#Falling Off the Mountain and Climbing Back Up

[orcelito]

oh caving stresses me O U T

like not to be a Vast truther or w/e (except i totally am) but lksjdlfksjdf the cave diving episode of TMA freaked me out soooo bad & ya if i see a video of someone cave diving im like what are you DOINGGGGGG that's the EARTHHHHHHHH what if it BREAKSSSSSSSSSS it's literally so anxiety-inducing. im like not even claustrophobic, i love my little hidey-holes, but i can NOT deal with cave diving, thank u very much

[specshroom]

Ok so what do you think would make a monster INSTANTLY attracted to someone. And then how do you think they would vocalize/show it?With said monsters being orcs, merfolk, centaurs, driders, werewolves, and vampires

Okokok so these are all obviously just my opinion :) but here we go:

🧌 I think in orc culture the women initiate romantically and sexually just as much as the men, as opposed to human culture where the men generally are expected to initiate more. So I think any orc would find it hot if you were the one to flirt and initiate contact first.

- They like humans who know what they want and go for it.

- They like humans who can hold their liquor. They just think it's hot.

- They like humans who are a little vulgar. Who swear and shout and are a little rowdy maybe?

- So if you want to attract an orc your best bet would be to just go up to one and flirt heavily with them. If they like you they'll think it's hot that you show your attraction so boldly and they'll flirt back just as hard.

🧜Merfolk generally keep to themselves and their underwater cities. For a merfolk to be swimming in shallow waters means they're probably curious about the surface already.

- These merfolk will be instantly intrigued by a human who is as interested in them as the merfolk is with the surface. They just really like humans who try and talk to them, frantically ask them questions about their species and just seem enamored with their existence.

- A merfolk will fall for a human who brings them cool human stuff they've never seen before and enthusiastically tells them stories about the surface world.

- They'd appreciate humans who aren't scared to swim with them. They know the water is not a humans natural place and that it takes a lot of trust for them to be so vulnerable. They'd straight up take that as a confession of love from the human.

🐎 In my head centaurs are often depicted as strong stern types. Like noble warriors and such so I think they'd admire humans who are resourceful and independent.

- They won't like any human who disrespects nature. Killing unnecessarily or destroying/ littering wildlife is an absolute no go.

- They like outdoorsy humans who like nature walks or mountain climbing, that kind of shit. Anything from fishing to bird watching really.

- They find archery very attractive for some reason.

- Centaurs are known for being steely and almost cold so if one likes you they probably won't show it immediately but slowly over time by engaging in your shared interests.

🕷️ I think driders are often starved for affection. In my headcanon, driders don't get much affection from their parents because they're very independent and able from a young age so they're never really coddled as children.

- So I think driders would like a human who treats them very gently and sweetly despite not needing too at all because they're fierce hunters.

- They're not the most approachable monsters with their eight beady eyes and venom filled chelicerae. They don't initiate with humans much because they know they can be frightening. It can be isolating for them so they'd love if a human showed no fear towards them and instead treated them as if they were cute rather than scary.

- They'd be absolutely smitten if a human coddled and babied them, calling them grossly sweet petnames like "cutey", "darling" or "baby" while caressing their face gently. Just treating them with such care even though they could kill the human very easily. They might even cry from the affection.

🦇 I think vampires appreciate humans who aren't childish but still have a love for life. People who are lively and curious about the world but still mature and driven.

- I think humans who are exciting and have a thirst for life is what attracts vampires cus it helps them reignite their own love for life which may have dwindled after so many years of being immortal.

- Humans who are reckless with their own lives are a turn off. Vampires already have to experience losing many close ones due to immortality so I don't think they'd appreciate someone who disregards their life or the lives of others carelessly.

- Vampires are harder to categorise because they all come from different backgrounds and stuff but I think if a vampire liked a human most of them would have to know one for a while before bringing up anything serious. They understand the stakes (hah) of falling in love with humans and act accordingly.

🐺 Dog people. Werewolves like dog people. Sorry I know it's basic but I think werewolves are often simple creatures so what attracts them is relatively simple. Nothing wrong with that.

- They see a human walking their dog and they just go "I have a chance!!"

- They like humans who smell like their dog or have dog fur on their clothes, they think it's cute.

- They think it's so cute when humans baby talk dogs while giving them pets. It makes their own tails wag sometimes.

- Now that doesn't mean they like being treated like dogs cus they don't. They just think a dog person is a huge green flag in humans.

- Don't worry, this doesn't mean they hate cat people but they are more likely to flirt and initiate conversation with someone who has a dog or who smells like they own a dog.

[sixosix]

wanderer can fly; you cannot. he makes it his problem.

“What? Giving up already?”

“Shut—” heaving, you barely have the energy to flip him off, “shut the fuck up. Fuck off.”

Wanderer chuckles, all low and mean, as if his entire purpose in life is to ridicule you. He continues ascending overhead, moving and looking like an angel, but the words that come out of his mouth are far from angelic. “Careful, now. I know you overestimate yourself, but I won’t save you if you continue to scale a mountain with one hand.”

“Stop agitating me on purpose then!” You nearly slip from the intensity of your yell, but thankfully, it isn’t your time yet.

“How can I? You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Grumbling, you focus back on the mountain. Cute when mad. He must think he’s goddamn adorable, then.

You’re starting to lose sight of dents or protruding surfaces to get a hold of, and the mountain is getting steeper. You curse under your breath. If only you had Geo or Dendro—that’d help a lot much more. Maybe even Anemo, but that would be admitting defeat to the man who’s currently watching you intently.

Wanderer scoffs when your breath hitches, the surface you’re holding onto crumbling. He descends until you’re eye level. “Idiot, I told you that it’d be safer if we didn’t climb this all the way.”

“I know my limit.” Maybe. You may or may not have gotten a little over-competitive and jumped a few times, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

“Not more than I do,” he says.

“Don’t say it like that, weirdo.” You appraise the mountain overhead and, with a sunken stomach, realize that he’s right. There’s still a long way to go, and it’s a long fall back.

“Damn,” you say. You turn to Wanderer and blink up at him with wide eyes, hoping he would take the hint without having to say it outright.

Wanderer sighs, holding out his arms. “Jump.”

“Are you serious?”

“I won’t let you fall—of course I’m fucking serious.”

You grit your teeth, wondering if it’s easier to humiliate yourself and jump into his arms or to let gravity do its work.

“Hey,” Wanderer says, gliding closer and hovering an arm behind your waist. “No stupid ideas. Just jump and hold onto me.”

It’s always unsettling when Wanderer is not acting all bratty, like you’re not quite sure if you should goad him back to being mean or watch him bristle when you point it out. It’s been happening too often recently. That must be saying something about him if his soft moments are scarier than his jabs.

Wordlessly, you reach out for his shoulder with one hand and hold back a yelp when the lack of balance causes you to slip. You hold on tight around his neck, eyes wide and heart jittery. Wanderer secures his arms, moving in one swift motion. Before you even know it, he has one arm on your back and the other under your knees.

“How convenient it must be to have a ride as your companion,” Wanderer mutters in amusement at your relieved face.

“Yeah. That’s why I keep you around,” you say as he glides upward, barely straining from your weight. He looks as unaffected as ever.

He looks as infuriatingly and devastatingly beautiful as ever.

“Ha,” his smile is all sharp, “and not because you have a little crush on me?”

“You follow me around because you do. Don’t get it twisted.”

He snorts, tipping on something a little more genuine. You wisely decide to stop ogling at his face and enjoy the view of the sky instead. The blue of his clothes and the shade of his eyes are much prettier, but you’d rather lose that than start squirming in his arms. Not when he’s carrying you bridal style and all.

Finally, he descends, hardly disturbing the grass with his grace. He sets you down, arms crossed, as you pat yourself off from dirt and stuff.

“Well?”

You eye him warily. “What do you want?”

“Some semblance of manners will do,” he says, then leans close as if he’s baring his face for you. He’s been less and less subtle recently, too.

Nonetheless, you find yourself smiling. The things he’d do just to get a kiss—it nearly makes you laugh out loud. But then he’d start getting all irritated like a cat, and you much prefer when he’s sweet like this. Sweet in his very Wanderer way, you mean.

You kiss him on the cheek. He puffs up like some proud peacock. He calls you adorable all the time, but he’s the one who’s acting like this. It’s no wonder you keep him around.

[lavenderchqn]

"TO PRACTICE FREEDOM"

synopsis — You're the biggest scaredy cat living amongst the people of Scions of Canopy. You try to get over your fear of heights... by trying out bungee jumping under the watchful eye of your partner. Let's just say... it doesn't go according to plan. pairing — kinich x gn!reader warnings — near death experience (falling from heights), minor character death, spoiler warnings for kinich's story and voicelines, ajaw is a lore accurate menace notes — I've had an idea for this as soon as we learned that Kinich has interest in extreme sports... reading his story felt weird (the longer I am in genshin fandom, the more stuff I predict right...)

The People of Huitztlan believe in the concept of absolute freedom. That’s why so many youngsters throw themselves into dangerous sports with a lack of safeguard measures. Perhaps having nothing securing a person allows them to experience said freedom. 

To practice death is to practice freedom, after all. 

“We’re here,” Kinich says, looking in your direction. He has held your hand ever since you started your trek up the higher regions of the Coatepec Mountain. “Do you want to take a break?” 

“Y-Yeah… I need to… sit.” You slowly get down with the help of Kinich. Only after he signalises being opposite of you, do your eyes open.

Kinich has taken a sit too, still holding onto your hand. He’s slowly rubbing circles trying to ground you as best as possible. 

Well… here you are — the biggest scaredy cat, who decided to try and work on your fear of heights by trying out bungee jumping. It’s quite ironic really. Not only are you a resident of Scions of the Canopy, which literally is suspended off the cliffs, but also in a relationship with a guy, whose second name could be ‘extreme sports’. 

To say your mind felt pressure to get over it would be quite an understatement. 

“We can still get down. Just say the word.” Kinich says, keeping his eyesight directly on you. Even if you had asked him to help you with your fears, he’d never force you to do so. Sure, it’d be pretty cool to share interests with a partner, but it should never come at the cost of their mental health. 

You shake your head. You have to try. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think? Kinich will do everything in his power to keep you safe. 

“I can do this.” You answer, taking a deep breath. 

“Well then, chop chop SLOWPOKE!” Ajaw zooms right near your face, spooking you to bits. “Stop wasting MY precious time!” 

“Just how loud can you be…” Kinich sighs, getting up to shoo Ajaw away. “Tone it down a notch, will you?” 

The tiny saurian starts arguing with your partner, although you can easily tell it’s one-sided. No matter how much he would try, the most he could bring out of Kinich were insulting comebacks. Ajaw could try and rage the male in multiple ways… and yet, unfortunately for the dragon, your partner was too resilient to die from anger. 

In the meantime of their dissing match, you slowly get up on your legs. Ajaw is right�� You don’t want to waste Kinich’s time because you’re scared and worried. He takes notice of your sudden movement, once again getting close to you. 

“Do you want to try now?” He asks, holding his hand out. These are obvious signs, that he will lead you step by step. 

“Yeah… I think I’m ready.” 

“Alright. Hold still. I’m going to put the climbing belt on you now.” 

As he says, he does. Kinich does it slowly, explaining his movement every step of the way. You’re aware, he’s doing it to ease your mind… and it’s working well. In the blink of an eye, the sound of a snap-hook getting attached brings you back from a short daydreaming session.

“All done.” He takes another look at you, checking if the equipment is snug against your body while making sure it isn’t digging into your skin. “Can you move for me?” 

“Yeah, sure!” You do a slow spin, followed by kneeling on one foot. “Although I can feel the harness… it’s not uncomfortable.” 

“That's good.”

Once again, it’s another series of your partner explaining the next steps. All you need to do is find a point to connect your line to. He already connected the rope to your belt. The other end is currently sitting tightly in his hand. 

“You’re not going to hold me when I jump?” You ask, growing worried. 

“I know you’d feel more comfortable with me doing that,” Kinich starts answering, his eyes wandering for an anchor. “I don’t want to also fall down the second you jump.” 

He even explains the physics behind it, ending his speech by saying it’s best you move further to look for a good place to jump from. 

You’re walking next to Kinich, admiring the scenery. With the rope in his hands, you’re feeling much more comfortable. Although he’s trying to talk here and there… his eyes are still locked on finding a stable anchor. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, an anchor is nowhere near. Curse you lunatics with no regard for their safety. 

“So many jumping platforms, and yet not a singular anchor?” He questions, closing his eyes. 

All of a sudden your eyes land on a ruffed pheasant that just landed on one of the platforms. You’ve never seen one so close! Without thinking about your safety, you start inching closer towards the bird.

Your steps are slow and cautious. The bird, a magnificent creature with iridescent plumage, seems utterly unaware of your presence. Its feathers shimmer in the sunlight, creating a mesmerising display of greens and oranges. An odd sense of calm wash over you, momentarily forgetting the anxiety that’s been gnawing at your insides.

"Careful," Kinich warns, his voice seeming distant as if muffled by the pounding of your heart.

The platform beneath your feet is uneven, its surface worn smooth by the countless jumps of those, who came before you. With no warning, Ajaw jumps from behind your shoulder, screaming right next to your ear. The bird, startled, flies away. You try to also get away when your foot catches on one of the loose boards. The world tilts violently, and suddenly, you're weightless.

A scream tears from your throat as you plummet downwards, the wind rushing past your ears, drowning out all other sounds. The landscape blurs into a mix of greens and browns, the ground below rushing up to meet you at an alarming speed. For a split second, your mind goes blank — pure terror seizing every thought, every instinct. You’re going to fall to your death. 

Back on the hill, Kinich’s body goes numb for a second. He’s seen this happen once before. He cannot allow it to happen again. You’re not his drunkard gambling mess of a father, and he’s not his seven-year-old self. Kinich will save you, even if it’s the last thing he ever does. 

The blood is pounding in his ears when he shifts all his weight to his legs. Only when he cannot feel any force trying to get him off the cliff, does he start pulling up. With a sharp tug, he jerks you backwards, the rope connected to the harness snapping taut. The force of the pull knocks the air out of your lungs, but it stops your descent abruptly. You swing wildly in the air, the ground still far below, the rope swaying and creaking with the strain of holding your weight.

Above, you can hear Kinich shouting your name, his voice frantic, barely audible over the sound of your racing heartbeat. You cling to the rope, your hands shaking uncontrollably as the realisation of what just happened crashes over you. You almost fell to your death.

"Hold on!" Kinich yells, his voice breaking through the fog of panic in your mind. "I’ve got you, just hold on for me!"

Tears sting your eyes as you try to steady your breathing, every muscle in your body tensed and trembling. The rope holds firm, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, Kinich begins to pull you back up. Each inch feels like an eternity, but his strength and determination never waver.

As soon as your body reaches the ledge, Kinich grabs onto you, pulling you up with a force that nearly knocks you both off balance. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you collapse against him, shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice unusually tight with emotion. "I should have been more careful. I should have—"

You shake your head, unable to speak, still trying to process the fact that you're alive, that you're safe. Kinich's arms tighten around you, his hand cradling the back of your head as if to shield you from any further harm.

"You're okay," he murmurs, repeating it like a mantra. "You're okay, and I'm here. I'm right here."

For a long moment, you stay there, clinging to him as the fear slowly ebbs away, replaced by a deep, overwhelming sense of relief. The world around you, once a blur of panic and chaos, begins to settle back into focus. The mountains, the sky, the distant sound of birds—all of it feels surreal as if you’ve been given a second chance to experience it. In your state, you don’t notice the glare Kinich is giving to his companion. 

If looks could kill, Ajaw would be dead. 

After a while of sitting idly, Kinich pulls back slightly, enough to look into your eyes. His face is pale, his expression filled with concern, but there's also a deep, unspoken resolve in his gaze. It’s quite different considering the death stare he was giving the saurian just a second ago. 

"We’re done here," he says gently but firmly. "No more extreme sports for today. We are getting you home.”

You nod, still too shaken to argue. As he helps you back onto solid ground, you realise how much you’ve relied on him, not just for safety, but for the courage to face your fears. And even though the experience was terrifying, there’s a small part of you that’s glad you tried, that you didn’t let fear win entirely. You can clearly say, you did indeed practice freedom today. 

In a moment you’re seated on his back, Kinich deciding you’ve had enough walking for today. He’s in absolute control now — and he’s picking the safest route possible. 

“Oh and Ajaw,” Kinich’s voice is laced with coldness. “Don’t think you’re getting away with the stunt you pulled today.” 

"WHAT?!"

date of posting — september 5th 2024

[salteytakesonmanga]

I love this very normal interaction.

It’s also good storytelling. It’s not just giving us an explanation for how Luffy gets a coat, (recall his old one was torn up to keep Nami from falling off his back while he climbed the mountain) it also tells us a lot about what is “normal” for the crew. Just a fight? Nothing to worry about.

