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sebastianswallows · 10 months ago

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The Little Death — 1. Captive of your desires

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: choking and death threats

— WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

— A/N: I couldn't resist. I had to write more for him. Reader, I love him. This fic might go a little wild, because I want to play into this naughty boy's love for pain. Expect some subby Feyd, some inkpies, generally a messed up dynamic with an equally messed up reader. Hope you enjoy, my lovelies! 🖤

Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty. — Bene Gesserit Coda

House Harkonnen fell upon Arrakis like a hammer — with a deafening crash and destructive reverberation. After the palace was ransacked and the most important figures murdered, their bodies piled high and set alight, the stragglers were hunted through the streets and homes of Arrakeen. There was a week of slaughter. By the end, nothing moved. All spice production had ceased. Then the violence left the city and spread out into the desert, and the whole hemisphere of the planet was captured.

Arrakeen sat near the northern pole, on thick bedrock surrounded by natural fortifications that protected it from worm attacks. It was a difficult place to escape from. Those who remained were understood to be loyal to the Harkonnens, or at least indifferent to who held the power. The Atreides rule had been brief enough to not have garnered that many supporters. Only the rumour of their goodness and grace had been planted, and the Harkonnens returned before those could take root.

There can be said to have been a second Harkonnen takeover once Feyd-Rautha arrived. The Baron’s youngest nephew. Word was spread — or rather, been carefully planted — that he was the kinder, gentler of the Harkonnen brothers. The people greeted him like a saviour. Inside the palace, the atmosphere was more subdued.

It was a stark contrast to the transition from when Rabban came to power. No mass killings, no ransacking of rooms, just an orderly takeover through which the cold and calculating presence of Feyd-Rautha flowed. Furniture was rearranged. Staff was brought in from Giedi Prime. Brand new equipment arrived, especially for the spice harvesters.

The message was clear. The new planetary governor was thorough and exacting. Most of those in the palace breathed a sigh of relief, but there was at least one breath that stuttered.

She was there at his arrival, watching from a distance together with the throng of Arrakeen locals, Fremen and others, who gathered to see the procession. It was early in the morning, just before sunrise. He walked differently than other Harkonnen she’d seen. Rabban stomped through like a bull. The servants grovelled. The Baron was so fat he had to be suspended in the air. But this one, this one strolled through with confidence. Sleek and slender, he was beautiful in an inhuman way. That much she could make out from a distance.

He struck out at Fremen sietches on his very first day, using artillery fire and on-the-ground troops. An old way of doing things, but effective. It painted the new governor as precise, determined, and strangely honourable, and then word spread around the palace that he’d struck his own brother to the ground and made him kiss his feet. The word ‘humiliation’ was uttered. The news sewed a sliver of hope in the hearts of the longsuffering palace staff.

She had evaded close contact with the Harkonnens until then. It only made sense, as she was in hiding, slipping through the cracks of their negligence until she could procure safe passage off-planet, but that was getting more difficult by the day. What they lacked in caution, they made up for in paranoia, and all comings and goings were kept behind esoteric layers of bureaucracy. She was in the process of making contact with a smuggler when Feyd-Rautha gained governorship of the planet, and all her hopes were dashed.

It was the evening of his second day on the planet when she was called. The servant that summoned her looked at her like she was an apparition — which, in a way, she was. She had managed to remain undetected, keeping herself busy, staying out of sight, acting like she was meant to be there. She’d become part of the scenery and could dispel suspicion if anyone got too close. Her Bene Gesserit training was good for that if nothing else. But there was no escaping this. Somebody had finally found her and knew exactly where she was.

She followed the servant — a heavily armed pasty-white figure, crooked and willowy — to the chamber door of what she knew to be the largest office of the governor. He opened it for her, pushed her in, and locked the door behind her.

Like a tiny sun, a glowglobe floated through the room, its light falling on the smooth black surfaces of the furniture and the pale stone of the walls. She folded her hands before her, hidden by the long sleeves of her dress, and followed what the light revealed. The room was large and windowless, stripped bare of any useless item. The table was empty, the chairs were in their place, and upon the plinths set in the corners, no potted plants or works of art stood. Only one thing moved there, together with the light. Feyd-Rautha paced slowly, quietly, on the other side of the room.

“My lord na-Baron,” she said in a smooth and submissive voice. Her knees bent in a slight curtsy — respectful, but not too much. “You summoned me.”

She wore a garb that didn’t belong to any particular function. The long black dress would have fit just as well in the kitchens as in the cleaning staff, and the head covering was suited for the Arrakis weather, worn by any female. All of those with hair, anyway. The light material bent around her, giving her a slightly oval shape, soft and harmless. But when she looked up and caught the na-Baron’s gaze, he would have seen a sharper look there than that of any servant.

His eyes were cunning too. They looked upon her knowingly and with amusement, a strange manner for a Harkonnen.

“Who are you?” he asked with a playful squint.

His voice scratched across her skin like kitten claws. He didn’t sound the way he looked, and she admitted it surprised her. His tone, nevertheless, was gentle. Deceitfully kind. He could kill me in an instant, she thought, and take pleasure from it.

“My lord, I —”

“You were not on Rabban’s stafflist. I know that, because he didn’t have one. And you’re not on mine, because I didn’t ask for you. We have as of today an account of all the palace workers, but the list comes up with one extra room unaccounted for.”

Nights in Arrakeen were cold, but her skin just turned colder. What rotten luck, to be in the palace right when they decided to actually investigate who worked there and did what. It’s my own fault, she said to herself. I relied on their incompetence for far too long. Now I pay the price. So be it.

“I have been a servant in this palace for many years, my lord na-Baron,” she said with a slow bow of her head. “And I wish to serve you as well.”

“Is that so?” he purred, coming closer. His steps were lazy, but the pace was measured. He had more control over his body than his playful swagger let on. “Many years, you say? You worked for the Atreides, then?”

“And for Count Fenring before them.”

He stopped. She looked up at him from underneath her lashes and smiled in quiet satisfaction. Lady Fenring was a skilled Bene Gesserit sister and had lived in Arrakeen with her husband for many years before the Atreides decided on it for their capital. She was the most logical choice as a secret envoy to the Harkonnen heir. And if Feyd-Rautha met her, it could only mean one thing.

Uroshnor, she thought. He’s likely been imprinted with the usual prana-bindu phrase. It would stun him, if only for a moment. But long enough… It didn’t provide her a means of escape, but it gave her hope. It gave her room for manoeuvre.

“I am not a spy,” she said, straightening her back.

“Of course, a spy would say that.”

“You may test me in any way you wish,” she said with a playful chuckle.

Feyd’s eyes darkened at her proposition, a smile bending his full lips as he stepped closer. Oh, he could think of many ways to test her…

“What are you, then?” he asked, his voice scratching low and close as he stopped close enough to touch.

She could see now that his eyes were a clear blue. Not the sort of blue brought on by long-term spice exposure, that dark electric shade, but blue like water, like the sky, like a shard of ice. His jawline was firm — that of a biter. But his lips were pillow-soft and curled around the edges in a smile that wouldn’t go away. Lips made for laughing, made for kissing, made for love. He’s such a delicate boy. The thought ran through her mind before she realised.

“I served the Lady Fenring as a housekeeper,” she said.

“Lies.”

“My lord?”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? A damn witch.”

She remained completely still, her eyes locked on his. He was trying to dominate her with a hard incessant glare, but she held his gaze merely for the pleasure of it. What a comforting colour they were on such a harsh planet… No matter the malice behind them.

“You’re a Bene Gesserit. I’ve met your kind before,” he continued, looking down her body in a cruel, suggestive way. “You hold yourselves the way no other women do.”

“Perpans not like Harkonnen women.”

He chuckled, the sound scraping up his slender neck. “All women in the known universe are the same, given the right circumstances.”

“But not the Bene Gesserit.”

“Yes, not you,” he sighed, head tilting as if his mind was trying to escape a painful memory.

His eyes stayed upon her figure, trailing down the contours of her dress. Then he reached out a hand and touched it, his fingers tracing a silky pleat so lightly that it barely moved. She felt it still, the slight disturbance his caresses caused, but willed her body to stay motionless. There was no trace of aggression in him now.

“Why are you still here?” he asked.

“You have not dismissed me, my lord na-Baron.”

He chuckled faintly. “I mean on Arrakis.”

“I wish to remain in the palace.”

“Why?”

“The deserts are harsh.”

“Many prefer that to serving a Harkonnen.”

“One master is as good as another.”

“I’m sure it must’ve felt like that to you,” he said, looking her in the eye again. His fingers left her dress and went to rest upon the hilt of a dagger at his belt. “So I take it you were one of Lady Fenring’s servants. A… fellow sister, would you call it?”

“I was part of her staff, yes.”

“And you didn’t leave with her and the Count when the Atreides came?”

“I remained behind to assist with training their staff,” she said with a bow of her head. Even now she retained a certain respect for that dead House.

“And Lady Fenring,” he hissed, the name dripping from his mouth like poison, “she never wanted to retrieve you?”

“I believe they think me dead.”

“Yes, she is not the sentimental sort,” he chuckled, and his cold gaze caught hers.

A dangerous thought was taking root behind those eyes, she could see it germinating. She waited, reading his body, scanning the minute changes in his expression, and tried to determine what went on behind that pallid mask.

There was envy there, and regret, and longing. The Harkonnens never kept Bene Gesserit truthsayers, nor were there any among the Baron’s concubines — all of them were young boys anyway. They were unique among the Great Houses in that way, and although she knew that Feyd’s mother had been a Bene Gesserit herself, he probably didn’t know what it was like to be raised by one. Why else would he be looking at her now as if he wanted to peel her clothes away, and then her skin, and reach toward her heart and grab it?

“How can I help my na-Baron?” she asked, her voice a whisper, her gaze a caress.

“By not getting above yourself,” he rasped with the air of slapping her offer away.

Her heart stuttered in her chest and she bowed her head to hide her terror. Did I read him wrongly? she thought to herself. I must not fear.

“House Harkonnen has no use for witches,” said Feyd.

She felt his strong hand grip her shoulder, slipping past the veil to curl around her neck. He stayed there, holding her in a half-choke just firm enough to feel her heartbeat in the palm of his hand.

“I ought to kill you,” he said sweetly, “and feed you to my darlings.”

Her lips parted, swelling slightly, and she felt her face go pale. The little death takes on a whole new meaning, she thought with grim amusement.

“But I do want to know one thing…”

“Yes, my na-Baron?” she asked in a shaky voice.

He breathed in sharply at the sound of it. He liked it. When she looked up into his eyes again, the grip around her throat felt not so much murderous anymore as it did greedy, possessive.

“I want to know… Do you have one of those pain boxes too?”

#Feyd #Feyd Rautha Harkonnen #Feyd Rautha #Dune #Dune part 2 #Dune fanfiction #Dune imagine #Feyd Rautha x reader #Feyd x reader #Feyd Rautha fanfic #Feyd Rautha imagine #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;littledeath

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cailinsblog · 3 months ago

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Baking Up Love: A Cozy Pumpkin Pie Date with Lando

Lando Norris x reader

The kitchen was buzzing with autumn vibes as Y/N and Lando prepared to tackle their first attempt at making a pumpkin pie together. Lando was fully equipped with a messy apron he’d already splattered with flour, while Y/N wore her own apron, ready to guide him through the recipe.

“Alright, chef,” Y/N said with a playful grin, holding up a can of pumpkin puree. “Ready to become a pie-making master?”

Lando looked at her skeptically, tilting his head as he glanced down at the ingredients. “I mean, I feel like I’ve got this,” he said with exaggerated confidence. “How hard could it be?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Y/N teased, already laughing at his clueless expression. “Let’s start with the crust, shall we?”

She handed him a bowl and some flour, and as he poured the flour into the bowl, a small cloud puffed up around them. He looked down at the small mess and grinned sheepishly. “So… maybe this’ll be a little harder than I thought.”

They moved through the steps of the recipe with Y/N guiding him and Lando playfully pretending to know what he was doing. Every once in a while, he’d shoot her a proud grin as he successfully completed a step, and she’d respond with an encouraging nod or clap.

“Alright, next step is adding cold butter to the flour,” Y/N explained. “Here, we’re supposed to cut it in until it looks crumbly.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure. “Cut in the butter?” he repeated, poking the butter with a fork.

Y/N laughed, taking his hand and guiding him through the motion. “Yeah, like this,” she said, helping him blend the butter into the flour. “It’s like you’re mashing it up.”

He caught on quickly, and they ended up laughing and bumping elbows as they took turns mashing up the butter until the dough looked just right.

“Alright, now we just need to chill it,” she said, brushing a bit of flour off her hands.

Lando nodded, but just as she turned around to put the dough in the fridge, he dipped his fingers in a bit of leftover flour and gently tapped her on the nose, leaving a small white smudge. Y/N froze, her eyes widening as she looked at him in mock disbelief.

“Oh, you’re asking for it, Norris,” she said with a grin, scooping up a bit of flour in her hand.

He laughed, backing up with his hands held up in surrender. “Hey, hey, hey, I was just trying to add a bit of style here!”

She didn’t buy it, though, and before he knew it, a small handful of flour had hit his shoulder, leaving a dusting across his black T-shirt.

“Alright, that’s it!” he said, laughing as he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close and wiping a bit of flour from his shoulder onto her apron.

They laughed, both now a bit flour-covered, until Y/N finally surrendered, her cheeks flushed with laughter as they pulled apart. “Truce?”

“Truce,” he said with a playful smile, giving her a quick peck on the forehead.

Once the dough was chilling, they moved on to the filling. Y/N showed him how to measure out the pumpkin puree, brown sugar, and spices, watching as he carefully followed her instructions. The sweet and spicy aroma filled the kitchen, giving everything that warm, cozy fall feeling.

“Alright, now mix it all together,” she instructed, handing him a whisk.

Lando took the whisk and started stirring, glancing up at her with a small grin. “You know, I think I might actually be getting good at this.”

“You’re a natural,” she teased, nudging him. “By the end of this, you’ll be teaching me.”

He grinned, and they continued working together, stirring and adding ingredients. Y/N noticed the way Lando’s eyes would light up with each step, how he’d sneak little glances at her whenever she wasn’t looking. It made her heart feel warm, and she couldn’t help but think how much fun she was having with him, even in the simple, messy process of making a pie.

Once the filling was done, they pulled the dough out of the fridge, and Y/N rolled it out into a circle, carefully placing it in the pie pan. Lando watched closely, leaning over her shoulder.

“That looks amazing,” he murmured, looking impressed.

“Your turn,” she said, handing him the pan of filling. “Pour it in, chef.”

He grinned, pouring the pumpkin filling into the crust as she watched, making sure he got every last bit. They then placed the pie in the oven, setting the timer and giving each other a high five to celebrate their teamwork.

As they waited for the pie to bake, they cleaned up the kitchen, still teasing each other about the flour fight and laughing over their mistakes along the way. When the timer finally went off, Y/N took the pie out of the oven, and they both stood back, admiring their work.

“It actually looks… delicious,” Lando said, clearly proud of himself. He leaned over to inhale the warm, spicy scent and grinned. “Who knew I had it in me?”

Y/N laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “I’m impressed. You make a pretty great baking partner.”

“Guess we’ll have to make this a fall tradition then,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist as they admired their creation.

Once the pie had cooled a bit, they sliced into it, each taking a piece to taste. Lando took a big bite, his eyes lighting up as he chewed.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said, nodding in approval. “I mean, I knew we’d nail it.”

Y/N took a bite herself, savoring the sweet, spiced flavor and nodding in agreement. “We’re basically pros,” she joked, laughing when Lando gave her a look of mock seriousness.

“Next time, we’re tackling an apple pie,” he declared, his arm still around her as they finished their slices, stealing bites from each other’s plates.

They spent the rest of the evening sharing stories and laughing over their flour-covered adventure, both feeling perfectly content in each other’s company. The kitchen was a mess, but the warmth of their laughter and the scent of pumpkin pie made it feel like the coziest place in the world.

⚠️please reblog and send suggestions⚠️

#lando norris x y/n #lando x y/n #lando x you #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #classic f1 #fanfic #f1 x you #f1 2024 #f1 x reader #f1 #mclaren

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darkchaogarden-blog · 4 months ago

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What Sonic and friends bring to the barbecue:

Sonic: Hot dogs, naturally, but with chili and condiments in separate containers, because he’s finally, begrudgingly, accepted that not everyone wants chili dogs all the time like he does.

Tails: A big bowl of salad, made up of the various salads he’s tried, and failed, to get Sonic to eat with his chili dogs whenever it’s lunch time.

Knuckles: Basket of various fruits and edible plants picked across Angel Island that he swears on his ancestors are better than any of the processed junk Sonic eats. Provided that the fruit and veggies he brought aren’t the poisonous ones that are near indistinguishable from the non poisonous ones. He’s pretty sure he picked the non poisonous ones. Almost certainly.

Amy: Plate of tofu dogs, mainly for Sonic, Tails, and Cream (as they are her boyfriend, little brother, and little sister, respectively,) at the expense of everyone else. Anyone else who are not those three so much has go near the dogs gets the hammer. When no one is looking she’ll sneak a chili dog or five for herself.

