled him aside before he could leave.

“Padfoot, wait.” Y/n called, and he turned back, “What's up, paws?” Sirius queried, turning to face her.

She sighed and pulled the envelope from her pocket, “Please, read this. It isn’t what you think it is despite the seal.” Y/n stated, handing him the parchment.

“Where did you get this?” Sirius asked as he opened the packaging, “Regulus.” Y/n’s answer was firmer than expected.

Nonetheless, the letter inside seemed essential to his fellow Marauder, so he opened it. Inside he was met with his little brother's prominent handwriting. The black ink treaded so seamlessly across the brown paper. Y/n remembered watching him write it at his desk, desperately trying to collect his thoughts while his hand shook relentlessly. She couldn’t do anything but sit from his bed and watch. Regulus needed to do this alone.

After reading, Sirius slid the letter back inside its packaging, “Well, it’s his fault.”

“Actually, it isn’t.” Y/n quipped, “Listen, Sirius, Regulus is trying. He really is.”

“You would know this how?”

“Because we’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Oh really?” Sirius questioned sarcastically, crossing his arms, “Since when did you and Reggie become so close?”

“He began tutoring me in third year for Potions.” Y/n answered, “You couldn’t have asked Remus?”

“No. “ Y/n shook her head, “Slughorn wanted Regulus specifically.”

“Well then. Full moon tomorrow, hope you’re prepared.” Sirius chirped as he began walking up the steps to his dorm, “I’m always prepared.” Y/n replied to essentially no one.

She sighed. It was apparent Sirius didn’t want to believe what Regulus had written. It would’ve been hard on anyone. But Regulus wanted it to come from him instead of Sirius finding out. Since Y/n’s third year - Regulus’ second year - she felt attracted to him. He always made time for her. It wasn’t until their fourth year when she realized it. In her fifth year, they made it official. Regulus Black and Y/n Lupin were a couple but hidden beneath an invisibility cloak.

Seventh year wasn’t easy. The upcoming war, her brother's lycanthropy, N.E.W.T.S, and Regulus getting the dark mark. Nothing seemed to be working in her favor. Books didn’t even seem to please her anymore. Her eyes wandered while she began to daydream about anything rather than reality itself. People began to notice how lost the girl appeared.

Especially her brother.

Study sessions with her weren’t the same. Some days her eyes would appear glossier than usual as if someone put a coating of lip gloss over them. Maybe they were rimmed with a pastel pink seeming tired and unhappy. The tremors in her hands were hard to ignore as she wrote with her quill. If there’s one thing Remus Lupin was good at, it was being observant; however, there wasn’t time, and he didn’t have the patience to deal with this right now. The full moon approaching meant that Remus’ patience tolerance was down to about none.

There was one thing that brought her clarity. Regulus Black. The Gryffindor common room was always a warm and welcoming atmosphere. In contrast, the Slytherin common room was cold and damp, but it brought her comfort because of the person inside. Y/n padded quietly inside of his prefect hallway, which was beside the Slytherin common. She walked into his bedroom, which was dark.

No candles lit. Just dark. Regulus always felt comfort in the dark, but it wasn’t dark because of that. It was dark because he was absent. Y/n peered over to his desk, where letters sat from his mother and some cousins. Andromeda seemed to try and reach him, but the letter looked unopened. There was one that caught her eye. It was Remus’ handwriting, and it was from him. It was also opened. Y/n knew she couldn’t stay all night. The full moon was due to rise in just two hours.

Picking up the parchment, she began to read:

“ To Regulus Black,

You need to step up. I get it. Sirius has been disowned, but he tries to make an effort. Can’t you see that? Sirius really needs you, and I know that you miss him too. This whole stubborn game of not wanting to talk to each other has gone on long enough.

I know what it’s like to argue with a sibling, and it isn’t pleasant. Suck it up, swallow your pride and talk to Sirius. You don’t have to ultimately make up, but please, he’s trying.

From, Remus Lupin. “

Y/n swallowed down her anger. Who was Remus to get involved in their affairs? If Sirius and Regulus didn’t want to interact, that was their problem, not his. It infuriated her. But she didn’t have time to babble around. Y/n pointed her wand at her and became a cat. Perks of her animagus being allowed at Hogwarts, she could roam around freely without suspicion. Quickly she sprinted down to the Whomping Willow, where she was met with her three Marauders in human form. Y/n transformed back.

“Where were you! I was worried sick!” Remus scolded, “Nowhere, but we need to talk later.” Y/n answered.

They got Remus in the shack and changed into their animagus forms. A stag, a rat, a dog, and a cat. The dog and the cat had the most interaction with the werewolf. Sometimes the dog and werewolf would cuddle up beside each other, whereas the cat would sleep on its own along with the other two animals. The following day Y/n and Sirius lugged Remus up to the hospital wing. Y/n sat beside him the entire time while the other three went off. Sirius and James were off to Quidditch practice. Peter was off to see his girlfriend in Hufflepuff.

Y/n tapped aimlessly on Remus’ hand, “M- Morning.”

“Morning, Moony.” Y/n greeted, “How are you feeling?”