There’s also some great subtle character development here, revealing the type of normal conversations they have and how they treat each other. Luffy may not care about fashion but he does want to look “cool,” and he’s happy to take Nami’s advice even if he doesn’t really understand it.

Oda spent a whole page on this in the middle of a fight, but it’s always been one of my favorite scenes.

[earthtooz]

in which: you need to make it to liyue harbour in time so you can give kazuha a piece of your mind and a response to his love letter.

cw: fluff, 1.3k words, not too sure how canon accurate this is, potentially ooc-kazuha, gn!reader from inazuma, confessions, two wholesome idiots in love

a/n: for my little sibling @sixosix, i hope you enjoy

Liyue, out of all regions in Teyvat, is the hardest to run through.

It’s mountainous, your muscles will ache from going uphill, your ankles will be sore the next day from going too fast downhill. It’s grassy, the gravel is rough against the soles of your feet, and there is an abundance of hillichurls and samachurls waiting for you with their clubs and shields. Yet, they provide more motivation for you to outrun them, speeding right by their camps to get to Liyue Harbour in time.

Stupid Kaedehara Kazuha, when you see him, he’s in for an earful from you. Making you run from Lingju Pass all the way back to the Harbour, doesn’t he know how much you despise running for long periods of time?

A break is not plausible, especially when Beidou’s boat could leave the dock at any minute now.

When Liyue’s bustling harbour is in sight, it’s vast oceans appearing out the horizon, you feel like you can breathe. The sunlight glimmering on the ocean cheers you on, and you won’t stop until the waves are underneath your feet, the only thing separating you from them being wooden planks. 

You push through crowds, too tired and determined to be polite and apologetic to shoppers you push aside. You run past Mingxing Jewelry, Wanmin Restaurant, and Master Zhang’s workshop, and don’t stop until you, yourself, are climbing onto the Crux. Crew members are shouting in protest at your sudden appearance, yelling at your unexplained entrance.

There are people trying to pull you off the boat, and you don’t really know where the strength to push off burly sailors came from, but you successfully fend off all of them, and find Beidou at the bow of the ship. 

“Where is Kazuha?” You demand, decorum be screwed, nothing can stop your momentum now. 

Her uncovered eye lights up in amusement, a hint of knowing behind her crimson gaze. “Right behind you.” 

Lo and behold, the beige-haired in question was right behind you. “Uh, hello?”

“I have a bone to pick with you, Kazuha!” Stomping over to him, he grabs your wrist before you have another chance to talk, dragging you away from the bow of the ship where all the crewmates were unloading their cargo. (Beidou’s thundering laughter can be heard as he’s dragging you away, at least she’s not mad at your sudden intrusion.)

He stops when the two of you are on the quarter deck and turns to look at you with panic all over his face.

“What did I do?” 

From your pocket, you pull out a piece of paper like it’s an incriminating piece of evidence, one that he’s stared at for too long, so much so that he can recall every dip and curve of the dry-pressed leaves he added on for a more personal touch. It has sat on his desk for ages, seen all of his turmoils and frustrations over delivering it to you. 

The paper contains a mix of poems, haikus, and different confessions Kazuha has been harbouring in his heart for the past few years, ever since the two of you left Inazuma. Your hand clutching his gloved one as the two of you hurry onto Beidou’s boat with nothing but your visions, weapons, and the clothes on your back.

He has loved you for this entire journey, and words could not surmise the depth of his feelings, let alone a measly piece of paper. Some days, it sees the sun when he dares it to, but it always ends up right back on his desk, waiting for the day that it will leave Kazuha’s possession and fall into yours.

This morning was the exact moment. He slipped it in your bag before you went on your expedition, the two of you meeting for a quiet breakfast before his eight-month long expedition, and your two-week one. He had waved you goodbye as far as he could go before leaving Liyue Harbour, even staying on the outskirts until your group left his sight.

Nothing could have prepared him for seeing you so soon, not after putting that letter in your backpack. 

“You’re a coward!” You accuse immediately, poking your finger to his chest. “A lousy coward!”

He takes it, knows that he should have just braved his fears and handed it to you in person, but the idea of being rejected on the spot causes his chest to ache in unbearable ways. The samurai rather you read it, then have eight months to prepare for your inevitable rejection.

Yet, he should have known that in the face of a storm, you are the only one brave enough to fight against the waves. Nothing ever goes the way he wants when it’s with you.

“You should probably sit down, Y/n, your legs are shaking and I’ll grab you some-”

Your hands fly up to grab the sleeves of his kimono, whether to stabilise yourself, or to stop him from leaving, or both, he stays. “Kaedehara Kazuha, I like you too,” you declare. “I just ran all the way from Lingju Pass, so I have nothing flowery nor sweet to say like your letter except that you are so very mean for making me come all this way.”

With one last heaved breath, you collapse to your knees. Kazuha, being the gentleman he is, freaks out and mimics your actions, clinging onto your shoulders.

“Y/n!” He calls out, his usually level voice breaching a panicked cry. “You shouldn’t be exerting yourself like this. Stay here, I’ll go grab water water.” 

Listening to the samurai, you rest against a nearby pillar, feeling the dull aches in all muscles of your legs. Archons, you’ll feel the pain tenfold tomorrow.

Kazuha returns not too long with a canteen in hand, and he twists it open before handing it to you. After a few beats of tense silence, he speaks up. 

“Honestly, I don’t really have anything to say either, I wasn’t expecting to see you for another eight months, and even then, I was expecting a rejection.” He admits sheepishly, a blush blooming along his cheeks. “Maybe an apology for making you run all this way just to see me is my first course of action.”

“Accept my confession first, jerk,” you punch his shoulder lightly, smiling up at him.

“I’ll accept anything so long as it’s from you, I thought I made that clear in my letter.”

“Don’t think you can charm your way into my good graces!” 

He thinks it’s adorable that you’re trying to maintain your cool mask despite your inability to look him in the eye, even if he’s hardly faring much better. The usual lyricism of his words have faded, and his quick mind can’t think of anything poetic to say, as if your confession has intercepted all the functions of his brain.

You like him back, you like him back, you like him back, and he doesn’t know what to do with that information except smile like an idiot.

“Are you still going on your expedition?” asks Kazuha. “Your group must be waiting for you.”

“I told them not to, dumped my rations and things with them and told them they could use it. I’m not running all the way back now.”

“Then, does that mean you can join us?” 

“I don’t want to intrude, and I don’t know if you have enough things on board for another-”

“-I’m sure Beidou and the crew wouldn’t mind. There are always extra rations, you can have some of mine if it gets to it, and our first stop is at sunset, so we could go and grab some clothes for you to bring along!” He quickly suggests, hope shining brightly in those crimson eyes of his, as if pleading for you to say yes.

The wind blows gently through his beige strands, and the moment feels enchantingly similar to one you had read in an Inazuman poem. Then again, Kazuha always had that effect; the ability to slow time and let you see the world through a different, prettier lens, even if the consequences were completely dire.

You want to continue seeing through his lens, exactly the way you did when both of you fled Inazuma and the Vision hunt Decree. And you want to see the rest of Teyvat the way he does. 

“Okay.” You agree, “I’ll come along.”

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[girlgenius1111]

alone.

i wrote this in maybe a half hour and it's very short but i was very in my feels so you get angsty sol as a result before the events of family line. sol struggles. there is change on the horizon, but she doesn't see it.

-----

It was the same every morning, the same every day. A quick knock would wake you, a second knock a few minutes later telling you it was time to get up. You’d throw on clothes that didn’t quite fit with Spain’s climate, tie your hair up in a bun, and go downstairs. 

Breakfast was always quiet, ever since the first few weeks, when Ingrid had tried to engage you in conversation and you rejected every attempt. She’d ask you a question that would remind you how little she knew about your life now. You’d snap back at her unintentionally, she’d get angry, and the table would fall quiet. Eventually, it just stayed quiet. 

You’d go to school, barely understand a word spoken to you. Scrape by with passable grades, most of the time. Go back to Ingrid’s house. Do your school work at the kitchen table, where she could keep an eye on you. Hide in your room until dinner. Hide in your room after dinner. Distract yourself with a mindless show, or more often, a nature documentary of some kind. Fall asleep, dream of lakes and forests and grass and mountains; things that could never be disappointed in you. 

You went through the motions. Step by step, day after day. Not really living, just existing. Not trying, either. 

You’d stop trying a long time ago. Long before Spain, before the small, bland extra bedroom you slept in. Before disappointed looks had begun to come from your sister. You’d stopped trying when you were still in Norway, still disappointing your parents. 

Back in Norway, you felt content being mostly invisible. Your parents ignoring you was better than being yelled at, though they still did that a fair amount.There was something about being here, though, in Spain that was just… different. 

Perhaps it was that part of you, little you, who still remembered Ingrid as someone who gave the best hugs and always knew how to make you smile. Little you hadn’t ever had much hope in her parents, but she’d had hope in Ingrid. That part of you clung to the idea that Ingrid could still make everything better, like she had when you were small. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t let go of that hope. 

It crushed you, time and time again, when Ingrid yelled at you, or frowned at a bad grade, or sent you to your room for being a few minutes past curfew, without even letting you explain why you’d been late [there’d been a turtle in the road on your walk from the climbing gym, and it had taken 5 minutes you didn’t have to make sure it got across safely]. When she’d sigh after another weekend passed, and you remained locked in your room. When she’d tell you to just try harder. At speaking Spanish, at making friends, at school. 

You didn’t have anything left to give. All of your energy was spent dragging yourself out of bed. Why couldn’t she see that? Growing up, it had felt like Ingrid had been the only one to see you. Now, though, she was just like everyone else. She saw what your parents saw, you decided. Someone who just wasn’t worth it. 

Ingrid had always loved you. Even when it was hard to believe that your parents did, Ingrid always told you she loved you. She hadn’t said it in a while, though. You hadn’t heard from your Mamma in weeks, the last text you’d gotten from your Pappa had been scolding you for spending too much money. [You’d bought Ingrid a birthday present, but he made you return it before you could give it to her]. 

Maybe you just weren’t someone who could be loved. You rolled onto your side, covering your ears to block out the sound of Ingrid’s loud laughter at something Mapi had said. Tears dripped off your face, and you wished you were 7 again, burying your face in your sister’s shoulder and knowing that as long as she had you, you’d be okay. That was back when she loved you, though. You were pretty sure she didn’t anymore. How could she? When all you did was screw up, who could love someone like you? 

You weren’t 7 anymore, you were 17, and you were all alone. In a house hundreds of miles away from home, with your sister who you felt like you barely knew anymore. All alone. You were beginning to think that was all you’d ever be. Alone. 

You didn’t know a lot of things, though. You didn’t know about the book shoved under Ingrid’s pillow, about troubled teens. You didn’t know that she’d stand in your doorway sometimes, just watching you sleep. Enjoying that, at least while resting, you didn’t frown. 

You didn’t know your Pappa picked up the phone often, but never called, feeling like he’d created a gap he wasn’t sure he could ever fix. Didn’t know that sometimes your Mamma slept in your bed, remembering the small child that had once smelled of syrup and brought her flowers from the garden. 

You didn’t know that Mapi stayed up late at night, duolingo open on her phone, hoping that maybe speaking a language you understood would make you feel more at home. 

You didn’t know that Ingrid loved you more than her heart could take, sometimes, and that she was just doing what she thought would work. She didn’t realize you didn’t need discipline, that you just needed a support system. 

Things would improve, but you didn’t know that. As you sobbed into your pillow, you were pretty sure you’d always feel like this; unloved and completely alone. 

[laurasimonsdaughter]

The dragon – astonishingly – was a surprise. Even in his worst nightmares there hadn’t been a dragon. But the chains were too well fastened to fight and he supposed that getting eaten was at least quicker than starving to death on this damn mountain. He closed his eyes, but the thundering shake of the ground as the dragon landed was as bad as having seen the claws dig into the earth. He closed his eyes tighter.

“Are you the seventh son of the seventh son?” The voice was inhumanly low and it shook the fear in his bones loose.

“Yes!” he screamed. “Yes! Cursed, blighted, whatever you bloody want! Just get it over with.”

There was a short, tense silence.

“I have not come to kill you, human. I want to offer you a deal.”

His eyes opened in shock. “You what?”

The dragon was sitting a few paces away from him, its scaly claws crossed over one another and its massive, shimmering wings folded behind its hulking back. The look in its glittering eyes was intelligent and calculating, but not unkind, certainly not threatening. It waited.

“What—what kind of deal?” he stammered, heart racing with a wild, terrified hope.

“I understand that you have been left here to die by your fellow humans, because you are an extremely rare type of human, that they are afraid of. Is that correct?”

He studied the dragon’s interested expression for any trace of sarcasm, but there was none. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Well then!” the dragon exclaimed. “I propose to you this: I will break your chains and save you from the humans, and in return you will join my hoard and live in my nest.”

“I’m sorry. Join your—what do you mean live in a nest. Humans don’t live in nests.”

The dragon gave a sideways movement of its massive head, scales glinting in the sun. “There is plenty of room. It used to be a cavern in a mountain, of very respectable depth and dimensions, but during one of my hibernation some humans built a castle on top of it, so it is very suitable for humans.”

He was almost baffled enough to no longer be scared. Almost. “What happened to the people who built it?”

The dragon, somehow, managed to arch a nonexistent eyebrow. “They live there,” it replied, slowly, as if it feared that he was rather slower on the uptake than expected. “That was the start of my hoard, you see.”

He hadn’t misheard it. It did say ‘hoard’. “But...dragons hoard gold, jewels, riches…”

“Uninspired amateurs,” the dragon sniffed. “All very well for one’s hatchling years, but honestly.” The glittering eyes squinted down at him. “Do you not want to join my hoard?”

“I…” Living in a castle with a dragon for a protector sure beat being chained to a rock by feral townsfolk, there was no doubt about that. And what other choice did he have? He swallowed. “I do.”

“Wonderful!” Joyful sparks snapped off the dragon’s jaw as it gracefully leapt upright. “I shall do away with those pesky chains.” And he came towards him with remarkably light steps.

“Do you live very far away?” he blurted out, nervously watching the dragon as it studied the iron rings hammered into the stone. “Will I be able to—I cannot just leave my brothers behind!”

The dragon, who had just crushed one end of the chain to warped bits of broken iron in its claw, looked up distractedly. “Whatever are you talking about? All your brothers are at my nest already. Who do you think told me where to find you?”

His heart leapt in his chest. He didn’t even notice the heavy weight of the chains fall away as they slid to the ground. “You...you’d want to keep my brothers too?”

The dragon made an indignant noise, bowing down low and motioning rather impatiently for him to climb on its back. “What kind of dragon do you take me for! I must have the whole set.”

[genderfluid-insomniac]

S/O being extra sweet to the baby monkeys with Wukong + Macaque (separately)

Sun Wukong

He’s going to be jealous since yes your playing and getting along with his siblings is adorable but why aren’t you giving him attention? He’s right here and will would cuddle you and give you all the affection you asked for if you said so. You do give him a lot of affection and attention when you aren’t at your job or busy, staying at FFM when MK trains and you reminding them to take breaks to stay hydrated since the man doesn’t stay hydrated as much as he should.

Once in a while, Wukong has to not so subtly ask his successor to bring you with him so he can spend time with you and totally not show off plan more dates since he’s still learning how to use the phone MK gave him after the whole Azure nearly ending the world disaster. Back to the monkeys residing on Flower Fruit Mountain; you give them extra special food than they’d normally have (search up food that monkeys can have as treats that won’t kill or hurt them) and give them scritches where they want.

Playing games like hide and seek, tag, soccer, or simple toss is nothing new however the smaller monkeys adore it and use ripened fruit as a ball. If you asked Wukong, who you’d have to bribe with some kisses or a night of cuddling, he’d tell you they ask him when you’re coming back and if you can play with them more.

Putting aside his jealousy it is incredibly heartwarming to see you bonding with his siblings and reminds him that might be what it’s like if you had a family with him. That though is something that pops up whenever you interact with them and if you catch him staring you’ll see his tail shaped like a heart.

Six eared Macaque

He’s not as jealous as Wukong is because he isn’t at FFM often unless it’s because of MK or a world-ending disaster and he likes how soft and cute you are when many of the monkeys climb all over you like you’re a jungle gym. Especially when you feign innocence of “stealing” a fruit like a peach or banana that one of them left lying around which ends in them running after you until they tackle looking for said fruit. Of course, you’ve switched it up by throwing the fruit to your boyfriend who instinctively caught it and then pretended that he stole it from you, which since most of the monkeys were fond of you they helped you and a good amount of them managed to latch onto Macaque.