Cream: Tub of homemade ice cream that she made all by herself and is super proud of that Vanilla knows for a fact will be too sweet for everyone else and keeps a packet of Tums for anyone brave enough to try it.

Big: A massive fish that he quite literally just caught that day for the barbecue that he intends to prepare and cook on the spot. By the time it will be gone everyone else is packing up to go. It will be the best fish anyone had ever tasted, though.

Vanilla: Plain, simple sliders and cold cuts, just so that everyone not name Sonic will have something normal to eat.

Vector: His best, and only, tuxedo and monocle, convinced he can turn the barbecue into a date between himself and Vanilla. (It’s also a distraction for Espio and Charmy to sneak off with the food so that they will have something in the fridge for the next month or two, but mostly it’s a chance at a date with Vanilla.)

Espio: His sword and armor to fend off Amy for when while Charmy makes off with the food, especially her tofu dogs (which he wants most of all the food, even though Vector told him to ignore it. Espio will not be denied.)

Charmy: The tupperware containers, supposedly, to steal the food with, but left them at home, and immediately forgets about helping Vector and Espio when he sees Cream brought her homemade ice cream.

Shadow: What started as a simple beef stew then quickly turned into an amalgamation of ingredients because he felt it wasn’t “ultimate” enough. Now a vat of what can only be described as “substance.” Tails takes it home for further study.

Rouge: An ice sculpture she…burrowed from a police ball she attended. She doesn’t remember when she stole it nor how she kept it cold for so long.

Omega: Is the barbecue grill.

Topaz: Is the grill master.

Blaze: Her whole kitchen staff to make a feast worthy of a king. They have a grill off against Topaz and Vanilla for the right to cook the food and shockingly lose. They then spend the rest of the day following Vanilla’s instructions on how to make boxes lunches.

Silver: His telekinesis powers to carry all of the kitchen equipment. At first annoyed when the kitchen staff lose and weren’t going to use the kitchen he worked hard to get between dimensions but settles down once he tries Cream’s ice cream (and then immediately passes out from the sugar rush.)

Marine: Was the one to convince Blaze to leave the castle for a chance to relax.

Babylon Rogues: Weren’t invited but show up anyway to show off their homemade dish, said to have been passed down from generation to generation. However, beforehand, Jet and Wave got into an argument about how to make it and ended up making two versions of the same dish. Jet’s version deviates from the recipe the most, with too many spices and sauces added on, while Wave’s dish is exact but is bland and flavorless because Jet used up most of the seasoning. They make up by feeding their food to Storm and just stealing all the rest at the barbecue.

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mysteryshoptls · 9 months ago

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SR Ortho Shroud - Apprentice Chef Vignette

"Master Chef"

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Master Chef ― Ortho Version ～Let’s Make Loco Moco 1～

―A short while before cooking begins

Ortho: ―Energy inspection complete. All functions, including the cooking and processing units, are operating normally.

Ortho: Everything activates without a hitch, great. I tried to make my exterior look similar to my brother's outfit when he took the class, does it look weird at all?

Azul: It looks fantastic on you, Ortho-san. However, I never expected to see you take an interest in cooking… I'm a little taken aback.

Ortho: It's only recently piqued my interest. Sometimes I hear my classmates swapping kitchen horror stories, you see.

Ortho: When someone said, "cooking is way too high level for newbies," it suddenly made me want to try to win against it… Which resulted in this gear being developed.

Azul: I see. And if you are to do a trial run of that gear here, the Master Chef course would be the best opportunity to do so.

Ortho: Exactly! I knew you'd get it, Azul-san.

Ortho: Not only can this gear cook food, but it's built with many other functions to manage proper nutrition or count calories and the like.

Ortho: I plan on getting the expert chef to check out my functions and test out what all would be useful for cooking!

Azul: I can see you're raring to go. Then, I'll wish us both luck.

Ortho: Yeah!

[Kitchen]

Ghost Chef: We'll have you make the "Loco Moco" dish for us today, Ortho-kun.

Ghost Chef: First, we'll have to prep the onions that'll be mixed into the hamburger meat. Do you know how to mince?

Ortho: Okay, I got this!

Ortho: ―Begining cooking procedures. Activating the Cooking Gear's Food Slicer Unit.

[whirrr… fsshhh…!]

Ghost Chef: H-HUUUUUUUUUUH!? HE TRANSFORMED!!?

Ortho: First, I need to adjust the shape so it will be easier to prepare. I need to swing vertically over the onion and… slice it in half!

Ortho: Great, looks like my knife is sharp enough! Umm, since this is for mixing in with hamburger meat…

Ortho: ―Executing command: "Target ingredient: Onion / Processing Method: Mince / Configuration: 3mm Squares"

Ghost Chef: W-Wow… The onion was finely chopped up in no time flat…!

Ortho: …Whew, I've finished with the onion. Will these be sufficient?

Ghost Chef: Y-Yeah, it's cut expertly, but… What exactly is that round blade that came out of your glove…?

Ortho: I took an industrial-grade cutter and downsized it so it could be used in cooking.

Ortho: It releases water as it cuts. This removes the necessity to clean both the blade and the ingredient.

Ghost Chef: You've sure come up with something interesting. But this is just too far removed from traditional cooking methods… Hmm.

Ortho: Different tools shouldn't cause any deviation from the recipe, though… Or should I have used a knife?

Ghost Chef: Well, I guess for your case, you have to cook like that�� So I'll make an exception this time.

Ortho: Yay～! Okay then, I'm ready for the next part of the class!

Ortho: ―Activating Heat Sensor Camera. Calculating the temperature of the stir-fried onions… 38.2°C. Current temperature is 41°C lower than last measurement.

Ortho: According to my database, the best temperature range to continue cooking at after letting the dish simmer down is between 38～44°C. Chef, can we continue with the next step?

Ghost Chef: Sure, that's fine. So, next, take the ground meat, onions, and spices to form your hamburgers.

Ortho: Understood! ―Executing Command: Deploy Hand-Coating Gloves.

Ghost Chef: Woah! And now suddenly there are gloves attached to your hands. Is this another one of your technological applications?

Ortho: I'm using something similar to shrink wrap for this. It'd be pretty tough to do maintenance if my joints got dirtied.

Ghost Chef: Ah, that I can understand. It's just like how it's troublesome to have to wash everything that climbed up inside of an eggbeater.

Ortho: I thought as much. In the future, I'd like to equip some functions that would handle this effectively, but… This time, I want to try to knead it by hand

Ghost Chef: And why is that?

Ortho: It sounds like when my brother took this course, he didn't like this specific task.

Ortho: So I thought it'd be good to know the source of his stress, so I could factor that into the eventual kneading function…

[squish…]

Ortho: Hmm, maybe he didn't like how it felt when he touched it? Probably means if I can automate this task, everything'll be solved!

Ghost Chef: Sounds like you've figured out your answer, Ortho-kun.

Ghost Chef: By the way, your brother is Idia-kun, right? Has he changed at all since taking the course?

Ortho: Hmm, I don't think anything changed. He still doesn't really care about food at all…

Ortho: …Oh yeah! Maybe I can use this Cooking Gear to help improve his eating habits.

Ghost Chef: Eh!? You made all these functions without actually knowing what you'd use it for in the first place?

Ortho: Ehehe, so actually… I just made this because I wanted to "win at cooking!" So I didn't really have a particular use for it in mind.

Ghost Chef: Well, I guess that's a good enough reason to start. Also, even if it is an afterthought, I'm glad that you have a goal to strive for now.

Ortho: Yeah. Alright… Now I have to start improving this gear so I can make food that my brother'll want to eat!

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Ortho Version ～Let’s Make Loco Moco 2～

Ghost Chef: While we wait for the hamburger to cook, you can prepare the toppings. We'll garnish with cabbage and mini tomatoes for this dish.

Ghost Chef: The cabbage needs to be shredded, so… Are you able to adjust your cutting size in 0.1mm increments?

Ortho: By design, I should be able to. I would like to test it for myself, so could you tell me the specific size you're looking for?

Ghost Chef: Then, if you can, slice at 1.6mm.

Ortho: Got it!

Ortho: ―Executing command: "Target ingredient: Cabbage / Processing Method: Slice / Thickness Configuration: 1.6mm"

Ghost Chef: Woooah, very good! It was surprising when I first saw all this, but now it's really nice to see how quick and accurately you can cut.

Ortho: Simple tasks like these are a machine's strong point, after all! …Okay, I'm done! I wonder how the hamburger is coming along?

Ortho: ―Activating Heat Sensor Camera. Frying pan is holding steady at 16°C. Hamburger internal temperature: 34.5°C.

Ghost Chef: That's a pretty handy function, too. You don't need to take the lid off the frying pan to check how it's cooking, so there's no drop in temperature.

Ghost Chef: …Ah, oops. I let myself get a little too distracted watching your really neat functions.

Ghost Chef: Normally, it would take more time to prepare the toppings, but you're moving along smoothly.

Ortho: Ah! Then, while we wait for the hamburger to cook, can you explain to me more about the toppings?

Ortho: Cause toppings are kind of like power-ups from a video game, right? You don't really need them but it's better to have them.

Ortho: That's why I bet if I could know which toppings are the most filling, I could make my cooking even more efficient.

Ghost Chef: Hmm, that's a difficult question. It can vary depending on what you have on hand, and what you feel like using.

Ghost Chef: For example, I wanted to make sure there was nutritional balance, so this dish uses vegetables as a topping.

Ortho: If we were to remove the vegetables from this recipe… The vitamin intake would be reduced by 75%. It really would lose that nutritional balance.

Ghost Chef: In the past, I would serve it as a salad on the side, but there were so many kids who wouldn't even touch it, because they didn't want veggies.

Ortho: I get it, you revised the process fundamentally to help resolve your problem. I think that's a very reasonable method.

Ghost Chef: Haha, thank you. Yes, I'm glad I changed it up like this.

Ortho: Changes, hm… If I want to be able to add that as a possible function to the Cooking Gear, I'll have to gather a lot more data.

Ortho: If I can learn to swap out ingredients, it might help in dealing with my brother's bad eating habits.

Ortho: The more I learn about cooking, the more I can see all sorts of possible challenges, just like in a video game.

Ortho: ―And finally, I set the egg on top… Done! It's made to look like the dish I saw as the top hit in an image search.

Ghost Chef: Nice, you've plated it so beautifully and deliciously. I guess it's time for you to take it to the judging venue, then.

Ortho: Okay! I can't wait to see how the judge will react～

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Leona: Ughh… What a pain. Why do I need to be a judge for this Master Chef thing…?

Ortho: Sorry to keep you waiting! Oh, I see you were the one to order this dish, then.

Ortho: Here you go, this is the Loco Moco you requested! Please, enjoy!

Ortho: I want to use your assessment of the dish to help improve my Cooking Gear, so please be as candid as possible.

Leona: …Hey. Why're there vegetables in this loco moco? There wasn't any last time I ordered it.

Ortho: I heard this was a change made to help people eat their veggies. Great, right?

Leona: …Tch, way to do something completely unnecessary.

[bite, chew, chew, chew…]

Ortho: I followed the recipe exactly as it was written, so there shouldn't be any issues with the flavor… What do you think?

Leona: The hamburger and the gravy sauce taste fine. But because of all the veggies you threw in there, it shouldn't even get a single point.

Ortho: Ehhh, why!? I made sure to follow the recipe and throw in the right amount, size, and cooking time for all the ingredients!

Leona: Why should I care? All that matters is the judge's opinion, yeah? The recipe means nothin' if it don't suit my taste.

Ortho: …So without considering any of the general judging criteria, this dish "doesn't taste good" to you?

Leona: Basically. But hey, maybe you coulda gotten high marks if you'd just left the veg out like it's always been made.

Ortho: By adding the vegetables, it gave the dish a better nutritional balance. But Leona-san would have preferred no vegetables…

Leona: Geez, can't believe you'd just ruin a good meal like that. Since the judging's over, I'm outta here.

Ortho: Ah, he left… I can't really understand how someone could say a dish that satisfies nutritional needs "doesn't taste good."

Ghost Chef: Leona-kun must really hate vegetables, if he couldn't get past even this small addition.

Ortho: Ah, I should have asked why he hates vegetables to help me with figuring out how to change up recipes!

Ghost Chef: Ortho-kun… Are you actually happy with that result?

Ortho: Yes! The more data I can gather on any issues, the better I can improve my Cooking Gear!

Ghost Chef: Well, I guess I'm glad you're not sad after hearing that, but… Why does that make you that excited?

Ortho: Leona-san was already unhappy with the dish even before tasting it. That means he had already decided it wouldn't taste good just from looking at it.

Ortho: The challenge rating just shot up, now that I have to keep an eye on visual aesthetics, taste and nutrition… Of course that gets me super pumped up!

Ortho: I might be a long way away from being able to tackle my brother's bad eating habits, but… I'll definitely do my best to make my Cooking Gear even better!

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ortho shroud #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #twst ortho #twst azul #twst leona #twst translation #twst masterchef #mention: idia

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netherfeildren · 2 years ago

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter II : Prometheus

Series Masterlist

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Blood and gore; Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse; Description of injury; Angst; Possessive behavior

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 6.7K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER II : PROMETHEUS

What is mortality after all but divine doubt flashing over us?

-Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

As the days turned to weeks turned to months since that moment in the dark with the Mandalorian, there had been a steadily rising thrum of tumultuous, frenzied energy coiling within you. A ball of hissing, ravenous snakes ready to strike at any moment. Desire turned to want turned to a demand that you were ill equipped to deal with – emotionally and mentally.

You’d had many things in your life that you’d wanted but had not been able to have, and yet that did not mean that you’d ever been good at not getting them. Impulse control, a staying hand, were not things the Maker had blessed you with.

You’d met an old Ugnaught female with a penchant for loving spotchka and Sabacc a little too much. More than she’d ever enjoyed keeping steady work or following the rules or anything else really. You and she had some things in common when it came to that pesky little issue of impulse control. After a brief acquaintanceship, she’d put you on to a group that met sometimes on Nevarro to… support each other… or better yet, to sit around and discuss your issues and vices together in some pseudo imitation of self improvement – the art of staying one’s hand, or whatever you wanted to call it – and if it was not with much success, it was with intention, which you thought was, in the end, just as significant. She said she found the meetings understanding or companionable or something you pretended to tell yourself you didn’t care about.

And sometimes you went.

If for nothing else, to feel as if there were at least a few people in the entire galaxy who knew your name, who knew you were alive, who knew you were alone. You sat there amongst the old and weathered humans and the other ragtag team of varying organics and even the occasional droid, and listened to their stories and their losses and their fear during the reign of the Empire – their struggle, their fight, their apathy now, to survive, to stay afloat in the bleak imperial aftermath.

One such survivor with a nasty love for Spice, needled you the worst. His face was haggard, tired, and there was something so forlorn about him, something that sent a sudden flash of fear through you. Is that what I will be one day? Is that what I already am? I am a person, you think wearily, aren’t I? His voice was tough and ragged, as if he’d gone out into the lava fields and swallowed a chunk of ashen rock to fill his belly, savaging his throat in the process, grating your ears and your nerves.

“Nothing really feels better than when I’m drinking a bottle of spotchka, Spice humming through my veins, watching the sunset. My worries, my fears… they don’t weigh as heavily on my shoulders. And what else is there to do? This is easy. I am good at this. It is a simple thing, even if I must forsake all the rest. And I am tired. I want peace.”

You could understand this.

What else had there been to do under the subjugation of a darker and more powerful force than you could have ever been? You had been young and alone and terrified. In possession of a power beyond your understanding. You had been enslaved, trapped, abused, and then, for a moment, on a precipice. One which you’d taken a leap off of at the first chance. Now though, you were tired, and you too, wanted peace. Even if you weren’t entirely sure if you still believed in the concept. Once, it had seemed easy to lay down and take it, do as you were told. Until it wasn’t, or… until there had been the opportunity for something different. When the Sith lords were crumbling into obscurity and failure one by one, until only you and your master remained. A singular darkness in the galaxy. A lone chance, a step too far, to run had been all you’d needed. A flash of beskar in your mind – screaming, the snuffing of a silver flame – you blink the nightmare, memory, away, be honest with yourself, eyes pressed together tightly, spiky lashes crinkling between your lids.

And you, girl? What about you? What do you have to tell?

Me? Nothing. Nothing to tell – nothing you’d not burn me for.

Or the truth: it was discovered that I could wield the Force when I was a young child. I was hunted, my parents were slaughtered, and I was stolen. Turned and enfolded into their cult. I never had a chance. I never had a choice. I am trying to find my choices again.

The Jedi, the Sith, the Empire, they all fell a long time ago. I need to let the past die, but I will not die with it. So, you do not share that which would get you killed. You could very well be taken for an Imperial remnant and hunted, executed. No matter that you’d been just as powerless, despite everything, just as tortured, just as subjugated as anyone else, in all the ways that really counted. Despite everything – sometimes this great power counted for very little.

They had wanted to make you a God, but a God muzzled, a God restrained.

