#secrets of the darkened seas
Note
Ok, ok, ok, hear me out….
Tarzan Miguel…
Ahh, nonny. Casually just saw this scrumptious fanart of him as Tarzan by @Miuworm in X 🫠. And yeah. (Kinda amazed at how you guys manifest these things 🤭)
Like Me
Tarzan! Miguel O'Hara x Reader.
WARNINGS: nothing too bad. Depictions of violence, a bit of implicit gore and animal death. No proofread.
Summary: Your savior from a certain death is quite touchy-feely.
Another for Miguelverse ❤️✨
The furious waves of the sea clashed over your body, submerging it in the freezing and alive water.
Arms moved, swimming your way back up, gasping for a much needed gulp of air as soon as you reached the surface.
Peeking around you, trying to find something to get a hold of or climb on, exhaustion was crawling up to your limbs, like hypothermia.
Fuck
Mind cursed with every foul word you could've imagine. How did trip ended up like this? In what moment the clouds turned so grey they darkened the sky, announcing a downpour with a loud rumble? It all took minutes to go sour and south.
You were there to do a land recognition, and see if you could get home some new species. Sergei Kravinoff, or Kraven The Hunter, was the lead of your expedition, all financed by a man named Kingpin.
Your name was called, echoed in the distance.
"Over here!!" You flailed your arms in an attempt of being seen, and hopefully the debris wouldn't blear their sight to find you.
You swam in the direction of the voice, teeth clattered, tool belt heavy on your hips, but you knew if you lost them, any possible chance of getting another were impossible. Plus, Kraven hated it when you lost your equipment as they weren't cheap.
Every paddle of your arms felt heavier, like if your wrists had been tied up with iron pounds, dragging you down. Lips turned blue and trembled. Salty and cold water doused you, but you weren't to give up.
You had fought your way to get a spot in this expedition and a pathetic ending like drowning wasn't an option. You spotted a wooden board floating nearby.
C'mon!
Your hands stretched towards it anf finally managed to keep yourself afloat. Panting, groaning and shivering, letting the cold to finally sink in. Feet had started to numb out, ragged breaths turned laborious.
Once more someone called you, this time you recognised the voice. Peter, the other nerd according to Kraven. You two were the ones selected to be the scientist that would lead Kraven to a certain victory in Nueva York.
Ever since Norman Osborn and Otto Octavius had discovered new species of spiders and reptiles, everyone proclaimed them geniuses ahead of their time, leaving the hunting behind.
Kraven was set into getting either a new species or something alike to regain his forlorn glory. He refused to be forgotten.
But everything pointed that the island you were now had a mind of its own. As if preventing anyone to delve in further into it's secrets.
You were pulled out from the board by Peter that immediately covered you up in a raggedy blanket. Despite the fabric being old, it gave you enough warmth to avoid death taking a hold on you.
Kraven cursed in russian, but was hopeful y'all be found soon. The ship's black box was ruined, your luggage at least was minimal, and it was enough to be saved by ether Peter or anyone kind enough.
A powerful and enormous wave had turned the boat upside-down. Knocking everything loose out of the board. The guns and other tools were the only things that survived.
But, you hoped, the whole fiasco was just temporary. Fisk wasn't a careless man, he'd probably send help soon. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your bones to freeze.
----
You woke up nearby the makeshift fireplace, relishing the heat your body had lacked. Clothes were humid, but no longer soaked and freezing.
Sighing, you stirred awake, letting the tension leave your body with a groan.
"Hey, wake up." Peter approached, concern etched into his features as he helped you on your feet.
"Where's everyone?"
"I... We uh, got lost. One moment Kraven is here and the other he's not. Left us behind. Or, he also got lost."
"Kraven? Lost?" Peter could sense the deadpan in your voice and he sighed, exasperated.
"I'm just trying to light up the mood. He was pissed. So I assume that he just thought he'd do it himself." He shrugged and you sighed, rubbing your neck.
"Great! now we're lost, my luggage is nowhere to be found but at least we have tools, right?"
The faltering in Peter's face made yours to fall as he shook his head.
"God, I swear... Fuck him. If I'm discovering something, Ain't sharing with him!"
"Let's focus on surviving first. The soil is rich, meaning the jungle is nearby."
"And so is the wild life." You sighed and Peter groaned.
"Look, thinking negatively won't take us anywhere. I'm not saying either let's throw a party for being stuck in an unknown place. But we gotta move. It's about to get dark."
"Right... You're right" You rubbed your face, exhausted, at least you weren't freezing anymore. But being at Nature's mercy wasn't pretty either, yet again. You were selected by none other than Sergei. If he trusted your judgement to be valuable enough, why couldn't you?
With a new resolution in mind, you took the raggedy blanket and other little tools Peter managed to salvage and soon ventured yourselves in the thickness of the jungle.