Other times when it’s sunny you and some of the cubs are napping in the sun comfortably with you sleeping on your lover’s shoulder and many white monkeys curled up on some part of your body. He’s never really fully asleep more like in a relaxed or meditative state due to how sensitive his hearing is in addition to being vulnerable but when he looks over to you and sees how peaceful and adorable you look. He doesn’t want to move you but if it gets cold or looks like it’s going to storm then he’ll pick you up bridal style and the cubs that fall or aren’t on you when you’re picked up are carried by his tail.

You have begged him to spend a night or so on FFM to see the baby monkeys more but that means Macaque would have to ask Wukong and both parties don’t wanna do it unless they have to. Luckily for you, there have been times when a storm rolls in and with some pleading, he helped you gather the monkeys around you into a nearby cave till the storm let up which wasn’t that hard given they love you and you’re adorably sweet to them.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Simmer #7

CH7. Spice Box | The Menu [4.1K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Eddie held the door open for you as you approached the trailer, hand waving you in as he smiled, shy. 

The trailer was tidier than you’d ever seen it before, a valiant effort made in anticipation for your arrival. The usual piles of washed laundry were moved from the dining booth bench, the ashtrays moved from the living room coffee tables. The trailer was unusually quiet, smelling like mountain cedar, if the can of air freshener on Wayne’s armchair was anything to go by. 

You did your usual, despite the way you felt like you were there for the first time. For a first date. But you toed off your shoes by the door and lingered in the kitchen, fingers twisting together as you wondered what came next. This? This part was new, this was different. 

Eddie smiled shyly as he followed behind, hands skimming your shoulders as he squeezed past you and the counter, opening the fridge. The white-yellow glow filled the room, clashing with the pink sunset that came in from the living room blinds. 

“Okay, what are you feelin’?” Eddie said into the refrigerator, his fingers tapping on the door. “We got stuff for omelettes, I could do pasta, oh, hey, I make a mean gnocchi.” Eddie emerged with a quart of pesto, wiggling one of the diners' plastic containers at you. 

You smiled, shrugging easily because you’d be happy with some toast if it meant Eddie kept looking at you like that. You leaned against the dining table edge, lips pressed together and trying your hardest to keep it together. Eddie looked too pretty in the sunlight, that peachy pink golden flow, the last rays turning his brown eyes the colour of caramel as he looked at you. 

“I don’t mind,” you told him softly, “anything you make will be good.”

Eddie grinned, bashful, cheeks pink and he held his hand out to you, coaxing you into holding onto his fingers so he could tug you forward. You were supposed to look in the fridge too, check out the mountains of fresh ingredients he liked to pack into it, the tubs of homemade sauces and pickled veg. But instead, you stumbled into the boy, socked feet touching his boots, knees bumping. 

It was awkward in an innocent way, your smile shy and matching Eddie’s, his faltering a little when he realised how close you were. His hand held yours a little tighter and when he realised you weren’t moving away, well shit, he didn’t bother to either. His fingers twisted in yours, thumb running over the backs of your knuckles and he swallowed hard as he looked down at you. 

“Uh, we could, uh, I could make some lasagna. Or, or a stir fry?” Eddie stumbled over his words, brows furrowed in concentration as he studied each part of your face. The line of your nose, the fan of your lashes, the curve of your lip. “If you want. I don’t, I don’t mind cookin’ whatever.”

You felt bolder than ever when you let your hand slip from Eddie’s and climb up his forearm, finger wrapping around the cords of muscle there, thumb rubbing at the sensitive skin on the inside crook of his elbow. It made the boy still, lips parting in surprise. It felt nice to be this close, chests almost touching, Eddie’s hand falling to hold your waist instead, fingertips pushed to the soft cotton of your sundress. 

“I’m not, I’m not really all that hungry, right now,” you told him softly. You were nervous, wondering if this was supposed to happen this way. If this was supposed to happen this soon. But you couldn’t bring yourself to step away. 

The refrigerator door was still open. 

Eddie nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, sure. No, same. We can eat later, if you want.” You watched his Adam’s apple bob, felt his fingers squeeze a little tighter at the plush of your hips. “How’s your head feelin’?”

You smiled at his concern and met his gaze. This much eye contact wasn’t all that surprising but the fact you hadn’t been interrupted yet by someone yelling about hot dog bugs or asking where the napkin refills were was. “It’s fine,” you promised him. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

A lie, it was a little tender. But definitely no concussion. You’d iced it when you’d gotten home but for a shorter time than you should’ve, too preoccupied with the idea of jumping into a warm shower and shaving every inch of your leg in preparation for your date. If anything, the idea of spending time alone with Eddie was what had your head spinning. 

“Good,” Eddie nodded and you could see him thinking, too much, before he sucked in a quiet breath and lifted a hand to cup the back of your neck. His hand was big enough that it curled all the way round, his thumb tucked into the space under your ear, right along your jaw. You wondered if he could feel your pulse - he probably could. You wondered if he could feel that way it was fucking racing. “Doesn’t hurt, if I do this?”

You were scared to move, worried if you shook your head it would break the spell, scared that Eddie would stop touching you. So you whispered instead, one word on a shaky breath that made Eddie’s eyes get a little wider. “No.”

Eddie pushed his thumb to your jaw a little firmer, suddenly not as worried about touching you, holding you now like you wouldn’t shatter underneath him. “So this is okay?” He whispered back and oh my god, it was more than okay, it was exactly what you wanted and you were still in the middle of his kitchen with the refrigerator light casting over your socks, your shins. 

You licked your lips and gave a small nod, eyes trained on his mouth and you heard the boy suck in a breath. “Yeah, it’s okay.” You swallowed, throat bobbing and Eddie felt it under his hand, the movement making him dizzy. “More than okay.”

His thumb moved up, skimming over the apple of your cheek, fingers fanning out over the side of your neck until they were pushing into your hairline and pulling goosebumps from your skin. You didn’t realise you were both walking you backwards until your hips hit the counter. It was a soft bump, everything Eddie did was gentle and his eyes were watching yours the entire time, searching for any hesitation. 

It’d been a while since he’d been in a situation like this, but he was pretty fucking positive there was none there. 

You confirmed his thoughts by clinging to the front of his shirt, fingertips tugging the material so he’d take the hint and move closer, meeting his chest with yours and it was as much of a first move as you could manage. Shyness still swallowed you, your heart beating embarrassingly fast and all you wanted to do was push up onto your toes and press your lips to Eddie’s but if he rejected you now - for whatever reason - you think you’d have to quit your job and move back to Chicago. 

Your back was against the worktop edge, softened only by the way Eddie let his other hand cup your hip and your chest was against his, chin tilted up to look at him, eyes half lidded and matching his own. You could see every freckle, the fan of his lashes, a tiny silver scar on the left corner of his bottom lip that you’d never noticed before. You wondered if he was close enough to feel the heat from your face, the way your bones must’ve been rattling from the thunder of your heartbeat. 

It was delicious, the way he crowded you, thumb pushing into your cheek so you’d tilt your head up for him, noses almost brushing now, just waiting for something to give. It had been two months of working alongside Eddie Munson, two months of being his friend, learning how he worked, what each of his smiles meant, how lucky you were to receive one. 

Two months of wondering how much longer it would take until he would kiss you. 

He licked his bottom lip, tongue peeking out just slightly, eyes studying every move you made, so hesitate, so unsure, as if the way you were pressing yourself against him wasn’t enough of a clue. “We could, uh,” Eddie cleared his throat, nervous. His hand was squeezing the dough of your hip over your dress, the soft material bunching in his palm. “We could watch a movie, if you wanted.”

He said it so distractedly that you were sure the boy didn’t actually know what he was asking. Eddie’s pupils were blown wide, eyes dark, a familiar sight except there wasn’t the haze of smoke between you both now. You smiled, nervous and shy and giddy and brave all at once. 

“I don’t wanna watch a movie, Eddie,” you breathed and out and the boy folded, the boy melted like butter under the hot sun and you saw his brows draw together, his tense shoulders fall in relief and then he was nodding, eyes on your mouth and moving closer and closer—

“Oh, thank fuck,” he sighed in return, pushing into you in a rush, his lips crashing to yours before he even finished talking. 

 It felt like kismet, that first kiss. It felt like it was supposed to happen, because after your heart soared and your stomach somersaulted, Eddie moved his head one way and tilted yours the other, drawing him closer still with your fingers hooked into the collar of his T-shirt. He made the softest noise, nose pushed to your cheek, his thumb dragging over the corner of your mouth and when you gasped for him, his tongue touched your bottom lip, a silent question. 

More?

You parted your lips for him, kiss deepening, Eddie’s hand on your waist gripping you tighter as your tongue licked over his and you couldn’t remember when kissing someone felt like this. It felt like a summer heatwave, like someone taking care of you, it felt like a bowl of the most perfect food pushed in front of you, like cracking your fucking head off a table and watching the world spin. 

There wasn’t any noise in the trailer except for the hum of the still open fridge door and the soft, breathy sounds from both of you. A sigh, a gasp, a muted groan. It was easy to get caught up in it, no one to interrupt, a whole evening, just for you two. It was a long time coming, a simmering pot, finally bubbling over and when you let out a little moan when Eddie’s hand trailed from your jaw down to your neck, fingers splayed over your throat, the boy pulled back to pant heavily and swear. 

Any shyness you’d ever felt was gone with the way he was looking at you, curls falling across flushed cheeks, lips swollen and probably a matching yours. You reached for him, desperate, your hands tangling into his hair as you tried not to pout. “Don’t stop. Please, Eddie,” you whispered and your voice cracked with need and god, it made Eddie’s eyes stutter shut, jaw dropping before tensing. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he was whispering, moving back to you with an eagerness that was almost overwhelming. 

You thought he was going to kiss you again, but he ducked just slightly and you squeaked when you felt his palms, warm and calloused and so fucking big, wrap around the backs of your thighs. He hauled you up, setting you on the edge of the kitchen counter so you were at his height and both of you ignored the angry squeal of the coffee container, the bread bin and mug stand as your body pushed them out of the way. A new pace was set now and Eddie’s mouth was back on yours before you could ask. 

A desperate, messy kind of kiss, deep and longing and all tongues and teeth. The boy nipped at your bottom lip, groaned when you whined and you didn’t even think twice about bringing your legs up to his hips, caging him in and pulling him against you until you felt the scratch of denim again the cotton of your underwear. 

It should’ve been too much too fast, it should’ve. 

But it wasn’t. 

“This okay?” Eddie asked you breathlessly, words gasped between kisses. He pulled back just slightly, hands cupping your hot cheeks, thumbs soothing over the apples of them. His forehead pressed against yours, a grounding touch. “We don’t have to— just tell me if you wanna stop, yeah?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut because you were already pulling him back to you and Eddie followed willingly, one hand dropping to your knee, coasting upupup until he was squeezing at the dough of your thigh and groaning into your open mouth. You felt like a couple of teenagers, making out somewhere you weren’t supposed to, getting felt up by your crush in his parents kitchen. It made you dizzy, it made you wet, embarrassingly so. A dirty, hot throb that wrecked your body and lit up, electric, every time Eddie touched you somewhere new. 

He didn’t go any higher, his hand stayed there, respectful as he could be when you were kissing him like you didn’t ever want to stop. A few inches below the hem of your dress, practically a gentleman, but his tongue was doing wonderful things against yours and when you rocked yourself a little, using your arms around his neck to press yourself against him, Eddie’s own hips canted forward and he moaned.  

It made it easier to drop his other hand from your neck, fingertips skimming just along the curve of your breast before he was dripping your waist and pulling you into him. It wasn’t the best place to be grinding against each other, not when the sofa and his bed were both so close by. But the height of the counter made for the perfect kind of friction and it was dizzying being so close, to be so wrapped up in Eddie. He smelled the same, like lemongrass and smoke and a little bit of cologne. 

And when you gripped his curls a little tighter than before and tugged, Eddie fucking whined into your open mouth, barely kissing, just panting into each other's lips and his gentlemanly touch on you wavered. His hand skirted up, fingers sliding under the hem of your red dress and when they skimmed over the elastic edge of your underwear, he was swearing, eyes squeezing shut tighter and raking his blunt nails back down your thigh.

You shuddered, ripping away from Eddie’s lips to suck in a breath but the boy only moved to your neck and you keened at the touch, opened mouth kisses along the line of your throat, his tongue peeking out to lick across your skin, teeth grazing and fiu let him, head thrown back until the already tender spot hir against the kitchen cabinets. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. 

Not when Eddie was dragging his fingers across the neckline of your dress, pushing your sleeve out of the way to expose your shoulders, kissing and sucking at the crook of your neck, mouthing his way down your chest, no bra straps to get in his way. You sighed, the sound coming out with the letters of his name, a noise that made him groan aloud and fuse his lips back to yours, your fingers splayed out over his jaw so you could keep him there. 

You were on fire. It was hotter than being in the kitchen. The simmering pot was spilling over now, the flames were licking higher and the lid of it was crashing to the floor, jolting you back to reality. 

You pulled back, sucking in air, eyes unfocused and the world was spinning too fast and god you just needed to—   

“We should slow down,” Eddie gasped, sounding as wrecked as you felt. His hands were still on you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, two hands smoothing up and down your thighs. “Fuck, you’re— that was—”

“Yeah,” you agreed and god you sounded drunk. “I know.”

You tried to diffuse the heat, tried to turn down the flame so everything went back down to a simmer, smiling softly as if the kitchen was on metaphorical fire and Eddie wasn’t harder than he’d ever been in his life. “Umm, do you, d’you wanna eat now?”

Eddie laughed into your neck, cheeks flushed rosy pink and he was hot all over, breathless and the happiest he’d been in a long time. He hummed, nodding before he pulled back, dotting a kiss to your lips, much more chaste than before. He couldn’t help himself, placed another on your cheek, your jaw, the slope of you nose too. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned. “How does a grilled cheese sound?”

You laughed too, nodding, because you didn’t think you’d be able to focus on chopping up ingredients or kneading out a dough right now either. “You gonna make it real fancy for me?” 

Eddie beamed, brows scrunched together in disbelief, like he was shocked you had to even ask. “What? Sweetheart, please,” he pushed one last kiss to your lips, grimaced at the open fridge door and kicked it shut witn his foot. “S’gonna be the fanciest grilled cheese you’ve ever had.”

—————

“You have a hickey,” Robin poked at your neck, stating the news very matter of factly as she leaned in between the drivers seat and yours. 

You batted at her hand, eyes wide, cheeks hot as you leaned back to glare at her. “What? No I don’t.”

Steve snorted and pulled into the diner parking lot, joining Eddie’s van and the other few cars that were waiting for a late breakfast. “Wow, that sounded so believable,” he deadpanned. “Enjoy your hot date with the chef last night?”

The day after your dinner with Eddie only egged on your good mood. A bright day, with blue skies and warm air, the kind of Sunday morning that was straight out of a photograph, big white clouds, sunflower fields in the distance, the smell of coffee and waffles coming from the diner doors. 

Eddie had dropped you back at your apartment late, later then he should’ve when he was starting work at six am the next day but you’d stayed to eat grilled cheeses on the sofa with him, pretending to watch some B-roll horror movie as you talked about everything and nothing, legs draped over his lap. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to say but your words got tangled in a grin and they came out too happy, making Steve’s eyes roll as he climbed out of the car. 

“You’re a fuckin’ awful liar,” he told you over the roof and Robin snorted in agreement, bending down to peer at her reflection in Steve’s window. She snapped her gum, baby pink against rose coloured lip balm and flipped Steve off when he popped her bubble. “And we’re all late, ‘cause someone couldn’t find their keys, c’mon.”

It felt like a proper friendship, the way you walked around the side of the diner with Steve and Robin, jostling each other and laughing when they took it too far, the girl shrieking when Steve pulled her into a headlock, encouraging you with a grin to give her a noogie. And the laughter bled into the kitchen when you all stumbled into the fire exit door reserved for staff, smoke breaks and crying sessions in the alleyway. But the laughter stopped when you caught sight of Eddie at his station, whisking a bowl of egg yolks and butter, exactly like you expected him to be at eleven am on a sunday. 

You didn’t expect the girl, though. Or recognise her.

Strawberry blonde and petite, her uniform shorter than yours, her elbows leaning on Eddie’s station as she beamed up at him. She was pretty. Really pretty.

She turned at the noise of the three of you coming into the kitchen, laughter still on Steve’s lips, a faux argument brewing between him and Robin as they tailed off towards the lockers. You stayed standing, a little shocked. You weren’t sure why, you knew there was staff you hadn’t met before, seasonal members of the diner who split their time between Jim’s and other jobs. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. 

She was just— standing too close to the boy you spent the night making out with. 

Eddie had put down the bowl and whisk, cleaned his hands on the front of his apron and smiled at you,  his face lighting up at the sight, a genuine slice of joy in what was about to be an awkward moment. He said your name, almost shy, looking like he didn’t know how to greet you. 