God struck, God swept, God nonsensical.

Your dreams are always strange and violent now – nightmares of a terrible past coalescing with hopes of a better future. How to reconcile that hideous thing you had been once before with the better thing you were trying to be now? Too difficult to conceptualize. No matter how many times you listened to your strange group of fellow survivors and vice-havers – a funny thing for what would they say, do, to you, if they knew that unlike their spotchka or Spice addictions, your predilection was of a darker nature – to kill, to maim, to destroy?

You leave Nevarro for a time, after that realization. That no matter how much you might ingratiate yourself, no matter the connections you may pretend to make, there is still that, there is still the truth of you.

The second time you meet him, you are where you should not be.

You’d come to Corellia. Filled with a sick and twisted sort of glee that you could roll around in the worst underbelly of the galaxy and survive, hold your own. It was an exercise in restraint and brawn and arrogance, too, perhaps. The crime syndicates running untethered, spice trade, and the harsh reality of industrial life made for a cesspool of the worst sort of cretins.

In some ways, it was exciting for you, and you knew you were looking for something. Something to whet your appetite, quench your thirst, fill the void.

After all, it had been two months, what felt like millenia, since that dark storage alcove where he’d imprinted himself in you. Weeks of having the ghost of him haunt you, the memory of his rough voice whispering phantom-like in your ear, seeing him in your dreams, your nightmares. Desperate interludes in whatever cold and lonely bed you’d claimed for the night, your fingers rubbing frantically at your slippery, swollen clit, trying to chase that feeling he’d pulled out of you and failing. Mandalorian, Mandalorian, Mandalorian. And then, one late night, when you’re on the trail of one such lead towards self destruction, masqueraded as a good time, there, around the corner, in the distance – like a wound of beskar looming in the night – it’s your Mandalorian.

You pause your skulking, stepping back to wrap yourself in the shadows, away from prying eyes. You take him in. Fucking tall and broad, outlined in pale flickering silver. He’s arguing with a young Corellian, sticking his finger in the male's face threateningly, other hand hovering menacingly over his blaster, and you can’t help but snicker. Surly beast, that he is. There is a large part of you that does not want him to see you, who had hoped you’d never again come across him, and then a quieter, but infinitely harder part of you to ignore…

The helmet snaps towards you suddenly, as if sensing your attention, cocks to the side – very much like some predatory animal casting sights on its next meal – his next bounty. You don’t need further warning, you spin on your heel and start in the opposite direction. Heart knocking on the walls of your chest to be let out, let me out, let me out, I want to go with him, cunt going tight and wet, ridiculous, desperate.

A chant that sings: again, again, again, chase me again. Catch me again. I don't know you, but I missed you anyway. I remember you, and I want you.

That dark, red thread snaps taut again, humming with the song of your fates. You already know how this is going to end. How you want it to end.

You always know how everything is going to end.

You pick up your pace, trying to confuse him with your turnarounds, sliding through the alleys and archways and scurrying around corners quickly, and then on one particularly slippery turn, there he is. An impenetrable wall of beskar that you’re slamming into, jarring your brain within your skull, shaking your heart in the cage of your ribs, jostling an impish little giggle out of you.

A pause to catch your breath, he’d cut around and surprised you somehow, “Mandalorian.”

“Brat.” You laugh, his voice is still the same. The depth of it, not a figment of your imagination.

“Fancy meeting you here. On holiday?” You croon, dragging a single, provoking finger across his chest plate, stepping closer to him, pressing up on your tiptoes to grin up at him. You listen to his huff of vexation through the modulator. Oh, don’t pretend, shiny. I know you love this too.

“What are you doing here? Corellia isn’t safe.” Stern, stern tone. If you’d let him huff and puff at you, you’re sure he would.

You roll your eyes at him, as if anything on this planet could do any real harm to the likes of you. “Oh, don’t I know it. I’ve caused the greatest trouble while I’ve been here. It’s been terrible fun.”

He shakes his head down at you disapprovingly, one hand propped on his hip like he’s gearing up to chastise you, readying that menacing finger to shake at you too. You shimmy up against him some more, pressing your breasts up against his chest plate, and you listen to a whisper soft groan vibrate through that impenetrable mask. Not so impenetrable as to keep you out, though, so it seems. You tuck the tips of both hands into the top edge of his breast plate to pull your own face up towards his, and even then, he still has to crook his neck down to look at you. He doesn’t buckle, not even a little bit, under the weight of you trying to hang off of him. You feel one of his hands come up to cup the sharp edge of your elbow, and even through the thick fabric of your dark tunic and the leather of his gloves, his touch feels like fire, like the Force. Stronger than anything else in the whole universe. For some reason, you can feel that deep well of power within you stir at the sight of him, at his touch, like a swirling pool of magma, waiting to rise up and spill out unencumbered. You feel on edge, stretched thin and held together only by frayed seams.

“Did you miss me, Mandalorian?” He tugs you slightly further into the shadow of the building’s side looking up and around the two of you for one moment, oh, yes, yes, yes, again, again, making sure your surroundings are clear.

“You like to be chased,” he says back.

“I like to be caught.”

“By me.”

“By you.” Truth.

“Only me.” It seems he’s finally learned to flirt.

You step up onto his big boot with the tip of one small foot, really trying to climb him in earnest now, bringing yourself up even closer to him, and he wraps his other hand around your waist beneath your cloak, the tips of his long fingers splayed over the top swell of your ass to press your pelvis into his. You bury your nose into the folds of his cape around his throat, breathing in the warm, masculine scent of him, hooking an arm around the back of his neck. You want to kiss him.

“Last time, you said, maybe next time. Is that now?” You breathe into that dark space beneath his helmet’s edge.

You listen to his soft groan, the two of you pulling each other in even closer, trying to meld yourselves to each other, liquid metal’s mixing, beskar melted and writhing amidst fire and flame, and as you’re about to beg him to find another dark alcove for the two of you, you sense them at the same time that his helmet snaps up and to the side, right as they’re descending upon the shadows where you’re hidden, too late to block their blaster fire as they open upon the two of you without any sort of protection to shield yourselves with. Your reaction time is delayed blocking their attack, distracted by him, by his touch, and too long since you’ve openly and freely wielded your power, and he spins, suddenly, huge frame hunching over your smaller one to protect you from the onslaught, to shield you. You hear the bolts of plasma make contact with the beskar over his back, and then his harsh, pained groan as they meet the unprotected places between the gaps in his armor. You spot the Corellian he was arguing with before, over his shoulder.

A savage growl rips from his throat as his knees buckle, and you wrap one arm around his strong waist, trying to hold him up as he struggles to remain upright. He’s been hit badly in the side, you feel the hot seep of his blood spill. You raise your other hand over his shoulder then, a furious seeping coil starting to move through your body.

“You’re hit,” you whisper up at him. One of his hands claws at your shoulder, he’s so heavy, while the other braces against the wall behind you, trying to remain upright.

“My blaster,” he snarls, “Take my blaster. Run.”

“It’s alright,” you say calmly, even though you feel anything but. You can feel his life force literally seeping out of him, and you’re hit, square in the face, with the realization of how truly strong he is. He is so potent, so alive, that his presence in the Force is almost a physical thing despite his lack of powers. The Force lives through us all, and he is powerful, all in his own right, purely for the vitality of him.

He is strong and good, and that seeping coil turns into a ravenous howl.

There is a group of five organics of varying species surrounding the two of you, frozen by that lifted hand of yours. It closes into a fist, and three of them fall instantly dead, minds pulverized under the force of your power. The edges of your vision go slightly dark.

“It’s going to be alright,” you say gently to him again. His hand on your shoulder is twisting painfully into your clothes, your joint straining beneath his strength, and he shakes you sharply, trying to push you away. “Fucking go. Why aren’t you moving?” One of his knees buckles, his voice wavers. He’s bleeding out so fast. You grip him beneath his elbows and start to slowly help him lower to the ground. One of his knees suddenly gives out, cracking harshly against the hard ground beneath. “What are you doing?” There’s a flavor of desperation infusing his tone. As if he’s worried for you. As if he is worried for you. “There are too many of them, and I’m–” His voice cuts off with a choked snarl of agony. He’s hurt, he’s hurt. You need to move quickly, or he’s going to die.

“It’ll be alright, Mandalorian. Wait here. I’ll be right back for you.” He says something more, something growled that sounds suspiciously like, fucking hate it when you say Mandalorian like that, can’t kriffing do as you’re told, but your attention is no longer on him. You step in front of him, blocking the sight of his fallen form from the two remaining, soon to be dead, males. You cast a wide net of the Force around the four of you. Besides the three dead bodies, there is nothing else awake and lurking in the shadows for about a two kilometer radius. Lovely.

The Corellian is obviously the leader. You look towards the other first, a big, ugly Trandoshan, and as you set your sights on him, you release him from his paralysis, giving him a moment to get his bearings and reach for his blaster. He scrambles to pull it from its holster and fires directly at you. And at your once again raised hand, the beam of plasma freezes mid air in a thrumming, angry screech of red magma. You listen to the Trandoshan’s horrified gasp, watch his eyes go wide and terrified through your splayed fingers, “You’re–”

“Yes. I am.” You send the blaster beam back in his direction with a slight flick of your wrist, piercing him directly through the throat, and leaving a wide, smoking hole of charred flesh clean through its ugly neck. The body falls to the damp street with a harsh thud.

“And you?” You turn toward the Corellian. “Were you his bounty?” His eyes are frenzied, manic, terrified, “Ah, Sith got your tongue?” The acrid scent of urine permeates the air, and you let out a barking little chirp of a laugh. You can feel the Mandalorian fading behind you, struggling to stay alert. No time to play with your food. There is a part of you, small or large, you can’t tell now, in the haze of the Force overwhelming you after not having used it like this in so long, that is worried that this is a step in the wrong direction. You haven’t killed in a long time – not since that last one. No – don’t think of it. Not now. Not with him here. And perhaps, this is a step in the wrong direction, a step backwards, but there’s really no choice. They’ve hurt him.

You have no choice other than this.

You reach for your lightsaber strapped into a holster low on your thigh, an inconspicuous place where you can hide it in the dark folds of your clothes. You’ve not wielded one since your escape, since that last time. Your heart beats painfully in your chest, and you can’t tell if it’s more of a blood hungry sort of excitement or out of fear for him, lying wounded behind you.

“No… I’m just kidding.” A girlish little giggle, “I’m not a Sith anymore. Don’t worry. If I were still that, I’d draw this out. Make you suffer for a very, very long time for hurting him.” You pull something from your person then, and the night is filled with the crackling hissing sound of an igniting lightsaber. He’s never seen one in person before – only heard of them in stories. The dark street illuminated with the bright light of a violet colored plasma cross guard that sputters and wavers furiously, unstable, like the sound of metal being clawed to shreds. Despite the protection of his helmet, Din squeezes his eyes shut for an instant, afraid that the bright light would blind him, sear his retinas from their sockets.

You are a burning effigy washed in the violet light of righteous fury as you stalk slowly towards his, soon to be dead, bounty. Din has no power, but if he did, he is certain that he would be able to feel your presence in the Force as surely as he feels the blaster hole in his flank. Even powerless, he’s sure he can feel the humming waves of your strength brushing up against his armor clad form.

“She’s never been wet before.” Your voice is inexplicably lovely, soft and lilting. It had been the first thing he’d noticed about you, after those hypnotizing eyes that had terrified him for the intensity of feeling they conveyed, the two warring colors, one lighter than the other, one cast in perpetual darkness and the other so vibrantly bright it almost glows. The way they’d enthralled him, forced him to go after you that night on Nevarro, if only so that he could look into them one more time. “You’ll be my first blood with this – I made her just recently…” You say casually, lifting the lightsaber up to appreciate it between the two of them. The Corellian is frozen still, and Din assumes that you’re holding him so. You’d killed all the rest without so much as a blink. You’d stopped the fucking blaster bolt mid air. Din has never witnessed such a thing in his entire life. He thinks, for a brief moment, that perhaps, he should be frightened, or worried. He’s bleeding out, he’s dying, prone on the ground and vulnerable, and this girl is of a capacity he’s never encountered thus far in all his travels through the galaxy.

But he is not.

For some reason, the Mandalorian is not afraid.

“Pretty, no?” You croon at the Corellian, and if Din was of a sound mind, and not currently delirious from blood loss, he’s sure he’d not have felt that twinge of ridiculous jealousy twist through his gut at hearing you give that soft voice to another male. You twirl the blade so fast he scarcely catches it, then lets your wrist fall, the angry buzzing tip of plasma touches the ground so it screeches and hisses. You seem to deflate for a second, arms hanging limply at your sides, and shake your head at him. “You hurt him,” you say so softly he has to strain to hear through the haze of blood loss. He’s fading. He does not want to leave you alone. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

You should not have to face this alone.

Another lightning fast twist of your wrist, the violet beam an arc of pure light through the night’s dark air, and then: “He’s mine.”

You slice the Corellian diagonally from hip to shoulder. Din does not think the creature even has a moment to realize what’s been done to him before the two halves of its body are sliding clean and wet against each other and crumpling to the ground with a sickening thud.

When you turn back to look down upon him, your eyes are filled with so much fear and hurt and desolation, and Din must close his own eyes to shutter himself away from the terrible sight of your pain. He never wants to see that look in you again.

You seem to be a complicated amalgamation of a woman. At once strange and mercurial and violent. Wholly unreachable, unknowable. And then at the next moment: frightened, tender, soft. With a vulnerability that brings every protective, fighting instinct out in Din. Everything that makes him a Mandalorian. Everything that he holds so dearly within his Creed, you call to, after only one meeting in the dark. To protect you, to care for you, to venerate you. And the shroud of loneliness, the air of other that surrounds you, as if you’d never known the soft touch of a caring hand, the loving embrace of a mother – calls to the very same things within Din’s own soul. The same things he’d never had but always wanted. They were the same, and yet, so vastly different. Existing on two separate ends of the galaxy's spectrum. Creatures meant to be enemies, perhaps, to kill each other. And yet here he found himself, prostrate and bleeding on the ground as you defended his life. Entirely at you mercy.

And now you’ve saved him.

His eyes flutter shut once again, consciousness winking away.

He’s as heavy as a star blasted bantha, and you feel that your bones will surely crack and crumble to dust beneath the weight of him leaning over your shoulder while you try to get him coherent enough to move his legs and walk. While at the same time, as inconspicuously as possible, trying to use the Force to support him on his other side, a tendril of power applying pressure to the ragged, bleeding hole in his side without drawing too much attention to yourselves. And then, also, of course, with the added strain of tugging the two separate halves of his bounty behind you, wrapped in some discarded tarp you’d found because even bleeding out and two paces away from dropping dead he’d still had the wherewithal for a muttered, don’t leave my bounty. If you roll your eyes at him any harder they’d surely fall right out of your skull.

You are a small human, and he is a big, big man. Who is currently providing absolutely no help.

“Kriffing come on, Mandalorian. You’ve got to help me out here. You’re heavier than a fucking rancor covered in all this metal.”

You see him shake his head out of the corner of your eye, trying to stir himself into coherence, “How did you do that?” He slurs.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you whine, drawing out the vowel at the end and ignoring his question.

You hear a small huff of air pass through the modulator, “You’re just too– too small.” His words are too slow, his voice too weak. You try and propel the two of you forwards faster.

“Psshh, don’t provoke me, or I’ll drop you.”

“How’d you– you do that? T– Too small…” A pained, savage snarl as he stumbles. You exert more of the Force to prop him up. Fuck it, if someone notices the two of you, you’ll just kill them. What’s one more after you’d just gone and done away with five in one fell swoop after months and months of nothing – of peace?

You’re sure your mind, and that disgustingly soft heart that’s been trying to force its way to life inside of your chest recently, will make you pay for this later.

“I’m a wizard,” you deadpan. You’re sweating beneath your heavy layers, slightly dizzy from exerting so much power so quickly. You’re beginning to think that going completely cold bantha steak and cutting yourself off from the Force had been a mistake. You feel wrung out and stretched thin and weak.

“No– not, little one,” he stutters.

“That’s it. I’m dropping you.” But you clutch your arm tighter around his waist, pressing your cheek up against the space between his shoulder pauldron and the edge of his chest plate. You can feel the sweltering heat from his skin steaming through the heavy material of his underweave.

“Are not.” You can hear the wet gasps of his panting breath under the helmet, and the sleeve of the arm you have wrapped around his waist feels soaked through with his blood. You don’t know how he’s still conscious and making the best attempt he can to walk after all this.

“Maker, what do you eat, beskar for breakfast also? Just tell me where your damn ship is before more of those mudscuffers find us.”

“Landing bay seven,” And you thread your fingers through the hand of the arm he’s got slung over your shoulders, tightly. You have to move faster. You have to make him be okay. But despite your anxiety and desire to rush, the two of you make your way slowly through the Corellian alleyways. Him, struggling to remain upright, you, trying desperately to not make your invisible strength entirely obvious.

And you fail to notice the slithery little Twi’lek, watching the two of you from the shadows, completely unaware that she will await your return to Corellia for a long, long time to come.

