#Swan Lake Flats | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

florencemtrash · 8 days

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical graphic depictions

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

You were running on coffee and willpower, and both were in short supply. You cradled what you promised would be your last cup in your hands, feeling your fried nerves inch closer to bursting into flames with every bitter sip.

Azriel had one arm looped protectively around your waist, propping you up against his side like an overworked bookend. You both sat huddled over the map you’d spent the last day and night laboring over until you could picture every stark line pressed behind shuttered eyelids like an afterimage. Until your cramped hands shook while clutching the mug like a vice.

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Nesta, Lucien, and Cassian similarly hovered over the innocuous sheet of paper. Pale parchment glow flickering over expressions of intense thought.

You traced the outline of the lake, its form vaguely star shaped and pointing abstractly towards the north, south, east, and west.

“Here.” You tapped the northeast edge where a greyed out huddle of shapes formed the forest and a collection of scribbles marked the Death god’s home close to the waters. The lines swirled in your mind like a thousand snakes locked in battle, swallowing each other whole and getting eaten alive in an endless, vicious cycle.

Koschei’s portion of the continent lay flat and unassuming, seemingly vulnerable with the flatlands peering at his back with limitless entry points for enemies from the Continent. But the seductive ease of access through that region was a guise. Koschei was a death god, and a powerful one at that. Magic grew in and out of the soil there and what walked those woods had a strange habit of toeing the line between life and death.

The western corners swam in seas of grasslands, flat and open and unprotected save for the expanse of water a mile wide.

And the lake. The lake was the most curious thing of all. A black shape on paper, still and foreboding.

You knew from Andrian’s memories that enchanted swans flocked there — women layered with curses that kept them bound to the region in animal form — but nothing else. No creatures floundered in the salty dark. No animals came to drink from it as if they could sense the power that tainted it with decay.

“The boundaries of the Koschei’s power lie somewhere along here.” You pointed to the lazy line sketched down. “But I wouldn’t trust it. When Andrian was first sent off from the lake he crossed the plains towards one of the harbor towns on the coast and he felt that Koschei’s influence scaled with the distance away from the source of his power.”

“Any weak points? Places we could slip in unnoticed?” Feyre’s eyes scanned the page, reimagining your weak swirls of ink into something more layered. Something with more meaning that could only come about from the mind of an artist and a warrior.

You pointed to one of the star points and then to another toward the south. “Here and here. Don’t ask me how and don’t ask me why but these are the only two blind spots. Andrian used to sneak away from Koschei’s house to these two places.”

“To do what?” Cassian asked. He lumbered towards the back of the war room, easily peering over everyone’s shoulders to the flattened parchment and eyeing the wooden pieces strewn across the map, his own piece being tipped with a glistening red stone.

“To plan his escape.”

A hush fell over the room, thick and suffocating.

The boy had never succeeded.

Feyre’s lips flattened to a pale line, the air around her reverberating with heat as the temperature in the room rose — a drop of Autumn’s power magnified. She nodded to the second map, this one gathered from Azriel’s contacts on the Continent. Whereas your map had laid out Koschei’s land in detail, Azriel’s was suspiciously empty where the lake was concerned. The two fit together like puzzle pieces. “What’s the nearest harbor town?”

“Tournnes.” Azriel replied without needing to look down. You’d memorized one map, he’d memorized the other. “It’s a small fishing village located twenty-three miles to the southwest. Most of the inhabitants are men that come and go with the season and travel west from Slairn and Friesieg. It will be empty this time of year.” The fish would have gone south in search of warmer waters. Even here the Sidra had turned frigid, crusts of ice lapping up against grey sand shores.

Cassian shook his head, examining the map with a scowl. “There’s poor coverage getting from Tournnes to Koschei. And an abandoned town’s too obvious a place to hide any soldiers. It’d be better to come in from the east, through the woods.”

“Then we’d need to take the long way around Koschei’s territory.” Lucien argued back, “Our soldiers would need to trek through foreign lands for weeks and we’d lose any advantage Tarquin could give us by staying close to the coast.”

“You can’t trust those woods,” you gasped, your eyes flashing with fear that didn’t wholly belong to you.

Never enter those woods. Henna had once warned her Andrian. Never. Do you understand me?

Azriel tightened his hold on you, pressing his lips into your hair to brush against your ear. “Breathe, my love. Breathe.”

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped.

It was a heavy burden carrying the memories of others. Like a weight tied around your belly that hadn’t been properly woven into flesh. Something both part and apart from you. And you’d been feeling too many of Andrian’s memories in the past week since his death.

Silence flung itself over growing irritation and anxiety as everyone circled back to the same conclusion.

They wouldn’t be able to bring their armies abroad. And with limited numbers, brute strength would only go so far when forced to bring a fight to a foreign land against a foreign god. This would be decided by few. It would be as intimate as lovers. As ruthless as enemies.

“There’s still the other plan.” Nesta reminded them, glancing first at Feyre and you with the faintest of nods.

“I hate that plan, Nes.” Cassian gripped the back of her wing-backed chair and she reached up to take his hand in her own. She looked like a queen in her own right — harsh, pragmatic, unwavering. And he her mirror — a roguish knight, rough and wild and raw.

“I know. Unfortunately for you, it’s the best one we’ve got.”

“It’s the only one we’ve got.” Mor said with a sigh, rubbing her temples to alleviate the ache there. “We’re asking for a blood bath one way or the other.”

“Ione is still with us.” Rhys squeezed his cousin’s knee. “Without her, he can be killed.”

“But for how long, Rhys? How long until he finds someone else? Some other way?”

The question hung in the air like an ax ready to fall. An invisible clock ticking its way towards doom. Koschei had read the book’s contents. He had to know the secret to freeing himself was sheltered in Ione’s veins. So long as she was alive and breathing she was a threat as much as she was a tantalizing prize for him to tear his teeth into.

Feyre’s fingernails clicked on the glossy tabletop, eyes narrowed in on that splash of black on paper. Through the golden string tied to her lower ribs, she felt the tug of her mate’s silent agreement. Her eyes flickered upward for a brief moment, as if she could see through the layers of the House to the skies above. “For as long as we have Ione, we have the upper hand. But we can’t rely on it forever.” She looked at you, “ We go with the first plan. It will have to be enough.”

You shivered.

Four years ago, when the Day Court had first opened its borders to foreigners from other Courts, you’d encountered a male in the market. He’d been young and reckless and glamoured himself to live amongst the humans for six months. In that time, he’d learned their version of magic — the sleight of hand tricks and elaborate games of misdirection humans played on one another. Caped entertainers bedazzling crowds with obvious moves, while the real work happened just out of frame.

You thought of him now. You pictured him in the marketplace as he made a hand-painted playing card disappear from his hand into the fold of his suit jacket, only to reappear under an overturned teacup.

Yes.

It would have to be enough.

The crisp blade flashed in the dull light as you moved your feet back and forth in a practiced dance.

Left, left, right, duck, keep your wrist straight and slice up. Just like Azriel had instructed you. He stood off the narrow mat, hazel eyes tracing every slow movement of yours with a critical gaze.

“Practice makes permanence.” He’d reminded you earlier. “Get it right first, then we’ll worry about speed.”

Magic hovered over the House of Wind’s training gym, warping the air like a soap bubble as it shielded you from the frigid rain. Even so, the scent of petrichor and the cleanliness of frosted wind hung close to warn of the storm churning its way down from the north, carrying with it the promise of rainfall or the first true flakes of snow.

How poetic that winter should come with death chasing its heels while you were learning a dozen ways to kill a man.

“Here.” Azriel took your wrist in a loose grip, arching your arm and sticking the point of the knife into the training dummy’s jugular. Hay crinkled and burst out from the burlap covering instead of blood and you stepped away, locating the points in the liver, the lungs, the heart, the throat, under the arms, and more. Gruesome things made digestible by the motionless, fake body propped up on wooden poles.

You didn’t need to imagine what it would feel like for your blade to meet flesh.

Your arms ached. Hot, unfamiliar stretches of muscle trembling while slick with sweat. You could taste salt on your tongue as Azriel repeated himself.

“Be precise. Be quick if you can. Then run like hell.”

Incapacitation and speed. Those were the only two things you could rely on if things went south on the Continent.

Precise. Quick. Run.

“Emphasis on run,” You muttered beneath your breath. You adjusted your feet to match Azriel’s stance, feeling the strength of his muscles close to your body and imagining some of that power seeping into the ground for you to drink up.