-----
Sun had long disappeared in the sky leaving a faint trail of golden and orange in the clouds, and you were certain that it had been hours since you walked in the jungle. No signs of Kraven or the caravan of people.
No signs of society or at least his stupid russian jokes that you were sure people laughed at by sheer convenience.
The only advantage Kraven possessed in his favor, was him being an avid hunter. You only studied species, animals and flowers to be more precise, and had a little knowledge of mechanics. Enough to fix your own machines and trinkets. Peter was an expert in mechanics and soil. You followed him.
"I think I've seen that rock before" Peter sighed as he slouched against a tree.
"Don't say that, Parker." You wheezed as you followed him, resting your aching back against him. "I'm definitely finding some poison and put it on Kraven's drink."
"Relax. Without us he's going into unknown territory."
"In case you haven't noticed, he's a professional hunter. And I hate with passion skirts."
The distant rumble of a storm approaching echoed through the sky.
"A hunter, not a geologist. He acts like an animal to get animal bodies."
"Still, he knows his way around these places, Pete."
"Shooting things till they're dead isn't knowing about things"
Peter stood and offered his hand.
"Uh-uh I just sat down."
"We gotta at least go upwards. This area is prone to flooding."
With a vexed groan you took Peter's hand and he pulled you up. You were tired of walking, but if he said you needed to advance, you obeyed.
"Fuck..."
----
Despite the soaking rain pouring around you, Peter had found an amalgamation of trees and branches supported by a hollow tree.
Birds chirped and cawed, bugs joined the concert once the rain subsided, the distant flapping of the birds and the rustle of leafs prevented you from lowering your guard. The only comforting thing besides Peter's company was the petrichor smell, pungent in the air.
You'd spend hours inhaling the gift of nature, if it wasn't for your belly grumbling, and Peter had ran out of cashews.
Even crickets sounded tempting to eat. With the right spices, they tasted crunchy. But all you could do was to imagine their taste as it was time to move again.
"Knowing Kraven, he'd go up to the mountains, probably they've sent a camp nearby a river. So let's look for one."
"Yeah, even better so I can drown that fucker in. He better pay us good for this stupid prank."
Peter chuckled and looked around for a minute, his blue eyes narrowed upon setting his sight in a tree trunk. Broken in half, but what truly made his... whatever this unpleasant feeling to rise within was the vicious marks indented on the tree bark.
Powerful scratches filled with bloody chum and crimson liquid, paw like marks painted in the trunk. The source of such gruesome spectacle laid in whatever pieces was left a couple of inches away. He could make out a tail, and small hind legs. A baby monkey, or rather half of it.
"Uh... We better hurry."
Peter swallowed, and the urgency in his tone only made your worry to shoot heavenwards.
You both walked, speeding up the step. Unaware of the keen eyes, hidden in the bushes that followed your every moves like a hawk. A low growl filled in the space he occupied.
---
You were certainly to die.
Undeniably, and it didn't matter how fast you managed to run, the jaguar quick paced trotting had you pushing your limits. Tears blurred your sight, as a garbled sob escaped your lips.
Scratches adorned your arms, decorating your flesh with fresh oozing wounds, dirt and leafs stuck to your marred flesh.
Chest heaved with deep and ragged pants, wobbly legs menaced to give in under the pressure at any second
You were going to die.
Even though life had been incredibly dull and the only comfort was your investigation, you didn't want it to end so soon. Not whenyou were about to accomplish a promise to yourself.
Peter had gone lost and separated once the chase began. One minute he was before you, and the other, your friend was gone, out of sight and reach. But the relentless giant feline behind you preferred you. An easy prey.
Your wails and cries for help fell upon deaf ears, who would listen to you in the middle of the jungle? For once you wished to have Kraven's gun expertise.
You didn't care if hypocrite defined you right now. You took a thick branch, swinging it with difficulty and pain at the euphoric beast, like a demotivated baseball player. But the jaguar's claws swatted the useless weapon away from your hands, and making you stumble on the ground.
This was it.
Oh God, oh my god, no, no no
The animal pounced and by instinct, you shielded your body with your shaky limbs. But no harm came.
You could feel the beast's warm and bloodthirsty breath on your head, snapping it's maws at you, desperately trying to reach for a bite of your supple flesh.
Eyes wide in horror, and disbelief. The jaguar was held by his tail, earning whoever that was holding it back from devouring you a couple of swings with it's sharp claws. But the animal was set into getting to you. It pounced on your boots, claws sinking on the back of hour ankles, earning a sobbing and painful wail.
A gruesome crack and a roar echoed behind you, and only then you were able to see your savior.
The tallest man you've ever seen, even taller than Kraven, strong and well built physique, a rich tanned skin full of scratches and long healed wounds. Hair long, reaching a bit past his shoulders, muscles that heaved and rippled in every breathing you did. Body hair etched beautifully in his skin.
Covered in nothing but a loincloth.