Dragging his heavy ass in through the open hatch of his, believe it or not, piece of shit pre Imperial gun ship, with a grumbled, nice hunk of junk, that all he’d been able to counter with was a defensive hiss, as your arms were about to snap off under his weight, feels like a singular sort of victory after what the two of you had just gone through. His feet stumbling over one another, he’s just on this side of consciousness when you finally make it within the safety of his ship. He melts into a crashing heap of beskar on the durasteel floor, and you finally let go of the disgusting weight of the dead Corellian, as you move quickly to shut yourselves inside, engaging the security system and motion sensors, lest someone else decide to catch the two of you unawares. Spinning quickly back towards him to start ripping the beskar plates off his chest to get to his injury. You quickly realize that the armor is held together by complex magnetics hidden beneath each piece and swiftly disengage those over his chest and abdomen. He’s got on a thickly woven underweave beneath the underplates, and you make quick work of unfastening the closures on that, as well, but when you’ve reached the last layer of his clothing, a thin, dark undershirt, you pause. The material is warm and soft and worn, something you’re sure he must don all the time and meticulously maintain and care for, like all the other pieces of the intricate uniform of his Creed. A Creed which you’re not certain you’d be breaking by looking upon the uncovered skin of his chest and abdomen. But he’s dying, you think, and you have to save him, and you can feel the physical and intangible manifestations of that slow crawl towards death in the spill of his hot blood on your hands, slowly drooling onto the metal floor, as well as the slow seep of his life force out into the ether. He’s dying, and you have to save him.

You push the last layer, keeping him covered from your eyes, up his chest. The blaster wound is a ragged mess of blood and charred flesh, to his right flank. The trajectory positioned high in the upper quadrant of his abdomen so that you’re fairly certain it must have nicked his liver. You probe gently at the wound inside with a tendril of the Force, and your panic ricochets up to a shrill crescendo within you – yes, he’s hit badly, a laceration to the uppermost corner of the organ. You move to stand quickly, sweating and stumbling in your panic towards the compartments along the walls of the hull, ripping open drawers and cabinets until you come across his med kit. There are bacta injections, hard to come by, but of course he’s well supplied – you can only imagine the collection of injuries he must have gathered throughout his travels, and patches inside, and you return to kneel at his side, knees cracking painfully against the cold, hard floor as you fall next to him. Hands shaking, vision slightly blurry, you pop the cap off of the syringe, and try and take deep steadying breaths as you pull down the neck of his shirt to get at the uppermost part of his shoulder. When you press the aggressive looking needle into his skin he jerks, and the sound of the helmet rolling against the floor has your eyes shooting up to his face, “It’s okay,” you try and soothe. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to fix this.” You press down on the plunger slowly, watching the bacta slowly make its way from the glass barrel into his arm. He gives a low groan of pain as the thick substance enters his muscle. Please, please, work. Please, you have to be okay. You pause for a second once the injection is done, watching the shallow, quick hiccups of his breath, the rapid dip of his abdomen, as if he’s struggling to continue the act, in pain. Fuck. You rip open one of the bacta patches and carefully place it over the gaping wound, reaching for two more after that to make sure the entire large circumference of the hole in his side is covered, and then go still. His breathing is still rapid and shallow, almost gasping, and you take in, for the first time, the entire vision of his naked chest and abdomen. Thick, strong waist, tapering down into slim hips, smeared in the dark vermillion of his blood, you watch the shifting of his abdominal muscles beneath his smooth, golden brown skin. You’d pushed his shirt high up on his chest, but you grip the edge to pull it down a little lower, making sure he’s only as uncovered as necessary. You’re not entirely sure how quickly the bacta should work – why isn’t he waking up, why isn’t he saying anything, why isn’t his breathing normalizing?

“Mandalorian,” you whisper, and the helmet shifts the tiniest bit towards the sound of your voice, the fingers of his left hand twitch and curl inwards. You place your other hand low on his belly, the edge of his shirt still gripped in your hand and scoot closer to him, your bent knees pressed into his hip. “Please–” you whisper and you realize your cheeks are wet, tears making a slow stream down your face. Your voice breaks, “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you know that this is your fault. You distracted him, led him on that ridiculous chase. He’d have captured his bounty and been safely on his way if it weren’t for you. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.” Not again, please, I can’t have done this again. You let your head hang forward, your torso bending slightly so that your forehead is pressed into his hip as you let your desperate and pathetically terrified tears fall. This is your fault. One more terrible thing come at your hands.

If you could only – don’t even think it, you do not possess the capacity for that sort of goodness – but the hopeless thought worms its way into your mind anyway, if you could only heal him with the Force. But you’d never possessed that sort of ability, only the strongest of Force users could wield their power for healing, and despite the fact that you can still feel the deep well of your power churning in your veins right now, after your brutal display on the streets of Corellia, you know that such a thing is beyond your capability. Such an act only possible to those with great aptitude for light wielding or those dark siders who were willing to pay a great and terrible price, that of stealing vitality from another being to enact such a power.

And you hate yourself more in this moment than all the others. You wish desperately, painfully that you could be a different sort of person, a different sort of monster. That you could be good. That you possessed the ability to do good with this Force that roils through your veins, and that should have helped you, but had only ever truly hurt you.

What is the point of this great power within you, you think, if you cannot wield it in this most necessary of moments? In this instance when, more than any other, you wish you had the strength of the Force to heal him. With your head still pressed to his hip and your hands still on his chest and belly you open your eyes to watch your tears roll over his tan skin. I’m sorry, you think again, I wish you had never come across me. You watch the slow journey of your tears as they slide across his hip and drip silently down onto the floor of the hull, mixing with the dark crimson of his spilled blood.

You’ve never been one for much faith in any sort of higher power, too many times in your life when you’d wished for something greater than you to come and save you gone unanswered, but you pray to the Maker in this moment that the Mandalorian survive this, please, please, he is good, please, let him survive this. Your eyes flutter closed, you feel the sweep of your lashes against his warm skin, and you pray to the Force and the Maker and any other entity out there in the vast, unending galaxy that a creature such as this, one who is strong and valiant and good, not be felled by an association with the likes of you. And as you think, please, just this one thing, just this one time, I’ll never ask for anything else ever again if you only save him now, you feel that space deep within you, where the very nectar of the Force lives in your soul, shift and churn, and it is as if one of the very building blocks of the core material that makes you what you are, slides out of that place and slots itself into him. Plugging away at the gaping, life threatening wound and mending his torn flesh and healing that which had been savaged. You feel the very fibers of him stitch themselves back together at that outpouring of yourself into his own body, and he has a piece of you now, even if he is unaware, even if, perhaps, he would not want it, you’ve given yourself to him in a way you’ve not ever done with anyone else before. Slotted yourself within him and plugged his wound away to heal him.

You feel your body sag into his, all strength suddenly leaving you, but you force your muscles into movement and push yourself up off of him so that you can look up at his helmet covered face. His breathing suddenly stutters, and you freeze, your heart screaming in panic, but then he takes one long, deep breath, the wings of his rib cage flaring wide, and the rhythm returns to a slow, measured cadence. You take in the expanse of his strong abdomen, muscled, but also slightly soft around his belly button, the tantalizing trail of hair that disappears into his trousers. There are old scars and rough patches of poorly mended skin scattered across him, but his skin is also still soft and smooth and warm. His body is a weapon all on its own, battle hardened and made strong and resilient out of a necessity for survival, and beautiful. Above all else, he is beautiful. His long limbs are splayed wide on the durasteel floor. His cape is tangled around his throat and shoulders, and you move to pull the trapped folds from around his neck, giving him more freedom to breathe deeply. You tug the fabric down to spread out at his side so that you can lay on top of it. Your head is spinning now, your heart beating so fast you feel the rebounding rush of your blood in your eardrums. You’ve overexerted yourself, drawn too much power too quickly. Head spinning, vision going slightly dark at the edges, you feel a sharp, piercing pain behind your left eye, and your arms give out as you let yourself curl into a ball at his side, tucked into the crook of his underarm beneath his splayed limb. Right before you lose consciousness, you remember to pull his shirt down the rest of the way. He should be covered when he awakens, you don’t want him to worry that you’d violated him in any way, looked at his face or seen more of him than was absolutely necessary. He should feel reassured. You do not want him to be worried or afraid.

When consciousness finally winks away, like a singular dying star in the vastness of space, your fingers are still twisted in his shirt over his belly.

Chapter III

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nicomundthered · 2 years ago

Text

Blood Runs Cold

Injured Trilogy- part one | part two | part three

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

summary: you save Ellie, but not yourself.

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, this one is angsty, blood and descriptions of injury, I'm not a doctor, also don't know a thing about nature apparently, established relationship, happy family, drowning, fear of water, way more spice than intended it just happened- though nowhere near explicit.

word count: 10k | ao3

a/n: had to edit this twice and tbh I just need it finished, so please forgive the mistakes. part three might take a little longer...I’m having quite the anxious episode but enough of that, hope you enjoy!

masterlist

It took a while for you to recover, but you had. Well for the most part. Your hand was the only lingering problem.

The doctor had done what she could for it but without the proper technology and equipment–even after the mostly successful surgery, it would never be the same again.

You had diligently followed the physical therapy exercises she gave you and weeks later, you could now make a fist and your grip strength was improving. The process was long and if you were being honest you were getting impatient. You were just thankful that it was your non-dominant hand because it was still frustratingly weak and uncoordinated in comparison. The doctor had confirmed that it would probably always feel that way. You'd be lying if you said that that didn't upset you, not that you weren't grateful to be alive–it just really sucked.

Joel was different though. While you were a little depressed and frustrated, Joel seemed to be almost obsessing over it. He would inspect it every morning, seeing how the two deep scars from the surgery were healing. Then he would ask a couple times a day if you had completed your exercises. And he was also overly protective of it. He'd fuss anytime you picked up anything or when you'd tell him that you were ready to go back to work. The two of you argued over it quite heatedly more than once.

One day, a couple weeks ago now, after he finished his patrol he returned his gun and gear, and checked in with Tommy for the next day's schedule.

Tommy and Maria were in a deep discussion and when they saw Joel, Tommy bowed his head and Maria straightened, both looking extremely suspicious.

“What happened?” Joel asked concerned. He somehow knew it was about you.

Maria admitted that due to your tenacity, she had put you on light cleaning duties. That you had begged to have something to do, and that after a couple of hours you had grown frustrated from the weakness in your hand, which had cramped causing you to drop a plate. It shattered all over the ground and when you could only use your good hand to pick up the small pieces, it had sent you over the edge.

You didn't listen to anyone and you'd picked up the sharp pieces using only one hand and it had cut you up. You did so with tears in your eyes and then you left without saying a word, hand covered in blood.

He quickly left, hurrying to you as fast as his feet would carry him.

When he came home he found you in your shared bathroom. You didn't hear him enter and were focused trying to pick out the small ceramic pieces that were lodged beneath your fingertips.

You had been attempting to fish out the pieces for just under an hour now and your hands were shaking. You could barely work the tweezers due to the slick blood and your hand was cramping. Speaking of, it was properly hurting now–which it hadn't been for weeks now.

“Baby?”

You jumped, dropping the tweezers and cursing. You grabbed the hand towel and tried to cover your hand but he was quicker. His body came up behind yours and he placed both arms on the sink, trapping you in place, eyes making contact in the mirror.

“Let me see,” he said, leaning down, breath hitting your neck.

“It’s nothing, just cut myself cleaning.”

“Let–me see.”

You almost gave in but just as you about relented, you thought of a different distraction and leaned back and pressed your backside into him, moving your hips gently from side to side.

His nostrils flared, eyes narrowed as he hissed at the contact. It took him a second to come to his senses because his body would alway betray him when it came to you, but then quickly snapped out of it and scooted back and put his hands on your hips preventing you from following.

“Jesus–just let me see your damn hand.”

You turned around abruptly, he was still very much in your personal space.

“I just nicked it. I don't know why you're acting like this over this,” you suddenly felt small like a helpless child. Despite your confident voice, you could no longer look at him as tears welled in your eyes. You hated feeling helpless but you also hated needing help. And what didn't even make sense was all he wanted to do was to help you. Why you rejected it you weren't entirely sure. Maybe you were just tired of seeing the worried look on his face–the one that you continued to put there.

Though, as much as you loved him, you hated the way you always just gave into him. You blamed his eyes, his voice, his… you know what, it was just him–he was your kryptonite.

“It was just a little cleaning,” you said, unwrapping your hand and held it up to him so that he could see. “I- I uh–broke a glass and tried to…”

“Maria told me.”

“Damn.”

He chuckled softly at your frustration and then frowned suddenly, “You're still lying to me. I thought we went over this.”

“This doesn't count though. It's not life or death. It's just a few stupid cuts.”

He reached out and took your lightly bleeding hand. “I’m not too worried about this,” he said after inspecting it thoroughly, noting that you still had some small pieces still stuck. “But this…” he gently let go of your hand and picked up the other. It was still locked in a cramp, “This is what I worry about.”

He carefully pressed into the tight muscle and you gasped in discomfort, which was quickly replaced with relief as he kneaded the overused muscle until he successfully worked the cramp out.

“Thank you,” you said, looking up at him almost ashamed

“You're doin’ too much.”

You yanked your hand from his like he had just burned you. He didn't react, just continued to stare at you. He wasn't going to take that back, you were doing too much too soon.

“I literally just swept and washed a few dishes. If–if I can't even do that then…”

“You were hurt,” the frown returned to his face.

“Yeah I was. Past tense Joel.”

“It takes time to heal. You almost…you almost died baby,” he put his hands in his pockets as he blinked a few times trying to rid the images of you doubled over coughing up blood.

He wanted to reach out to you so damn bad, but knew that you needed space right now.

“I know that. But I feel so helpless, all the time. I- I can't do anything. I can't even turn the pages in a book…I can't even sit and fucking read. And you leave and do your shifts–shifts that we are supposed to do together. What if you got hurt because I wasn't there to watch your back?” He looked like he wanted to interrupt you but refrained. “And then Ellie has to come home from school and before she does her homework or hangs out with her friends she helps me cook and clean. I just—I’m just so sick of feeling useless. I’m so sick of feeling like a burden.”

There it was.

He thought of a million things to say. He wanted to berate you for even thinking such a thing, but that never seemed to work on you, so he decided to go a different route.

“I understand.”

“Do you?” You said with more venom than you intended.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” he cleared his throat, “When I was stabbed and you and Ellie had to do everything.”

“You were unconscious Joel. You were dying from infection.”

“That doesn't matter. I–I couldn't protect you two. I could barely understand what you said to me but I could make out enough.” He took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed his face, “I knew that you were going to leave and try to find me medicine. I tried to call out…I tried to stop you, but I couldn't. And then when the men–when the men came looking for you I–damn near lost my mind. But I couldn't move. I, I tried so hard to,” he felt the familiar pressure in his chest, “I…I watched you leave–and I couldn't even beg you to stay.”

You stood still as a statue as a tear rolled down your cheek, all you could do was stare.

“So yeah, I do understand. Feeling helpless is the worst, but you got me and Ellie, and you are getting better everyday. But pushing yourself isn’t gonna help you. So please do me–do us a favor and just let us help you. You’d do the same thing for us in a heartbeat and you are never a burden. Do you hear me?”

Your eyes were wide and mouth was slightly opened, “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“It’s ok. Everything turned out fine. We are both here.”

You launched at him, hugging him tightly. You kissed his neck and said, “I wish you would have told me. I know you dream about it…”

“I don't want to talk about that right now, ok? I just want to get that junk out of your hand and take a shower. Does that sound good?”

You agreed.

He took his time and worked efficiently, and in no time he had all of the debris removed and had cleaned your fingertips. Then he helped you undress and led you to the shower, where he worshiped you with as much attention as he gave you wounds, and then finished by cleaning your body as well–something that he's come to enjoy doing. When you got out of the shower he gently bandaged both hands, one for the cuts and the other to relieve the pressure on the healing muscle.

He dried you off and helped you dress into your most comfortable clothes, which were ironically his clothes. Then you sat at the kitchen table and listened while he told you about his day. He heated you a can of your preferred soup and toasted you both some bread to go along with it.

After your shared meal, you moved to the bedroom where he read a couple chapters of your favorite book to you. You fell asleep with your head on his shoulder. And when you woke you were in his arms snuggled closely, your bad hand in his as he lightly massaged it.

You've been back on light duties for a month now–also known as cleaning and restocking the armory. It definitely feels boring and mundane after the action you were used to, but it was much better than doing nothing. Your hand still has the occasional cramp but it's much stronger. You’ve practiced on the shooting range a few times now and you weren't as hindered as you thought you'd be. Slower yes, but still able, with an aim as deadly as it's ever been.

It was the middle of a Wyoming winter and it was cold. Snow fell for four days straight covering the ground in a thick solid layer that probably wouldn't melt until the beginning of spring. Which made today's appearance of the sun that much better. Everyone in Jackson acted like it was a holiday. Two families were actually having parties and had invited you over.