The corner of his mouth twitched, then rose in a smile. “Exactly.” He stepped in, hands twisting your hips to be straight and then drifting up to your wrist. “Too much.” He corrected your bones with a feather-light touch. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

It should have been romantic. Him touching you like this with his front pressed against your back and his breath sliding over your skin as he taught you to wield a knife. Instead his insides churned relentlessly. Visions of you, blood-splattered and motionless on the ground, flashed through his mind. He’d be damned if he let that happen again.

You practiced on him next. Blunt, stone knife gripped in your hands as he moved in slow-motion. Azriel must have had everything custom made for you. The balance felt right in your hands, the movement as fluid as your awkward limbs could manage.

You clasped a hand around the back of his neck, dragging him forward as you swung up.

Where the head goes, the body will follow.

He didn’t so much as grunt as the stone wedged itself into his ribs.

You locked eyes with him and saw his pupils blown wide as a doe’s. “Good.” He murmured. “Again.”

On and on you went for hours, Azriel’s panic fueling the training he put you through, as if he could fit a hundred years of combat into a handful of hours.

You grunted when Azriel easily flipped you over onto your back, a scarred hand catching the nape of your neck so your head wouldn’t slam into the floor. The knife slipped out from your sweaty fingers, skittering away and disappearing beneath one of the weapons racks along the wall. You breathed heavily beneath him, feeling the grit of the ground and the sweat sliding into your hair and the leather brushing your chest with every breath he took.

In a real fight, Azriel would have killed you a thousand times over and he knew it. There was not a single moment where you could have saved yourself.

You saw the tell tale flicker in his eyes, the tensing of his jaw before he gritted his teeth and swore beneath his breath.

You felt shame seep into your stomach again. “Az—”

“I want you to take my memories,” he said. “Everything I’ve learned over 500 years.”

Metal whispered against leather as a tendril of shadow retrieved the knife and slid it into the thigh sheath Azriel had tied around your legs only hours ago. It felt strange to have such an unfamiliar weight against your thighs. To know that only leather kept the wicked blade from slicing you to the bone.

“We’ve been over this before, Azriel. I can take however many memories I want from you until I can picture every way to take down an enemy in my mind’s eye. But that doesn’t mean my body will obey or follow through correctly. Knowing things mentally isn’t the same thing as knowing things physically.”

Azriel huffed in frustration, dropping one hand to your waist like he often did and gripping the flesh there to ground him.

“If we had more time—”

“When this is over we’ll have more time.”

If I make it.

Because if there was anyone who would survive what was to come. It was Azriel. And you could find a great deal of comfort in that.

Azriel must have read your doubt because his eyes hardened and his hands came up to cup your jaw. “We will have more time. We’ll have time for everything, do you understand me?”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want. We’ll travel the Courts. I’ll take you dancing and—”

“You’ll teach me a dozen new ways to kill someone?”

“Exactly.”

“Should I start keeping a tally?”

“If that would help, then yes.” He dipped his head down, kissing you firmly on the lips, the taste salty and warm to the touch. Kissing you came easy now. Touches were a comforting drug he craved daily.

“If things go wrong—” He whispered, flicking a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Promise me you’ll find me.”

You blinked up at him, tracing fragments of gold in his eyes.

“Find you,” you echoed, your voice tinged with sadness. “You’re not going to convince me to run?”

He laughed bitterly. “I know you too well, my love. You wouldn’t listen even if I did. If anything, it would make you want to stay and fight even more, just to prove me wrong.“ “Then is this some reverse psychology? You tell me the opposite of what you want, so I end up doing what you intended all along?”

“You’re thinking too deeply about this.” He slid his arms around the small of your back, dropping his weight until you were flush against him. Until you could feel his heart beating beneath his skin in time to yours. “Find me, so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.”

You caressed his cheek, the coarse bandages he’d wound around your wrists and knuckles scratching the skin of his jaw and the faint stubble that had grown there over sleepless nights. “I promise I’ll find you, Azriel. We’re better together anyways.”

He could never disagree with you. He lifted you back onto your feet, kissing your forehead. “Three more drills, then we’ll be done for the day.”

He made you run five. The bastard.

You’d dreamed of what might come. Nightmares filled with glassy-eyed children and skeletal forests where the dead roamed free. A black lake with stones of bleached bone to fill your lungs and choke the life out of you.

You wanted to make Azriel proud. You wanted to be the kind of warrior who could match him physically, not just mentally. The kind of female he’d never have to worry about protecting in that way. But violence had never been beaten into your bones and you could only hope that the skills you did possess would see you through to the end.

You and Azriel would make it. You’d all make it.

Some way.

Somehow.

Then there would be time for everything you had ever wanted and everything you’d never had the courage to ask for.

You woke up to a world shivering beneath a dusting of snow. Frost creeped up the windowsill, trying to slither inside before the House’s magic burned it away. A grey, ashen sky hung low over the mountains, mist blowing over and gathering in valleys until they were transformed into pools of smoke.

So this is it. You thought wearily, tasting the change in the air. Winter’s finally here to choke the world into submission.

You burrowed further under Azriel’s wings, chasing the heat that rolled off his skin. When you looked up at his eyes they were already trained on the weather, some similar tangle of thoughts running through his mind that had his grip around your waist tightening.

“The other death gods. Have you met any of them, Az?” You whispered your question into the hollow of his neck, feeling the blood rushing beneath your lips until he answered.

“I’ve met a fair few. The Bone Carver, Stryga, and Bryaxis joined our side in the final battle against Hybern and Nesta was equivalent in power when she first emerged from the Cauldron.”

“Nesta?” You asked questionably.

She was a collection of sharp edges wrapped in silk and cunning, but a death god?

Azriel smiled ever so slightly. “You didn’t know her then, but she was a terror to behold. You could feel her presence in a room like a knife in your back or a flame licking at your heels so hold it starts to freeze. Only Cassian was foolish and lovestruck enough to approach her at the time.”

You tried to imagine it — Cassian’s wild, borderline arrogant mannerisms going toe-to-toe against Nesta’s magnified sharp grace. “That sounds about right.”

“Feyre knows the most about the death gods. Has come face to face with the most. Rhys sent her into the Weaver’s cabin to retrieve her engagement ring — don’t give me that look, my love, I don’t understand it either — and she’s the one who convinced The Bone Carver and Bryaxis to fight for us.”

“Feyre has a penchant for endearing herself to monsters.”

Azriel smirked, pearly teeth flashing. “You have no idea.” Then he said something that stuck with you. “The Bone Carver was especially close to her.”

Anytime the Bone Carver — Thanatos — was mentioned, you could only think of Bethsevah. The one person who had ever looked upon his true face and never flinched.

“How so?”

Shadows swarmed around his ears, as much a sign of his thinking as it was a sign that whispers beyond your own understanding were reaching him.

“When Feyre met with the Bone Carver, he made a bargain that he’d only fight for her if she could descend into the Court of Nightmares and bring back an enchanted mirror without going mad. Feyre said she saw her true form when she looked into her reflection, and that it was only by accepting this form that she was able to keep the madness at bay. The Bone Carver was impressed with her and pledged his loyalty to her from then on.” Azriel shook his head, wings flaring out in another sign of his thinking. “It never made sense to me why a being like him would even make that bargain to begin with.”

“Even death gods can be surprised. We should consider ourselves lucky.”

“It wasn’t just that though. I was watching when he died. He… he turned his face up to the field at Feyre and he smiled at her. It felt like a bittersweet ending to a story I didn’t know. Like he was saying goodbye to more than just this world.”

You draped your arm over his chest, tracing the black ink swirling across his chest and over his shoulders like ocean waves. The Bone Carver was more myth than legend to the few fae that had known of his existence and you knew with each passing century his story would be steadily wiped from the earth like wind shaving down stone. His name would become a whisper. His story, and Beth’s, a tragedy for no one but the stars to weep to.

But you were still here, and your time with Bethsevah’s book had left you with no small amount of fondness for him. For now you would still be able to whisper his true name.

“Thanatos.” You said. “He loved this world and the people in it. He sacrificed his life for it. I think he had many things he wanted to say goodbye to.”

“To Thanatos then.” Azriel raised an invisible cup towards the ceiling of his bedroom, silk sheets sliding down his arms.

“To Thanatos,” you echoed.