If it wasn't for you being at the death's gates, you'd take your time to study him.
You gasped as he held the oversized cat with his hands and slammed it on the ground. They circled eachother, shifting between the roles of hunter and prey.
The feline hissed, and the man returned the threat, a cold sweat ran down your spine upon watching two overgrown canines, on his mouth. Fangs. He had fangs. Brown eyes stared at the four legged monster, defying it.
And soon the jaguar took his invitation. The two majestic creatures fought, enraged, proving their prowess to eachother, disputing the role of Alpha within the jungle's hierarchy. They rolled on the ground, biting and clawing at eachother.
With a lurid snap the man cracked the beast's neck, earning an agonizing wail from the mean cat. He staggered before slamming his fist on the animal, forcing the last breaths out of the beast.
His nose flared, proudly, while his hands slammed his chest.
Terror was still taking a hold of you, and there was nothing you could use as a weapon. Your hands braced your shoulder as you tried to carefully stand, but your clumsy feet stepped in a branch, snapping it in half, like the jaguar's neck. Brown eyes were immediately on you.
You swallowed hard.
He approached, hunched and prowling over, his knuckles and toes supported his hulking frame.
"S-Stop!"
He quirked an eyebrow, curious and within seconds he was before you.
Breath hitched on your throat, face so close to yours, he could feel your breath blowing on his chin.
You hissed as he took a hold of your arm, examining the damage. There wasn't rage in his features but nothing more than untampered curiosity.
His hands reached for your hair, sniffing the strands, you couldn't help but giggle when his nose hovered over your head, sniffing you, a bad moment to be ticklish, really.
Breath caught again as his nose nuzzled your neck.
"W-Wai-" His fingers prodded at your lips, rubbing the calloused thumbs on your soft mouth. A satisfied grunt rumbled in his firm and hairy chest
He toyed with your face, examining it with child like wonder. He turned, prodded and licked your cheeks, reminiscing in your taste with a confused look.
"U-uh, sir-"
What is he doing? oh god.
He hunched even closer to rest his ear on your chest. Heart pumping violently inside your ribcage, eyes darted towards the covered mounds, he sank his face in between them, taking a deep inhale. A low growl came from within and your cheeks flared in a deep flush.
Oh shit, shit
His hands cupped your mounds, sending a shiver through your body, but you slapped his hand away. He looked taken aback before baring his teeth to you.
"No!" You covered your chest and backed away, but his nose flared to then grab your head and placed it on his chest a tad forcefully. Warm and plush skin met yours. You gulped again.
Powerful echoes boomed through his chest.
The natural musk of him tickled your senses, his hands roamed your lower back and your alarms flared.
"H-hey, hey!"
He pulled your feet up, sending you tumbling backward, skirt rolling down your thighs, exposing your legs to him.
You tried to cover your skin by gathering your skirt up. His nose again sniffled as your wriggled underneath him. Hands prodding and picking at your toes, earning a clumsy giggle
His touch was like molten lava, it sent a shudder down your spine.
His fingers were having a good feel of your flesh, as if confirming you were real.
With each discovery his interest only grew. He then cupped your face again, smooshing your cheeks together, giving a deliberate lick on your lips.
"T-The polite thing to do is to take me out before that happens!" You mumbled nervously while trying to get yourself free.
His eyes narrowed once more as he lifted up your skirt completely, revealing your panties.
It gave you little to no time to prepare you for his next move. He sunk his face in between your thighs taking a good whiff of your scent, another pleasant growl came from him, by reflex, your hand slapped him. And this made him look at you, confused but clearly upset while holding his cheek.
"No! Stop it!" You warned while gathering your skirt underneath your knees and pointing at him. Cheeks impossibly red
He seemed to understand as he crouched before you. Muscular thighs flexing as he sat, mimicking your actions.
"Uh, uh. No. Don't do that"
"Uh Uh, No. Don't do that"
He repeated with the same authoritarian tone. Voice surprisingly rich and alluring. Your eyes went wide.
"You can speak!"
He repeated like a parrot.
"Can... Can you understand me?"
His brows furrowed then quirked. He was about to come up with a reply when the rustling and your name being called echoed behind the foliage.
"Over here!!!" You shouted, this alarmed the man as he stood, backing up from you with a mistrustful glare.
"Wait! No no! Don't go!" Your hands wriggled, but it was futile.
He left before anyone could see him. Climbing the trees like it was another playground game, until he disappeared out of sight.
None other than Kraven showed up, machete on hand, swinging it the weeds and plants that dared to cross his way.
A shit eating smirk plastered on his face.
"See? I told you, she'd be fine." Kraven patted Peter's shoulder as they kept moving to find a perfect spot for the camp.
Kraven crouched to where the jaguar's body laid and looked at you.
"What happened?"
"I... don't know. I-I panicked. Was running from a snake and I found that there."