People liked you for a reason you didn't even know. You were nice and you worked hard but you weren't overly friendly, maybe you just appeared that way because you were around Joel and Ellie. Or maybe it was because you were close to Maria and Tommy. Regardless, there would be no partying for you.

A few months ago you had talked Ellie out of going on runs until she was older. She hated it and took quite some convincing but you managed to make a deal with her. She focuses on school and her friends, and honestly just being a semi carefree teenager for once in her life, and a couple times a year the three of you would take vacations.

By vacations, you'd basically just camp and be away from everyone a bit. None of you would admit it but each of you missed the seclusion. Just the three of you, no obligations, nobody telling you what to do. You were grateful for Jackson, you all were and it was much better than being alone but that's how you lived for months together. That's where your strong bonds were made, and sometimes the sleeping bag under the stars felt more like home than your house.

Another part of the agreement was that Ellie got to choose where you'd go. It couldn't be too far, at least not during the winter, and the trip couldn't last more than a week–not until she was finished with school.

On this inaugural trip she wanted to see the rapids. Some friends had talked about how they canoed down them and she hadn't stopped talking about it since. You doubted that that was true, in a canoe? But it didn't matter it was a part of your deal and since the rapids weren't too far away the request seemed reasonable.

And really it was a big deal for Ellie to want to go anywhere near water, let alone potentially dangerous water. She had let it slip once that she couldn't swim and the fact that she hasn't asked to learn yet tells you that she's afraid.

It was early morning, the sun had just begun to light up the sky. It was cold but no snow clouds were on the horizon. You were all packed with more things than you’d need in a week, and the trip probably wouldn’t even last three days. This was your first time leaving since your injury and it was Ellie's first since the agreement, which meant Joel was kind of a nervous wreck. He packed excessive amounts of everything–ammo, food, first aid. His pack weighed double the usual weight, and this time he saddled up his horse.

You found him in the stables. He was loading up the horse slowly and precisely, trying to slow down the inevitable–his family was leaving safety.

“Are you ready?”

He jumped slightly and laughed almost nervously. “You scared me sweetheart.” He sighed and fastened the last strap on the saddle, “Bout there, I wanna double check the…”

“Joel,” you crossed your arms and looked at him sweetly. “Everything is going to be ok. We are going to have a fun quick little trip. Nothing that we aren't used to right?”

He still had his back to you but you could hear him gulp and you could see him trying to shake his head in some sort of agreement.

“Hey.” You walked up to him and held the side of his arms. “Do not put all of this on yourself. The three of us can defend ourselves, in fact I'd say that we are a pretty badass trio.”

You smiled and he couldn't help but smile back. It didn't reach his eyes but he smiled nonetheless.

“I’m afraid.” His voice was low where only you could hear him. He turned from you and focused on the horse. A little shocked that the confession slid out of him so easily. Completely unintentional.

His admission made you break a little. You didn't want this to stress him out like it was. This was supposed to be fun. “If you don't want to go me and Ellie–”

“No,” his voice was firm and commanding. “God- just no. I um–I just…it's safe here.” He was suddenly fixated on petting the horse, unable to look at your eyes that seemed to make him confess things without his permission. “And to leave it, if we don't have to seems…foolish to me.”

You tensed at his words. And boy did they make you angry. You and Ellie have been planning this and looking forward to it for weeks now. And he just waited until the last minute to express his concern? To call something you’d been dreaming about foolish?!

“We can't just stay here. We can't just be yours to play house with.” You paced a little and then continued almost grumbling to yourself, “Be your little housewife and we aren’t even married—go to school–be your picture perfect family. We can't do that. I can’t. I- I won't.”

He turned to face you quickly. He hadn’t meant to upset you, really he hadn't but it did seemed foolish to him, dangerous for no reason. He didn’t like the way you were talking, it made him uncomfortable. Yes he loved coming home to you but it was just because he knew that you were safe. It had nothing to do with you being a ‘housewife’ to him. And he also didn’t like what sounded like an ultimatum, he would never keep you from leaving but it still frightened him.

“I just meant–”

“Oh I know what you meant.” You felt your face getting hot. You didn't know where all of this was coming from and chalked it up to being frustrated at his last minute indecisiveness and your slightly stir-crazed mental state. “And it's such an easy thing for you to think about- building a wall around us caginging us up like animals in a zoo.”

“That's not–”

“Come home to a cooked meal.” You were pacing faster now, needing some kind of physical release. Your body was practically humming with pent up energy from being cooped up for months.

“Baby it’s not–”

“All your laundry folded nice and neat.” You dug your boots into the stable floor with such force that dirt was actually starting to kick up. You could feel your blood pressure rise with each step.

“To be propped up and ready to fuck when you come home–”

That made him snap. “Stop it!” He tightly held your shoulders and jerked you around hard. “I’d think very carefully about what you say next.”

You were still, all except for a wicked gleam of rebellion that flashed in your eyes. “Is that what you want?” You were breathing embarrassingly heavy.

He hated his reaction to all of this but regardless he still felt blood quickly rushing south and his pants tightened rapidly. You are just so damn hot and the image you were painting, well he hated to admit that the last part sounded appealing. Also he not so secretly liked it when you talked dirty.

“For me to be spread out on the bed for you, nothing to do but wait for you to get home. Be nice and ready for your—”

With absolutely no warning he spun you around and pulled you roughly to him. You arched into him instinctively and he placed one hand on your inner thigh and the other over your dirty mouth.

“I know it’s been awhile so I won’t get mad at you. But if you don't shut that pretty mouth of yours right now, we aren't goin’ anywhere.”

You ground your backside into him just as rough, and bit at his hand, in a futile attempt of retaliation.

“Fuck…” He pressed himself harder into you. A sinful moan escaped you that was barely muffled by his large hand. He was certain that his strain was going to break his zipper. “If you needed this from me baby, all you have to do is ask.” He cooed into your ear making chills shoot down your spine and pressure pool into your belly.

He moved his hand that was resting on your thigh and started to unclip your belt buckle.

The metallic clank broke you from your lust filled trance, and you shot out from his embrace. Your pupils were blown wide and you were almost gasping for air. “You aren't gonna- damnit, you aren’t going to distract me over this. We- we are leaving, with or without you.”

You stormed out quickly. Not even bothering to buckle back up.

If he were in the position he would have chased after you. But he couldn’t go running through town in his current state. So instead, to calm himself down, he thought about anything at all other than you.

A couple of minutes later, he led his overly packed horse over to where the two of you were waiting. Ellie was beaming at him and bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. He smiled at her but it made him feel like a piece of shit. This meant so much to the two of you. And he might have just ruined your whole trip. He hated when he made you angry but he still believed he had a point.

He looked over at you and you quickly turned your head away to avoid him. He didn’t know how to apologize to you. Or rather he knew how but he couldn’t do that in front of Ellie. So he’d have to find the right time when you were alone. He wasn’t the best with words, in fact most of the time his words only made things worse. So he’d have to be patient and hope you’d be willing to forgive.

He was mid thought when you just started walking. Ellie cut her eyes back at him and raised her eyebrow in question.

He just shrugged but he knew she was clever, sometimes too clever, and he knew that she knew he had done something stupid.

“Come on.” He sighed, urging her to drop it and follow.

Luckily for him, she was more excited for the trip than curious about what had happened. But he still feared that it was only a matter of time before she questioned him to death.

It took about five hours to make it to the river. It was a slow peaceful walk. There was no hurry—the journey and being at peace was the reason for the trip–it was mostly made in silence, the three of you weren’t big on small talk so it wasn’t at all uncomfortable, though he knew that you were only quiet because you were still stewing from earlier.

Ellie grew more talkative towards the end and you tried your best to carry on with her, but you were still infuriated with Joel. It was a buildup of things you supposed. But sometimes he really gets under your skin. The overprotective thing really works for you until it doesn't. And that’s not really fair to him because that’s who he is, and you knew that he hadn’t caged you in, you just felt trapped by your own injury.

It didn’t help that it was after months of being cooped up and babied. Two things you disliked. If he was going to be like this every time you wanted to go for a walk- then flat out, the relationship wouldn’t work. You needed some semblance of freedom or you’d go insane. That scared you because you also needed him. And maybe you were being a little dramatic. He was currently beside you and you were outside of the gates. So maybe you were being a little hasty. Hopefully this outing will give you the reboot your mind needed.

Joel picked a place to set up camp while you and Ellie walked over to the edge of the cliff to see the now infamous rapids. They were more intense than you imagined, no way could a canoe make it down them.

Ellie was being uncharacteristically timid. You looked back at her and decided to give her some alone time. “I’m going to help him, don't get too close to the edge, it's slick.”

She playfully rolled her eyes at you.

When you made it back to Joel he already had half of the stuff thrown on the ground, but when he looked at you he gave a look.

“What?” You placed your hands on your hips defensively.

“Nothin��...” he exhaled deeply, “Look- I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t wanna ruin your trip.”

“Our trip, it's our trip Joel. Look at where we are. Look how beautiful it is.” you gestured around you at the beautiful mountains, “Don’t you just feel…free?”

He looked at you with a sudden understanding, it was freedom that you needed. You’d told him as much, but seeing the stress visibly leave your face is what finally got it through his thick skull, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

You beamed at him, “See!”

“You look awfully beautiful out here like this,” his eyes sparkled at you. There was no other way to describe it.

“So do you.”

“Yeah?”

“Big time.”

He laughed, “See that big tree?”

It was the biggest tree in the area, impossible to miss, “Yeah?”

“If we were alone I’d apologize like you like me to, right up against–”

“Stop…that's–that’s cruel,” you blushed.

He laughed almost wickedly.

“Let's unpack before you find a way to get yourself back into trouble.”

Ellie was looking out, biting her lip apprehensively. Now that she was here she was fucking scared. Why did she even pick this stupid place, she couldn't swim, it was cold, and it was fucking stupid.

She walked closer to the edge and tried to peek over but she was too far away. She got frustrated with herself. Come on, don't be a pussy. She moved closer and closer still. Her chest felt tight and her legs were beginning to quake. She fought the urge to lay down and crawl to the edge, she didn't think that that would be a good look for her. So she continued to move forward very slowly, inch by inch, silently disregarding all sounds of internal alarms until finally, she could see all the way down into the raging water.

Her toes kissed the edge and as she leaned forward, just as she felt that she had confidently conquered a fear, her boot slipped. “FU–” she was cut short as she twisted and tried to grab onto the edge, but in doing so she landed on her chest which then sent her flying backwards towards the water. Thankfully she landed on a ledge less than halfway down the steep drop.

The ledge was small and narrow, she was very lucky to land on it at all. If she wouldn't have tried to hug the side of the cliff she would have fallen straight into the water. What she didn’t notice though was as she landed, the ledge moved slightly- small rocks broke off and fell into the freezing water below.

Ellie laid there for a few seconds and stared up at the blue sky. She took deep breaths trying to get it through her head that she was in fact alive–she wasn't entirely convinced. Until she heard you calling out her name.

You were fortunate enough to look over just as she fell. You ran to her as fast as you could desperately calling out her name.

Joel was left alone and confused for merely a second before he noticed Ellie's missing form. His heart dropped as he sprinted past you and looked over where she used to be standing.

“Ellie?” you caught up and stood beside him.

You looked over the ledge as she carefully stood and brushed off some snow and dirt.

“Holy shit.” she said looking up at the two of you.

She didn't speak loud enough to hear because of the thunderous sound of the rapids, but you could read her lips. You exhaled in relief.

Joel was also very relieved. If she had fallen she would have hit the rocks, and if by some miracle she missed the rocks the currents were strong. Even an amazing swimmer wouldn’t be able to stay above the water, he didn't care to think about what would happen to someone who couldn't swim.

“Ellie,” he yelled down to her.

She looked up, and moved to hug the side of the cliff, “Yea?”

He laid on his stomach and reached down his arm as far as he could stretch, “Can you climb to reach my hand?”

She stretched her body as tall as she could, standing on her toes, her feet almost completely parallel to the cliff. She was still short, not by much, so she jumped as high as she could, still missing his hand. When she landed, the shifting of the ledge was still unnoticed. There was nothing to grab onto, there was nothing to grip to climb.

She jumped again but this time landing with more force. The ledge visibly shifted and larger rocks plunked into the water.

“Stop!” you screamed out. “Ellie, stay still!”

She gave a thumbs up, “No problem.”

You laid down next to Joel, “I’m going down there.”

“Like hell–”

“Hey, listen to me. I’m taller than her. I could probably jump and reach your hand, she just needs a boost. She could probably stand on my back and reach you.”

“Let me, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” you sighed and did your best to calm down. “I don't think the ledge is strong enough to hold you both.”

He opened his mouth but you continued, “And you know I couldn't pull your ass up.” you grinned, but he wasn't having it.

“Just wait a second. Let me figure something out.” He looked back towards camp, “We could tie some–”

“You saw the way those rocks fell. We might not have the time for that Joel.” You grabbed his forearm and looked deeply into his eyes, you weren't playing around, you were going to do this, “Please, let me save her.”

His brows furrowed and he looked at you with as much seriousness as you've ever seen from him, and that was saying something. He brought his forehead to yours, “Be careful,” he whispered onto your skin.

You nodded, noses bumbing against each other and then reluctantly moved from him and looked down, “Ellie? I’m going to come down there and help you, ok?”

She looked up at you in pure panic, “No don't! This fucking piece of shit rock is barely holding me up.”

“It’ll be fine.”

She practically cried out your name, “Please don't,” her voice cracked in her loud plea.

You looked at Joel and he was looking at you in premature anguish, “It’s going to be alright,” you said to who, you weren’t sure–probably everyone, including yourself.

You removed your gloves in case you needed a better grip and slowly climbed over the edge, Joel held on tightly, and when he looked at the two deep scars on your hand he froze, “God damnit!”

“What?” you looked up worried that something had happened, and saw him focused on your hand.

“Crazy woman, what are you fuckin’ insane?”

Your hand had crossed your mind, but getting Ellie to safety was the only thing that mattered. You smiled sadly- knowingly at him, and he all of the sudden realized what he was doing–he was slowly dropping you to your death. This wasn’t just a rescue mission, this was a suicide mission. The anger from his eyes was replaced with bone chilling fear. He desperately yanked you back up a little, pulling your arm too tight and causing your bicep to strain.

“Wha–?” you saw the raw panic in his eyes as he tried to haul you back up, “Stop, Joel Stop!” you looked down at Ellie and then back up to him with tears in your eyes, “I’ll break my arm off if I have to.”

He knew you would. Selfless woman.

He looked back at you holding on to his hand, gripping the side of the rock face, eyes full of tears and determination–he loved you so. “You better come back to me.”

“I always will.”

His grip tightened and he lowered you as far as he could, “Land softly.”

No shit you thought as you landed on the ledge. It dropped even further this time making a horrible crumbling noise.

You grabbed Ellie and hugged her tightly afraid that this was it. When nothing else happened you sighed in relief and quickly backed up. She looked scared, like she wanted to stay in your arms and hide.

“Come on, we have to hurry.”

You quickly got on your hands and knees and she stood on top of you. She reached tall but was scared to dig her toes into you–she didn't want to hurt you, and she thought of how long it took for your ribs to heal, how much pain you were in.

“Use your toes Ellie!” you demanded.

“I don't want to hurt you,” she practically sobbed out.

“You won’t, I can hardly feel you.”

She knew you were lying but she complied and stood on the tips of her toes. She brushed his fingertips and tried to reach further.

“Are you close?” you asked, feeling the ground beneath you sway knowing time wasn't on your side.

“I can touch him but I can’t–”

“Jump,” you interrupted her.

“Wha….NO I won't do that.”

“Ellie, baby- you have to.”

“I don't want to.”

“I love you very much…everything is going to be ok.”

More rocks crumbled and Joel called out your name in warning.

“Jump Ellie!”

Without a moment's more hesitation she did and Joel gripped her wrist tightly. They worked together and quickly got her to safety.

The pathetic excuse for a ledge was giving out. Your world was rocking back and forth like a buoy on the ocean. You stood slowly, doing your best to not make any sudden movements. You could hear both of them desperately calling out to you but you were focused. They didn’t know how precarious your situation had become.

You stood slowly and reached for Joel’s hand. You had known going into this that it was going to be much harder for you to get up. Sure you were taller than Ellie but not by much. You were going to have to jump or climb. To jump meant if you missed- you had to land, and you weren’t sure it could take that force.

You dug your fingers into any crack you could find, there weren’t many but you made your way maybe a foot off of the ledge when two things happened—first your hand locked up in a cramp that rendered it useless. You dropped it to your side, trying your best to hide it from those above. And second, the ledge broke away and fell into the water.

They cried out to you but you didn’t know what to do. You truly couldn’t do a thing with your hand, you couldn’t even use it as a stabilizer. You found a perch for one toe of your boot, but it wasn’t going to hold long.

It was like the universe knew that this was how you’d die. It was shitty, but it was giving you a chance to say goodbye to the two people you loved most in the world, and that’s more than a lot of people got.

You looked up. Joel’s face was red from straining to make himself longer. Spit was flying from his mouth with every pleading yell. Ellie was screaming for you to hurry. Time seemed to slow down as you watched them. They were going to be ok, they had each other, and despite what Joel would argue that would be enough.