You eventually went through the morning motions together —Azriel helped lace up the back of your dress, and you buttoned up his shirts, careful to avoid the fragile membrane of his wings as you stood at his back.

He tugged you away from the bedroom door at the last moment, your questioning eyes softening when he cradled your face in his hands and stole one last kiss in the privacy of your room, murmuring "Beautiful," against the crown of your freshly brushed hair.

"Do the others know you're such a hopeless romantic?" You asked, finally opening the door and breaking the spell of privacy.

Before Azriel could answer, Cassian blew past the room, shockingly quiet for his mountainous size. "Yes, we all know," he shouted before disappearing down the hall.

Ione stood proud and tall in front of the windows, grey eyes narrowed at the Sidra as it wound through the valley like a snake. Cassian slid into the space beside her and handed her her cane. She knew instinctively where the warrior stood and where his hand reached out towards her. She took the cane without the second glance. A golden lion’s head roared from atop its wooden post, Ione’s fingers resting squarely between its glistening teeth as she leaned experimentally on the new device. Cassian had ordered it custom for her and she knew that hidden within the sleeve of glistening redwood was an iron rod forged in enchanted flames that rendered it near unbreakable.

“Careful.” She reminded Cassian when she caught him staring for too long. “This body may be different, but I can still bring you to your knees.”

Cassian chuckled, “I don’t doubt that.”

She slammed the cane against the ground once. Twice. Testing its strength and finding it worthy. “Do you think it will happen soon?”

This waiting — it was beginning to grate on her nerves. This foreboding calm that threatened to fall away into chaos and bloodshed. She almost wished she were living three years into the future, when she was finally done healing from her wounds and the future had faded into the background of her life once more.

“If I could see into the future, I would not be here right now waiting.”

“And yet here we are.” Ione sighed, shoulders rising and falling elegantly beneath a wrinkled but slender neck.

Cassian would have said more had Feyre and Rhys not entered the room together, bruises layered beneath their eyes as they plastered on bright smiles for their family, tension visible through the cracks in their porcelain teeth.

The Inner Circle had assembled in their entirety at the request of their High Lord and High Lady. There was no holiday to be celebrated. No birthdays or anniversaries or special occasions. The fare that had been laid out on the table was simple and everyone filled their plates before spilling out across the sofas and the armchairs or carving out a space on one of Rhysand’s expensive hand-woven rugs. There would be no special meal around the new table devoid of scratches and watermarks and the passage of time and love. This was their family, and for their family it was the company that put finery to shame.

Elain was a flutter of movement in and out of the kitchen, shepherding pots of tea and fruit tarts before Lucien finally caught her around the waist and made her rest. The House was equally restless. The lights strung above the fireplace mantle flickered like lantern flies.

Mor sat with Emerie’s wings draped around her shoulders like a cape and Gwyn sat on the floor, hugging her knees close to her chest as she rested her head against the Illyrian female’s knee. To no one’s surprise, you and Azriel clung to the corner of the room, content to watch everyone’s laughter with your arm subtly looped around his.

He still hasn’t told her, I see. Emerie noted, watching your smile stretch into place when Azriel leaned close to whisper in your ear.

Does it matter? Mor teased, kissing Emerie’s nose reverently. The Illyrian’s cheeks turned warm. Emerie had not been granted the freedom to explore romance to the same degree as Mor, something she’d worried about when they first started their courtship. But if anyone asked the blonde, she’d tell them it drove her wild to see how such simple gestures could reduce the fearsome warrior to a puddle, even now. Mor tucked herself into Emerie’s side, throwing her long legs over the armrest. It’s probably a good thing. If they could speak to each other like this, we’d never hear from them again.

Emerie laughed into Mor’s golden hair.

Conversations rose and fell. Plates emptied and clicked as they were laid out on the coffee table.

It was a simple peace they welcomed with open arms.

They didn’t hear the faintest thud coming from above their heads.

You smiled when one of Azriel’s shadows wove themselves into your hair, tickling the sensitive skin behind your ear and along your neck.

“Sorry,” Azriel whispered, trying and failing to draw them back to him for the nth time that day. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.” They’d been especially touchy as of late, nipping at your heels like a litter of puppies vying for attention or hiding in your pockets. It was a mixture of Azriel’s own feelings that spurred them on and their own desire to protect what they’d claimed as theirs.

“It’s alright, Azriel. I like having them around.”

They hummed amongst themselves, happy to see you so pleased. Sometimes, Azriel wondered if you’d be able to learn to listen to them as well. To tease apart that secret language he couldn’t begin to describe.

Maybe you were listening to them now without even realizing it.

Maybe that’s why you and Azriel were the only ones whose eyes snapped towards the hallway before the first creak of wood sounded throughout the House.

The shuffling of a new, unfamiliar set of feet down the stairs had the hair on the back of your neck rising and crackling with energy.

It wasn’t Jurian. It wasn’t loud enough to be Jurian. He so rarely descended from the attic that he made a habit of making his presence known, tired feet shuffling along the rugged staircase with measured drags.

You walked over to your brother and tugged on the back of his shirt. “Jurian—”

“That’s not Jurian.” Lucien said with bated breath. He was the third person in the room to hear the sound.

He’d checked on his friends less than a handful of hours ago. Jurian had been as he always was — weary but hopeful as one hand had clenched the bundle of morphine and the other had leaned against the food cart Lucien had carried up to the top floor.

And Vassa… Vassa had been uncharacteristically quiet, slouching against the wall of her gilded cage, raw skin and thin feathers trembling with her haggard breath as she slept.

“You should come down.” Lucien had said. “You deserve a break.”

But Jurian had only shook his head and flashed a tight smile. “As much as I would love to bless you with my presence, I won’t leave her like this. But one day, my friend, we’ll both walk down those steps together and have a proper celebration. I promise you.”

Vassa came down the steps.

Alone.

Naked.

Shivering.

You eyed the window where the mid-afternoon sun beat down on a frosted city.

It was the middle of the day… and Vassa was human.

You clutched Lucien’s arm, fingernails digging through his cotton shirt before he could take another step forward. Silence suffocated the room. There was something deeply wrong with the cursed queen. She trembled like a newborn fawn unceremoniously dumped into the world, her skin puckered and pock-marked from where she’d picked at old scabs and opened new wounds. The whole array hung from bones so thin they may as well have belonged to a bird.

“Vassa…” Lucien’s voice broke on her name.

A path of bloody feathers trailed behind her.

She grasped at strands of her fiery red hair and tugged. Hard. You focused all your energy on keeping the food in your stomach when strands fell through her bloody fingers and saliva rose in your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Lucien. I can’t… It won’t stop.” Her voice, which had once been beautiful, grated your ears. “My skin. It feels like I’m crawling out of it.”

“Vassa.” Lucien held out his hands, showing her they were empty. “Where’s Jurian?” He would come down. He would help her in ways only he was capable of.

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Where’s Jurian?”

At the second mention of her lover’s name, Vassa broke down crying. Fat, ugly tears streaking down tan cheeks that had turned sallow and grey. She wiped them away, fingers dripping. There was a deep, unyielding hunger evident in every stutter of her body as her eyes raked across the room. You flinched when those milky, teal eyes passed over you… and landed on Ione.

Elderly, painfully human, Ione.

Vassa’s left eye twitched and Azriel had only enough time to tackle you to the ground and cover your body with his own before the mortal queen burst into flames.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

^^ Visual depiction of how I've felt the last week like what in the world? I'm getting enough sleep I swear but every morning I feel like I'm dragging a two ton boulder behind me until I get a sip of that bitter goodness. Ugh. Hope y'all are resting better than I am.

Anyways, I know it's been a while since I posted, but the chapter is here! Whoop! And I hope you enjoyed :) As always, feedback is appreciated and welcome if you have burning things you need to get off your chest (doesn't even have to be SSIB-related honestly my inbox is there).

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x reader angst

378 notes · View notes

stillarat · 1 year

Text

You Deserve Better

Tsu'Tey x GN! reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: suggestive, no use of y/n

Synopsis: Tsu'tey has avoided you since your Iknimaya, his silence far more reluctant complicated than his normal stoicism.

You find yourself wandering on the very outskirts of the clan after the night's evening meal, it barely being days since your Iknimaya, Tsu'tey had hardly spoken a word to you in the days since. You find yourself leaning against one of the trees, as your thoughts left you restless.