Sergei just hummed, as he watched the body, eyes raking the feline's carcass before beckoning two of his men closer.
"Skin him. Don't have this type yet."
Kraven took a deep inhale. Death's stench sparking alive the hunter in him.
"Whatever killed it, needs to be in my personal collection of trophies."
Peter in the meantime cleansed your wounds with water, to then apply some clean bandages on them.
The whole group moved, upwards to the mountains.
"What the heck happened!?" he whispered aggressively
You made sure for Kraven to be within a reasonable distance to speak again.
"You won't believe me if I'd tell you."
Cause in truth, how would you explain a man, taller than Sergei, killed with his bare hands a wild animal and got way too touchy with you but is able to speak?
The road was long. You had time
Peter sensed your discomfort and pressed no further. However, the feeling of being watched never waned. It was the group, against the jungle's secrets.
----
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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eighteen
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: Nothing super specific, but things get pretty dark (at least in my opinion). Mentions of torture.
The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
Azriel grabbed Rhys by the front of his jacket, hands shaking horribly despite all his efforts to stop. It had started this morning, when another disastrous attempt to talk to Andrian had left Azriel with his mind in shambles, knife pressed against his own throat. It had been going on for weeks now. Someway, somehow, Andrian would find a way to break through Azriel’s defenses and force him to relieve his worst memories. Sometimes he dreamt of his burning hands. Mostly he thought of you, and the day he’d nearly killed you.
“Tell me you didn’t,” Azriel growled desperately. “Tell me!”
It was too easy for him to pick out when his brother was speaking with Feyre, and something about the way Rhysand had been looking at him— like he was a fraction of a second away from splintering into a million pieces — told Azriel enough about who had been sent for. You were the only one who could calm him. The only one who could do what he and Rhys had failed to do.
Violet eyes shone from a perfectly handsome face. A face he knew too well. A face that he wanted to punch right now.
“I’m afraid I can’t, brother,” Rhysand responded gravely.
Azriel slammed his fist against the wall instead, taking out a chunk of granite that spit grey dust into the air. He swore beneath his breath, pacing the hallway and trying to steady his racing heart. He’d never wanted you to see this place. He’d never even wanted you to step foot on the island above, its rolling peaks a stark contrast to the tunnels below where Azriel conducted his business. Business that stained his hands a thousand shades of red.
“You’ve been working yourself ragged, Az, and Andrian still hasn’t said anything. Not to you. Not to me. We need to know all we can about Koschei. Vassa’s on the brink of madness. Henna’s dead. I can’t even get past Andrian’s mental wards. What the fuck are we meant to do?”
“So you thought to go behind my back and bring Y/n into this?! She’s not something for you to use, Rhys.”
“She’s already in this mess.” Rhys reminded him, as he often did. His eyes softened as he looked to the locked door at the end of the hall with its small, rectangular window. Bars breaking up the lamplight glowing from within. “And you know she’d agree this is the best course of action. She’ll be able to do it.”
Azriel’s hands shook. “Give me another week and I’ll get us the information we need. Tell Feyre to turn around. Don’t bring Y/n here.” Don’t let her see this part of me.
“The boy doesn’t have another week. He doesn’t even have a day.”
The shaking traveled throughout Azriel’s entire body. His eyes darkened and he began the process of hiding his heart away within the void that curled inside of him. That wicked beast that was always on the verge of swallowing him whole.
Feyre winnowed you both to the outskirts of the northern territories and you went from sweating in your fur-lined leathers to shivering in the knee deep snow. The Illyrian Mountains rose behind you like predatorial rows of shark teeth and the endless sea stretched in front, slate grey and empty except for lonely ripples of sea foam. Through the frosty haze you could make out a smattering of islands, each with their own tooth-like tips capped with snow and ice. Feyre looked at you, her eyes leaning more towards blue now that she’d tapped into the Winter Court’s power to stave off the cold.
The Warren was protected by wards that made winnowing impossible, so you let Feyre scoop you up in her powerful arms, wings growing from her back like unfurling shadows before the ground dropped away from her feet and she took off into the sky.
You clung to her shoulders, eyes slamming shut so you wouldn’t have to look down at the churning black waters and the rocks they crashed against. If you were to fall now, you could only hope you drown before the waves ripped your body to pieces against the rocks like meat torn between a pair of canines.
You stayed frozen and tight as a coil until the rush of wind stopped and you no longer felt your stomach creeping up into your throat. You could have dropped to your knees and kissed the ground if you weren’t sure your lips would freeze there. You did shove your hands into the gritty sand though, breathing slowly through your nose until you finally had the strength to stand.
Feyre led you down the long stretch of beach, waves whistling in the wind — a haunting, beautiful melody, like a woman crying.