So you had one attempt. It was all or nothing. One small lurch forward and you’d either make it to Joel’s hand or you wouldn’t. The chances were very slim.

“I have one shot,” you called up.

“Just keep climbing baby, you’re doing so good!” he encouraged loudly.

“I- I can’t. My hand is locked up.”

He cussed and behind him his feet angrily kicked holes in the snow. Tears started falling from his face and passed by you like drops of rain, “I told you to let me! I could have—“

“I love you. I love you both,” you sniffled but felt at peace, you had saved your girl, “I’m going to try my best but I really don’t have much to propel myself from.”

Your hand slipped a little and you could hear Joel’s gasp and Ellie’s cry.

“Ok I’m ready,” your muscles tightened in preparation and you tested the movement. Once you were satisfied that you’ve done all you could you started your countdown, “On, three-two—one.”

To give yourself some credit, you did make it farther than you thought. Probably a hands length away from Joel’s, but you knew from takeoff that it wasn’t enough.

You briefly saw the look of absolute horror on their faces as you took in as much air as you could, and shielded your head with your arms as you plunged into the freezing water.

You of course knew that water was powerful. It helped shape the earth with its constant rising and falling. Given time its pressure could smooth a stone, could forge new paths and create new bodies of water. It grew vegetation as easily as it could flood and drown. Any living thing needs it or would die. Water was both life and death, it was a powerful, powerful thing.

But you didn’t truly respect it until now. It tugged you under and slung your body around like a ragdoll filled with nothing but cotton. You had never felt so weighed down and yet somehow so weightless. You were so distracted by the sheer force of it that the sharp burning from the cold came later. Then oddly enough the need to breathe came even later than that.

After a few seconds of pathetically trying to fight it, you quickly realized you could do nothing but patiently wait for a current to bring you to the surface for a chance to get air.

It happened faster than you had anticipated. Before you knew it your head was above the water and you were gasping for oxygen. Some water got in but that didn’t matter to you in the slightest.

You glanced to the side at the riverbank and for the first time you noticed how fast you were moving. You were absolutely flying down the river.

You went under a couple more times, and were banged around—hitting some rocks here and there, which would bruise but nothing serious.

There wasn’t much farther to go as far as the rapids were concerned. The river was long but if you could make it another one- two minutes tops before it slowed and calmed.

What a jinx you are.

Your ankle was suddenly caught between two rocks. You were stuck and the angry currents were pushing at the side of your face, trying their best to force you back under. You took a deep breath, and went under to try and wiggle your boot free. It was of no use so you untied the shoe and were launched free immediately. It took you by surprise and rolled you a few times—disorienting you, and then your luck ran out. You hit your head, everything went black.

When you fell he almost jumped right in after you. As matter of fact, if Ellie wasn't with him he would have. His whole body shifted forward begging him to leap, but Ellie’s hand quickly grabbed his shoulder tugging him back up, as she yelled out after you. She anchored him to the spot and kept him from acting irrationally.

He sprang to his feet, “Look for her I’m gettin’ the horse.”

She quickly got up and ran along the edge. It's funny that moments ago she was so scared to even go near it- now she was sprinting alongside it, the only fear she felt was for you. Her eyes combed the water trying to get a glimpse of your now flailing form, they were stinging from the cold but she refused to so much as blink.

She looked farther down and saw you, just as you were thrusted up for air.

Joel passed her on the horse and she pointed ahead. She tried to keep up but you were both moving too quickly. She kept running even as she lost sight of you both.

Joel was riding alongside you. It was a difficult task to both keep his eyes on you, and keep his horse from running off the side but he quickly adjusted. You were doing a good job of keeping your head above the water, and he was starting to feel slightly optimistic.

The water was already calming down.

He looked back to you all of that previous optimism died along with any hope he had left in him. This time he screamed your name, it was way too raw to be called a yell.

He moved his horse back and forth searching. The horse was as anxious as Joel, it wanted to continue running. His heart was beating out of his chest as he continued crying out for you.

Then he saw you.

You were face down and floating downstream.

He charged the horse and went ahead of you to where the rocks stopped and the shore began. He dismounted, took off all of his clothes except his boxers, and ran into the water.

Even though it was calmer, he still had to curl his toes–gripping at the dirt in an attempt to brace himself with each step. When you floated near he swam out to you. It was rougher out where you were.

When he reached you he quickly turned you over.

You were so blue and he couldn’t tell if you were breathing.

Fortunately for the both of you, he was a swim champion in his teenage years and a pool lifeguard was his first job. He swam fast and strong and there was no way you’d release from his grip.

When his feet touched the bottom he cradled you, and trudged through the water as quickly as he could–water splashing all around as his strong legs ran you to shore.

Ellie was waiting, bent over trying to catch her breath.

He got you out of the water and laid you down in the snow.

“Is she breathing?” Ellie gasped as she looked down at your blue face.

“I don’t know yet.” He felt for a pulse but didn’t find one. Then he put finger under your nose to feel the air. Nothing.

“Damnit,” he immediately started chest compressions.

Ellie’s legs gave out and she sat in shock. She had lost a lot but losing you felt like too much. You were the closest thing she’d ever had to a mom. You were her best friend. What the fuck was she supposed to do without you?

“...gotta be the hero—”

Joel was angrily muttering to you. Ellie could only make out occasional fragments, she wasn’t even sure he knew what he was saying.

“—let anyone else get hurt.”

His voice trembled with emotion.

“Couldn’t just let me…hard headed…”

He was openly crying now and getting slightly winded from the exertion. His body pink from the cold with steam rising off of him.

“—drive me damn insane,”

Ellie was now sobbing with him- broken gasps and labored breaths. She hugged her knees to herself and began rocking.

“…better start breathing I swear to god.”

The horse moved, catching her eye.

“Please- don’t leave me…”

She turned back and watched him desperately pound on your chest.

“—I fucking need you…you hear me?”

That was as close to a sleeping beauty moment that you’d ever get. You started violently coughing up water- expelling it from your lungs. He rolled you on your side so it was easier on you for you to spit up the liquid.

A rush of pure joy overcame him, “That’s it baby get it all out.”

Ellie crawled closer to you like she couldn’t believe that you were alive. Something red caught her eye. “Uh, Joel?” she pointed behind your head, her voice sounding so small.

He was so fixated on watching your face that he hadn’t seen the blood staining the white snow behind your head, “Fuck.”

As you continued to cough he felt around the back of your head. There was a small swollen knot that was split by a not so deep cut. There was no indentation which was his main concern. And head injuries bled a lot, he reminded himself as he looked at his now crimson coated hand.

The coughs slowed down but he started worrying why you weren’t shivering. He was shaking uncontrollably. You were still.

“Here’s what I need you to do- take the horse and bring all our stuff down here. We have to get her warm.”

Ellie was silent. Frozen in fear staring at the blood.

“Ellie…Ellie?!” He said loudly, snapping her out of it, “You hear me?”

“I- I’m on it.” She jumped on the horse and galloped away.

He pulled you so that you were propped up against a tree–he didn't want you to drown in the water you were clearing from your body. He brushed some hair out of your face with his numb fingers–he couldn't even feel the soft strands. Then he started to gather sticks for a fire.

You were in and out of consciousness. You mumbled a few times but never made much sense.

Ellie returned and helped Joel finish building the fire, it needed to be big. He kept repeating that to her.

They set up the tent. Facing it towards the fire so that the heat wafted and was captured underneath. Then he put all the sleeping bags and any fabric they packed inside. By this time Joel was shaking so bad he could barely pick up anything- now all of his appendages were numb. His tremors were now so severe that his speech was broken.

“I’m gonna ge-get all of these wet clothes–off of her, and get her in-inside.”

She nodded, liking the plan so far.

“Listen- I don’t know how to say this a-any other way, but we are going t-to be naked.”

She looked a little put off and confused.

“It’s just for bo-body heat, nothin’ weird.”

“Nothing, weird?”

“You-you know what, I- I mean,” he clenched his fists trying to demand that his body stop shaking.

“Ok so what do you want me to do?”

“I want you…to ta-take the rifle, and be on lo-look out…she has to ge-get warm–”

“Joel…I’ve got this. Just…take care of her..please.”

He nodded in an understanding agreement, if he takes care of you then everything else will be ok.

She picked up the gun and mentally started outlining a perimeter to pace.

He pulled you over to the fire and began to undress you. His hands fumbled with the buttons and he winced when he finally noticed that you were missing a boot. He removed your shirt and jacket, leaving your top half bare. His eyes traced the many forming bruises–nothing near as bad as the last time. Then his hands touched your belt buckle. Visions from mere hours ago when he was unfastening it for a completely different reason flashed before him.

Tears returned and he started sniffing loudly, ‘gah’ he helplessly croaked out as he removed the remaining clothing. Nothing more to note, just more of the same–discolored bruising and small scrapes.

The bleeding on the back of your head was slowing down, though he still wrapped the injury with gauze. The bandage wrapped around and covered the top of your forehead.

He laid you gently on top of a sleeping bag–the tent had a floor but he was trying his best to keep you from the cold ground. Then he put all the other sleeping bags, blankets, and even clothes on top of you. He took off his wet boxers and threw them out of the tent and snuggled as close to you as he could possibly get.

Your skin felt like ice. He hissed at the first contact but without hesitation pulled you to him even tighter. He was truly enveloping your form- legs were entangled, his broad chest and strong arms cocooned around you securely, even his neck and head curled into you. His hands rubbed up and down your back trying to create a warming friction–but you still weren't shivering…you should be shivering.

He didn't know what else to do, and maybe he'd done all that he could do, but that was hard for a man like Joel to accept.

He was warming up quickly, and as he regained some sense of touch, he started to feel your skin beneath his fingertips. You were so very soft, much too soft for hands like these he thought to himself.

Out of nowhere he started talking. He didn't know where it came from, he just opened his mouth and words began pouring out. He wasn't even aware of what he was saying until he heard Sarah's name.

He was telling you about his daughter he then realized.

You had only asked about her twice. Once at the beginning of your relationship when you found out about her for the first time–which led to him wrongly ignoring you for a whole week. And the second was when he screamed her name in a nightmare–he told you to never mention her again, and went for a walk that lasted a whole day. He didn't know why you put up with him.

Last time you were hurt, when he was so scared he was gonna lose you, he told you how she died. And even then, even after he had opened up and said her name for the first time in years, even knowing that he could trust you- that he loved you, he couldn't bring himself to talk about her…that was for some reason until this moment.

He told you about how smart she was, about how kind and funny, and caring. How she loved to make a big deal on his birthday and always found a way to surprise him with incredibly thoughtful gifts. That she loved to cook and take care of him, because she said he deserved to be taken care of.

And as he was telling you all of the wonderful things about his daughter it made him realize that she would have absolutely loved you. The two of you had a lot in common and would have probably harassed him into taking care of himself. His chest felt unbearably tight, he had hurt the both of you by not talking about her–by not talking about her he hadn’t let her memory live on, and by not telling you he had unintentionally kept a huge part of his heart hidden.

Suddenly he felt you. If he weren’t melded to you so tightly he probably wouldn’t have, but he did. You were starting to tremble.

“That's it baby. Warm up for me.”

He kept rubbing your back. He could feel a thin layer of sweat collect between you, it was from him he was certain. He'd gone from cold to warm to quite hot. The fire had heated up the small space in no time at all.

Before long chills started to shake your body and he could hear your teeth chattering. He felt you nuzzle closer to his chest.

“Sweetheart?”

“S’ cold.”

“You'll be warm in a minute.”

“Wha time is…?” your words were slurred.

“Late. We should probably wake up.” he really hoped that you would wake up, or at least seem more alert.

“Yea…”

And then you lost consciousness or fell back asleep one, or maybe both.

An hour or so passed and you were coming down from the worst of your chills. Your teeth were no longer clicking and your skin felt much warmer to the touch.

He felt your head shift to look up.

“Hey,” he smiled, warmly down at you.

“Hi,” you turned your head and took in your surroundings. Saying you were confused was an understatement. “Where are we?”

“You don't remember?” his brows creased and his smile drained from his face.

“I- I remember…ELLIE!” you sat up quickly, he did too.

“It’s ok, she's ok. I promise.” he pulled you into a hug and as your bare breasts brushed against his arm hair you noticed for the first time that you were naked–you both were.

“Joel, what the hell happened?” you asked into the crease of his neck.

He explained everything, and you were slowly able to fill all of the missing holes of your memory–the fall, the battle in the water, the rock that took you out.

“You saved me again,” tears fell from your eyes.

“Sweetheart I’ll save you everyday if you'll let me,” he wiped them away with his thumb, you heard the gauze rustle.

“Wha?” you reached up and felt the bandage seeming to cover your head.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he chuckled, “Just a little thing. I might have been…excessive.”

You laughed and the strain of it made you notice the pain in your chest. You placed your hand over your heart and looked at him, obviously confused.

“Yeah…that might hurt for a bit,” he winced. “You- you weren't breathing when I got you out of the water–”

“You had to do CPR!?”

“I did.” he swallowed thickly and looked away.

“Oh, Joel… thank you.” you moved your leg over his lap and straddled him, you grimaced, your body was more battered than you thought. He openly began to weep, sobs wrecked through his body. You rested his head to your chest, and rubbed the back of his head until his breaths calmed and his shaking stopped.

“Ya know, this would be really hot in other circumstances.” you weren't in the mood, not even close. You felt like you had been run over by a truck, you were just trying to lighten the mood. “In a tent, naked with you.”

He chuckled, you felt him smile against you. He turned and kissed your soft supple skin. “I’m so glad you're ok…when you fell, just you can't do that shit.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Save Ellie?”

“Can't just…react. I could have tied something together—”

“If she would have fallen into the water, I would have never forgiven you. You know that right?”

He shook his head, “I never would have forgiven myself but- but darlin’…jesus.”

“I don't want to fight. Not about this and not right now, my head is killing me, but know this Joel Miller- if either one of you ever need saving, and I can, I will.” You grabbed a dry shirt and pulled on over your head. “It isn't something up for discussion, and I won't be talked out of it. You jumped in the water to save me- that was dangerous, we sometimes do dangerous things for the ones we love.” He looked like a kicked puppy but you continued, “If I don’t act, if I sit back and think about it- took time to come up with a plan, and then lost you anyway…then what–then what would be the point?”

You put your hand behind his head and pulled him closer again, whispering against his face, “I know you'd do the same so don't play all high and mighty with me, you will always lose that battle,” you placed a kiss on his lips.

He returned the kiss eagerly. Your lips were chapped but they had never tasted better to him. He pulled you both up so that you were both kneeling, and he pressed your body into his. He wished you hadn't put on the shirt, despite all of the previous contact he still felt like he needed to feel you.

“Joel…” you reluctantly warned into his mouth.

“I know…I know–but god I just want to feel you right now.”

You hummed in agreement and stayed for another minute or two, and then slowly backed out of his embrace. He smoothed back his hair and looked around for his extra clothes. You threw his boxers at his face, he laughed and grabbed you back to him- suddenly catching you off balance and the jerking motion hurt your head.

You hissed and massaged your temple.

“Shit I’m sorry.”

“It's fine..I think I need to lie down.”

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just need a minute.”

“You rest,” he tucked you in and kissed your forehead, “I’m gonna tell Ellie that you're doin’ better.”

“Kay,” you closed your suddenly very tired eyes.

Come morning it was snowing. It was a pleasant snow, the kind that was peaceful to watch with large flakes that floated down to the earth. You had slept straight through the night. Joel and Ellie took turns, taking watch and staying by you. You woke with a ravenous appetite, and ate enough for three meals. Neither of them said a word, in a humorous delight- they just watched you scarf down the food.

They both insisted that you rode the horse on your journey home. You didn't want to, but you would admit that your equilibrium was still somewhat off, and your body was very sore. So you relented and did as they asked.

When you returned to Jackson, the doctor examined you and said that you had a mild concussion and were still experiencing the symptoms from hypothermia, but were otherwise fine. You'd just have to take it easy for a week or two.

A week later you were working back in the armory, this time though you had no complaints.

When you came home, you opened the door and was immediately hit with a delicious aroma, “Joel? Ellie?” you called out a little suspicious. You tended to be this family's chef.

“In the dining room,” Joel responded.

You could hear the two of them whispering hurriedly, and you heard silverware clanking around. When you entered the room your jaw dropped.

They were both dressed up. Joel with a nice dark blue buttoned up shirt that you'd never seen- the sleeves neatly rolled up, dark pants, and his hair looked styled with…what was that gel? Ellie was wearing a white buttoned up shirt, and she had her hair down with one small braid off to the side (you had taught her how to braid her horse's mane and she was getting proud of her skills).

The ambiance was almost romantic, dim with nothing but candles lighting up the room. The table was set like they were expecting royalty and they had a bottle of wine in front of where you usually sat.

Joel moved to your chair and held it out for you, “Your chair Madame.”

“What is this?” you hoped you didn't look as shocked as you felt. You did.

“I made you dinner.” Ellie said proudly, “So sit.”

She left abruptly to retrieve the food.