“This is, uh, this is—” he gestured to the girl, trailing off when she bounced over to you, hand extended. 

“I’m Chrissy, it’s so nice to meet you,” she gushed. “You’re new, right?”

“Uh, kinda,” you laughed a little weakly. You didn’t feel new anymore. You felt like you belonged. You told her your name, even though she’d already heard Eddie say it. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

No one else really knew what to say then and your plans to greet Eddie with a kiss seemed ruined. The boy looked at you as if he were thinking the same, his smile lopsided and sweet. But he dished the eggs into a pot and started scrambling them, brushing away a stray curl with the back of his hand and he asked you, “have you had breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes, affection lingering there and you relaxed a little, knowing this routine, loving this routine. You grabbed your apron from the hook, tying it round your waist as you brushed past him, a hand skimming his lower back, the closest thing you could do to a greeting. 

Chrissy tracked the movement with curious eyes. 

“Not yet,” you told him softly and you ached to perch yourself on the stool by his station - your stool - but Chrissy had already walked back over and claimed it. “You gonna tell me off?”

You said it shyly, a hint of flirt there, cheeks warm and smile soft as you gazed up at the boy. Eddie responded in kind, the tips of his ears turning pink and he tried to scowl at you, brows pinching together but he grinned like he couldn’t help it. “I would, if I knew it would work,” he smiled down at you, head tilted to the side all lazy. “You want some eggs? Or I could make you some pancakes?”

And before you could tell him that eggs were perfectly fine, Chrissy’s voice interrupted, she was pushing herself onto the table, leaning on her hands, cheeks coloured with a pretty pink blush and squished together. “Don’t tell me I leave for the summer and you’ve got another favourite waitress already,” she pouted, lips shiny and glassy and pink. “I thought I was your number one, Ed.”

Her words made you feel too warm. That rolling heat that creeped across your chest, your neck, your face. An awfully uncomfortable sensation, anxious, unsettled. You tried to laugh when she did, but the sound came out weak, stilted. Chrissy was looking at Eddie, confident, playful, so sure of herself. 

She looked at him like she really knew him, like there was an inside joke that you didn’t know about. 

You backed away, ignoring how Eddie’s hand tried to catch yours. “Uh, I’m actually not that hungry,” you smiled but it wavered. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Thanks though. I’ll, um, I’ll catch up with you later. It was nice meeting you, Chrissy,” you nodded at her, hoping she didn’t see your glassy eyes before you turned and left them in the kitchen. 

[random-stardew-panda]

||•~The Worst Thing~•||

Harvey (SDV) x reader(female)

Warnings: Language, Violence, Death, Nightmares

Word count: 2.6k

Helloooo everyone! New blog dedicated to my rekindled Stardew Valley obsession. First fic obviously must go to my beloved doctor, you will be seeing him here a lot. I hope you enjoy and hope you don't hold my terrible grammar and probably terrible spelling against me 😅 I have no excuse. English is all I speak and I do it terribly.

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You’ve had an exhausting day, it was the end of the season and you had been fishing all day for the last fish you needed for the community centre and the ones you needed just were not biting.

“Finally!!” You squealed as you reeled up the last fish you needed, sighing loudly you stretched your limbs and groaned as your joints crack softly. It was so much later than you realised, it was already dark out.

You wandered through the town square, eyelids drooping, trying to stay awake when you passed the calendar and help wanted board and your eyes shot open as you rushed over and let your finger scroll over the date and you curse yourself. You had accepted a quest from Clint a week ago to kill 50 Slimes you hadn’t gotten around to finishing it, too busy trying to finish these fishing bundles, today was the last day left! You let your forehead fall against the wall as you look down at your watch, 7pm, you could finish and get home in time surely? You only had 7 left to kill, easy work.

“Harvey is always upset when I get home late…oh but I promised Clint. Uhg…one more late night won’t kill him, I’ll just give him some extra kisses. He can’t stay mad at me.” You giggled and slowly pushed yourself off of the wall and started making your way to the mountains and down into the caves. The trail to the caves felt extra long tonight, you splashed your face in the lake trying to wake yourself up a bit before you entered the caves.

You slash at the monsters in the cave, stumbling at the force behind your swing, you were panting and clinging to the wall of the cave. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all…You felt so, so tired…No. No! You only had one more left. You glance down at your watch, 12am…damn it really was getting late.

“One left. One more. I got this…I got this…” You mumble to yourself, repeating the sentiment that you could do this as you start climbing down the ladder, using the inside of your elbow, squeezing the ladder rungs between your forearm and bicep to help support your weary muscles as you climb down, shaking a little bit, two steps from the bottom you lose your footing and slip off the ladder.

“AH!” Your body hits the floor and your head bounces off the ground, you squeeze your eyes shut and lift a shaky hand to your bleeding head, the room feels like it was spinning. “Ow…” you lay there flat on your back on the ground for a moment staring up at the ceiling as a ringing filled your ears, it was at this point you hear the familiar squelching sound of slimes approaching.

With great effort and loud groans you push yourself up onto your hands and knees and are met with 5 slimes, using your sword to push yourself up to your feet you lunge at one of them slashing it in half, your vision is spinning and everything is blurry and out of focus you were cursing yourself, this had been a horrible idea. With every slash at the creatures you staggered trying to catch yourself, every hit from the monsters was causing worse aches in your muscles, cuts and bruises littered your body and you were getting to a point where you had embedded your sword into the ground using it to keep yourself upright leaning on it more than actually attacking the monsters, you desperately tried to kick the slimes away and with the hand that wasn’t white knuckling your sword you tried to swat away the insects cutting into your flesh with their sharp claws. The few slimes left leap up attacking you, smashing into your chest the sudden force knocks you back to the floor, you desperately try to reach out and grab your sword, your hand sliding down your sword slices your palm open as you topple over your head once again hitting the hard ground of the cave, you fall unconscious.

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Linus had seen the farmer go into the mines hours ago but he hadn't seen her leave yet, the farmer always took the path past his tent through the back of the mountains to get back to the farm late at night. He was getting anxious it was almost 2am he had a terrible feeling something was wrong. Linus walked over to the adventures guild and started pounding on the door. After several moments the door was yanked open and a very disgruntled Marlon was standing infront of Linus.

“What?!” Marlon growls a deep frown set in his features.

“I think the Farmer is in trouble. She is still in the mines…”

Marlon groans and turns back into the guild, leaving the door open as he reaches over the counter and pulls his sword up into his arms. He walks out of the guild, pushing past Linus, slamming the door behind him.

“That kid is going to be the death of me…let's go then.” Marlon sheaths his sword and rubs his forehead.

The two men head into the mines, every level was littered with dead creatures and exposed ladders, the farmer had definitely been here. They made their way down more levels of the mines.

“Oh Yoba!!” Linus yells as they round a corner and are met with an unconscious farmer being smothered by creatures, cave insects, slimes, even a stray cave crab was slashing at their defenceless body.

“Well fuck.” Marlon unsheathed his sword and starts slicing at all the creatures making quick work of them. “Get the farmer!!” He yells at Linus as he brings his sword down piercings the crab.

Linus grabs the farmer under her arms and starts dragging her body towards the ladder leaving a trail of blood in the dirt. Marlon quickly grabs the farmers sword off the ground and rushes over to the ladder. Marlon grabs the farmers legs and they quickly climb up to a level with an elevator. As soon as Marlon saw the elevator he grabs the farmer off of Linus and starts carrying her by himself.

“Is she okay? She doesn't look like she is breathing!” Linus is fussing over the unconscious farmer the entire time they are in the elevator. A loud ding sounds and the doors open to the main level of the mines. Marlon sighs with relief.

“Linus. Go get Robin to call the farmhouse. Call Harvey. Get him to the clinic. Tell him Y/n needs him NOW!”

Linus rushes out of the mines sprinting towards Robins house. Marlon follows behind him carrying the limp unconscious body of the farmer in his arms. Marlon kept glancing down at the farmers face he was trying so desperately not to show how alarmed he was. Everyone else was going to freak out someone needed to be to be calm and reasonable but tears filled his eyes as he thought about how injured his dear friend was, was she going to make it…? He shook his head and kept heading out the mountains. No, he couldn’t think like that, he was going to get them to the clinic in time and Harvey was going to save her.

Marlon was rushing past Robins house, the door was wide open, he was the chaos inside, Linus and Robin were practically screaming into the phone as they saw Marlon and the injured farmer rush past the house down towards the town. Maru was pushing past everyone in the hallway, shoving them out of the way as she rushed out to catch up to Marlon.

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*RINGGG RIIINGGG RINGG*

Harvey groaned and rolled over in bed to hold his wife and was suddenly aware of the absence of the second person in his bed he frowned and rubbed his eyes gently tapping around on the bed trying to find her.

*RINGGG RINGGG*

Harvey groans and flings his hand over to the nightstand and blindly feels around until the phone is in his hands.

“Hello?” His voice was gruff and tired.

“Harvey you need to get to the clinic now!!” He was met with Robins frantic voice and he sat up finally starting to wake up.

“Robin? Calm down tell me what is happening?”

“HARVEY NOW YOU NEED TO GO NOW. IT Y/N!” Robin sounded like she was about to burst into tears.

Harvey’s heart stopped, he looked up at the clock on the wall, 2am? She wasn’t home…? His mind was running through every single injury she had ever gotten. Every operation he has had to preform. Every single time he scolded her for staying out so late, for being so reckless. A horrible feeling of dread was starting to choke him.

“I’m leaving right now.” Harvey hung up the phone and flung the blankets of off him.

Harvey was practically flying out of the house, stumbling over his own feet as he grabbed a coat off the hanger and slid his shoes on without even tying the laces. He slammed the door behind him so hard it shook the wall slightly as he ran out of the farmhouse.

Harvey was sprinting towards the town square, towards his clinic, he was fumbling with the keys in his coat pocket. The cold night air was making his tears feel cold. By the time he reached the clinic he was out of breath and trying his hardest not to breakdown but his mind was racing with every horrible outcome. What kind of shape would she be in when she got here? He was pacing around the clinic preparing everything he thought he might need.

It took 10 minutes for Marlon to reach the clinic, Maru rushed in first and held the door open, the sound of the bell dinging caused Harvey to stop dead in his tracks and stare teary eyed at Maru, who looked equally distressed.

“H…Harvey…she isn’t breathing…” Maru has tears in her eyes.

Marlon entered the clinic holding the farmers limp body and he looked like he was about to start shaking and crying. Marlon places the farmer down on an examination table Harvey had already prepared. Harvey was looking wide eyed at Maru for a moment before he rushes over to the table and tries to take his wife’s pulse but he can’t find one, tears are streaming down his face as he stares at his wife, her bruised cut up body laying there in front of him. Maru was softly crying and Marlon was leaning in the corner of the room with an unreadable expression.

“No. No she isn’t…She can’t be.” Harvey climbs up on the table and starts doing CPR.

“Harvey.” Maru steps closer to him but he doesn’t stop, he leans down pressing his lips to his wife breathing air into her lungs.

“Wake up…wake up!” he is pushing down harder against her chest.

“Harvey.”

“NO! SHE IS OKAY. WAKE UP!” Tears are rolling off his cheeks as he keeps giving her chest compressions, leaning down trying desperately to force air into her lungs.

“HARVEY!” Maru yells at him with tears streaming down her face.

“NO SHE CAN’T BE. SHE…she can’t…” His compressions slow down.

“Harvey…” Maru puts a hand on his arm urging him to get down and he shoves her hand away.

He leans down collapsing onto his wife’s body and starts sobbing, he clings to her, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he can.

“Harvey…man you have to stop…” Marlon grabs Harvey’s shoulder and tries to pull him off.

“GET OFF OF ME!” Harvey sobs trying to shove Marlon away.

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Harvey shoots straight up in bed he tried to scream it came out as a strangled wail his voice cracked, his eyes were filled with tears. He was gripping at his heaving chest, gasping desperately for breath. His eyes were darting around the room as he struggled to breathe.

“Harvey…?” You softly whisper as you sit up in bed and place a hand on his arm softly, looking up at him with sleepy eyes you find his hand covering his mouth as he sobs, wide eyed and straight ahead.

“Harvey?! Are you okay? Sweetheart what happened…what's wrong??” You sit up higher on the bed and place one hand on his chest and the other gently on his cheek rubbing your thumb softly over his face whipping away the tears that were streaming over his cheeks.

“H…Harvey..? What's wrong talk to me what happened..? Harvey darling…?” Your voice was shaking a little full of concern

He doesn't even speak as he jerks forward and wraps his arms around you pulling you tightly against his chest as he cries hard into your shoulder

“oh!…Harvey…” you wrap your arms around his head holding him against you, gently running your fingers through his hair softly scratching at his scalp “shhh….shh it's alright sweetheart…it's okay shhh I'm right here it's okay…” his grip on you tightened clinging to you like you were about to disappear, like his arms were the only thing holding you to the earth.

“You were gone…” his voice cracks as he whispers softly continuing to cry into the crook of your neck. “You were…gone and I couldn't save you. I couldn't…” he is gasping for air as he sobs

“hey...hey shhh breathe…breathe I'm right here. I'm right here okay? I'm not gone. I am right here, you have me in your arms, see?” You squeeze him a bit tighter before cupping both his cheeks and lifting his head in your hands so he can look into your eyes

“You were gone y/n…you were g…gone…” he is clinging to you tighter it was a bit uncomfortable but you didn't say anything “You were dea-” he gasps and more tears fill his eyes as he looks into your face “You were dead! You…you were dead in my arms and I couldn't do anything to save you. You were in the mines and I failed you and you were gone. You were gone and you weren't ever coming back.”

You are running your thumbs over his cheekbones as you lean forward and softly kiss him.

“Harvey. I am right here. You need to take a breath and calm down, you are getting yourself all worked up. I am right here. I am right here. Take a breath honey…” you press another more chaste kiss to his lips before pulling him back into a tight hug.

“You're safe..?” He whispers quietly.

“I'm safe.”

“…You aren't going to leave…?”

“Harvey sweetheart. I'm right here and I'm never leaving you okay? Never. I'm staying here with you forever.”

“…P…promise…?” He sniffles quietly as his tears slowly stop.

“Harvey look at me. Hey look at me. I promise you. I promise I am not leaving. I know I'm a little…uh…reckless in the mines sometimes and I'm so sorry I didn't know it was upsetting you this much. I'll be more careful. I promise. Come back to sleep…” you softly rub his chest “I promise I'll be here in the morning too.” You kiss his cheek as he pulls you down onto his chest, holding you tight against his body, he sighs deeply as you snuggle up with him.

“I love you so much My Love…you mean the world to me.” Harvey sighs quietly as he squeezes you tighter. You kiss his cheek a few times softly rubbing your nose against his jaw.

“I love you Harvey. Always.” You softly trace invisible patterns over his chest as he slowly drifts off to sleep, you stay up a while after he falls asleep making sure he sleeps soundly. His arm draps loosely over you even as he sleeps he wants to feel you close to him.

“Goodnight Harvey...” You kiss him one last time, smiling softly and put your head down on his chest letting yourself finally fall back asleep.

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You can check out my other non stardew related stories at @random-writing-panda

[chaethewriter]

You're dead to me [6]

dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

warning: english isn't my first language, barely proofread, i lowkey don't like this chap but it's cute, fluff and angst, silly siblings, sad Jake.

Word count: 3,1k

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Your flight back to high camp was amazing. Walking through the forest was something enchanting, out of a fairy tale, but the view from above was something so unrealistic. Colors of green, pink, and blue covered the ground beneath you, and the way the animals climbed the trees or flew just under you. You still couldn't believe where you were. You let go of the reins Neteyam told you to hold and you slightly get up from your seat, holding your body up as you tried to get a better view of everything around you. Neteyam frantically holds onto your arm, "sit down! You're going to fall!"

"As if you would let me fall, who will take care of my younger brother then?" You playfully hit him in the chest with your elbow. Lo'ak then came gliding next to the two of you, "bro! Did you already think of the excuse you're giving mom and dad by being late and bringing (Y/N) with us?" Neteyam groans in response, "I will think of something as an excuse. We are going to hide her in high camp until tomorrow morning by then." You huffed at his words, "hide me in high camp? What are you going to put me in? In a fucking woven bag?!" Lo'ak answered your question as a matter of fact, "I mean, you would easily fit in the bag?" You were ready to jump from Neteyam's Ikran right onto Loak's Ikran, ready to pounce on him. He might be your much younger brother, but you weren't afraid to fight the Na'vi right there and then. "Sis please!" Neteyam wraps his arm around your waist to pull you down, keeping you in place. Even though you were older than them, you had childish traits he thought you wouldn't have. Is this the effect of growing up early and finally feeling free? Would he get to experience that too one day?