Azriel had discovered The Warren centuries ago. After a particularly brutal brawl that had left him with a broken arm and cracked ribs, he’d taken to the skies, desperate to escape the hard packed floors and burning scent of sex mixed with alcohol that seemed to invade every corner of the Windhaven barracks. He’d been fighting over a woman, a woman that had been dragged into the rowdy common room trembling with the telltale sign of a whisky haze over her burnt umber eyes, dress ripped and muddy.
Did it even matter that he’d brought her back untouched to that leaning house with its wooden slabs frosted over and the chimney coughing up black smoke like a diseased lung? Azriel had wondered as he flew without a destination in mind. And when he’d finally collapsed on the island, frozen ground beneath his hands and knees and spitting out blood from his cut up gums, his shadows had tugged him towards the gaping mouth of The Warren, urging him to explore a darkness that was his and his alone. It had been his escape. A safe place in the world that had so few. But when Rhysand became High Lord and he the Spymaster, Azriel hadn’t hesitated to give up The Warren in the service of the Night Court, adding it to the long list of sacrifices he made so that he might actually start to feel like he deserved his place with his family.
You stilled in front of The Warren’s entrance, black walls glittering and damp from sea spray. Jagged, cracked bone rocks hovered overhead like axes ready to fall, jutting out of a cliffside and curling over the beach in the shape of a hunched back or an unhinged jaw. Wind whistled from within like asthma — high-pitched and keening.
“This is where you keep all your prisoners.” You weren’t asking a question, merely stating a fact.
Feyre had had little time for explanations back at the House. She’d focused on defending your body against the frigid cold to come, her mind split between you and Rhysand as he worried over Azriel from miles away.
“Not all of them. Only the ones Azriel finds useful.”
“The ones he plans to torture for information.”
From somewhere deep within the earth you swore you heard the clanging of chains, a growl, and a desperate groan that had the hair on your neck rising.
Feyre’s usual warmth was gone, replaced by something with more tact and less care. “This isn’t a place for the faint of heart, Y/n. And neither is Azriel. He’s tried to hide this from you, but it’s as much a part of him as anything else and if you care for him as much as I believe you do, you’re going to need to get used to this.”
There was the faintest flicker of doubt in your heart. “Andrian… he’s just a boy… you haven’t—Az hasn’t—”
“No,” Feyre said quickly. Horrified. “Azriel found him weeks ago trying to slip back into Day Court. We brought him here because it’s the most heavily warded place in Prythian and because the world needs to be protected from him as much as he needs to be protected from the world.” She grabbed your hands. They felt cold as ice. “Y/n. I swear to you, we haven’t hurt that boy. We won’t hurt him.”
“I know. I just… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Already you felt sick to your stomach just for asking. Azriel was many things — dangerous, cruel to those he felt were deserving of it, maybe even murderous at times — but he was still Az… and you weren’t afraid. Not even as you let Feyre lead you into The Warren, and you were swallowed whole.
The mouth of the cave quickly narrowed into a tunnel before turning at a severe angle and twisting like a corkscrew downward. If it weren’t for you and Feyre’s glowing bodies, you might have missed one of The Warren’s slick steps and tumbled down forever.
You passed by two offshoots, each branching out into their own secret tunnels that whispered and echoed and smelled faintly of blood. Coppery and sour.
One of the rooms you walked through smelled like metal and limestone. The rust-colored ground and drain in the center of the floor told you all you needed to know about its purpose and before you could stop yourself, before you could even think about whether this was truly a good idea, you found yourself pressing a hand against one of the chains hanging from the ceiling.
If Feyre was right and this was truly a part of Azriel — something horrible that needed to come with all of the good that he was — then you wanted to know. You felt that you had some right to know, and if it was the power the Mother had granted you, then you would use it when you saw fit.
Feyre froze when your power flooded the room without warning, feeling the energy and fury radiating off your skin without even turning to look at you. You kept the memories a safe distance away, but drank in the knowledge of every horrible hand that had hung from that ceiling like you were reading a list of names from a book. You read their crimes. You read every drop of blood that Azriel had spilled on the ground.
“Y/n?” Feyre asked tentatively, fearfully, when you blinked and released the chain.
She had every hope the bond would snap in place for you soon and that you’d help end Azriel’s centuries of loneliness. That you might be the one to finally show him he was deserving of kindness. But to love Azriel as he was, with all his rough edges and the pain he could inflict as much as he carried… it was not for the faint of heart.
“I understand why Azriel wanted to hide this place from me. This part of him,” you said quietly and to no one in particular. Not even to Feyre. “But he shouldn’t have.” Your eyes turned harder than stone. “They deserved it. Each and every one of them.”
Feyre stood, shocked into silence, and it wasn’t until you gripped her arm and nudged her into the next room that she found she was able to walk again.
You passed by more hallways and more rooms, some disturbingly clean and empty, others with chains hanging from the ceiling or littered on the floor. But the strangest part was, you could smell Azriel within these cramped walls, and that alone made you quicken your steps.