Your tail swayed at your ankles, a hand came to rest on your shoulder, you stumbled back a few steps, swinging around to see Tsu'tey staring you down.

"Tch, I had thought you started listening to my lessons."

"I do, I'm just... distracted." You rolled your shoulders and cleared your throat recovering from your embarrassment; all under his trademark scowl.

"Distracted or a skxawng?"

You scoff, crossing your arms a grin tugging your lips

"Never change will you?" He shoves you jovially, walking past you and the clearing.

"Are you not coming Tawtute?"

Your ears perk up, taking a few long strides to tail behind him as he keeps walking along. He spared you no glances till your strides met his, walking side by side.

"Why have you been ignoring me?"

"I have not."

"That's bullshit Tsu’tey."

You speak, stepping in front of him, he winced back at his name, lips pulled straight; his ears lie flat. Nonetheless he turns his head up and continues on.

"Hush, this is not important."

"Is it not important, or you don't want to talk about it?"

"Always talking, mouth can never close." He paused for less than a moment, sucking at his teeth. "Now hush and let me show you."

"Show me what?"

"You stop talking and you will see."

Tsu'tey says, stopping in front of you shortly, hand on your back pressing you to continue walking with a persistent nudge. The tips of his fingers lingered just longer than needed.

You quickly fell behind, you trudged behind him, your attitude soured all while you followed behind him, your ears pressed flat. A soft glow raised past a steep hill as your steps slowed, the cliff revealing a small lake beneath, the glowing water flora lit your bodies from below. Eyes widening, your shoulders relaxed, dropping to your knees to lean over the short cliff.

You look up to Ts’utey, a stupidly wide smile plastered on your face, he grinned back down to you smugly as he straightened his shoulders, dropping to the balls of his feet beside you.

"Go on." His voice lower-- kinder than before as his palm mildly slapped your back, urging you forward.

"What?"

"Jump."

"I knew you wanted to get rid of me!" You teased, pushing him by his shoulder as you stood yourself.

You peered just over the ledge shrugging your shoulders as you took a running start back. You sprinted to the ledge, smile a mile wide, your eyes screwed tight for the jump.

"Cannonball!"

You sank past the surface, your eyes flickered open looking below your feet, the scattered plants below still swaying from the ripple of your jump, tickling your ankles while you drifted there weightless.

Swimming along the lake bed, hand grazing the smooth stones, and colorful water grass.

Amongst your underwater frolicking, you'd nearly forgotten to resurface as your lung's pulled a harsh reminder back to mind.

Coughing when you broke the water's surface, you pushed your hair out of your face, staring back up at Tsu'tey still standing on the cliff above you.

"Well? Just gonna make me swim alone down here?"

You hardly made out his dry chuckle as he took his swan dive just past you. Rippling waves pushing you back into a low hanging branch. You looked around for his head to break the surface– pushing away from the downward leaning tree you lie on your back floating over top the cool current of the water.

You heard him gasp behind you as water splashed onto your face, sputtering as you regained your balance, glaring back at the Na’vi in question.

“You ass!” You cackled, splashing him in your righteous retribution.

You both swam around each other, losing track of time as you both enjoyed the lighthearted play fighting between you two. So innocent– childish yet the glances he spared you in the water lasted too little too long for that to be completely true.

You floated aimlessly as you tried to clear the water from your eyes, all while you struggled for breath among your own wheezing laughter. Meanwhile you swam back into his chest.

“Oh sorry-”

He grabbed hold of your arm, his eyes bored into you as you. Water still soaked your face, even through your blurred vision his intense stare still captivated you, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped.

“Tsu’tey is something up?”

“You are one of the clan now.” He paused, swallowing back the knot in his throat, his voice nearly wavering. “You may make your bow of the hometree… and choose a mate for yourself.”

“Would you help me?”

“Hm?”

“Make my bow I mean.” You spoke softly, offering a kind smile to him.

“If you insist, how could I refuse?” He bows his head away from your eyes. “I must tell you something.” His voice faltered, he tittered embarrassed.

“Mhm?” You reached for his shoulder in reassurance.

He led you both over to the lake’s edge, leaning on the soft ground as he let his grasp on your arm drop.

His head hung low looking up at you through his half lidded eyes. He gnawed as his tongue, biting his fear back as he finally spoke.

“Nga yawne lu oer, I love you.” He sounded desperate, barely above a rasped whisper. “I have not treated you as such, I know and I do not deserve you.”

“...But if you would have me, I swear you would get nothing but my best tiyawn.” He takes your hand in his, resting it on his forehead.

“Tsu’tey, I didn’t… You do?”

“More than you know.”

“Then you should know I love you too Tsu’tey.”

You grabbed hold of his face and brought it close to your own. His nose nuzzled against yours, bodies nestled against each other. His arms held against the small of your back, strong arms bringing you ever closer.

You paused a moment, biting back the bile in your throat. “I see you Tsu’tey.”

“I see you.”

His response left your heart doing leaps, the sinking pressure in your chest replaced with a souring catharsis, putting the fears you had aside. You tested the waters, brought your hands to the nape of his neck. The bridge of your own nose flush to his; lips brushed against the other’s closing the pitiful gap between you, mouths melded together. He sighed into the kiss, as if it was all he ever needed, his back leaned into the surface of the water’s bank, holding you on top of himself; supporting you both the best he could. He broke away from you, forehead resting on yours.

“I am sorry for me avoiding you. I did not know how to tell you tiyawn, I am ashamed, and you deserve better.”

“Why are you worrying about that now? I understand, I understand and I chose you.” You said between peppering his face in chaste pecks. Slowly devolving into open mouthed kisses along his jaw and throat.

“Very well.” A smirk pulled across his face, kind but roguish all the same. He gripped the back of your neck, bringing you back into his kiss. His teeth nipped and tugged at your bottom lip, as your kiss further deepened, pulling into one another. Your hand reached into his hair, tugging his braids gingerly as he let a raspy groan slip past his teeth.

His tail coiled round your thigh, its tip tapping rhythmically against your skin it soothed your nerves as the rhythm carried through into the movement of his lips. His hand crawls down your back, chills rising up your spine and in an instant his mouth moves to your neck, leaving messy love bites down onto your shoulder.

You pulled your kuru over and past your shoulder, looking over to him expectantly, eyes half lidded and pleading. Hand laid on his chest. His hand pushed your own down your queue with it.

“Allow me to court you properly, please.” He took your hand in his, your five fingers intertwined with his four, you fit together so well for how different you really were.

“What difference does it make?” You sigh pushing your head under his chin, your words muffled into his chest.

“You deserve it.”

“I don’t care about all that, just you.”

“In due time.”

His arms encased you, glow from his illuminated freckles dotted your own skin. Floated aimlessly for what might as well have been an eternity, if he hadn’t insisted on dragging you both out from your weightless drifting. Onto the soft moss decorating the forest floor, your fingers lingered on each other as you gave way to your mind’s drift, still laid out in each other’s arms.

He fidgeted with your hair, breathed in your scent even as it braided with his own.

“Mm, tiyawn?”

“What is it, love?”

“What is a ‘cannonball’?”

#tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan #tsu'tey fic #avatar x reader #tsutey x reader #tsu'tey fanfiction #fanfic #avatar 2009 #tsu'tey fluff #avatar fanfiction #gender neutral reader #avatar fic #tsu'tey #tsutey

760 notes · View notes

yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 8 months

Text

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

A/N: Im very excited for this series, apologies now for If Miguel is ooc and if the terminology and sports talk is wrong. If you’re experienced in either sport and wanted to lmk if I got something wrong, I’m open ears. This is mostly self indulgent brain rot tho. Enjoy :).

(Y/N)- Your name, (N/N)- Nickname.

Swearing, yelling, a lot of me trying to explain moves, I’m not good at these lol. Not completely proofread so sorry for typos or grammatical errors. Not a ton of reader and Miguel interact, mostly just set up. Story takes place in a college setting.

Word count: 1.8k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1: Have you got color in your cheeks?

—

“Nope, nope try it again.”

“Ughhh…”

“I don’t wanna hear it. Again.”