As they approached high camp, the horns were heard through the night skies to notify the clan of a return, their return. Kiri facepalmed and looked at Neteyam, "well, there goes your plan. Ready to face the wrath?" His spine shuddered at the question, imagining the wrath of his mother if they took their sister to the clan, but they didn't have another choice now, did they? They couldn't leave you alone out in the open and you were supposed to get here tomorrow anyway, so might as well make you settle down, right? The three Ikrans land right at the opening of the mountains and your four Na'vi siblings climb off it with ease, meanwhile you struggle to get off the animal. You never rode a horse before, imagine a banshee ten times the size. Alright, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the banshees were huge compared to your human self. You huffed in embarrassment as you had a hard time getting off. You were one of the finest warriors and embarrassing yourself in front of a whole clan wasn't on your bucket list, definitely not. Neteyam held your legs as helped you down and you silently thanked him for doing so. The clan surrounded the five of you, standing in a half circle as they stared at you, either with curiosity or weariness. You felt watched, but not in a good way. You were a sky human after all, demon blood in their eyes. Neteyam stepped in front of you, half-shielding you from the prying eyes of his clan, "mawey Na'vi, mawey!" His chest puffed out as he spoke, shoulders broad. You watched him in awe. He was still a child, yet a fine warrior and respected by all. He would be such a good Olo'eyktan. The Na'vi made way as the Tsahik and her daughter passed through, moving to the front with ease as the clan parted like the red sea. You moved away from behind Neteyam, now standing right next to him as you brought your hand to your forehead, "Oel Ngati Kameie." You greeted Mo'at and Neytiri with respect once they were right in front of the crowd.

"I already expected your arrival, (Y/N) Sully." You're shocked that the Tsahik herself announced the news, just like that. The clan started whispering amongst themselves at the mention of the Olo'eyktan's last name and you felt yourself crumbling through the ground. Even Neytiri, your stepmother (?), looked surprised. You didn't know if that surprised expression was meant for the fact her mother announced it or the fact you're her mate's daughter. "I'm- thank you for having me." You bowed your head to show your gratitude, then your gaze traveled to Neytiri. She was already looking at you with those yellow eyes that had so much emotion hidden in them. You felt like she had a lot to say and you felt the same. "My people, mawey. Welcome (Y/N) Sully, daughter of the Olo'eyktan like she's one of our people. She's here to protect us from the dangerous sky demons." Mo'at had her back turned to you as she spoke to her people, emphasizing the fact that you're Jake Sully's child. If she did this to keep you safe, you are in debt to her. Yet, wouldn't something like this make it more complicated? Since you emotionally disowned him as your father? You did, right? You're getting pulled out of your thoughts by a hand harshly wrapping around your wrist. Your head turned to the person in front of you, it was Neytiri. She didn't say anything as she pulled you away from the crowd. Your breath hitched in your mask as you grew nervous, but you didn't complain. She didn't rip your head off, so she wanted to talk to you, right? Tuk looked after you as her mother pulled you away. She looked over at her big brother as she tugged his loincloth, "what is happening?" Tuk was still young, she didn't understand anything that was happening. "It's okay, Tuk! Let's get some food" Lo'ak patted her head, his hands running through her locks. Kiri nodded in agreement, taking Tuk's hand and pulling her to the fire to get their dinner. Neteyam looked after you as his mom and his sister entered their pod, hoping things wouldn't turn more complicated for you.

"Ma'am, what did you want to talk about?" You asked politely once you entered the pod, yet still tried to push her to get to the point. You still remembered how she acted when you taunted your father for questioning his parenting. Neytiri closed the flap of the entrance as she turned to you, cautiously walking over to you. Once she was close enough, she got on her knees for the height difference to not be too intimidating as she spoke, "You're my mate's daughter." You didn't know if it was a question or an extra form of confirmation, but you nodded your head yes. "And you're human." You nodded your head again. "I don't like you, you reek of demon blood." You rolled your eyes. You had to see that one coming."But tell me, child." Your head tilted to the side as you watched her in confusion. Tell her? Tell her what exactly? Neytiri could sense your confusion, so she continued explaining, "what happened, child. Tell your part." You knew it was a demand, yet you couldn't sense a lot of grudges. Her tone was stern and demanding, but not hateful. It was the voice of a wise woman, a wise mother. You decided to make yourself comfortable: taking a seat, sitting your butt on the soft woven carpets as you leaned against the wooden wall. "He was an amazing dad. He didn't see himself as it, but he tried. He tried for me and that's what made him amazing." You fiddled with your mask as you didn't know where to keep your hands, obviously nervous about telling Neytiri about all this. She nodded in understanding, taking a seat as well as she kept quiet to let you continue at your own pace. "Then he left so suddenly and he never returned. I had to hear from the people around me where he went. I waited for years and eventually gave up." Your hands were now lying in your lap as you moved your legs in a cross-legged position, much more comfortable than your last one, "until this day, I hold a grudge against him. He abandoned me, so I am giving him a taste of his own medicine." You didn't notice that your eyes were once again welling up with tears. Your left hand moved towards your mask to try and push it closer towards your face in an attempt to hide. Thank Eywa the mask wasn't transparent. Neytiri leaned towards you, even though she was very weary of you, she awkwardly extended her arm towards you to wipe your tears. Only for a few seconds as she pulled her hand away quickly, but your eyes still widened at the gesture, not knowing how to feel about all this, "you're a strong child with a strong heart, for a sky demon." She then got up and out of the pod. Now that you were finally alone, you once again got lost in your thoughts as you thought about your father.

Once Jake left to Eywa-knows-where, she turned to the backdoor of the pod, "I know you're there. All of you." Neteyam was the first to walk out with his ears flat against his head, followed by Lo'ak, Kiri and Tuk. She looked at her children with a sigh as they all held a guilty yet innocent facade up. "If she's dad's daughter, our sister.. would you hate her?" Lo'ak was the first to speak up. Neteyam wanted to honestly hit him on the back of his head for asking questions like that, but he continued, "she's putting her life in danger for us, therefore she's not so bad right? Dad would have wanted you to try if she's his." Those words hit Neytiri like a truck. Even if she hated sky demons, her mate used to be one and he changed a lot in just a few weeks. Why not her? Being the adorable girl that Tuk is, she chimed into the conversation, "Mom I want to meet her! Can I meet her? Another sibling yay!" Neytiri's canines pierced through her bottom lip as she thought. She still disliked you, also because you were a sky demon. She was conflicted with her feelings, but then she thought about Jake's sad expression. She would be willing to try, for him. Just like how he always tried for her.

From the corner of his eye, Lo'ak noticed how his mother left the pod, meaning you were alone now. At the same time, a horn went off, indicating an arrival. All their heads turned to the opening of the mountain, noticing a familiar ikran about to land. Their father. The four siblings exchanged a look and Neteyam spoke up, "Kiri get some fruits for her and get her away from there. Tuk, Lo'ak, and I will take care of dad. Go!" Kiri followed his orders as she ran to get some leftovers for you to eat, meanwhile, Neteyam immediately went to his father. Lo'ak crouched down to his youngest sibling, "Okay, so don't say anything about sis (Y/N) alright? Dad can't know yet, alright?" Tuk didn't really understand what he meant, but she just nodded as a response, "yes!"

"Sister (Y/N)?" You removed your face from your knees as you were sitting with your knees to your chest, "Oh Kiri, what's wrong?" She walked towards you with a bunch of fruits in her arms, "I got these for you." You chuckled at the small gesture, "thank you so much, but I hope you know I can't eat all that." She looked at the fruits in her arms, "I mean, rather too much than not enough, right? Come on, let's go to the Tsahik." It looked like she was in a rush and you raised your eyebrows at her, "Kiri, what's up? You look tense?" You got up from the ground. "Just follow me!" She already walked out before you could answer her, leaving you all confused and lost. But you obeyed her and followed suit after her.

"My children please just let me be for tonight, I'm tired." Jake wanted to be alone right now. His heart ached in his chest and his eyes were bloodshot red as his tears were drying up. He wanted to find Mo'at and talk to her. "We want to show you something, you must come!" Neteyam never asked something like this of his dad, not since he was ten years old. So this made him feel suspicious. "Yes! Tuk made something so beautiful and she wants to show it, right Tuk!" Lo'ak made up the quickest thing he could think of, eyes gazing down at Tuk who didn't know what to say. She glanced at Neteyam who nodded, so she looked into his eyes with determination, "Yes! You must follow us!"

You sat in Mo'at's tent as Kiri cut up some fruit for you. The moment the two of you entered the tent, she knew that you needed a moment for yourself and left the tent in your hands. You sat on one of the mats as Kiri sat next to you, cutting the fruits up for you to eat. You inhaled into your oxygen mask, letting the oxygen flow through your lungs before you removed the mask, took a piece of freshly cut fruit and popped it in your mouth, reattaching the mask to your mouth to gasp. Kiri watched you in awe as you chewed your food, "that's honestly so cool." She quickly finished up and put her hunter's knife back on her hip. "Eat well and rest up, alright? You got a long day ahead of you tomorrow." "Goodnight and thank you" the two of you exchanged a smile as she left the tent. You continued eating your pieces of fruit in peace, listening to the sound of the clan talking as their laughs filled the air. You popped a fruit in your mouth before reattaching your mask, smiling as you knew you made a good decision. They deserved to be protected.

"What is up with the three of you?" Jake grew frustrated at his children. They were standing in the pod for at least twenty minutes as the three rambled about the most bullshit subjects. "Do you know that I made this flower crown?" "Yes, you told me last week, Tuk." He tried once again to exit the pod, but Neteyam jumped in front of it as he scratched the back of his head, looking at Lo'ak for any other excuse. He was the best at pulling bullshit out of his ass after all. But also Lo'ak was quiet as his ears were pressed firmly against his head. "Well then, if you have nothing to say anymore. I have somewhere to be." His two sons stood there in defeat as they let their dad through, but then Tuk grabbed onto her father's hand, "no you can't!! (Y/N) will be upset if we let you go to her!!" Lo'ak immediately put his hand over Tuk's mouth as Neteyam coughed through that sentence, but unfortunately for them Jake already heard it. To check if he indeed heard that correctly, he crouched down to meet Tuk's gaze, "Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, remove that hand from your sister. Tuk, what did you say?" Her eyes were now also pressed against her head, knowing she said the wrong thing while trying to help her brothers, "uhm.. I said.." she felt overwhelmed as her dad continued to pressure her into telling, making her lips quiver. That was the point when Lo'ak had enough, "you are a terrible father you know that?!" The young Na'vi exploded as he yelled into his father's face. "You abandoned (Y/N) in the most terrible way possible! And now you suddenly crave forgiveness?! You need to earn that! You can't just go around yelling your 'sorries' while sobbing and not do anything?!" His fists were balled as his ears perked up, his tail standing tall, "she has a right to be upset and instead of sulking around you need to talk to her without the need to use your excuses!" And off he went. If he was a cartoon, the steam would have been leaving his ears. He needed to cool off. Neteyam watched his dad's expression falter, knowing Lo'ak was right with every word he said. He silently told Tuk to come with him, as he raised Tuk in his arms, holding her against his hip. "Did I do something wrong?" "No sweetheart, this needed to be done." And the two left the pod, leaving Jake all on his own as he stood still like a statue, painful breaths leaving his lips. He thought it was impossible, but more tears rolled down. Then he remembered Tuk's words. You're here, his daughter is here.

And he knew exactly where to check.

Jake moved from healer's tent to healer's tent. He knew that if you were hiding somewhere, it was somewhere in this area, the healing tents. He swiftly moved from tent to tent in search of your small frame. He eventually got to the biggest tent right in the middle, Mo'ats tent. He ripped the flap open and there you were, sleeping peacefully with the mask on your face to keep you alive. The skin under your eyes were stained with dried tears and a sob left his lips. "My baby.." he moved inside and closed to flap. He knew you didn't want to see him, especially if you woke up, but Lo'ak was right. He needed to try with all his might now, not with only his excuses and words, but also with his actions to show you that he cared for you, like a father. He quietly sat down next you, taking your small hand in his. You moved a bit in your sleep, making Jake tense in his movements, but then you stopped as you rolled a bit closer towards him, towards the warmth you felt. A genuine smile finally plastered his face, he felt at peace.

For now, he decided to enjoy this moment,

not knowing if it would be the last or not.

A/N: another update!! Hope you enjoyed!! And thank you so much for the followers, almost at 2k is a huge achievement! Tell me what you thought of this part. <3 now I'm gonna go ahead and work on my novella fr.

Taglist in the comments!!

[eyeless-cunt]

KINKTOBER DAY 15

PROMPT: Choking

CREEP: Masky

Word Count: 3k

CW: 18+ Sexual Content, Heed The Prompt, Murder, Choking that leads to MURDER (and choking that leads to sex too), Creampies (there are no creampies that lead to murder), Shower sex, uhh reader i'm not gonna lie you're kinda fucked in this one. I support you through.

KINKTOBER '24 MASTERLIST

You'd watched Masky be cruel before, and it made you wonder if he was capable of unleashing that same coldness towards you. He must be, right? The thought had you shifting in place, your eyes locked on the barely visible outline of his body through the window. You watched as he dragged a large bag of something into your shed, his form passing under a light and showing you the blank look on his face. Likely a bag of crushed cans, you thought. It was a large black trash bag, so really that was the only guess that made sense.

Yawning, you turned away to head up to bed, your heavy feet shuffling up the carpeted stairs sluggishly. As much as you loved watching him haul things with a smoke hanging from his mouth and a pack falling out of his pocket, your vision was beginning to blur. Work had kept you up longer than usual, and you had a lot to do around the house tomorrow.

Warmth enveloping you as you sunk into bed had you sighing, your ears pricking as you heard the back door creak through your vent. He was done already? Usually he'd finish another cigarette before coming back in. You listen to him pull off his boots, grunting as he bends over. A few moments later that familiar hum of the basement shower begins. He must've gotten mud all over him somehow, otherwise he'd be in the bathroom down the hall, coming in to kiss your forehead before he got undressed and under the steaming water.

Heat against your forehead has your eyes fluttering open, vision clearing as you watch him take a step back. He'd pressed a kiss against your forehead, quick but soft.

“Sorry,” he grunted, “didn't mean to wake you.” You yawned, head shaking as you waved away his apology.

“‘S okay,” you mumbled, your voice quiet and rough with sleep. The bed dipped as he climbed in beside you, the covers lifting and letting in cold air that had you shuffling closer to him.

You think he's whispering something to you, but by the time the words are out of his mouth you're already drifting back asleep, snuggled into his side.

•

Sunlight is streaming through the kitchen window, lifting my mood as I scrub at a stained baking tray. Masky had been gone when I woke up hours earlier, probably doing something or other off in the woods somewhere. I'd like to call and ask where, but his phone was practically a brick–useless and dead as it laid in a drawer somewhere. He hadn't used it since the day I gifted it to him, but I wasn't offended. It was only his nature.

A haste knock sounded at the door, catching my attention as I rinsed soap suds from my hands. We didn't get many visitors all the way out here, our fellow mountaineers preferring to keep to themselves, surrounded by enough land to keep away neighbors.

I opened the door to the scrap guy, his eyes looking over our land appraisingly. He was most likely looking for any indication we had something for him. He came by every few months, typically.

“Why hello there, ma'am,” he started, his face unsmiling but not at all unfriendly. “Was out this way and thought’a ya and that big ‘ole boy a yours. Yinz got anything for me that ya’ been savin’ these last coupla calendar pages?” He shoots me a friendly smile, and I greet him and nod, knowing there's a pile to sell in the basement.

“Course we do, follow me to the back?” He nods, the glint in his eye telling me he's more than ready to load it all. I shut the door behind me, leading him to the back around the house. As is normal he's looking around and making conversation about the wildlife, this and that about hearing coyotes in the woods.

I open the basement door, showing him down our rickety steps to the pile that somehow grows steadily every month. I'm not sure where Masky gets it all but I am pleased with the money we get for it.

“Gotdamn, it's a whole trove,” he remarks happily, eyeing it with dollar signs in his eyes. I'd once asked him what he does with all the junk he buys.

His words at the time were, “I sell it elsewhere for more.”

“Ah.” Is what I replied, deadpan but not shocked.

Presently, he was looking through the corner of garbage with great interest, eyes turning to me questioningly. “The hell ya get all this copper wiring from?” I looked down at the rust pile, noting the indeed large amount of coiled metal.

“Mas–um,” A fake cough forced its way from my mouth, covering the mistake I'd made. “Not sure, you know how it is. He brings rusty junk home and I don't ask questions,” I force a laugh and he smiles at me, understanding in his eyes.

“These are methhead levels of copper, little lady,” he laughs, the words playful. I force more laughter, wondering just how much of Masky’s behavior could be compared to something akin to drug usage. Did his pill bottles count?