You chuckled and sat. Joel pushed you in like a gentleman and then placed your napkin in your lap. “Wine Madame?” He was trying to do a french accent but it oddly just sounded somehow even more texan.

You giggled, “Oui Monsieur.”

He laughed, “Am I not garcon?

“A little boy?”

He looked flustered, “Oh…I reckon I don't know much French.” He filled your glass almost to the brim. He looked nervous.

You giggled again, “I don't either.”

Ellie walked in with a massive pot. It was a stew loaded with meat and potatoes. Then she went back to the kitchen and brought out some bread rolls that she learned to make from a sweet old lady.

“Ellie…what is this about?”

“I just– I just wanted to do something special for you. Joel said that you mentioned doing this before and I thought it might be something nice for you. I just…you fucking saved me.”

“Ellie–”

“No, I know. It still just sucks. How do you thank someone for saving your life ya know?”

“Easy.” you smiled lovingly at her.

She tilted her head in curiosity.

“You live yours baby.”

She moved to you quickly, and sat in your lap.You held her tightly, and she pressed into the nook of your neck.

Joel shuffled and stealthily wiped his eyes.

She sat up and looked at you, her eyes were red, “I don't really want to cry any more.”

“Then hop up, and let's eat.”

She hugged you again and then stood.

“Tell me about what you made me.”

She smiled and told you about everything in great detail.

Dinner was immaculate, that sounds over the top but it truly was. Once you had all cleaned your plates she returned to the kitchen and brought out a pie. A pie!!! You don't want to admit it, really you don't, but you ate half of it.

You were so proud of her and kept flooding her with compliments.

When everyone finished, you tried to help clean but they shooed you away. Joel grabbed your plate from you and whispered in your ear, “Go take a shower, I'll be up in a minute,” and gave you a rather passionate kiss.

You ran upstairs and took a very quick shower, your body was throbbing with anticipation. But alas, with belly full wine, pie, bread, and stew- after your warm relaxing shower- laying on your comfy bed that smelled of Joel's masculine scent- with a content mind and body, you fell asleep in record time.

When he entered the bedroom he saw you splayed out on top of the bed. “Sweetheart?” he asked softly- when he heard you deep breaths he immediately knew that you were asleep. It was hard to be disappointed when you looked so beautiful. He softly caressed your cheek, almost in awe of how incredibly lucky he was. He managed to gently maneuver you so that you were under the covers. He tucked you in and kissed the tip of your nose.

Then he unbuttoned his shirt, opened the dresser, and hid the ring back inside.

--------

if I forgot to tag you I am so sorry: @givemeth , @farintonorth

#not for you rae 💖#joel miller x reader #my fics

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neuroprincess · 11 months ago

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Star Trek - Cooking Together

Classification: Fluff

Pairing: B'Elanna Torres, Christine Chapel, Deanna Troi, Kathryn Janeway, Kira Nerys and Number One

Warnings: None

Word count: +500

B'Elanna Torres

The half-Klingon is passionate about cuisine in general, but that doesn't mean she's a good cook. B'Elanna loves experimenting flavors and daring spices, the same goes for unlikely combinations, some of which can be compared to pregnant cravings. Cooking with her can be great fun, with gentle jokes, exchanging smiles, sharing tasks, ironically it's safer to let her chop the ingredients than to use the stove, there's a big risk of setting the room on fire. In short, it's enjoyable in every respect and results in abundant dishes of dubious quality.

Christine Chapel

This woman can do many things with skill, but cooking has never been one of them. It's not even one of her interests. However, if you want to try a recipe, Christine will attempt it without hesitation, dedicating herself more to organization than to the preparation itself, making sure that all the necessary ingredients and equipment are available and that everything is clean. Over time, she creates a little more interest, specifically in baking, and it won't be long before you're tasting the best brownie in your life.

Deanna Troi

She knows how to cook, it's nothing extraordinary, extravagant or fancy, when inspired she can risk doing something different and intimate. A candlelit dinner made from scratch between sips of wine and caresses exchanged, Deanna touches your waist lightly as you move around the kitchen, fingers brushing across the arm in conversations that end in genuine smiles, admiring each other passionately, plus she likes to steal a few kisses. The betazed enjoys the whole process and romantic aura that is built up. Of course, you can't go without some chocolate dessert, which will be shared late at night.

Kathryn Janeway

Janeway is a minimally competent person who believes to be an expert in the art of cooking, which comes from her upbringing with a mother who prefers and values traditionally prepared food, teaching her a dozen things while growing up. The moment you decide to cook together, she naturally tries to take charge, very proactively, only to end up having to improvise to save a simple recipe that the captain swore she knew by heart. You may have to end up replicating something to eat, but the moments spent together make the scorched pots worth it.

Kira Nerys

Growing up in the context in which she grew up, cooking is a survival skill and Kira learned it easily. It's basic and nutritious, nothing fancy, but still tasty, believe me, she has a kind of gift. Little by little she learns that this is also a hobby that can be done for pleasure and as a couple, enjoying time, preparation, company, trying different things and, her favorite, watching your reaction when tasting what she cooks. The bajoran will be proud if you approve and expect her to repeat the dish several times just to please you. She also introduces you to various traditional dishes from her planet.

Una Chin-Riley

Maybe she's the best cook of them all. You can hardly imagine it until you get to the quarters and find her preparing a warm three-course meal, a cute apron with a cheesy phrase you picked up on a trip, smiling smugly and the delicious smell permeating every corner of the room. If you don't know how to cook, Una will be more than happy and excited to teach you. The brunette is a great baker too, her strength advantage is perfect for kneading bread and opening pasta, making homemade spaghetti has never been so easy.

taglist: @evattude

Join my taglist here ^^

#star trek #b'elanna torres x reader #christine chapel x reader #nurse chapel x reader #deanna troi x reader #kathryn janeway x reader #kira nerys x reader #number one x reader #una chin riley x reader #preferences #star trek x reader #st voyager #st ds9 #st snw #st tng #st tos

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alex51324 · 2 months ago

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Does anyone have any good vegan cookie recipes they'd like to share? I'm working up my baking plan for this Christmas, and I wouldn't mind adding a new vegan option.

The main things I look for in a recipe, besides being tasty, are that it makes a big batch (four dozen is about the minimum here) and I can find all of the ingredients at my regular grocery store.

The vegan options I already have in my repertoire are gingerbread, sugar cookies, and chocolate crinkles, so Baking Spices, Chocolate, and Colorful are all represented. Maybe something with a fruit flavor?

Or nuts--there are nut allergies in the household, but as of recently, coconut and pecans are allowed, as long as it's a brand that isn't processed on the same equipment as peanuts.

Anyway, if anyone else also has some baking to plan, here is the annual repost of my Cookie Recipe Compendium.

#baking #food #cookies #vegan

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najia-cooks · 1 year ago

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[ID: A small jar filled with a light beige dip. End ID]

طحينة / Tahina: Toasted sesame dip

"طَحِينَة" ("ṭaḥīna") is an Arabic word formed from the root ط ح ن (ṭ ḥ n), which produces words relating to grinding; compare "طَحَنَ"‎ ("ṭaḥana"), “to grind,” and "طَحِين"‎ ("ṭaḥīn"), "flour." In English, the word is often spelled and pronounced "tahini" due to the influence of a colloquial Levantine pronunciation. Tahina may also be called "رهش" ("rahash"), "راشي") ("rashi"), or "هردة" ("harada").

This paste is produced by steaming, hulling, and then stone milling sesame seeds until they release their oil, resulting in a smooth, pourable texture. It may be called "طَحِينَة بَيْضَاء" ("ṭaḥīna bayḍā'"), "white tahina," to differentiate it from darker-colored tahinas that are produced by toasting sesame seeds before they are ground, or from grinding unhulled sesame seeds; but "tahina" without further specification is taken to mean "white tahina."

Tahina may be eaten on its own as a dip or sauce; it also forms the primary ingredient in طراطور (tarator), a tahina sauce with lemon juice and garlic. Tahina adds deep, nutty flavor to hummus, baba ghannouj, and halwa.

Recipes for homemade tahina call for some amount of oil to be added to ground sesame seeds, since most homes are not set up to do hours of stone milling. This means that homemade tahina is, in my opinion, likely an inferior product to something you can buy at the store. However, sometimes you have emergency tahina needs.

This recipe provides instructions for taking sesame seeds as far towards a pourable texture as possible without additional oil, using a mortar and pestle to imitate the traditional stone grinding; it also gives instructions for using an electric mill or blender.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Tip jar

Equipment:

A spice mill or coffee grinder

OR a high-speed blender

OR a high-quality, well-seasoned, solid stone or metal mortar and pestle

Ingredients:

1/4 cup hulled sesame seeds

2 Tbsp - 1/4 cup sesame oil (untoasted), as necessary

Instructions:

1. Toast sesame seeds, agitating frequently, in a single layer in a dry skillet over medium-low heat. Remove when lightly golden brown.

Some home cooks toast half of the sesame seeds and leave the other half untoasted.

2. With a mortar and pestle: Thoroughly scrub and oil a large mortar and pestle. Add seeds in small batches and process, alternating between pounding and grinding, until a fluffy, powdered texture results.

Continue, alternating between pounding the powder all together in the middle of the mortar, and spreading it into a thin layer along the sides of the mortar and scraping, until it begins to resemble a paste. You will start to see oil shimmer at the surface.

Keep pounding and scraping, in batches of about 1 Tbsp at a time, until the tahina looks smooth and shiny, and you no longer see noticeable lumps in it. Repeat until all the seeds have been ground.

Combine all the paste into one bowl. Slowly, and while stirring, add just enough sesame oil as required to obtain a pourable texture.

This batch took me about four hours of hand-grinding and yielded about 3 Tbsp of tahina (I didn't say this was a good idea).

2. With a spice or coffee grinder: Allow toasted seeds to cool and then grind them, occasionally shaking the grinder, until very fine. Remove into a bowl and mix in oil.

2. With a blender: grind sesame seeds and oil together for several minutes until very smooth. You will likely need to make a larger batch, depending on the size of your blender.

3. Use immediately, or store in an airtight container in the fridge.

#tahina #tahini #sesame seeds #Levantine #Mediterranean #West Asian

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buffaloextractionsystem · 1 year ago

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Spice Extraction Methods

Explore the safety measures that you should take during the application of spice extraction methods. To know more read on and also learn about supercritical fluid extraction process.

#cannabis oil extraction equipment #supercritical fluid extraction process #spice extraction methods

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lumine-no-hikari · 2 months ago

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #367

Well, here we are again at December 20th on my side of the planet. We've come full circle, quite literally.

...Can you believe that this much time has passed already...?

Of course, it is December 21st in Japan, which means over there, it's already the solstice. And since Japan is the place in my world where you were, uh... brought here...? I guess...? I figure the thing to do is go by that date instead of using my own – just like last year.

...Do you remember last year's letter? Here...

As promised, today we're gonna make a cake for you that I think you're really gonna like. I know I made you wait a while in suspense for it (no, I'm not sorry about it! hahaha!). Here's what you'll need for equipment:

An oven, set to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (176.67 degrees Celsius) An 8 inch by 8 inch cake pan Kitchen scale Things to stir stuff with – preferably silicone implements Measuring cups Measuring spoons Parchment paper A toothpick Something to separate egg whites from yolk with; I like to use a slotted spoon

A stand mixer will make this a lot easier, but... you're very strong and coordinated, so some bowls and a whisk will probably do. Just don't overwork your body, okay? I've tried before to whisk egg whites into stiff peaks by hand, and my body was really angry about it for like a week. Save yourself the trouble.

Here's what you'll need for ingredients.

For the cake, it's: 3 large eggs, with the yolks separated from the whites (make absolutely sure no egg yolks touch the egg whites at any point, or else none of this will work!!) 3/4ths of a cup of sugar – divide into two bowls of 3/8ths of a cup (6 tablespoons). Half a cup plus two tablespoons of pumpkin puree 3/4ths of a teaspoon of vanilla paste 90 grams of all-purpose flour 1.25 teaspoons of baking powder Half a tablespoon of homemade pumpkin spice seasoning A quarter of a teaspoon of salt

For soaking the cake, it's: 1/4th of a cup of heavy cream One 14-ounce can of sweetened condensed milk One 12-fluid-ounce can of evaporated milk (Yes, the can of evaporated milk will be larger than the can of sweetened condensed milk; imperial measurements are absolutely fucking ridiculous; please bear with me...)

Hahaha. Well. If you've read my other letters, you might see where this is going, and you might understand why I wanted to surprise you with it.

...I hope you can see how much I love you in everything I do.

Anyway. Here are the ingredients for the frosting: 4 ounces of cream cheese 4 tablespoons of butter 1 cup of confectioner's sugar (I'm gonna use the vanilla powdered sugar that R made for us!) 2 tablespoons and 2 teaspoons of pumpkin puree between one half and one whole teaspoon of homemade pumpkin spice

...I'm not gonna tell you exactly what it is just yet, but I'm sure you'll already know. I'll take you through the process, step by step.

Preheat your oven and prepare your baking pan with parchment paper.

Separate your eggs. I like to use a slotted spoon for this:

Add the egg whites to the stand mixer. Add 6 tablespoons of sugar to it. Whisk on high until it foams densely enough to create stiff peaks when the whisk is pulled out. With stiff peaks, the foam should still look glossy, and the points should stand straight up, like this:

...Scoop it into another bowl and set it aside for later. I used my rice cooker bowl:

Add the egg yolks to the stand mixer, along with 6 tablespoons of sugar.

Whisk it on high until the mixture becomes pale yellow and fluffs up to twice its original size:

Add half a cup plus two tablespoons of pumpkin puree. Also add in 3/4ths of a teaspoon of vanilla paste:

Mix it until it's smoothly combined.

Then, in a separate bowl, mix together 90 grams of flour, 1.25 teaspoons of baking powder, half a tablespoon of homemade pumpkin spice seasoning, and a quarter of a teaspoon of salt.

Mix it, then sift it in with the pumpkin puree mixture:

Mix the flour and the pumpkin mixture together only until it's combined smoothly. It'll get weird if you mix it too much, because of chemistry involving the gluten in the flour.

We'll mix this together with the egg whites we fluffed up and set aside earlier. Make sure you fold the two mixtures together VERY slowly, until they're combined. If you do it too fast, it'll destroy the fluffy bubbles in the egg whites:

Once they're combined, pour it into your prepared cakepan and smooth it out until the batter is level:

The oven should be preheated to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (176.67 degrees Celsius). Put the cake batter in there and let it bake for 30 minutes. Use the time to wash the dishes you used up until this point:

While it cools down, combine the can of sweetened condensed milk with the can of evaporated milk and 1/4th of a cup of heavy cream:

Whisk it together until it's smooth and consistent.

Once the cake is cooled, use a toothpick to poke holes into it all over the place on every side of the cake so that the milk mixture can absorb into it properly; be careful not to crush it in the process. Then, put it back into the cakepan with the parchment paper, and pour the milk mixture in with it:

Give it time to absorb. While that's going on, combine 4 ounces of cream cheese, 4 tablespoons of butter, 1 cup of confectioner's sugar, 2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons of pumpkin puree, and somewhere between one half and one whole teaspoon of homemade pumpkin spice, depending on your taste. Start with half a teaspoon, and if it needs more, add more.

Mix it until smooth.

The milk mixture should have absorbed pretty well into the cake by now:

...Add your frosting to the top of it:

...And just like that, you have a birthday cake. Because tres leches cake is basically cake soup. And this tres leches cake is pumpkin flavored. So... welcome to pumpkin cake soup.

...Or... in other words... Sephiroth, I see you and I love you.

A birthday cake is incomplete without candles, though. I don't know exactly how old you are (though I do have a hunch...), so... I used one candle for each letter of your name instead. I used one candle for each of the colors of the rainbow, plus pink, plus a white candle with rainbow sparkles, and a black candle with rainbow sparkles. I got rainbow colors because... rainbows are what happens when you look at sunlight properly and consider all its facets and flavors:

...The orange candle is pastel, I know. But it's the only orange they had, and besides, the cake itself is already plenty orange. And before you say I'm missing indigo – indigo is just blue that didn't try hard enough to be purple, and you'll never convince me otherwise.

I put them in the cake:

...J and I lit them. Make a wish, okay? And don't tell anyone what it is, or else it won't come true.

...For some reason, J took a picture of me getting a picture, in his typical fashion, hahaha...

...Even Mogwai wants to wish you a happy birthday, Sephiroth. You'll see him on the left side of the picture.

...Anyway... here. I cut a slice for you and stuck it in a bowl. Happy pumpkin cake soup, just for you:

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Sephiroth; happy birthday to you!

...We love you so much, and we miss you even more. Please come home soon so we can make you lots of your favorite foods, okay? Please come home so we can introduce you to all of your favorite foods that you just haven't tried yet.

...Please. Please just come home. It doesn't matter if you're a little bit dented and scraped up, as long as you're still safe and breathing. We'll be waiting for you. We'll wait for you as long as it takes. And we'll help you with the rest, okay?