“Phenomenal.”

“Sorry.”

“What did we need to talk about?” Remus questioned, and Y/n tilted her head, “You said we needed to talk before going to the shack.”

“Yes, I did. Um- uh- did you send Regulus a letter by any chance?” Y/n stammered, “I did. Why?”

“I saw it.” Y/n replied shortly, “You saw it?” Remus repeated incredulously.

She nodded, “How did you see it?”

“Regulus and I are friends. Sometimes we hang out in his dorm.” The words seemed like nothing as they rolled off her tongue, “You hang out in the Slytherin dorms? Is that why you always know the password so we can do pranks?”

“Of course.” Y/n chuckled, “I use my privilege to its advantage.”

Remus began to get up but grimaced, causing Y/n to jump up to help him. Gently she eased him to a sitting position. A new scratch on his cheek and multiple on his arms. It’s evident that the cat and the dog had to stop him. The thin scratches on his arms were a cat's nails. The thicker scratch on his cheek was a dog's nails. Remus looked down at his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n muttered, “Not your fault, paws. Who was it this time?” Remus asked.

“Prongs. Apparently, you wanted Prongs.” Y/n answered, and he kissed the top of her head, “Thank you for stopping me.”

“Anything for my brother.”

“Just like anything for our Moony?”

Y/n laughed, “Yeah.”

Paws began to tap on his hand again, until a voice echoed through the hospital wing, “Y/n?”

“Y/n?” The voice called again, and Remus quirked his eyebrow at his sheepish sister, “Y/n!”

Suddenly a black-haired, grey-eyed, pale figure was beside her. He didn’t realize what he was doing until he had already kissed the top of her head worriedly. Y/n turned pink at the affection and the embarrassment of it happening in front of her brother. Remus coughed, and the male stood straight.

“Regulus, what a surprise.” Remus retorted, “Didn’t think you’d ever visit me in the infirmary.”

“Remus, please-“

“I wouldn’t.” Regulus snapped, “Then why are you here?” Remus inquired.

Regulus’ hand was playing aimlessly with the ends of Y/n’s hair, “Moony….” Y/n began at a whisper, “Regulus is my boyfriend.”

“This-“ Remus pointed at them both with a laughing smile, “Is funny.”

“Nice prank, paws, but it isn’t going to work.”

Y/n sighed, “It isn’t a prank, Rem.”

“We’ve been together for about two years now.” She confessed, and Regulus stiffened, “Friends, my ass.” Remus scoffed bitterly.

“Remus, please-“ Y/n began, “No, please just leave. We can talk about this later when I’m in the right frame of mind. Because if you don’t leave, now I might throw a punch.” Remus replied.

She sighed and reluctantly left with Regulus trailing behind her. Y/n didn’t want to cry. It was pitiful. Regulus never had a good relationship with Sirius since Hogwarts, yet he didn’t seem to care. Thankfully, after building the Marauders Map, she knew every little crevice and hiding spot. Pulling back a tapestry, she sat down on the cement floor. Regulus doing the same beside her. Hesitantly he pulled his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest.

“This is pitiful.” Y/n chuckled bitterly, “I’m sorry, Reggie.”

“It isn’t pitiful. You and Remus have a close relationship. It’s okay to be sad about him telling you off.” Regulus replied, placing his chin on the top of her head, “Sirius and I are different. Don’t compare you and Remus with us.”

Y/n nuzzled into his chest, “I saw the letter Remus sent you.”

“I- I saw the way he spoke to you, and I’m sorry.” Y/n stated, “I hope he comes around.”

“I do too, love.” Regulus kissed the top of her head, “ I do too.”

It was quiet for a moment until two figures pulled back the tapestry, “Oi! Get off, little Lupin!” James exclaimed, and Y/n sighed, “Sirius, James, please just leave.”

“What are you doing with my mate's little sister, Regulus?” Sirius interrogated, “Comforting her. She needs me.” Regulus retorted, tightening his grip on her shoulder.

Y/n stood up and pulled Regulus with her, “Come on. We four need to talk.”

The four of them walked into a broom closet. It was a quiet walk. Eerily quiet. It brought shivers down Y/n’s spine at how silent the walk was. The tension was so thick you couldn’t cut it with a knife. The pressure felt like sludge. It was thick and mush. But when Y/n opened the door, the lot of them walked inside. James and Sirius stared expectantly.

“Regulus and I have been dating since my fifth year.” Y/n began, and Regulus intertwined their hands.

“Little Lupin!” Sirius exclaimed, “You weren’t lying when you said you had a secret boyfriend!”

“You scandalous little thing!”

“I can’t believe this.” James stated after running his hand through his hair, “How did Remus take it?”

“Not very well.” Y/n replied, “He kicked me out of the hospital wing when Regulus showed up. “

“He’s- He’s not in the right mindset, though. He’ll come to. I know he will. He has to.”

Sirius’ eyes softened, “Moony will come around. It might just take him a minute.”

“Regulus.” James called, and grey eyes stared at him, “Y/n is a Marauder.”

“I know that.” Regulus interrupted, “She is my little sister as much as she is Remus’” James continued.