“Well if I find a pipe I suppose we'll have it figured out, then,” I say, prompting another chuckle from him. About forty minutes later he's got everything he wanted loaded up, his small truck backed into my yard with the tailgate down. As he's checking to make sure nothing is about to fall out I remember the bag I watched Masky drag into the shed last night.

I tell him I'll be right back, and he waves me away, nodding to say he'd wait. My jog to the shed is short, and I open the old wooden door to a smell that almost knocks me on my ass. My face scrunches in distaste, eyes searching for what is probably a dead animal. I find nothing, the space seemingly in order as usual. “Okay…,” I whisper, confused but writing it off as something I'll have to come back and look further into later.

The trash bag is sat in a corner by our work desk, but as I get closer I find myself covering my mouth in an attempt not to throw up. With my shirt pulled up over my nose I reach for the bag, pulling it only to realize whatever it's full of is certainly not cans, nor anything metal-like for that matter. Confused, I place my hand on the side of the bag, cringing as I feel my hand sink into something that seems wet. I pull away, figuring whatever it was I'd have to ask Masky about later. The sound of floorboards creaking from behind has me spinning, my eyes meeting the apprehensive gaze of the scrap guy.

“Sorry, no cans in here! Thought we had a bag stashed away but I guess not–next time, maybe…,” I trail off. He holds my gaze, the brief silence awkward.

“Whatcha got there? Smells awful in ‘ere.” He's staring down at the bag, his expression steady. He's scrutinizing it in front of me, his dirty hand reaching up to rub his stubble.

“Oh, aha, sorry. Probably whatever was left over from the deer he got hunting a few days ago,” I lied. We didn't do much hunting, and we'd never keep a bag of parts lying around. Those are much better sold. I can't think of anything else besides clipped deer intestines that smell this horrid, however, and so that's the only excuse I have.

“Didn't know yinz hunt, that's nice. Ain't in season though, is it?” I freeze, the eye contact I'm holding with him scalding and beginning to become unbearable.

“I wouldn't know,” I say, wondering what exactly he was getting at.

“You don't know much of nothin’, do you, little lady?” My mouth parts in surprise, face furrowed as I look at him, confused and a bit concerned about being alone now. “Um–,” I begin to respond but am cut off by his rough words again.

“Where's your man?” I pause, wondering what the hells gotten into him before he takes a step closer, scaring me into tripping over the bag. It tilts but doesn't fall, my ass hitting the ground with a thump as I wince.

“I don't…what? He's…at work, is there an issue?” I shake my head, slowly raising from the ground as I dust myself off. I take another step back, realizing how quickly I'm running out of potential escape room.

“Might be.” His words come out short and clipped, confusing me further. I'm not even sure what to say, my eyes scanning my surroundings for something to hit him with if needed.

Before I can open my mouth to respond he's being slammed into the wall, his body flying past me as I whip around to find my bearings. Masky is on him, hands wrapped around his throat as they forcibly squeeze the air from his lungs. I watch wide-eyed as his eyes bulge from their sockets, his hands only managing to fight back for a mere few seconds while his legs kick and thrash. The snap of his neck a minute later sends chills down my spine, his head slamming against the floorboards as Masky drops him coldly.

My eyes are stuck to the dead man's open gaze on the floor, not registering Masky's low voice against my ear. I look up to find his dark eyes on mine, head tilted as he watches me closely with a slight frown plastered to his face. It looks like concern.

Was it that easy to snap a man's neck? Had he snapped it? I wasn't sure of how we got here, the events before this all transpiring within a span of five minutes. Everything was happening too quickly to process, and I wasn't sure where to go next.

“Listen,” I hear him say firmly, “what happened?” I can only shake my head, looking up at him confusedly. Shouldn't I be asking that?

“I don't know, he–he followed me? I don't know, I really don't know,” I say, my words coming out rushed and as confused as I am. He's looking down at me, brown eyes softened as his hand reaches to pull me closer to him. His hand is warm on my face, and I'm reminded of how affectionate he can be. It's a stark contrast to the man that was standing over a body only thirty seconds ago.

•

I always feel so much colder when he's gone. I sit under our yellow porch light, eyes turned out towards the woods as I wait. He's somewhere in those woods with a body, and my chest feels tight because of it. I spent hours replaying the sight of his hands squeezing around someone's throat, and at some point I'd begun to imagine that the someone was me.

I sigh, dropping my head in my hands as I stare at the ground, wondering just how cold you have to be to take someone by the head and twist. I'd watched him wrap his hands around that man's throat, but he told me that wouldn't have killed him fast enough. Not unless he got much stronger than he currently was. I wondered just how much stronger he'd have to be, the image of him slamming a grown man much bigger than me against that wall playing over and over. I watched him lift him by his neck, rough hands exerting an amount of force that would break me into two pieces. An amount of force that broke a man over two hundred pounds into pieces. He wouldn't have had to twist my neck like that to break it.

Rustling just past the tree line has my head snapping up, eyes searching for what I assume is Masky. His boots step out, crunching a twig underneath them. He looks as calm and stoic as ever, entirely focused on where I sit waiting for him.

“You shower yet?” His voice is a bit rougher than usual, and I figure he must be tired. Shaking my head no I begin to stand, taking his hands that he's outstretched towards me. He walks me in, kicking his boots off at the door. I let him lead me to the bathroom, the water started and heating as he gently removes the clothing from my body.

“Sure we'll both fit?” I mumble, the words coming out raspier than I'd meant them to. He only grunts, fingers working their way down his own shirt buttons, his hands steady as though he hadn't just dumped a body.

I get under the water first, sighing as I feel the heat run over me. The exhaustion of the day begins to settle into my bones, and I contemplate walking out of the shower and simply rolling straight into bed. Scuffed hands on my waist have me glued in place, my body leaning back against his chest, relaxing as I feel him around me.

His hands lather the soap up my back, my body relaxing as I watch the steam in the bathroom rise. I tense again as I feel him reach my shoulders, my neck buzzing as I hear that snap replay over and over through my ears. His mouth on the dip between my neck and shoulder has me breaking immediately, my head tilting to give him more access. He places short kisses up my neck, sucking a bite into my skin just below my jaw.

“Careful, now, this may end up being a slip ‘n slide,” I chide, the soap running off my body onto the floor below us. He smiles against me, his mouth sucking more bites just behind my ear. I swallow, feeling the saliva slide down my throat uninterrupted.

“That’s my intention,” he mumbles, voice so low I have to strain to hear him. I scoff, my mouth quirked into a smile as I register his meaning.

He wraps his arms around me, holding me steady as one sneaks down past my stomach between my legs. I sigh, his mouth on me sending flutters down my core, thighs clenching as I feel him slide a finger between my folds. My hips roll weakly into his fingers, forcing them against my clit. Electricity sparks through my gut when I feel him rub easy circles into me, soft sighs escaping me. This feeling combined with the hot water and steam filling the bathroom has my body completely relaxed against him.

My head rolls back as he slips a finger inside me, pumping in and out as I whine softly. My thighs are clenching around his hand, hips rolling as I attempt to keep him from pulling his hand away from me. I can't help but feel needy, purposely rubbing my ass back into him, sighing as I feel him against me.

I gasp a bit as I feel his fingers pull away from me, both hands moving to reposition my body so that I'm bent over a quarter of the way, hands placed flat on the tiled wall. My only warning is the feeling of his tip pressing into me, stretching along my walls as he pushes into me. I gasp, back arching as I bend further. His hands on my hips forcing me back closer to him has me aching, core tightening as I feel myself clenching around him.

I barely register his hand sliding up my spine. The shower water is losing its heat as it hits my back, his warm hands holding me steady but also the reason I slowly become shakier. One hand wrapped loosely around my throat has me lurching, a gasp escaping me as he rolls into me, sending full body shivers through me. I hear a snap from behind me, but I can't look. I know it's not real.

He's saying something to me now, but I can't hear it over the thump of that body hitting the floor, the sound replaying in my mind every time he pushes into me. His hand squeezes around my throat, holding me in place as I begin to slip, my legs and sense of reality becoming weak hand in hand. He pulls me up so that my back is flush with his chest, his hips never stilling. I can hear myself moaning in the background, the muffled sound of his hips slamming into me steady and rhythmic.

I can't tell if it's his grip on my neck that has me breathless and seeing stars or if I'm simply losing air to the steam that fills the bathroom top to bottom. Snap.

My eyes tear up, mouth gasping for air as I begin to see spots. I can feel his grip on me tighten, and the tightness in my core grows with it. It's rising as he fucks into me, my weeping throat closing in on itself as I hear him murmer, “you sure?” What?

I'm nodding, but I don't know what for, my orgasm ripping through me before I can think to ask what he meant by the question. Snap. I'm gasping, hips bucking frantically as he finishes inside me. My vision is blurred, steam and spots filling my remaining view. Both of his arms are around me now, my throat empty and gulping up air that's more wet than dry.

He's whispering in my ear, the water shutting off as he carries me from the shower, setting me down on the edge of the tub while he wraps me in a towel.

“I didn't hurt you?” He's looking down at me, brow furrowed and his usual frown deeper than usual. He's concerned, but my hands are too busy reaching for my neck, a gentle stinging sensation blooming as I touch the sides.

“No,” I say slowly, “you didn't hurt me.” I look up at him, making eye contact as I smile easily. He doesn't look convinced, eyes glued to my throat as though he's confused. “I love you, Masky.” The words leave me for the first time and they sound sweeter than anything else I've ever said.

His mouth parts, only to close firmly a second later. He nods, and I notice the dirt under his nails. A shower could never rinse that away so easily.

[tremendum]

heyy, can you write din djarin x reader where she's smth like a princess and he's hired as her bodyguard by her father or brother whatever you want (I know this is basic plot but can't help it 😭) tysm❤️🥰

i got u babes! its cute ive never written something like this but i hope u like it!! <3 its fluffier than anything ive really written to tysm for the request! also this is NOT PROOF READ im sorry

after midnight

(gif not mine!)  pairing: din djarin x fem!reader (afab, use of terms like princess/duchess/daughter)   rating: explicit.  (18+. mdni.)     word count: 6.2k summary: “you were... a princess. you were untouchable, and he knows better than to fall for one of his jobs. so he'd made a tower of armor to protect him from any attraction; but with every passing day he spent in your company, you happened to slip through those cracks like you were made for it.”  warnings: mentions of political unrest/uprisings, reader resents their parents/family because monarchy is BAD folks, threats of death, but smut (PiV, unprotected), mutual masturbation (m&f), teasing, light themes of possession at one point, mentions of eating. cumplay/creampie. i think that's it.

★  

YOU are no stranger to fear. 

it's been a gently lived life for you, in your several decades orbiting the power of your parents' suns.

the duchess of your family's system, the 'Prize Jewel' your mother loves to say; the one who got the love of the people but sought none of the power. 

you weren't the heir, not to the throne: that duty fell unto your younger brother, as per custom tradition. so you were coaxed into a life of sitting around, humming as your ladies in waiting braided your strands, staring longingly as your brother wielded blasters and vibro-blades; as if that is what constituted a good ruler. 

so perhaps the fear you've grown accustomed to is the fear of the mirrors that so delicately lined your chambers; the mirror that appears on your own face as any noble speaks to you, as your father commanded you to embark on diplomatic missions that should be left to those who have any stake in the future of the system. the mirror which constricts any true personality or truth from presenting you to the galaxy. you were the duchess, your parents' daughter; you were not yourself. 

you'd never gone off world, to either of the other planets in the crown's domain - until the day you did. 

that kind of fear was different. 

the tumultuous tracks of your heartbeat when that creaking drop ramp was sealed, those days ago; the footsteps that rang out like funeral chimes as the tall Mandalorian bowed his head to you before escorting you upwards into the cockpit of the ship that was to take you to the other side of the system.  

you were not, though, afraid of him. 

Mando had been your shadow for several months before you left on your enterprise - you were no longer frightened by the cold, sharp angles of his body, the dark rumbling of his scarce voice. now, that same low hum as he listens to you is welcomed. encouraged. sought for. 

no, the fear was from something else; there was a scratching, a slow but insistent simmering that tightened the muscles of your lower back and your upper neck until you woke up in sharp gasps of discomfort.

maybe the fear was in the winding hills that turned into mountains, jagging up and into the sky; your fear clung to you even as you lifted your legs and climbed over top of them - those towers to the sky - and settled yourself with the acknowledge that your parents had sent you on this diplomatic embarkment to a hostile insurgence group with nothing more than the Mandalorian bodyguard and a datapad containing an ultimatum which was surely the fuse to the ticking bomb of your family's dominating sovereignty. the crashing of a scepter, or the squashing of a bug. 

thankfully your father, in all of his Majesty's grace and wisdom, had offered you a full set of your Ladies of the Household on your journey - as if they'd protect you from blaster fire, or kidnapping, or whatever joys may have lied in wait for you once you reached the rebel territory. 

and he knows you are highly mistrusting of those parasitic Mynocks he calls the Kingsguard; that was in fact the sole reason he'd hired the Mandalorian to be your personal guard.

so your father at least had the sense not to call upon the lord commander to escort you, as it would be likely you'd either be dead come nightfall or your cot would be empty come morning rise. 

so he'd insisted on only the Mandalorian instead. 

a fiercely dauntless man, a walking shield, as clever as he is dangerous. 

after seeing him fight, there was no doubt Mando could protect you from hundreds if he needed to. 

there was a stint by another insurgent rebel group, of which your family was battling many currently; they'd made threats on your life, so Mando has shown up with a personal arsenal and enough intimidation to make any man fall to his knees.

it took all of thirty seconds of staring at his figure, hearing his voice, to decide you'd fall to your knees for him, too.

and just before you were ordered to visit the duke of the defecting planet, you were informed he would be replacing the four kingsguard subordinated to Mando who usually escorted you around the kingdom.

one man instead of five? you were sure the King was finally sending you to your death, punishing you for his lifelong regret that you'd not been a son. 

but you soon came to like Mando and his stoic, taciturn presence. 

and at least your instructions were simply to deliver the ultimatum and leave the atmosphere within the hour; the insurgent's strategists would not, as your father and his Hand had believed, have enough time to read through the full terms before deciding they should just break into the duchess's chambers and slit her throat anyways. 

you escaped the planet with nothing but a blaster shot grazing Mando's side and the hate of an entire species of oppressed constituents hurling insults at the Crown.

no slit throat for you - but in the end, you wouldn't even blame them if they'd tried. 

you know, now, that your fear clouded your eyes, as bright as they may have been back when Mando was hired as your bodyguard. but they grew thick, the clouds lifting into the stratosphere and slipping into Mando's helmet with the modulated, quiet inhales you've come to know almost as your own. you don't think he ever intended to frighten you.

he was there to protect you. and he has. 

he has not left you since arriving to the midway planet, where you'll stay for a few days before returning back to your kingdom planet.

here, there is fresh air, the salt of the sea, deep ripe fruits, and warm breezes. there is no fear here, only heat. 

Mando helps with that, though he won't let you admit it. 

as you stare at that unwavering gaze, surrounded by the gilded intricacies of the farewell feast, all you can do is imagine him. Mando, his body on yours, that cold, heavy metal against the thrill of your heated bare skin. he tilts his head slightly at you; you wink at him over your cup of wine. the man next to you makes conversation about your father's latest agriculture subsidies.

you look back to find the relaxing - bone chilling- gaze on you still. you wonder if he'll crack before you do. 

there have been close calls; once, when you'd drank a bit too much ale in the city square and Mando had carried you back to the keep, tucked you into bed as you tried to pull him in with you - you should stay, Mando - the time he'd agreed to teach you to spar and you'd ended up wide-eyed and pinned beneath his very sturdy frame. 

you've seen the pressure on his flightsuit beneath those layers when you'd teased him - his own admission of guilt, that he feels something for you, too.

when you'd asked him to help you shoot a blaster, when you'd left the fresher open to shower, or not particularly covering up when you prepared yourself for the day. though he was always there, always at attention for the slightest danger. 

even last night, you felt the stuttering in his breaths when you'd sat on your bed, staring down at him - his hand in the nook of your knee, the other unlacing your sandals that'd crawled up your supple calves the entire day. you'd felt his leather hands brush against the soft skin of your thigh, the way that helmet had stared up at you from between your legs. at your service. 

you know he could see the way you jolted when he'd place his hands on your hips in passing, or how you'd get particularly flustered at the flip of a blaster trigger, the flex of a muscle under a flightsuit. you didn't try to hide your attraction to him. 

but all of those things; those moments you had - even the subtle brushes of his hand just low enough on your lower back, the smiles you'd share even with the barrier of his cold beskar, the soft conversations you'd hold just between the two of you: all, under the soft shadows of the moons which orbit you. 

never in the broad daylight.

those souvenirs, the ones which you held close to your heart in the last few weeks, high up in the pews of your heart's cathedral; all idolized yet forgotten with the mornings that rise in clean beskar glinting and sleep rubbing from your eyes.  