You chased that familiar scent, walking confidently through the dark and passing Feyre until you were spit out in a long, neat tunnel with one metal door at the end. Tendrils of shadow flickered from around the corner.
“Azriel?”
Your heart pounded in your chest when you saw him leaning against the wall, hands folded behind his back. Rhys’s eyes flickered to you, then to his mate as she followed closely behind. Azriel stiffened, his eyes locked and heavy. Shadows tugged at his eyes and accentuated the sharpness of his cheeks. He looked like he hadn’t slept since the day he left you… which wasn’t so far from the truth. Because the whole time he’d been here, he’d been thinking of you, and the ways you might hate him for what he did and the sick corners of his soul. For—
You sailed into his arms, wrapping yourself around his torso and pressing your face into the hollow of his neck. Part of your mind chastised you, calling you silly and desperate as it reminded you it had only been ten days since you’d last seen him. But you didn’t care. It felt far longer than that. Too long.
You needed this almost as much as he did.
You disappeared behind his wings, cocooned safely in membranous folds and shadows that kissed your skin. Azriel himself buried his face in your hair, feeling some of his worst worries dissipate. You hadn’t run away. You hadn’t been so disgusted as to leave just yet.
“Y/n,” he murmured your name before kissing your temple. “Gods, I missed you.”
“I would hope so.” You murmured into the curve of his jaw, “I might be a boring bookworm but I’m better company than this place.”
Azriel winced. “You have no idea.”
You missed the pointed look that Rhys and Feyre threw your way, but Azriel didn’t. He was tall enough to see over your head as Feyre pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, eyes glistening. They had come here for a purpose, and the sooner it was over with, the sooner they could all go home.
Azriel’s arms tightened around you. “I didn’t want you to come here. I didn’t want… I didn’t want you to see the things I do.”
“I know.” You traced the curve of his jaw, thumb smoothing over his cheek. “But I’m not afraid, Azriel.”
His eyes flickered from fear to relief to love, like one of those picture books you had to flip through to see the scene play out.
“You’re not?”
You shook your head no. Then you kissed him on the lips and whispered the words for him and him alone. “I trust you. You’re the most terrifying thing here anyway, and you’re mine.”
Yours.
Azriel quitel liked the sound of that.
Even here in the dungeons burrowed beneath empty frozen lands, Azriel found it within him to hope. Horrid creatures might be hidden elsewhere, creeping like slugs under the earth that he’d have to crush beneath his boot or tear treasured secrets from, but for now you were still by his side. For now you were still his and he would always be yours.
You looped your arm through his and moved towards that door at the end of the hallway, steeling yourself for what you already knew was behind it.
The light from the barred window flashed warm and cool then warm again. Light warped and pranced. The scent of rot hung in the air, humid and choking. You touched the door handle, feeling the magic fall away like it recognized you and opened up into a makeshift, but quaint bedroom. There were no windows here for there was nothing to see below ground, but some of Feyre’s landscape paintings hung on the wall. Faelights bloomed overhead, throwing light and heat on a child’s bed with green sheets, a table, and a bookcase overflowing with an assortment of puzzles and novels and toys. You felt your blood turn cold. They’d once belonged to Nyx before being repurposed for the little boy trembling on the floor.
You stared at him in horror.
The little boy who’d been so violently bright that morning in the marketplace was dull. Although he was wearing fresh clothes, his skin had turned a stone gray, black marks dotting his once silken, silver skin like a disease. He was aware of his condition, weeping on the plush rug cut in the shape of a flower as he batted at his arms, willing them to turn healthy again.
“No no no no no no,” he sobbed. He grabbed at his pillowy hair in frustration and tugged. A cloud of fragile strands came away and he cried harder, trying to stick them back to his scalp.
Rhysand’s face was broken and pale. He tried not to look at Andrian. He was too young. Reminded him too much of his own son.
“You were right.” Rhysand’s voice was hollow, laced with a pain that grabbed your throat and squeezed. “Koschei did kill him. He’s been dead this whole time.”
“NO!” Andrian screamed. “HE DIDN’T! HE PROTECTED ME!”
Fat tears rolled out of filmy eyes, dusty and brown as pond water. Rage filled him with new energy and he tried to attack your mind as he’d already done with Azriel. But there was something altogether different about your magic, something flexible that morphed and rearranged your mental walls until it felt like he was trying to attack himself.
He gave up when your walls didn’t fall, and chose the physical route instead. You recoiled as he took a swipe, bony arms reaching out in an awkward lunge. But his legs were too weak and crumpled beneath him. He looked like a fish laid out to rot on a summer day — bloated and slick.
“Koschei brought him back to life for his powers—”
“HE LOVES ME! PAPA LOVES ME!”
“To use as he saw fit when the time was right.”
“But he can’t survive being separated for so long from Koschei’s power, can he?”