For the- god you’ve lost count- you go back into starting position for the move right before for the lift, you and your skating partner are currently been worked to the bone by your coach. It felt like by the time you both will develop hypothermia before you get off the ice. Your ice skating partner, Logan, throws his head back in frustration as your coach starts to put the music back to the same spot it’s been starting at for the last half hour. She was having you both do a routine to the swan lake theme (overplayed we know, but did she still find a way to make the coreo beautiful? Of course.) and she was having you do a very “simple” sequence, starting by doing twizzles together before having Logan lift you over his head in a crucifix lift. Simple enough right? wrong. Because your lovely coach is convinced that in over to win first to enter regionals, Logan have to immediately go into a hydroblade around you, while you does a single camel spin in the middle of the rink, as soon as he is done putting you down from the lift. Although you’ve mastered the moves all individually, putting them all together was difficult.

You were too focused on trying to mentally prepare yourself to attempt and fail the sequence again to noticed a group making their way through the double doors that separated the rink to the rest of the building. Taking a deep breath before you and Logan both made your way to just slightly left from the center of the rink, your coach starts the music as you and Logan began to twirl in sync with one another in almost perfect timing. Almost.

“Logan! You’re twirling too fast! You’re ahead of the music and your partner!” Calls out coach Kavinsky.

As you both stop going the tizzlers, you turn your body so you’re now facing Logan as you circle around the end of the rink before turning back around and slowing slightly so you were next to each other, Logan bending down slightly to put one hand on the back of you knee, his other arm wrapping around the front of your waist, your hands quickly traveling to his shoulders.

“(Y/N), you need to shift more of your weight to your left foot for an easier take off!” She yelled out again. Your brows furrowed together as you attempt to shift your weight over a bit more to your left foot as you squeezed Logan’s shoulders slightly. But unfortunately, your partner misinterpreted you shifting your weight and the squeezing as your cue for the lift, causing him to lift you too early before you to properly shift your weight.

“Shit- (N/N)! You good!!” Logan asked concerned as the music stopped, you’re back now flat of the ice as you let out a small grunt of pain from the slip and the fall. “Ugh… yup…yup…” you replied through gritted teeth, ignoring the ache from your back as you slowly move to your hands and knees.

“Damn! How’d you two fuck up that badly?” A voice asked before a laugh, no, multiple laughs fill the room. You shot your head in the direction of the taunt to glare at whoever made the comment as Logan helps you off the floor.

Why weren’t you surprised?

“O’Hara. Shut it.” The couch of the hockey team scolded his star player. Miguel fucking O’Hara. Captain and star player of The Spiders, your university’s hockey team. The man was nothing but 6 feet and 9 inches of pure muscle. You would honestly have found him attractive if he wasn’t such a fucking dick.

“You act like your touch shit, but I bet if you didn’t have 25 pounds of padding on and fell on your back, you wouldn’t think it’s so funny.” Logan hissed, causing Miguel to roll his eyes and scoff in response, adjusting the helmet under his arm with the hand that was also holding his hockey stick. The other hockey players trying to stifle their laughing, so they don’t get chewed out as well.

“It’s not my fault that the ice princess can’t handle a small fall.”

“Miguel.”

“It’s not my fault that you’ve developed some brain damage from being slammed into the boards one too many times.”

“Logan.”

“Well atleast-“ before the rest of the insult can fully come out from Miguel’s lips, the hockey coach, coach Turner, interrupts him. “MIGUEL O’HARA. YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE AND YOU’LL BE BENCHED FROM THE NEXT GAME.” He roared, causing the cocky smirk to instantly drop from the hockey player’s face, your coach then turned to Logan. “You too. You’re one more remark from no ice time for the next week.” She scolded, causing your partner to huff and grumbled under his breath.

“Alright…I’ll stop, but they needa get off the ice, they’re 15 minutes over their time. They’re messing with our practice schedule.” Miguel said to Turner as he points at you and Logan with his hockey stick, his coach letting out a sigh as he turns to yours. “He’s right, you aren’t the only one trying to get wins. You’ve been digging into our ice time.” Coach turner says, crossing his arms, his clipboard in one hand. Coach Kavinsky let out a heavy sigh, as she rubbed her hand over her pale face. “Alright…let me just have them do it one more time then we’ll get off.”

The hockey team loudly groan at her sentence, causing you to roll your eyes at their dramatics, “hockey players…” you mumbled under your breath to Logan, who just nodded in agreement. Now it was Coach Turner’s turn to let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. You get one- and I mean one more go, then after that we need the rink.” The man grumble as he began to rub his temple.

“But coach-“ one of the hockey players that you didn’t know the name of (so all but Miguel) was starting to object but cut himself off when Turner turned to glare daggers in his direction, causing him to just clear his throat instead. Coach Kavinsky just turn to you and Logan, wasting no time to tell you to go back into the same spot from were you’ve been stuck on.

“It feels like we’re stuck in a time loop.” You joked with a small grin as you both skate back to being slightly to the left of the middle of the rink. Logan letting out a snort as he followed you. “We better not fuck this up again, we’ve got an audience.” Logan said as he nodded to we’re the hockey team was impatiently waiting. You just shrugged, waiting for the music to start again, “We got this.” You sent him a confident smile before continuing.

“You promise not to drop me again?” You asked with a playful smile, obviously joking as you start positioning your feet to start the twizzlers again, Logan following your movements closely after.

“Only a fool would drop a girl like you.” He teased before the music started, both of you beginning to spin shortly after. You know he was only joking, you both knew there weren’t anything between you too that was more then a platonic friendship/skating partnership.

You don’t know if the impact from the fall was messing with your vision, but you swore that you saw Miguel’s hand twitch into a fist for a spit second after Logan’s reply.

“Good! Better Logan!” Your coach praised as Logan’s twizzlers were more in sync with yours this time. Once you were done spinning, you followed the same steps to prepare for the lift, this time your footing was actually correct and you were ready for when Logan spins you over his shoulder, you letting go of said shoulders once your stomach was securely on his shoulder, as the song crescendos. Bringing your arms up and straightening them out to your side, your upper body in the shape of a cross (hence the name of the move being crucifix lift) and you couldn’t help but smirk when you say some of the hockey players, especially Miguel’s, impressed reactions. It doesn’t help that you know that most of them would never admit that they were impressed.

As Logan spun around the rink once with you in the air, before flipping you back down onto the ice the same way he flipped you up. “Shit this is the part we always fuck up.” You thought as your blades touch the ice again once Logan reaches the middle of the rink, his hands leaving your body as soon as you were stable on the ground again. Before quickly gliding a bit more towards the outer edge of the rink, you took in a steady breath as your eyebrows scrunched together subconsciously in concentration. Miguel couldn’t help but notice and thought it was adorable, before quickly shaking the thought away.

Part of the reason you both always got this part wrong was, because one would either start too early or too late, making the speeds of both moves looked rush and sloppy rather then sharp and contrasted. As Logan start to lower himself into the hydroblade, you began to do the camel spin.

“Beautiful!” Coach Kavinsky praised as she stop the music. And you almost wanted to fall to your knees and cry from relief, and you probably would have if the hockey team and their coach wasn’t 20 feet away, watching your every move. So instead you skated up to Logan and engulfed him in a hug, your partner instantly returning it. What you couldn’t see because your face was being buried into Logan’s chest was Miguel’s face turn to a scowl for a split second, his hand twitching into a first again, before both going back to their neutral state in the blink of an eye.

“We still need to clean it up, don’t get too excited.” She added as you and Logan pulled apart and began to exit the rink, a huge smile on both your faces. As soon as you were off the ice, the hockey team quickly rushed to get on and set up their nets on both ends of the rink. You didn’t pay them any mind though as you put your guards on your skates, and were starting to make your way to the girl’s locker room before you felt a hand gently grab your wrist to stop you. At first you were expecting it to be Logan’s, but theses hands were much larger than his.

“That was actually quite impressive, ice princess.” You didn’t need to turn around to know who’s talking, but when you felt the hand release you, you couldn’t help but turn around anyways. Seeing Miguel walk away from you to head to the rink, and you didn’t need to see his face to know that he probably had a cocky smirk spread on his lips. You didn’t need to admit that the shiver you felt run down your back came from his hush, low tone as he spoke and not the coldness from ac blasting to keep the ice solid.

“Did…did he just compliment you?” Logan whispered as he came closer and raised his brow at you. If you knew one thing about the hockey player, is that he never, ever said one positive about or to you (or Logan for that matter) since you’ve known him.

“I- yeah he did…”

“That’s…interesting…”

“Very.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel spiderverse #atsv #astv spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #hockey au #figure skating au #miguel o’hara au #Spiderman 2099 fanfic #on thin ice fanfic #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099

326 notes · View notes

moa-broke-me · 3 months

Text

Most people's first drag show was at a bar. Percy's was a dinner theatre performance of Swan Lake.