“And mine!” Sirius added, smiling brightly, “Y/n is our little sister. The lot of us depend on her. We can’t, and we won’t have her heartbroken.” James explained sternly, suddenly looking a lot like Mrs. Potter.

Regulus’ cheeks flushed with pink, “I love her, I really do. I don’t plan on breaking her heart anytime soon.”

“You’re gonna be my sister-in-law!” Sirius squealed, hugging Y/n forcefully, almost knocking her over, “Oh, little Lupin.” He cooed.

“You’re all grown up!”

They laughed, and Sirius kissed her forehead, “Take care of him, will you?” He whispered so only she could hear, “Of course.” Y/n smiled.

“Alright, alright, I’d like my girlfriend back,” Regulus replied, taking her away from Sirius’ arms.

Sirius gulped, “How’s mum going to take this, Reggie?”

“I don’t care.” Regulus retorted, “Mums gonna have to deal with it.”

The smile on Sirius’ face was brighter than the sun, “Oh, Reggie!” He wailed, pulling Regulus into a tight hug.

The two brothers smiled as they hugged each other. Regulus sleeve slipped up, and James stepped back, pulling out his wand. The two Black brothers pulled apart, and that’s when Sirius saw it. The dark mark on his brother's sleeve. Y/n stiffened as Sirius lifted his sleeve up further to see it clearly.

“Reggie…”

“Sirius, please, I didn’t want it.” Regulus pleaded, “She- They- Please.”

James watched intently at them. Sirius’ eyes had filled with tears as he embraced his younger brother. For the first time in a long time, Regulus felt protected in his brother's arms. James walked closer and joined them. Hugging both Black brothers as close as he could. James Potter, the man who never stops giving. They pulled apart, and James took Reggie into his own arms.

“You need anything, you come to me, okay?” James informed sternly, and Regulus nodded, “Ye- Yeah.”

“Remus and Y/n always come for the holidays. You won’t be alone.” James stated smiling, “My parents already have one Black; they won’t mind another.”

The Black brother smiled, “Thank you….”

The days went on, and Regulus still avoided the Marauders altogether. Remus glared at him from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Deep emerald green eyes were flashing at the grey ones that sat at the Slytherin table. Until Y/n jabbed him in the ribs, taking his attention away from the younger Black brother.

“Remus.” Y/n scolded, “Stop it.”

“I think you’re too hard on him, Moony.” James began, “He loves your sister. Maybe talk to him.”

“No.” Remus snapped, “You guys can accept this, but I can’t.”

They didn’t push any further. Y/n and Remus had been distant from each other. It was weird to watch the twins who were typically attached at the hip to be so - abroad. Regulus didn’t like that he was now the cause of their fussing. After all, they were the reason Sirius and him were on speaking terms now. So Regulus and Sirius made a plan. It involved them being locked in a broom closet, and so it happened—one night after dinner.

Remus was shoved into a cupboard, not by his own liking either, “Come on, Sirius! This isn’t funny. I have prefect duties to do!”

“Actually, someone else has taken them over.” Regulus informed, and Remus whipped around, “What are you two doing here?”

“Remus, explain it to me.” Regulus began, “Why you don’t approve of me with your sister.”

“Because! You’re a bloody death eater! You probably forced her to be with you.” Remus exclaimed.

Y/n scoffed, “A pureblood forcing himself with a half-breed? Doesn’t seem likely.”

Remus ran his hand through his hair, “Okay, he’s still a death eater!”

“I was forced!” Regulus exclaimed, “They strapped me to a chair and embedded the mark into my forearm. You don’t think I wasn’t thinking of her the entire time?! I was scared out of my mind!”

“The entire time, all I could think about was ‘How is Y/n gonna take this.’” Regulus admitted, “My heart aches for her. I didn’t want her to be scared.”

Remus’ green eyes turned soft, “Does she accept you? Does she love you? Do you love her?”

“Yes, Remus. I love him for who he is. James offered him a place to stay at the Potters.” Y/n replied, “And yes, I love her.”

Tears filled her eyes, “Remus, please. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Remus held out his arms, and she walked right into them. He placed one hand on the back of her head and one on the small of her waist. Holding her close to his heart, rubbing his thumb through her hair. Regulus’ grey eyes stared at the two siblings before him. Remus’ heart softened at his crying sister. He never wanted to hurt her, ever.

“Paws.” Remus began as he pulled away slightly, “Does he make you happy?”

Y/n sniffled and nodded; Remus wiped her cheeks, “Okay.”

“Does he know you, for you?”

“Mhm.”

Remus turned to Regulus as Y/n parted with him, “Where’s paws favorite place to be scratched?”

Regulus chuckled, “Behind her ears.”

“Take care of my little sister.” Remus pleaded, “Please, Regulus.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect any different.” Regulus answered.

Remus walked forward and put out his hand. Hesitantly Regulus shook his hand. Grey eyes met green ones. Remus couldn’t help the smile that placed itself on his face. Without hesitation, he pulled Regulus into a tight hug.

“Take care of my sister, and I’ll take care of you.”

“Always.”

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