Just like Vassa. Left on their own without their maker they couldn’t handle the curses that had been placed on them. They’d bend until they broke… unless they found another way…
“The killings,” You murmured as the pieces slowly fell into place, “He killed those Librarians and the tailor and the florist…” You didn’t want to be right about this. You prayed to the Mother that you were wrong.
But Azriel read the thoughts in your eyes and nodded. Feyre could only stand still and Rhysand couldn’t do more than speak out in that dead voice of his.
Andrian had killed those fae, not just to send a message, but because that was the price for going against nature, for being brought back from the dead. Power demanded balance. To stay alive, Andrian had needed others to take his place. Those Librarians and the Velarians hadn’t been murdered. They’d been sacrificed.
What Koschei had done to this boy — what he’d turned him into — made you want to crawl into a dark corner and stay there forever.
Andrian’s sobs died out. A crack of lightning followed by unnerving silence that had Azriel’s blood freezing in his veins. Andrian wasn’t much older than he’d been when he’d first been tossed into that dark cellar. When his brothers had set his hands aflame.
“He loves me,” he declared, as if saying it would make it true. He stayed curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels. “He stayed when Henna left me. He wasn’t afraid of me like the others. He took care of me.”
But Koschei hadn’t taken care of him. He’d taught Andrian to love him. To worship him, because that’s what he craved above all else. He’d helped the boy control his powers and had allowed him to live so he could send him off to die when it was most convenient. You’d thought Henna was Koschei’s perfect soldier, but you were wrong. Andrian was. He’d been broken and molded into something that should never have existed. He’d been sent to Prythian after his sister’s death to take her place. A boy who would have no choice but to return to the lake or die trying.
And he was dying. You could see it clear as day. Two teeth clinked onto the floor and Andrian’s hands flew up to his mouth. He whimpered, eyes locking on you like you might be able to fix this.
You wanted to beg Rhys and Feyre to do something, to fix him, but it was a useless endeavor. They wouldn’t have brought you here if they could just reach into Andrian’s mind and end it all peacefully. Andrian was too powerful for that. But you could use another way.
You approached him like a wild, injured animal, grimacing when he tried to run at you only for his ankle to twist and then snap. He fell to the floor in a pathetic sprawl.
“Hey there, little feather.”
Andrian paused at that familiar nickname, watery eyes looking up. You said it just like Henna had once upon a time. The same inflection in a differently pitched voice. His lips trembled.
“She left me.”
You shook your head before kneeling on the ground in front of him. He smelled of death. It clung to his linen shirt and trousers. It clung to the few strands of hair still woven into his scalp, skin so thin you could make out his skull.
“She didn’t leave you, Andrian.” You poured your voice out over him, as soothing as you could make it, forcing the tears down. “She thought you’d died and that you’d stayed dead. She had a little ceremony for you out near the willow tree and buried your favorite toy beneath it with a handful of water lilies. Do you remember it? The little wooden doll you dressed up like a soldier with the red cap and the silver shoes?”
He clamped his hands over his ears, shaking his head while his weak neck teetered dangerously atop his shoulders.
“Andrian—” You pulled his hands away and in a bold, dangerous move brought them to your temple and slowly lowered your mental wards. You didn’t give him free reign, but rather guided him through snippets of memories you’d taken from Henna before her death. They all revolved around him. Before, and even after Koschei had poisoned their minds, Andrian had remained her true priority.
The boy’s eyes flashed from anger to confusion then, finally, to despair.
“She didn’t leave you.”
Andrian waited a few moments that had your heart seizing, then rushed into your arms, tightening them like a vice around your shoulders and burying his face in your hair. You held your breath, but tightened your grip. You weren’t his sister, but you were the closest thing he had.
Slowly, like sand falling through an hourglass, you felt his arms weaken and fall from your shoulders. He stared at you, wide and terrified as his hand snapped off at the wrist and fell to your side in a grey heap.
“Make it stop. Please make it stop.”
You smoothed back his hair, shoving down the tears that threatened to fall. His eyes were white now and unseeing. “It’s ok, little feather. It’s ok.”
“I don’t—” Even his voice was crumbling apart. Raspy and broken like cracked glass. He had little time left. The fight in him gone. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go to that dark place. Please don’t make me go.”
Azriel had been watching the entire time, trying not to picture the little boy with dark hair, weak wings, and bandaged hands. He went so, so still.
“Hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” You promised. You forced your trembling lips into a smile.
He took in a rasping breath. “Will you go with me this time, Henna? Please.”
You gritted your teeth, brows furrowed in an effort to stay here instead of turning and sprinting back to the surface.
“I will. That’s why I came” You brushed his hair away from his forehead, saying nothing when the wispy white strands were torn away from his scalp like silk… just like the memories of Koschei’s lake you plucked from his mind without him knowing. You swallowed the pain of what you knew was coming. “I won’t let you be alone.”