-- 

DIN is sure you're looking straight through him.

those eyes; you're coy the way you look at him now, over the meal you eat at the table. 

swirling with mischief. 

that trouble-making look, the one he's studied for months as your personal guard. to the constituents of your family's crown, you were the sweet, young girl destined to marry away and sire many noble children. but behind palace doors, you were alive, you were a bolt of electricity that was never to be tamped down.

Din remembers how fiery you'd been when the King had ordered Mando to escort you to the insurgents with your Ladies of the House. you'd requested they not accompany you in this formidable expedition because, as he recalls you'd said, 'how can my bodyguard spare to protect not me but also ten others? shall we just get it over with and behead us all right here?' 

he'd smiled behind that helmet when the King and Queen had heard your snippy tongue.

and so it was just you and him, as it'd been for months. and he likes it that way, as much as he would never admit that; you're a kind woman, much too old to be under the reigns of your parent's power but too caught in the web of bureaucracy to untangle yourself from it. 

Din sees you tilt your head at him, blatantly ignoring the conversation at the table. heat courses through him at your adamant, keen attention on him despite him likely being the least worthy of your thoughts in this room. still, as always, you tease him. 

a drop of a wink; syrupy, sweet, and much too indecent for the public space; much less for you to deliver towards your personal guard. he burns red under the helmet, heat rushing down towards his groin at the way your lips move around the spoon in your mouth. 

you know he's watching you, of course; he's always watching you. it's in the job description. 

maybe that's the problem: he watches too much. it's always been hard for him to remain simply professional with you, but it's been much more challenging the last few nights as he's tried to get a few hours of shut-eye in the dead of night; with your sweet soft breaths on that large, plush bed that nearly swallows you whole. 

it's been excruciating - watching, as you run your hands over your bare legs, kissed by a sweet silk nightgown. massaging your plush skin, slipping just above the hem before dipping down - your lashes fluttering up at him as he stands tall and at attention over you. 

he was a dead man, and he'd known it the moment he laid eyes on you.

you were... a princess. you were untouchable, and he knows better than to fall for one of his jobs. so he'd made a tower of armor to protect him from any attraction; but with every passing day he spent in your company, you happened to slip through those cracks like you were made for it. 

he wonders if the true tragedy after all was his not watching: although you'd left the crack in the door when you'd stepped into the fresher last night, toweling off your soft skin as steam curls round the doorframe and pulls at him like the tentacles of some lust-ridden beast. you'd given him one of those coy smiles last night as you'd slinked out of the fresher: "thought you said you were always watching, Mando." 

you had him wrapped around your dainty, manicured finger and you knew it.

your brows raise at him as you look back up to where he stands, just on the other side of the table, as the diplomats around you at the table buttering you up with a glass of wine, a divine feast, and fancy political phrases. 

it doesn't suit you, as you've claimed to him countless times as you strip the bangled gold from your neck, ears, fingers, thighs and slip into something a little more comfortable and a lot less modest. it doesn't really suit you, he guesses. he likes you much more in the throes of your casual time; wearing trousers and a tunic, blaster strapped to your thigh though you don't quite know how to wield it. when you have no handmaidens to primp you and pluck you, to comb their fingers through your hair or paint fancy colors onto your eyelids. you were heavenly like that, in your most comfortable state. 

that word; heavenly. the word sounds adolescent, when he looks at you.

you transcend beauty; you're alive, you're nothing but yourself, a woman with life and regret that her world bore her name long before she was born. you told him, as he escorted you through the war-torn scrappings of the insurgent city the day before, that you wished to be free from the chains of royalty. to the royal court, you were nothing but a mirror for them to project their desires. 

when you look up at him with those tempting eyes, smirking at him when nobody at the table is looking - Maker, Din swears he will throw away everything he's worked so hard to keep professional. 

-- 

YOU had pulled the best of the feast onto your napkin once you bid the hosts thanks for the feast, hiding it under the layers of your gown as Mando walked you back to your chambers. 

"I kept you some." you offer meekly now, heat painting your face as you offer the spread to him, having taken off your shoes yourself this time. he'd kept his sight on you the whole time, the visor of his beskar piercing you with each movement. 

his helmet tilts in question; you spread open the napkin to reveal the small feast of delicacies you'd packed for him. you wonder how he'd missed it, when his eyes were always on you. 

"you shouldn't have." he's demure in tone, shifting from his casual position leaning against one of the stone pillars near the intricate dressing screen to standing evenly on both long legs; you smile gently, heart fluttering. 

"I thought you deserved some of the feast." you reason, "you did more work than I did, after all." you grin, shrugging a shoulder. you feel the fabric slide over your bare shoulder and it brushes against you like a feather; a ghost of lips that could never be blessed upon your skin. 

cursed to always lie in weight under the heavy support of beskar. 

but his fingers; they're a different story. 

they're gentle, tingling as they brush up the expanse of your deltoid, cascading with a buttery kind touch to return your dress to its rightful place. his hand, swallowed by the leather that protects you so devotedly, trails down your arms, soothing every goosebump that rises in its path. your hand catches his wrist before he can pull away; the tantalizing, intoxicating air in the room rendering him languid as you pull, gently, until your lips press gently to the tip of his thumb.

his breath falters in a staccato as you gently, tenderly press kisses to the tips of each finger; each, a promise. an unnamed affection for the man who does nothing but protect, nothing but exhilarate. the movement feels like the stretch of a plastic band, stretching the tensile strength of your aptitude for waiting, for restraining yourselves. 

you wait with baited breath for it to snap in your faces. 

it doesn't, though. his hand falls away gently, leaving you to still orbit around each other like lonely stars, crossing paths every few blue moons. 

when he speaks, he sounds almost strained. "thank you, ner cyar'ika. you are kind." 

your cheeks are warm and they heat up more when you smile up at him. and this time when you step away into the fresher, you make sure the door is fully closed. 

the water is warm, curling tendrils of milky sweet oils that bathe your skin in a sweet, plush aroma. you return to the main room slowly after you bathe, ensuring he'll have enough time to return his helmet to its proper place before you see. you wring your hair out with your hands as Mando rises from where he sat on the loveseat; his full height shining that reflective metal against you. your warped, clean, scrubbed reflection stares back at you. 

he.... he sees you. 

you've always noticed it; maybe that's why you'd commanded your father's men to leave you at the first sight of the Mandalorian's skills - you see a lot of yourself in him. a life concealed behind the preceding reputation: a princess - young, beautiful, generous, stagnant. a Mandalorian - bounty-hunter-turned-guard, sturdy, resourceful, rough. 

mirrors follow you no matter where you go. they've been thrust upon you your entire life, every snaking hallway of the kingdom winding down reflective images of your youth, bouncing you from person to person, nothing but a blank canvas for the aristocracy to paint their whims upon. 

you suspect, as you stare at Mando's unwaveringly reflective armor, that he understands that more than either of you could know. your heart soars with affection as you pad up to him, craning your neck to take in his entire height. 

"did you enjoy it?" you ask with a small smile, combing your fingers through your wet hair. he nods, "yes, cyare. thank you." 

you shake your head, unburdened by the gesture of gratitude. "let me guess- your favorite was the..." you pinch your chin with your fingers, scrunching your nose as you pretend to think. "chocolate cake." you say finally, tilting your head as you try to gage his reaction. 

a tilt of a helmet, flickering in the candlelight of your chambers. "yes." he sounds surprised; as if you didn't know just as much about him as he knew of himself. it sparks butterflies in your stomach. 

"I know you like it sweet, Mando." you tease, sending him a soft wink as you set your face cloth down on the table he leans against; you stare up at him from this angle, your movements molasses as you smile, hand sneaking around his ribs to hold him lightly. his hand rises tentatively to steady your waist, thumb rubbing the satin of your nightgown. "don't worry, I do too." you whisper. 

he sighs. 

it's a soft, gentle thing; one that nobody would dare imagine your big, bad Mandalorian protector to ever release. but you know him. you see him - Mando is many things, and one of them is hesitant. not unwilling, or shy: hesitant. 

(you'd wait a thousand lifetimes for him.)

"cyar'ika," he starts, tone slipping into that gently warning one - the kind he gets when he's feeling bashful. "I don't like it when you tease me." he chides, and it's - kriff, it's playful. you can almost see the grin behind that helmet; his fingers pinch at your sides gently and you screech with laughter, swatting away his touch but hoping he'll soon return it, much like a magnet. 

"you do, though." you defend, emboldened by the privacy and the budding tenderness that coaxes you into his arms. his hands soothe over your hips as you stare in silence.

warmth surrounds you; coaxes you to mutter it-

"stay with me, tonight?" you whisper, eyes wide at your own words, shocked you'd finally given in to all of the hunger that has swirled between you for all this time.  his helmet tilts. "I am always here with you. my job is to watch you." he says gently, the lilt of guilt ever present in his voice.

you shake your head, eyes shutting in frustration - not at him, never - at who, then? your father? your mother? the last name you've been cursed with for your life? the privilege, the restraint? 

"Mando." you say, pressing your palms flat against his chest. "you know what I mean." your eyes swirl with emotion: please, Mando, I can't keep waiting like this. 

he waits. "it would be wrong." 

you tilt your head, "it wouldn't." but you, much like him, are at a loss for words. a life of inoculation has rendered you unable to express any semblance of amorous emotions, even to this man - the one who is your confidant, your protector, and possibly your only true friend in this world. "I need you. I will-" you swallow, your heart thundering with desire, "I will do anything for you, Mando."  

you can't resist the growing wetness in the apex of your thighs as his helmet moves over your figure, wrapped in a silky robe and still wet from bathing. he hums lowly, a long and slow sound, his head tilting ever so slightly as you clench your thighs in search of relief from the growing pressure. 

"I have wanted you since I met you." he sighs, hands falling from your shoulders. "but... I shouldn't touch you." 

-- 

DIN can see your eyes flicker down as he says it. 

maker damn you; you've always been too clever for him. he sees the hunger swirl in your blown out pupils, the same hunger that plagues his mind and has sent blood rushing downwards. he feels himself throb as you grin up at him, lashes fluttering as a droplet of silky water trails down the expanse of your bare, awaiting neck. 

you know him, you see him. and he thanks all of the stars that you know how badly he needs you, too. 

"well, if you can't touch..." you tilt your head to stare up at him through your lashes, loosening the robe which covers your silk nightgown; each inch that slips down your body, Din feels himself stiffen and heat with desire. "...you can at least watch." you whisper, letting the robe drop before you step back from his figure; his eyes trace over every curve, each smooth line and jagged bump. 

when you're far enough away, he lets out a shaky breath. "gar Kelir ruin ni, dala" he mutters to himself, swallowing thickly as your figure slinks away from him, traipsing onto your plush bed.

his heart thunders in his chest; you lie on your back, gently, eyes meeting his somehow through the shield of beskar as you move your hands slowly, slowly up your legs. silk catches on your deft fingers as you tease yourself, sighing in relaxation. 

Din, standing rigid as a pole as he watches you, cannot look away. you seem flushed, even as your fingers trail over your breasts, toying with the pert nipples which poke through the smooth fabric of your dress. a whimper; high-pitched, breathy as your eyes splinter to Din again. "fuck," you whisper, one hand dragging down to torturously drag the hem of your gown upwards, up, up- 

he's salivating. 

your thighs, plush and welcoming, spread as you spread your glistening cunt for Din to see. for him, he realizes, only for him. a dark wash of possession shudders his whole being as you let out a whimper, the cool air hitting your wet, hot heat as your fingers start to spread your juices; it takes every ounce of restraint from Din to not just pounce on you, take you right now. 

your finger finds your swelling clit and your strangled groan sounds too much like his name - your eyes are hooded, littered with desire and pleasure as you lie out on display for him. 

he can't help but watch; his cheeks, hot. his hands, clenched - his heart, thundering, beating hard as Din watches you touch yourself with hungry eyes. your moans are smooth, melodic to his ears as you slowly dip one finger into your heat, whimpering as the stretch as your greedy little hole swallows you up. 

he can't stand it. 

Din takes a step forward, a staggering, desperate step towards the bed- your eyes snap up from where they'd watched you take your own fingers, eyes blown wide. you whimper, you goddamn whimper it, "M-Mando." 

--

YOU almost pass out when he mutters it, low and baritone. 

"take it off." Mando mutters darkly. 

you stop your languid pumps as you stare up at him, eyes wide as you see him, now looming just over you, eyes trained still on your heat. 

slowly, you sit to peel the dress off of yourself, the material catching on your nipples and sending a shiver down your body. 

you're soon bare; laid out for him, your entire body on display for him as you stare up, chest heaving with desire. his helmet does not leave your form as he watches your hand snake back down, toying with your wetness as it pools out of you, dripping onto the mattress below you. 

there are thousands of things you wish to say; nothing escapes you except whimpers and moans, the muted, heated pleasure swirling through you as you slip your fingers into yourself, pumping languidly. if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine the bite of cold beskar on your bare chest; the thickness of a warm cock slipping through you. 

your eyes stay on him instead, though; the reflection of your squirming, pleasured body on his beskar. you feel sweat sheen your forehead. 

your heart nearly stops as Mando slowly starts to palm himself; his cock, hard and strained against the fabric of his flightsuit as his hands pull himself out of the pants. your eyes widen and your fingers start to pump into you quicker, moaning out Mando's name as his hand slowly starts to pump himself. 

his cock, skin golden and veins prominent as he pleasures himself to the sight of you. arousal floods around your fingers as your other finger falls to lazily toy with your neglected clit. one hand grasps your breast and pinches a pert nipple, your back arching as you whimper. 

you need Mando, you need him. 

"fuck, fuckfuckfuck M-Mando, I need you. i-it's not enough, need more." you groan, the dam breaking as the low high you've been riding simmers. 

he stops his own movements, his chest heaving beneath the beskar. 

"I don't-" you swallow around your dry throat, "I don't think I can cum without you." you admit, heart thundering as you stare up at the beskar wall. "please." 

he pauses and your words hand in the air; suspended by a string, one that is tight and ready to snap. 

"stand up, princess." he orders.

--

DIN almost smiles at the speed at which you scramble on eager legs, to stand up, staring up at him with wanton need. he takes a deep breath before one hand reaches out to graze the swell of your breast; the plush give of soft skin, the goosebumps that trail behind his touch. his cock twitches as your hands find him, pumping slowly as you bite your lip. 

he groans at the soft feeling of your gentle hands around his thickness; your lips grazing over his beskar chestplate. 

his hands tug you as he falls to the mattress; a squeal leaves you as your hands grip onto his shoulders, "Mando!" 

he grins beneath the helmet. 

the smile slowly fades into a grunt of pleasure as you eagerly find your place straddling his hips; your wet hot cunt envelopes his cock with your slick, rubbing him as you whimper. "fuck, cyar'ika." he grunts. "gonna fuck you nice and good. promise." he mutters. 

you smile as you nod, "maker, Mando. I've-I've dreamt of this." you mutter. he smirks- he knows you have. he's heard it. 

but the pride is soon washed away with shock and pleasure as you line his head up at your entrance, easing onto him gently; his hands squeeze your bare skin and he wishes he could pull his gloves off and really feel you. 

dank ferrik, you are so tight around him; swallowing his thickness in your greedy cunt as your breath stutters, gasping at the stretch. you're hot, wet, and Din's eyes shut tight at the feeling. kriff, he won't last long. 

you take him gently, slowly, and all Din can do is breathe through it and resist his hips from bucking upwards and spearing you into two.

his brain is a puddle as you fully sheath yourself on him, thighs plush and shaking as you swallow him. 

"that's good." he mutters, breath shaky, his hands guiding you to move against his hips, "how does it feel, princess?" 

"Mando, fuck, y'so big, filling me-" you're moaning and he thinks he may pass out; heavenly, heavenly, you you you- 

you groan as you start to fuck yourself on top of him, your gummy warm walls coaxing Din towards his high, having been spurred along by the pleasure you'd been giving yourself earlier. 

you shudder at the curling sensuality of his words and he can feel you gripping him tighter and tighter, pulsing around him and dragging him down with you into the depths of pleasure. shivers of pleasure coast down your entire body as Din starts to piston up, his thick length, smooth and hard, spearing into your hot cunt. your desire drips down and smothers the fabric of his flight suit; briefly, he thinks he will never wash them again. your breath is laborious as you near your high- Din chases his, too, because this has already gone on for too long and he's greedy, as greedy as your tight, pretty cunt is and- 

he lets out a splintering moan when you cum with a scream; your legs quivering, weakening as you slump against him. Din fucks you through your high with a moan of his own, pushing up into your pulsing pussy, the wetness easing him to spear into you with a fire of ecstasy. 