He figured he'd go to support his old university's arts program, after all, he couldn't afford to donate as much as his colleagues did every year, and he figured this'd make up for that. Plus, it was his custody weekend, and he always wanted to do something special for his daughter to make these measly two days a month count.

So, he decided he'd kill two birds with one stone, his daughter swinging her feet on the stool she was sat in, eating her macaroni and cheese. "You like it?" He asked.

She nodded. "It's a lot better than the box stuff you make, daddy. Mama Piper makes hers with adacvo, and I'on like adacvo."

He laughed a bit. "Yeah, it's fun eating away from home, isn't it?" He asked, before taking a bite of his ravioli. It was miles ahead of the canned stuff, no offense to Chef Boyardee.

"Mhm! Uncle Jason, can we go get dessert after?"

Ok, so really it was three birds with one stone. Spend time with his daughter, support the art program, and catch up with Jason.

Jason laughed lightly, jostling the baby carrier he had on his chest and causing Leo's baby to stir. "Zora, they're serving dessert here. I'm sure it'll be much better than anything you could get at a fast food place."

"Really? Even subway cookies?"

"Yes, even subway cookies." He turned back to the baby he was sitting, checking that he was ok. The cherubic little boy was almost two, and could walk, so he didn't really need the carrier, but he liked being strapped in tight. "Raph, you good buddy?"

Raphael cooed up at Jason, reaching up to squish his face. "Coo-kie."

Jason laughed. "Aww, man. This kid is adorable." He reached around the carrier to eat his steak. "Thanks for taking us out here. I know it was like, 50 bucks a person. I can wire you back if you want."

"No, no, it's fine. Just enjoy the ballet." Percy looked over, and Odette had just been captured by the wizard, and the transformation sequence was about to begin. He'd watched both the barbie version and the one from 1994 with Zora before, so he knew the plot, but it was so different seeing it on stage. She had been in a simple loose-fitting blue dress, period-appropriately modest but still short enough to move around in. Now though, once the swirling ribbons fell and the colored smoke and glitter dissipated into the air, Odette was in nothing but a white leotard and black ballet shoes, the leotard strapless and embroidered with pearls and feathers and lace and thin black boning. They were all seated in the front, so he could see every detail, every individual feather draped on the underside of her arm, the otherworldly white lashes and pearl in the middle of the forehead, the thin black swirls of eyeliner on her face and sad, swoopy brows and bold black lipstick forming a pout, like an infinitely more attractive version of an old french mime. The white-dyed tips in ink black hair and rich, dark brown eyes and the gentle outward curve of her nose. The freckles on her shoulders and cheeks, dotting her hauntingly beautiful olive-creme skin. the flat chest and narrow, boyish hips...

He looked at the playbill again, to find the name of this incredible being.

There were two names on the bill, one for uncursed Odette, and one for cursed Odette. He skimmed past the first to get to the second.

Nico diAngelo.

He smiled. "Hey, Jason, you took intro to dance right?" I asked, pointing at the name on the bill. "Do you know her?"

"Him. And yeah, we've been friends for years."

"Wait... Him?" He looked back at the stage. "... So that's a guy up there?"

"Yeah."

"... Wow... He's very pretty."

Zora giggled. "Silly daddy, you're s'posed to say handsome for boys! You only say pretty about girls!"

"He's not, though." I told her, lost in thought. "He's... Pretty. The way girls are pretty."

"Huh... So boys can be pretty too?"

"Yes, dear. They absolutely can."

"So... Does that mean girls can be handsome?"

"Oh yeah." Jason answered. "If you want an example, I can pull up a picture of my sister."

"Jason!" Percy scolded.

Jason snorted. "She'd take that as a compliment and you know it."

#Percico #Ballet AU #I'll continue this if I get 25 notes #but I do warn you #I plan on giving both Nico and Percy food issues #nico di angelo #pjo #percy jackson #jason grace #leo valdez #mortal au #implied pipabeth

57 notes · View notes

blackopals-world · 2 years

Note

I fell in love with your writing as soon as I saw that Onsen!Yuu fic. It was so good! Anyhoo! May I request a fic of Fem!Yuu where she sings and dances beautifully, seemingly alone. Unbeknown to her, a couple of Pomefiore students and the Tweels were watching her (while being unaware of the other). Cue Pomefiore and Octavinelle fighting over Yuu who's just confused.

~Oh my~

I was just thinking of something like this. Allow me to fulfill your request.

Dancer!femYuu gets kidnapped

Lace and silk

Satin touching cold wooden floors

A hand on hers

A soft piano plays

Familiar

Warm

Hot

HOT

Yuu woke up with a jolt as Grim rolled off her chest with a loud yowl.

"Just a dream" she thought to herself as she picked up her furry friend and placed him on the other pillow.

She tried to remember her old life that seemed only to come in the depths of night. Phantom movements that ghosted around her. A life unknown but still so close.

The morning light had barely touched the sky let alone crest the horizon.It was the weekend and she had nowhere to be. Still, Yuu needed to move. Throwing on a dress and flats Yuu left Ramshackle but not before giving Grim a little kiss.

The campus was still and foggy but Yuu felt a pull in her chest. Luring her to somewhere unknown. It begged her to get lost in the cool mist.

She remembered a day like this, when see would run to school as a little girl.

Yuu felt herself laugh as she took off, feeling the droplets of water slick to her skin. She felt alive.

Until she found the place her heart desired.

A bridge over a small lake that ended on a little island in the center. Black swans swam from shore to shore and fish tapped the water's surface.

Yuu remembered a day like this. When she stood by the bank with friends and threw breadcrumbs and seeds to the ducks in the water. They would gush about the boys in class and who they wanted to dance with. They would practice their jumps and twirls until one of them felling in the water and the others fished her out.

Yuu tried to remember their faces or names but it came back blotted like ink spilled on paper.

But she remembered the way it felt. The movements that she practiced so carefully once upon a time. Of when she was just a girl in a small town, who danced to her hearts content.

She stood on the stone railing of the bridge and walked across it like her old balance beam. She remembered how much her teacher hated when she turned it into a headstand. Thankfully she knew now not to after a near concussion.

A little duckling strayed away from its mother and wondered onto the bridge to watch her.

Yuu used to love the baby ducklings back home. She had a little song she'd sing to call them after ballet practice.

How'd it go?

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Yuu felt her body move as though possessed. She danced to the sound of her own voice.

Unknown to her that two heads peaked out from just above the water. Listening and watching. Hidden by the fog.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Simultaneously a few Pomefiore students heard the sound of singing in the mist and followed what they thought would be a siren or spirit. Only to find The Prefect dancing across the bridge with a gaggle of swans following her and almost seemed to dance beside her.

Her voice rang like a twinkling bell as she giggled joyously as she danced on the tips of her toes. Her dress flowing around her.

"Shrimpy, looks like she's having fun. She could float away at any moment." Floyd smiled showing rows of sharp teeth.

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of a dark black night

"Like, a lovely jellyfish drifting in the water." Jade responded his tail curling in delight. "Azul, would love to see this and I'd be a shame miss it."

"We should grab Shrimpy and take her back with us." Floyed cackled as they formed a plan.

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of a dark black night

"She gorgeous. A true icon of beauty." One of the Pomefiore boys said.

"Indeed, wild and untamed. Hair flowing in the wind like a goddess." The other said.

"We have to invite her back with us. The other have to hear her voice. Imagine the crime we would have committed to not share her." The last piped up.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Just as Yuu finished her song there was a splash in the water and she was suddenly pulled in. She screamed as she believed that she was going to be eaten by some kind of lake monster.

When she heard the sound of Floyd laughing she knew she was right. She thrashed against the tweels as she ranted that this wasn't funny and they got her all wet.

See was so distracted she didn't notice the Pomefiore boys calling out to her believing that she was being kidnapped. (which she was)

They quickly rallied the other Pomefiore students along with Rook and Vil and told them what happened.

"They dragged our Dove unto the depths. She went from singing her heart out to screaming her lungs out." The Pomefiore boys cried tearfully.

"Ça alors!" Rook said shocked at the retelling. "We must save her!"

Vil tried to parcel the truth of this matter. It seemed as though the Octavinelles saw how taken his dorm was with the Prefect and have stolen her away. What ransom could they want? Poor Yuu must be distraught but who else was fit to save her but him?