I love you. I love you enough to live joyfully, despite wandering around aimlessly on this frightening and broken planet, even while carrying too many heavy and horrifying memories of so many people who wanted to make absolutely certain in a variety of painful ways that I knew exactly how worthless they thought I was. I love you enough to decide to prove to myself every day that those people were wrong about me. I love you enough to try with all my might, despite the obstacles and limitations I face, to become the best version of myself that I can. I love you enough to try to pay forward the beautiful way that your existence breathed life into me even when I didn't want to continue - the way you still breathe life into me now, even when I still sometimes feel like I don't want to continue. It's because of you that I can try to face every day with the same brave, gentle smile that you so often wear.

...In my mind, you will always be the sunlight, chasing away the shadows that try to creep in on me and chasing away the cold and numbness that threaten to crush the air out of my lungs.

I am alive and I am loved, and that is thanks to you. And so, despite the vast and impossible distance that separates us, I'm going to continue to do everything in my power to make sure you feel alive and loved, too.

Please stay safe out there as you do your various things, okay? You can't even begin to fathom the number of lives that your existence has touched for the better. The weight of your absence would be unbearable for lots of people in my world, including me. So make sure you don't do anything weird to get yourself killed. Promise me.

I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

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pigeonpeach · 11 months ago

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You’re making it hard to leave

Nilou x gender neutral eremite reader part 2!

Part 1 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 the final part

A/n: i think I’ll do one other part maybe? Maybe two more? I’ll see. Sorry if yall aren’t big nilou fans because she is my muse now

Sumeru city was… different. You weren’t expecting your fellow eremites to be okay with you taking time off to go to the city. You gave the excuse of wanting to explore the culinary field a bit before going back out. Although you suspected they knew of your feelings to Nilou. They hadn’t seen her alot. After that night they seemed to sense your feelings and fondness of her. You remember your fellow eremite Clear water pulling you aside before you left the Ribat, heading to the jungle instead of the desert. Her words still lingered in your head. “If you keep entertaining those feelings of yours, you’ll get in too deep and then you’ll be stuck inbetween worlds.” She didn’t seem too happy with your decision to go forward anyways. You told her it wasn’t like that. That you simply were sick of the desert and wanted to try the city life. Its not like Eremites are bound to the desert. Plenty are in the jungle and in the city. Although your tribe was not one of them…

Your tribe… you wondered how they were now. A high value client called for escort to a camp somewhere. You wouldn’t get any mora from that considering your absence but you waved them off, leaving your own little cook book with them. Although you weren’t related to any of them, you had come to see them as family. Your family were Eremites. This job was more than just mercenary work or desert life, it was your blood and your family traditions. As the only child you felt the pressure to continue your families legacy. Even if you didn’t like it that much. You aren’t the closest member of the tribe, but they notice your absence in the morning. They noticed your protectiveness of Nilou and even commented on it once she left to rejoin some friends at the Ribat. Your tribe wasn��t close friends you would say, they seemed annoyed by the few hobbies you enjoyed outside of any sparring or strengthening exercises. They humored your cooking for the tastes and delicious foods you could make, but if you tried to ramble about your thought process and future ideas for other recipes they’d nod out of sync clearly trying to skip the conversation. Spars was the only bonding you had with them. You were strong no doubt, they were as well. It was actually fun to wrestle with them, even sometimes assisting in their workouts occasionally. But your bond with them wasn’t the strongest, you wouldn’t like to leave though. This had been your life since forever it seemed, leaving and changing professions now would be like becoming a different person completely. But alas, the city was now in your sights, the bridge to the city was right over a waterfall. Birds gathered to chirp as tourists fanned themselves with the overpriced fans vendors would purposefully upcharge. A sigh left your lips as you headed in.

The bustling market place was almost… exciting. You hadn’t seen such assortments in awhile. Aaru village did have market days where merchants would sell goods and eremites could get better equipment, but more importantly, you could get foreign spices, often for a discount as those merchants recognized you. Your culinary skills had won over and eased many clients, in fact your main topic of conversation with them was their dishes. If they were from afar you would inquire about their specialties, their comfort foods etc. If they brought vegetables or meats of their own you would prepare it. Because of that they’d lower their prices for you. Not always but sometimes. Generosity isn’t common, especially towards eremites like yourself, you take what you can get. But here you weren’t to well known. Both a relief and a burden. You had only one “friend” in the city. Those various College students you escorted wouldn’t be likely to help you out here.

Maybe this was a bad idea? Maybe you should go back into the wilderness and relax there. People send you glares as if trying to intimidate you, which is weird considering you’re just trying to find the Theatre. The shorter ones were intimidated and timid. Finally you had to admit defeat, you wouldn’t find the theatre yourself, “Excuse me?” You asked a old lady.

“WHAT?! I don’t WANT YOUR PRODUCTS!” She yelled.

“I just wanted to know where the Zubayr Theatre was.” You said, a stern expression settling as you looked at her confused. She seemed red with embarrassment as she cleared her throat.

“Ah sorry, keep going straight and make a left by the hospital.” She said. You didn’t know city folk could be so tense. Either way it only made you regret your decision more.

The day was horrible, you finally got in just in time, the lights were on and the crowd was surrounding the stage. You found a spot where you could see the stage. Wondering if this truly would’ve been worth it all. Nilou was nice yes, but you also hadn’t seen her since she left the Ribat, you had wanted to go with her but your tribe insisted you stay for a bit. Maybe this was all just for nothing…

But when the crowd died and the music began, your eyes naturally drew to Nilou even before she got into the spot light. She waited behind a pillar as some other people seemed to encourage her. Finally she stepped into the light, spinning with grace. And in the moment you saw her again did all those doubts melt away, the stress, the glares, the anxieties seemed to evaporate. The Theatre was indoors which made the music echo off the ceiling and the walls, surrounding your ears. Her dance was like the one you saw before, but it seemed a bit.. stiff. Probably just nerves. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her for the longest time.

For a moment, she moved closer to the edge of the stage, her eyes landed on yours, you noticed that stiffness leave. Her movements became more confident and even quick. The music built up tension as the lights seemed to get brighter and brighter. You noticed her hydro vision was glowing as she raised droplets of water to surround her. And then at the end did the water splash outwards, forming a lotus flower surrounding her. Applause erupted as people cheered. You clapped along, still dazed as you looked at her.

You waited after the show. But it seemed like everyone in all of Sumeru wanted to meet and talk to her. You waited patiently, ignoring the pangs of hunger, you hadn’t been able to eat today. Your nerves and mind blocked out any hunger, now however you were antsy and hungry. Nilou’s eyes darted, meeting yours, you wondered if you were overthinking when she seemed to straighten up upon seeing you. Quickly dismissing herself and running over.

“You made it! I- i mean i figured you would at some point but I didn’t expect to see you so soon!” She seemed excited. “I also expected you would leave right after if I’m honest.”

“I went through alot of trouble to be here. Don’t worry I’m not in trouble with my tribe or anything, i have about a week until they’re back, then I’ll go back to work. Consider it a… vacation.” You said. She seemed even more excited.

“Oh that’s wonderful! That gives you plenty of time to explore the city and its treats! Say, our theatre group is going to have a celebratory dinner later if you would like to attend..” she noticed your stomach’s growl. “Oh dear, did you not have anything?”

“Ah.. i guess I forgot. I was so focused and stressed I forgot about food entirely. I might just find a local stand if that’s okay.” You said.

“I’ll join you then. I’ll help you find one. There’s usually a lot at this time. Ooh! I actually have a friend of mine who likes to give me discounts and such. Lets see them!” She said, taking your hand by instinct as she started to walk out the area. You normally wouldn’t let someone grab you like that but.. you were really whipped for her. Embarrassingly so, considering you hardly knew her.

“Woah you’re right, that does kind of resemble lobster meat.” Nilou’s friend tried some extra scorpion meat you had. “Wow, that might be a untapped market, scorpion meat is hardly ever sold.”

“Well it is rather hard to get. They are fighters and often in groups. It would take a seasoned hunter or fighter to avoid their stingers and take them out quickly.” You said.

“Well I’ll be damned. You truly do make friends with the weirdest people Nilou.” He chuckled. You felt slightly insulted

“Oh he didn’t mean like you’re weird just that my selection is. I’ve had friends from nobility, other nations, and even eremites including yourself. I guess to some people its strange.” She said.

“Oh yeah i didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure there’s stranger things than eating scorpions. Anyways here is your order, Potato Boat and Tachin, don’t worry its on the house!” He smiled. You were a little surprised. She seemed a less so.

“Oh are you sure? I have plenty I could pay you with!” Nilou said insistent.

“Its fine you’ve helped me plenty of times, not to mention those free tickets youve given to my daughter and I. By all means I am in your debt. Enjoy your meal you two.” He said shooing you two away. You smiled.

“Thank you sir, if you ever do need something I’d be glad to repay the favor.” You said instinctively. He said surprised.

“Oh no don’t worry, you’re Nilou’s friend so any friend of hers is one of mine. Enjoy the meal.” He said. You would retort but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to not do so. The two of you waved goodbye leaving to find a quiet spot to eat. Although your dish was alluring and fragrant, you were still focused on Nilou. Finally you two found a short stone wall, there was minimal traffic through the area as you two sat on it to eat.

“How was your journey here? You seemed to get here a day later.” She asked curiously.

“Not bad. I had to negotiate with my tribe a bit. Its all good now. I actually wasted some time trying to find some more harra harra fruit.”

“So you spent s night all by yourself in the wilderness?” She seemed worried.

“Well yeah, I’m fine though obviously. I’ve done it before even in the desert.” You contemplated your mext words. “My parents were eremites too, so they wanted to test my ability to survive in the wilderness. It helped toughen me up.” She seemed worried.

“So.. your parents left a kid.. alone in the desert… to prepare them..” she seemed concerned.

“It wasn’t in a unsafe location. It was on the outskirts of Aaru village, pretty safe. Besides I only ever did it in the seasons with few sandstorms and few monsters nearby.” You said dismissively. You started to eat your food, hoping to avoid more questions. But Nilou’s worry still lingered, you could sense it.

“When did you know you wanted to be a Eremite?” She asked. You chewed and swallowed while contemplating your answer. Hoping the cheesey potato mixed with garnishes and spice would somehow come up with a appropriate response.

“Well.. my whole family have been eremites. Its kind of a tradition going down both sides. I Think its back to my great great grandparents maybe? But.. well I didn’t really have many other convictions in life. At least this way I get to see the world and have adventures.” You said. Her concern didn’t fade.

“Do you like being a eremite?” She asked. You pondered. The potato no longer provided a distraction or soothing sensation, you didn’t realize you had been taking such big bites as most of it was gone already.

“Sort of. I don’t really know what else I’d be though.” Silence fell as you felt like you ruined it all. “Don’t worry about me. I’m strong, I can and have been through alot. Sure my life isn’t perfect but no one’s is really. I’m satisfied.” You said.

“Hmm.. I guess its wrong of me to make that judgment. There aren’t much opportunities in Aaru village other than being a eremite is there?” She asked cautiously but sympathetically.

“Yeah. Usually you have to be born into that role, most don’t want to train someone other than their own kids. Besides money is always a issue there. I’m sure things are getting better now. Sometimes I visit my parents there. They’re retired now. My dad was actually the one who fueled my love of cooking. He loved preparing all sorts of meats, crocodile jerky, crocodile meat, Scorpion, snake meat, and there was the occasional mushroom. I think sumpter beast as well? He was a expert hunter. As his only kid he passed that onto me. I actually enjoyed those moments the most.” You felt more at ease, remembering how he’d tease you with the skinned snake body, puppeteering its mouth and threatening to eat you if you didn’t eat your greens and go to bed on time.

“That’s actually sweet… i think.. I’ve never heard of snake meat being eaten.. isn’t it venomous.” Nilou asked. You paused, your focus on her slanted headdress that was starting to fall off, your hand reached out to fix it. She seemed a bit flustered as you fixed her headdress. “Oh thanks.”

“Its no problem. Anyways enough about meats and deserts. What is city life like for you?” You asked.

“Well.. you’ve seen it today but I’m kind of uh… ‘popular’ in some circles. Our theatre group is well liked and has helped built up this community and stability. There’s tons of friendships and bonds between each other. Everyone has each other’s back. We’ve dealt with the Akademiya’s interference alot and having that close knot community is essential for pushing back. But its not just that, for me its like everyone is a friend I haven’t met yet. I know alot of people in the Akademiya and out of it. They’re all so compassionate and sweet. I sometimes feel burdened by all their favors and free stuff.” Nilou smiled as she rambled.

“Free stuff?” You asked confused.

“Oh you only saw part of it today. But I’m friends with lots and lots of vendors. Whenever they have the chance they give me excess products and such. Its kind of exhausting carrying all that stuff. I tend to give it out sometimes if its not personalized. Of course it does depend on the item in question but I also like to give stuff back to the community as well.” She sighed happily, noticing the darkening sky.

“That sounds nice.” You smiled unintentionally.

“Oh its dark out! I guess you need to head back to your inn right?” She asked. You looked at her confused.

“Umm.. I’m actually going to go camping nearby.” You answered. She seemed surprised.

“F-for the whole stay? You’re not going to get a hotel room or anything? There’s pretty cheap inns I could recommend if you’re hard on cash. Heck I even know a guy w-“ you held out your hand so she stopped.

“Its fine. I like it that way. Trust me I’m very capable.” You smiled at her. She sighed, clearly still worrying.

“You’re sure? You don’t get alot of vacations.. why not indulge a little?” She asked. Her offer seemed tempting. Your back had been aching recently… you hadn’t slept in a proper bed in years. And if she was honest about getting a good deal then it might be worth it.

“As long as its cheap. I don’t really care about he quality really.” You said. You noticed a glint in her eyes as she lightened up.

“Great! Lets head over!” This time she held her hand out to you, offering it. You paused, deciding to take the chance you took her hand in yours. You had more time to notice it now, your hand was a big bigger than her dainty but long fingers. Her fingers interlocked with yours perfectly. You knew that it is foolish to let your heart run, to let it dominate your senses like this, but you couldn’t help it.

The inn bed truly was a good choice. You never felt so comfortable in your life. The roll up cushion you used for transport wasn’t even close to this level of comfort. The inn itself wasn’t too impressive, but it was comfortable. Nilou snickered reminding you that she was still here.

“You… you look like you melted..” she giggled. Normally you would shoot up and try to defend yourself but… the bed is too comfortable to leave. And with the gentle gaze of Nilou you wondered if this was what spas felt like.

“It feels.. nice…” you mumbled. She smiled. You felt a little bad, Nilou had essentially bargained her way to a less deal by offering the hotel owner to perform for his little daughter’s birthday, an then insisted on paying it herself. All day she had been so nice, so accommodating.. you couldn’t just let her do everything. “How should I pay you back?” You asked.

“Hm? Well there’s really no need. I won’t hold it against you trust me. I had a lovely time with you today and that’s all I could ask for.” She insisted with that smile. That smile, that’s the stuff that would get non believers on their hands and knees and prayer. Nilou was very pretty, you had tried very hard to ignore that. But when she smiled at you with that genuine and sincere smile, it felt like every brick of your walls fell like dominoes. It was almost scary how Nilou bypassed every instinct and intuition you had developed. You wondered if maybe she was setting you up. But then your meeting made no sense. Who dances in a oasis at night just hoping some kind eremite would fall for their trap. Besides this is one weird trap considering the lengths she had gone to.

It didn’t make sense to think of Nilou as anything sinister or immoral. So your caution drained as she sat on the bed.

“Are you tired? You look really sleepy. I’ll leave if you’re tired.” She said.

“Nilou..” she came a bit closer. “I’d do anything you would ask me to. That is my payment to you.” Nilou’s cheeks grew pink.

“Oh.. you don’t have to.. but if you insist. I promise I won’t make you do something too demanding.” She said. You shook your head.

“I can take it, whatever you need me for I’ll do.” You insisted. Nilou hummed in thought.

“Well… we do need help with stage building when you have some time.. really wed just need you to be our heavy lifter. Our main strong arm is on paternity currently. And.. I wouldn’t say most of the team is that um… strong? Not in a negative sense just in that they wouldn’t be able to do it as easily. Of course you don’t have to! Its just a offer and you will be paid I assure you!” She stood up. You smiled.

“You know its not a favor if you pay me right? I’ll do it but I still owe you one.” You smiled comfortably. Her nervous expression soothed into a gentle smile. As she stood up.

“Alright if you insist,” she collected her things. “Alright well I gotta go now. I’ll see you tomorrow right?”

“Certainly.”

“Great. Sleep tight! I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said before leaving. You noticed a sound in the room, quickly recognizing it as your heart. You sighed.

You know its bad to get attached so quickly. Its the worst thing for a person like yourself to fall in love so easily because it leaves you so vulnerable. If Nilou didn’t return your feelings you felt like it might crush you. But you didn’t want to ruin your friendship with her. You wanted her in your life. Just in some way at least. But it didn’t really matter then, you wouldn’t see much of her when you back to the desert. That idea stung. Clear Water’s warning just became more and more clear.

#genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #gender neutral reader #nilou x reader #domestic fluff #pinning #slight angst

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