"good- you're so good, y'feel so good, Mando," you whimper. that's it for him - he cums with a long groan, release snapping through him with a moan of your name. 

he sees colors, shapes of you in a meadow, spread on a blanket with him taking you from above; with you riding him in the cockpit of his ship; you, thighs spread on your father's throne while he delves his tongue through your plush folds. 

you are his. you will always be his, nobody else's. he will consume you.

he fucks up into you as he rides through his high, his seed smearing your chanel as he holds you close. "fuck," he mutters, rolling you both onto your sides as his hand caresses your cheek. 

"s'good." you mumble, smiling at him. 

he smiles back. you can't see it, but he knows you can feel it. 

"m'not done with you yet, princess." he promises, tugging you towards the edge of the bed, spreading your legs to see his own seed leaking out of you, mixed with your own wet, sticky spend. it's a sight better than any he's ever seen; shivers of desire roll down Din's spine. 

and then Din spends his time on top of you, pulling orgasm and orgasm from you until you're crying, shaking and heaving breaths; he's shaky, drunk from the pleasure of your wet arousal. he aches to taste you, to coax you to sleep with his tongue lapping up your spend; he needs to taste you. 

perhaps, another time. 

he soothes himself for now with his fingers, his cock; another time, he will taste you. 

--- 

YOU are exhausted. you can barely stay awake; but as Mando lays with you between the sheets, you can't help but feel so alive. the sun starts to creep towards the horizon line, over the shimmering sea; the gentle breeze of the world flowing through the faint curtains. 

"Mando?"

he cranes to look down at you, his thumb tracing over your spine.

"in the morning," you start, your hand trailing over his beskar. you figure it isn't comfortable to don this armor in the plush of your mattress; he stays no matter, willing to give you what you want. always, whatever you want. forever.

him.

you chew your lip, "will we- I mean, I just..." 

a thumb, warm though marred with old leather, pulls your lower lip from the clutches of your pearled teeth, soothing over the plush, bitten skin. a shiver runs down your spine as he coaxes you to stare up into that endless helmet. 

"what is it, mesh'la?" his voice is deep and soothing in its modulated baritone. you preen at the nickname in his native tongue and though he has willingly taught you words and phrases of his language, you are unsure of this one's translation. it sounds lovely coming from him. 

"please don't take me back." you whisper. 

he tenses under you; you can feel it. you wish you didn't have to plague him with your burdens of asking him such a crime; to take the duchess, the girl made of nothing but stardust, and give her the life she deserves. 

a whisper of your name. quiet, an exhale gentle and barely picked up by the modulation function of the helmet. 

--

DIN has been waiting for you to say it.

he wonders just about when he realized you were going to ask him to take you away. was it just now, after you'd finally connected in bliss? was it last night, when he'd taken a blaster shot to protect you - his job, of course, but a lifetime of debt to repay to him, you'd claimed - or, perhaps, was it all those months ago? 

your words pull him from his shock as you mutter softly.

"would you take me with you? away?" 

all the moments shared between your two souls wait with baited breath as Din tries to find his words through his thundering heart. 

"in the morning..." he parrots your words from before, but with a different tone. regret. his heart thumps as you tilt your head, bare shoulder glinting in the light of the moons. "will you still want that? will you want..." he doesn't finish the question, but he doesn't have to. not with you.  want me? 

you look at him with eyes so soft he almost melts. "I've always dreamt of leaving my life. it's not who I am." you're firm in your words, hand curling over his shoulder as you blink, "I never thought I would act on it. I had nothing to do, nowhere else to go. but now..." you shrug and he starts to feel hot at the implications in your voice. 

Din's heart thuds importunately under your sweet palm; could you feel it, under all the layers that separated his body from your bare one? 

"if-if you'd have me... it'd be a dream to stay with you. wherever you go." 

Din can't breathe; so many words burst to the forefront of his mind, but all he does is stare in awe. 

you'd been watching life through the jail of your parent's grasp your whole life; and what is the princess of a mid-rim planet to the rest of the galaxy? 

stardust.

"wasted dreams?" you ask softly, shaking your head, "that's worse than death, Mando." 

-- 

YOU fall asleep with Mando's arms wrapped tightly around your middle; the weight of beskar pushing you deeper into the comfort of knowing you've spent your last night ever in this system. 

his words echo in your head. 

in the morning, mesh'la, we will leave here. wherever you'd like. 

it's illicit; the things you're about to do, the traditions which will be seared. your eyes, bleary with exhaustion and hope, looks to the mirror across the room.

you lie in the arms of the Mandalorian, bare besides the plush sheets which wrap around your figures - and when you stare into the reflective piece of decor directly across, it's you who stares back in the reflection. you smile to yourself.

stardust.

those moments, you hope, will shine in broad daylight now in tandem with the sweet secrets after midnight. 

-

taglist: @silkiers @toobsessedsstuff @millersdjarin @tizylish @cloufire @kalea-bane @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis @hello-th3r3 @bbyanarchist @ponyboys-sunsets

-

requests open. message for Din's taglist or Joel Miller's!

-

[so-sures-blog]

Icebound

icebound definition: surrounded, obstructed, or covered by ice.

In which Zane uses his element against the Overlord to save the city and his friends. Because it wasn’t about numbers, it was about family.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

It is the end, and Zane knows it.

The Overlord is conquering Ninjago City, webs of gold stringing across buildings like Christmas lights and tying up his friends like flies. They struggle, but it is useless under the might of the Overlord.

Zane flips out of the way of a golden band reaching to ensnare him and lands on a roof. All of his friends are tied up, and only Zane is free. He knows what he has to do. He is the only one who can.

“Support me, friends. For one last time.”

He takes a running leap off the ledge, and Jay flips midair so his feet plant squarely on top of his. Then Cole, Lloyd, Kai, Sensei Garmadon, and Wu.

He soars, flying straight at the Overlord, and grabs onto his golden fangs.

Immediately, he feels its power, and its agony. Pain rips into every crevice of his body; his jolts rattle and shake and his wires spark under his skin.

“Let my friends go!” Zane shouts.

“Go where, Doomed Ninja?” The Overlord sneers. Its eyes, red and hateful, glare into him.

Zane writhes under the immense pain and power. His body cannot handle it, he knows, and he feels himself falling apart under it.

“The Golden Weapons are too powerful for you to behold. Your survival chance is low.”

But Zane isn’t trying to hold them. He’s trying to destroy them.

He thinks of his brothers. He thinks of PIXAL. He thinks of his father. He thinks of an old man with long white hair as pure as snow and ice blue eyes that visited him a long time ago, who had come and left as quickly as winter did and had breathed that power into him because he saw him worthy of it.

“This … isn’t about numbers … It's about family!”

The golden webs holding the Ninja fall and they escape. He can hear them screaming, telling him to let go, and he thanks them for that. Wu and Garmadon grab onto them and yank them back, away from the oncoming destruction.

His core — his heart — started reaching critical mass. Frost began creeping upon the Overlord’s fangs. Something blue and blinding in his heart freezes under his power, and Zane embraces it. It's his power. His choice.

“I am a Nindroid. And Ninja never quit. Go Ninja … go!”

He is the Master of Ice. He was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. He stands for peace, freedom, and courage in the face of all who threaten Ninjago.

Frostbite burns his skin away; jolt and wires freeze under the cold; until he is left completely bare.

The last glimpse they get of Zane is him surrounded by a blizzard of his own making, bright and beautiful like a supernova. Burning blue and white with the terrible brilliance of his own determined choice.

Zane died; not as a machine, not as a human, not as a tool of anyone or anything — but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves.

And woke up as something completely different.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

PIXAL climbs her way up the steep cliff side, careful to place her foot in secure crevices in case she slipped and fell from the icy mountain. Heavy snow blinded her vision as the blizzard whipped around her, but she kept her pace steady and sure.

It had been months since she had left Ninjago City and began her search. Months since Zane’s death and memorial. PIXAL knew, logically, that she should be back there, properly mourning him. But she could not.

He had never given up on her, not when she was under the Overlord’s control or when she was struggling with the newness of emotions.

And that meant she could never give up on him.

When she had first met Zane, she became more than a machine meant to function. He was vital to her, and she was a part of him.

She carried half his heart, and against all logical explanations, she knew he was still alive.

She did not tell the Ninja of her suspicions: the immediate aftermath of Zane’s loss had been devastating. She’d watched as the team fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise. She did not tell Cyrus Borg where she was going either, for she knew if he begged her to stay, she would.

If she had told them she had seen a snowy wraith emerge from the destruction of the frozen, apocalyptic atmosphere on the rooftop, she would have been told she had imagined it due to her grief.

And while she was grieving, she was not imagining it. She is a Nindroid, and she did not have an imagination. PIXAL was built to observe, to analyze, to collect data and gather information. She built theories and hypothesized, not assumed.

So she followed the signs. She kept track of all weather anomalies that happened across Ninjago — sudden snowstorms, cold drops in temperatures that swept through small villages and towns. It led her all across the country until it ended here, with her climbing up the frozen, snow-peaked mountain.

Finally, PIXAL arrived at her destination.

The Ice Temple.

Slowly, she makes her way towards it. Her sensors indicate the temperature dropping the closer she gets. For a normal human, they would have already gotten frostbite without the proper equipment and numb with it, but PIXAL was made of metal. The cold did not bother her.

She peers into the glacial architecture, but does not enter. Or more like, she is unable to. It feels as if there is some sort of force of winter that is keeping her at bay.

“Zane?” Hope finds its way into the desperation of her voice. Freezing winds whip her hair out of its ponytail and against the purple circuits on her cheeks, but she barely notices. “Is that you?”

There’s nothing except for the howling wind, then her eyes catch movement. Slowly, almost like a ghost, a figure starts to come closer, making a shape against the blizzard.

If PIXAL had lungs, all the air would have rushed out of them.

A being made of pure winter floated in front of her. Formed of ice and frost and molded by the wind, it stood there and looked at her. Opaque ice carved the face that has been imprinted in her memory drives, the one she had traveled across the entire world to see again.

It was frozen, and beautiful, and Zane.

Inside her neural drive, alarms were blaring into her system, flashing behind her eyes. Warning: Severe weather alert. Temperature reaching sub-zero levels. Retreat into a warmer climate —

PIXAL shut off the notifications.

“Hello,” she says. Zane does not move. She dares a step closer. “Do you recognize me?”

He says nothing, so PIXAL continues on. It feels like their roles were reversed when they first met: she, the one struck speechless by the other’s beauty. Him, stoic to it all.

“I’m PIXAL, the Primary Interactive X-ternal Assistant Lifeform. I’m a … friend. I came searching for you to bring you home. There are things about you that you don’t understand. That you have yet to discover. I am here to help you remember.”

Zane is quiet, but she senses that he is listening. Something glowing in her chest aches.

“It is alright if you don’t remember me,” PIXAL says. She cannot cry, but is she would she could. She is still new to emotions, and many are overwhelming her: joy and grief and something fierce and pure deep in her heart. “I remember you. And we are still compatible.”

Zane tilts his head and drifts closer. The snow slows its fall, the wind stopping altogether. Snowflakes gently coat her hair. Now that he is closer, she can see the differences that make him unlike the old Zane: he doesn’t have the one dimple on the right side of his cheek, or the small beauty mark on his collarbone, or the tiny scar on his index finger from his shuriken.

But he is still Zane, even as an icy spirit.

She held out a hand. “Your brothers miss you very much. Will you come back with me, Zane?”

He is silent, staring at her. Unlike before, it is impossible to know what he is thinking. She gazes up at him, imploring. His eyes have no irises or pupils, so she is simply staring up at pinpricks of pure blue light.

Slowly, his hand reaches out of her.

BANG!

A loud sound echoes across the ice, and out of nowhere chains of Vengestone come flying out and capture him.

Fear slams into her. “Zane!” PIXAL cries.

Ice races out from his body and across the chains as Zane struggles, but no matter what, he can’t break them.

PIXAL whips around to face the assailant.

A man in his thirties, wrapped in a thick parka to prevent the cold and wearing a red mask. He has shoulder-length brown hair and is wearing a dyed red straw hat, and under it she can see he is hiding an eyepatch.

“What are you doing?” PIXAL shouts. Anger — an emotion she rarely feels — burns through her.

The man lowers his gun and pulls out another one before she can even blink.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just following orders.”

Before she can question what that means, he fires. A net tangles her limbs together and brings her down against the cold snow. Before she can fight against it, electricity courses through her.

And then everything went black.

[ln4swiftie]

Snowfall

💌 lando norris x reader

💌 hot tub ski trip smut wc: 0.9k

💌 Warnings: smut (p in v), unprotected sex (DONT DO THAT!!!), swearing

💌 author note: hi this is my first ever fic so please be nice to me !! enjoy lovelies <3

The cold winter night surrounded your upper body as you’re sat in the hot tub at the cabin in the mountains you rented along with your boyfriend, Lando and a couple other friends. The formula one season starts soon and you all wanted to spend some time together before you and Lando are in a different part of the world every other week. 

You came out to the hot tub after dinner to wind down since you’ve been skiing all day and the jets work wonders on your muscles. You rest your head on the tub looking up at the ski and breathing in the cool air from the snow sat on the trees isolating the cabin. you shook out of your thoughts to the sound of the door latching and turn your head to see your boyfriend in nothing but his swim trunks and the dark green crocs you bought him for Christmas. 

“Hi my love!” he smiled as he shrugged his crocs off and placed his towel right next to yours on the lawn chair slightly covered in snow. “Did you leave our friends in there all alone?” you teased as he climbed into the hot tub and settled next to you. “Not entirely, Max and P were cleaning the kitchen from dinner so I'm sure they’ll find something to do.” he said while his hand moved to wrap around your shoulders. He kissed your cheek “I haven't seen you all day, how were the slopes?”

“They were okay, boring without you though.” Lando had meetings about the upcoming season so he couldn’t join you and your friends. “Third wheeling is hard.” you whine while lying your head to his shoulder. 

He laughed “well now we know how Max felt for 2 years” he pulled you into his lap “we weren’t very subtle babe” he mutters while his hands find your hips and eventually make their way to your ass. He starts kissing your neck and you can feel himself growing underneath you. 

“wow you really missed me huh?” you tease as your hands find themselves tangled in his curls. “you know it.” is all he says before your lips smash against his. 

In minutes your kiss becomes very heated and soon Lando is catching your moans in his mouth trying not to disturb your friends who’s window is looking out to the hot tub. Lando’s sure that they are doing the same thing as you two but the thought of his best friend catching him like this makes him want to throw up. The second your lips touch his neck his worry fizzles away out of existence and his focus shifts solely on you. 

A quiet whimper leaves his mouth as you find his sweet spot on his neck. “Fuck, baby. ” He mumbles, moving his hands from your waist to come in-between you. He gently moves your bathing suit bottoms to the side and slides a finger through your folds. He quickly glances at you with lust in his eyes, asking for permission, you nod “use your words, love” your head falls to his shoulder in anticipation. 

“Please Lan” you practically moan. Without hesitation he pushes two fingers into you and slowly pumps. moans fall from your mouth as he curls his fingers hitting the spot that makes you see stars. Fuck Lando loves the sounds you make when he’s inside you. His hard cock is begging to be let free from his trunks as he feels your contract around his fingers. He moves his thumb to rub your clit as your breathing gets heavier. “Lan Im so close” you whimper into his shoulder and begin to lightly kiss it, digging your nails into his biceps. 

“I know baby, I know” he speeds up his movements bringing you to your high and finishing on his fingers. You grab his face pulling him in for a kiss causing him to whimper in surprise, bucking his hips into your core to find release for himself. You tug on his swim trunks releasing his cock and start to stroke it. Lando throws his head back with a groan “I need you..” he moans and that’s all he needs to say for you to sink onto him. Both your jaws fall slack as you adjust to the size of him. “holy fuck” you mumble as you begin to rock your hips back and forth. 

Lando is kissing you like it's the last thing he’ll ever get to do “I'm close baby” he says into your lips causing you to increase the pace of your rocking. it's not long before you reach your second high and his cum fills you up, moans fall from both of your lips. Your head falls to his shoulder as you both catch your breath. Lando grabs your chin and makes you look at him “love you” he simply states and places a kiss on your forehead. “Love you too, can we go make hot chocolate?” you ask with an innocent giggle “Of course my love” he smiles, helping you out of the hot tub and wraps you in your towel before wrapping his own around his waist. You two quickly change into hoodies and sweatpants, you choosing to wear one of Lando's quadrant hoodies from his suitcase before heading to the kitchen to make your cups of hot chocolate and sit by the fireplace while you drift off to sleep in Lando’s arms while watching your favourite Christmas movie, Elf. 

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Be nice to me this is my first ever fic, idk if ill write more i probably will because i had fun writing this