All the while Yuu while mad was given new clothes to wear while her's dried. She was not a fan of a cold dip so early and being wisked away while she was in the moment. She was the moment, basking in it even.

She sat in the empty lounge as Azul smiled to placate her as he showed her a contratfor a new lounge singer. But Yuu wasn't in the mood.

"Come on siren, take the deal. Just one stroke of the pen?" Azul cooed.

"I'll think about it." Yuu huffed.

At that moment a Octavinelle student ran into the lounge.

"The Pomefiores are rioting outside! They want the Prefect!" He yelled.

"Tell them to go drown. She stays here." Azul said roughly "Unless they can offer be something better."

Yuu had no idea what was going on. She just wanted to dance a bit. Now the dorms are fighting.

Azul had to meet Vil at the dorm entrance to settle the dispute with the tweels all the while Yuu was left unsupervised.

Yuu quickly took a backroom exist out of Octavinelle and headed home. Whatever resulted from this was not her problem. Not her circus or her flying monkeys.

Yuu wandered how the most sensible of the dorms ended up acting this way.

She later met up with Ace and Deuce to show them her dance skills.

920 notes · View notes

luvzmez111 · 1 year

Text

55 notes · View notes

inkformyblood · 5 months

Text

sing a song of sixpence (CWFKB #4)

True Love's kiss fill for @codywanfirstkissbingo (had to write about my favourite fairy tale The Wild Swans <3)

The window groans as Cody pushes it open, the sound barely muffled by the rag stuffed into the hinges, once a decorative cast-off from a larger dress and now sacrificed for the mundane concerns of darkness and warmth. Outside, the moon hangs low in the sky, barely brushing the dark spikes of the trees and the path Cody needs to take is well-illuminated, the occasional smooth stone glowing bright in the moonlight. He doesn’t need them, not now, not after so many years walking the same path.

“Are you out again?” The voice is familiar, but it takes Cody a moment to place it, blinking back into the dappled shadows of the bedroom. A wavering afterimage of his path hovers in front of his gaze and he waits for it to pass before he locks eyes with Rex, his hair already rumpled and his eyes barely open.

Cody nods.

Rex groans, pressing his hands to his eyes and sinking back into the bed. He reaches over, smacking his hand against the mattress until he retrieves Cody’s blanket and pulls it over himself. “How many times are you going to keep this up, Codes?” Rex sighs heavily, the sound verging on a snore. “Stay safe.”

Cody couldn’t answer him, not like this. He can feel every trapped word vibrating in his chest, soil left to grow overgrown and treacherous, but he nods again, and scrambles out of the window. There are a lot of unknowns with this curse, too many in fact for him to ever be sure that he is even helping, but he stays the course regardless. His family had argued over his decision, over his head, to his face, tucked in the small corners of their home when they thought he couldn’t hear them, but Cody is stubborn. He could do this, he could help in this small way, so he doesn’t speak.

Grunts of effort, he is reasonably sure, don’t count, tied in to sobs and gasps, yawns and every other involuntary noise that a body makes, but he hasn’t spoken an intentional word in years. He ducks beneath a tree bough that only caught him at the beginning of his travels back and forth and every so often when he still forgot about it, and pushes his way through a tangle of the undergrowth. The lake is still, perfectly flat and it reflects the moon overhead like a mirror. Cody sinks onto an upturned log. Over the years, he has seen it sink further into the ground, the rapid flash of moss over the surface seeming to bloom and develop infrastructure and revolution in a matter of weeks. He pulls the treated cloth bag out from the hollow next to it and sets to work. His earlier work is clumsy, random inexplicable holes scattered across the surface of the fabric, his stitches ragged and bisecting the uneven colours of the fabric, but he improved. His current shirt is a thing of beauty, the fabric nearly glowing beneath the watchful gaze of the moon and Cody’s stitches are neat and even. One sleeve hangs free and then everything will be complete.

He lowers his head and begins to work.

Sometime later, Cody’s eyes burning and his vision beginning to waver in and out of focus, a distant splash catches Cody’s attention and he looks up across the lake. The ripple meets the shore at the same time, continuing as the swan breaks away from the group and travels towards Cody.

“You came.” Cody hears the words without hearing them, a stray thought emblazoned across the front of his mind, and he grins at the animal as it stumbles onto the shore. There’s a scent of cool water and a lingering bite of salt, the memories of a world so far away it might not exist at all, and Cody nods, holding up the shirt in trembling hands. It doesn’t feel real, being so close and yet still so far.

The swan’s wings flex, power clear in the movement, and the feathers gleam. The curse hadn’t detracted from the man’s beauty, merely transposed it onto a different form. Cody had only met the man once, slumped beneath a tree with blood soaking through his tunic and feathers already beginning to poke through his skin. His hair had been caught between silver and his likely natural red, but his eyes had been clear enough. Cody remembers the clasp of his hand, tight enough to ache, to try and imprint some semblance of his fading humanity onto another person before the curse had overtaken him.

“You’re nearly finished, I— We— Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

Cody lowers his gaze once more, a flush of heat rolling through his cheeks, and pulls his needle through the fabric once, twice, three more times. He bites through the thread, a tiny snap he feels echoing through his mind, and shakes out the shirt, holding it out to the swan. He tips his head to one side, shrugging with an exaggerated rise of his shoulders. Nothing is happening. He finished the task, sewed the shirts, and didn’t speak. He fulfilled the criteria the man had whispered to him, a voice torn between a swan’s call and ragged syllables.

“I don’t…” The swan waddles forward, lowering his head to poke the shirt with his beak. “This should have worked.” He steps forward, stretching out his wings to knock against Cody’s hands as he lowers the shirt.

Grief is heavy and it tears through Cody’s shirt. This should have worked. Was it him, his fault? Had he spoken during his silence and ruined everything?

“Thank you, Cody. For everything.” The swan leans forward, resting his neck against Cody’s shoulders, his wings against Cody’s arms. His feathers are cool beneath Cody’s touch, and he turns his face into the embrace, kissing the top of the swan’s head by way of an apology. It tastes like salt, like tears and sorrow. “Sleep now. I will discuss with the others for a solution.”

Cody, exhausted and hollow, nods, sinking to the ground and curling onto his side. He rolls, facing away from the lake, unable to face them any longer.

He’s awoken by a shout, heard and not thought, sitting upright.

“Cody! It worked!” The man stands at the shore, the remnants of a tattered tunic over his torso and one of Cody’s shirts over the top of it. It fits him well. His grin is bright as the rising sun and he staggers towards Cody, half-hunched forward before he straightens, his legs trembling from the effort. He collapses next to Cody, crawls the final few steps and cups Cody’s face in his hands. “It worked, thank you.”

Behind him, Cody can make out other human forms on the shore, one man sprawled across the ground, his hands splayed towards the sky, and another staggering on legs that he’s determined will hold him up.

Cody swallows, presses his tongue against his lower lip. “Hi.” His voice cracks, barely louder than a whisper.

“Hi, love.”

“Can I kiss you?” Cody asks, carefully picking his way around the words he hasn’t used for years but has wanted to ever since he saw the man in the forest.

“Yes. Yes, please.”

Cody leans forward and kisses him, tastes salt and joy and everything is going to be okay.

#codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #star wars #cwfkb2023 #cwfkb #codywan first kiss bingo 2023 #codywan first kiss bingo #my writing #cody x obi wan #fanfic

52 notes · View notes

criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 year

Text

Fic: Swim

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Ship: Joel Miller x you (cishet f reader)

Tags/warnings: Yearning, Joel is bad at feelings and doesn't understand hints (or just chooses not to), female nudity, ogling.

Summary: You take a swim in a lake while Joel watches. That's it, that's the plot.

Words: 2,046

There's something about moving through the forest where nothing is heard except for the wind in the trees and the birds in the sky. The smell of moss and resin fills your nose, and the air is so clean it's almost making you high. The ground yields slightly under your boots, making it seem like you're floating forward. This is a far cry from the crowded quarantine zone with its downtrodden pavements and smell of dirty people. If you didn't have this, you would probably have put a gun to your own head a long time ago. But you do have this, and you greedily grab each and every opportunity to experience it.

Joel's breathing heavily behind you. The two of you have been walking for hours and even here, in the shade of the trees, it's a little too hot for comfort. Your hoodie is tied around your waist and you're in your t-shirt and jeans only. Joel's still soldiering on in his flannel. No wonder he's boiling.

Between the trees, you see something glimmer. Water? You stop and stare, Joel almost walking into you.

"Watch it," he grumbles, perhaps more to himself than to you. When he realizes that you're staring off into the distance, his hand goes to the gun at his side. You hold out your hand to let him know it's okay.

"Is that a lake?" you ask, pointing in the direction you're looking. With a deep exhale, Joel wipes the sweat from his brow before squinting.

"Looks like it."

"Let's go there."

"We're making good time," he objects, but you can see he wants a break.

"We're not expected back yet, and we need to rest," you point out. "I'm getting hungry."

"Alright," he agrees, and you lead the way, your feet even lighter now for knowing they're getting rest.

The lake is just as lovely as you hoped for: clear blue water, surrounded by forest and with cliffs on the opposite side, a family of swans swimming in the middle of it. You find a spot where willows grow right by the water, and their crowns serve as giant parasols as you go down to the water's edge. The water is refreshing but not too cold, and you exhale in a satisfied sigh as you splash some in your face. A light breeze comes in from the water, and you close your eyes against it, smiling as you forget the state of the world for just a moment.

Behind you, Joel groans quietly as he sits down on a small, flat rock and picks out rations from his pack. Biting into the tough jerky, he looks as morose as ever when you turn towards him.

"Lighten up, Miller," you can't help but tease him, "when was the last time you went on a picnic like this?"

"Who says I've ever been to one?" he glares. You shake your head and pick up a piece of dry meat from your backpack.

"That explains so much."

You turn your back against him and look over the waters. The swans, two parents and four gray babies.

"Swan babies are called cygnets, did you know that?" you ask, admiring the graceful birds.

"No."

"My mom taught me that. There was a park near where I grew up... there were swans there every summer..." Your voice trails off. You and Joel never talk about the past. And although it's been so long, you still miss your mother terribly. Thinking about what once was can be dangerous. It can make you long for something better, and there doesn't seem to be any light on the horizon.

"Swans mate for life, don't they?" Joel asks in a low voice that makes the hairs at the back of your neck rise. Nobody can drop down as many octaves as Joel when he speaks about things he really doesn't want to share - or when he's trembling with held back rage, fists tightly closed, ready to start swinging.

"Yeah," you confirm, your tongue suddenly a little thick in your mouth. "They mourn their dead partners, too."

He grunts something at that, and for a moment you are at a loss at to what to say or do. It has been clear to you for a long time that Joel cares about you, although it's easy to miss if you don't know him. But you do know him, or at least know something about him, and you know for sure that he wouldn't have been with you for such a long time unless he cared. The easy camaraderie you share may not be physical or affectionate, but it is one of the few good things you have in this world.

That, and the forest. And this beautiful lake with its clear, fresh water that glitters in the sunshine.

You become aware of how sweaty and dirty you are, and it's very easy to make up your mind.

"I'm going for a swim."

"What?" Joel raises a brow at you, and his chewing stops for a second.

"I'm going swimming," you articulate, bending down to untie your boots. Joel gets up, frowning in discontent at you kicking off your boots. You straighten your back and meet his gaze.

"It's not a good idea," he tells you.

"We're too far away for infected, and we haven't seen anyone here for days," you shrug. "It's just a quick swim. We're far more exposed when we sleep in the forest at night."

Joel can't argue with that, but he tries.

"There's other things out here to watch out for."

"What, Jaws?" you scoff as you untie the hoodie from around your waist, and throw it on the ground. Joel's grim face lets you know he's not amused, but it's too nice a day for you to get into a scowling match with his grumpy ass.

You pull down your jeans, and he averts his eyes.

"It's not safe," he insists.

"You're here, aren't you?" you point out, your voice a little more subdued now. He glances at you before looking to the side again.

"We should get going." His objections are getting thinner and thinner.

"You are more than welcome to walk on," you shrug before pulling your t-shirt over your head. "I can take care of myself. You dont have to wait for me."

"I know - " He turns back to you and notices that you are, in fact, quite naked. Your panties are in a heap at your feet, and you're stepping out of them. His gaze is burning on your bare skin and you bite into your lower lip as you raise your chin.

"You sure you don't want to come into the water?" you ask him quietly. Joel tears his eyes from your body, finding your gaze again. He swallows, and that tiny crack in his composure is all the encouragement you need.

"Or maybe you want to watch?" you add, a little leery, but a tremble runs through you body as you realize that you are flirting. And Joel is not scoffing, not looking at you with contempt, not running away. He kicks a little at the ground, almost looking at you sideways, but his eyes are glued to the ground.

"Go ahead, then. But make it quick."

The water is wonderfully cool and you wade out slowly, testing your footing for each step. The bottom is rocky, but most of the stones have been smoothed flat, and almost slippery with seaweed. When your thighs are steeped, you lean forward, push off with your feet, and glide through the water. You gasp at the initial coldness but your body quickly becomes used to the temperature. Your strokes are first slightly clumsy, unaccostumed to swimming as you are, but your muscles quickly remember how to do it.

"Don't go too far out," Joel calls from the shore. So he is watching. You glance back to catch his eye, but he's busy scanning the surroundings.

The joy of taking a nice swim on a hot summer's day is not diminished, so you turn around, treading water, and call back: "Come on, Miller, don't be a landlubber! You can swim, right?"

He looks at you then, face resting in the shade of the willow, eyes scrunched up against the glitter on the surface of the lake. You wish he could let the his face relax, just for a little while, just for a moment so that you could see what he looked like before the world as you knew it ended, on a sunny day by a forest lake, with friends and family, maybe lovers, or by himself, perhaps fishing, just enjoying life...

"I can swim, but I won't if you get yourself in a situation," he now warns you, and you sigh. Sourpuss.

"The water is really nice..." you tempt him, floating on your back and wiggling your toes at him. He crosses his arms over his chest, gesturing a finality that you just don't feel like arguing with. There's a part of you that is angry with him for being so uncompromisable, but you can't blame him for being who he is. If he wasn't who he was, he might not be alive, he might not be the one who protects you, he might not even be here with you.

You dive, arms and legs carrying you back towards the shore, and resurface, drawing air into your lungs. Now Joel is staring at you, as if your disappearing underneath the surface wasn't of your own volition. His shoulders sink a little when he sees that you're okay. Your feet touch the rocky bottom and you stand up, the water reaching you to your chest. Slowly, you make your way to the shore, your eyes fixed on Joel's. Your nipples knot under his scrutiny, and when the water reaches halfway up your thighs, his gaze drops to the dark triangle fully visible above the water. Your skin has cooled off but heat begins to pool deep inside your belly, traveling up your spine before dripping down between your legs. You don't stop until you're standing right in front of him, blinking droplets from your lashes, lips parted to let your excited exhales escape.

Joel rakes his eyes over your wet body, takes it in like no one has in years, like you had never imagined him capable of, and you have often imagined him as a man of a significant amount of talents. You don't shrink under his scrutiny, quite the opposite: you relish it. You want him to worship you with his eyes, take his fill, feast on you until looking is no longer enough.

He raises his hand, that rough, large hand that has pulled countless triggers, hurt innumerable people. You're not afraid, you've never been afraid of him. Palm up and fingers slightly bent, his hand is moving almost in slow motion towards you, to touch your breast. You wait, heart skipping several beats, and you almost flinch when his calloused palm brushes against your soft flesh.

Something rustles in the shrubbery behind Joel, who reacts in a split second. With one smooth move, he has pulled his gun, spun around, and is pointing the gun at the edge of the forest. Your legs shake as you take a step back to get closer to your backpack, where your gun is. But before you get to take it out, the lower branches of a bush nod, and a rabbit hops forward.

You both stare at the damn critter like you've ever seen one before. Eventually, Joel lowers his gun.

"Fuck."

You exhale in a strained chuckle. "Shoot it, we'll have dinner."

The rabbit, however, has already fled at the sound of human voices, and Joel is clicking the safety back on his gun before he puts it away. Without turning around, he tells you in a tight voice to get dressed.

"I want to be back before nightfall."

Fighting to control your trembling hands, you slowly get dressed and grab your pack. Stomping past Joel, you swing the bag widely onto your back. It slams into his arm, but you don't apologize.

He never apologized for bruising your heart, so why should you apologize for trying to protect it?

#the last of us fanfic #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #my fic

243 notes · View notes