He went quiet after that. Maybe his voice had deteriorated beyond saving, maybe he finally felt at peace. All you knew is that you needed to keep brushing his hair and holding onto his hand when he laid down and placed his head in your lap. He was like a little windup doll that had run out of string. He kept breathing until he finally stopped.
<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->
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Author's Note:
So... this was a rather sad one, bit of a tonal shift if you ask me, but I wanted to wrap up the stuff with Henna and Andrian before we continue on to other things.
BUT, you have to appreciate when Y/n walks into what's effectively a torture chamber and goes "yeah, nope, still in love with Azriel." It's just one of those things that gets brushed under the rug but like... this guy's WHOLE JOB is inflicting pain upon people.... and you know what, it's a fantasy book, so who the hell cares. We stan Y/n being supportive of Azriel's career lol
#the shadowsinger and the inkbird#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader slowburn#azriel shadowsinger
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cold
summary: Y/N faces hypothermia after a dangerous mission. Kaz helps her warm up by the fire, their bond growing stronger.
warnings: The story contains scenes of peril, violence, and life-threatening situations. Kaz is not fully ok with y/n’s touch, but he fights trough it. Ooc Kaz.
notes: Posting this again because it won’t show up in the #
On a moonlit night, the crew moved stealthily towards their next heist, anticipation electrifying the air. The target: the elusive Heart of Nebula, a gem said to hold secrets from the stars themselves, and worth even more, now resting within the hold of a formidable merchant ship. Kaz Brekker's mind hummed with strategies as he and his crew prepared to infiltrate the vessel, a symphony of darkness and cunning.
The assault began with a fierce volley of blows and flashing knives, the Crows expertly weaving through the chaos of the guards. Amidst the clash of metal and cries of alarm, Y/N's prowess shone bright as she fought with a grace that belied her strength. But in the midst of the turmoil, the situation took a turn.
One of the guards managed to corner Y/N, his arm snaking around her neck while a cold barrel pressed against her temple. The edge of the ship loomed dangerously close, its abyssal depths waiting hungrily. Kaz's icy eyes snapped toward the scene, his cane slicing through the guard before him with lethal precision. Without hesitation, he moved toward the guard who held Y/N captive.
The guard's voice rang out, its venomous tone laced with desperation. "Make them leave, Brekker, or the girl takes a plunge."
Kaz's gaze was as unforgiving as the sea's depths as he assessed the situation. A subtle nod towards his crew was met with hesitation, a collective tension palpable in the air. Yet, the Crows trusted their leader's decision and reluctantly retreated, fading into the shadows like wraiths.
With the other Crows gone, Kaz approached the edge of the ship, his voice a chilling breeze. "They're gone. Let her go now."
The guard's laughter was mirthless, his grip on Y/N relenting just enough for her to catch her breath. "You're quite the strategist, Brekker. But this time, you've lost." Kaz's eyes darkened, "You're the one holding the losing hand."
The guard's response was a cold, harsh warning. "One step closer, and I'll blow her brains out, Brekker."
In the deadly hush that followed, Y/N's eyes flickered to Kaz's, a subtle nod passing between them like a secret shared only between souls deeply connected. In the space of a heartbeat, Y/N's hidden blade flashed into her hand, finding purchase in the guard's leg. The gun wavered, and in that instant, Y/N twisted her body, pushing the gun skyward. The guard's grip slipped, and Y/N tumbled over the edge, disappearing into the inky depths below.
Kaz's gloved hand tightened on his cane as he stared at the fallen guard, fury simmering beneath his calm façade. With a swift, efficient motion, he rendered the guard unconscious, the cold weight of his cane delivering justice.
Breathless seconds ticked by, tension thick in the salty air. Kaz's sharp gaze scanned the dark waters, searching for any sign of Y/N. Relief flooded him as her head broke the surface, her voice piercing through the night. "I'm fine!" A sigh of relief escaped Kaz's lips. Y/N's determination was palpable as she called out, her voice carrying above the water's gentle lapping. "I'll swim to shore. Go ahead."
Kaz watched as she began to swim, her strokes strong and determined. With a final glance at the ship, he turned and walked away, his steps resolute and measured.
As Kaz reached the shore, he cast his gaze over the moonlit waters, waiting anxiously for Y/N’s return. His heart was a relentless drumbeat, matching the rhythm of the waves. The moment her form emerged from the darkness, shivering and weakened, he closed the distance between them. Urgency propelled his actions.
“Get rid of the clothes,” he instructed firmly, his voice laced with concern. “They’re wet and will make you colder.”
Y/N’s nod was slow, her trembling fingers fumbling with the soaked fabric as she undressed. Kaz turned his head, a gesture both respectful and protective. In a deliberate and almost rehearsed motion, he removed his coat and held it out to her. She accepted it with a shaky “Thanks.” her voice barely above a whisper.
As Kaz’s sharp eyes examined her, a surge of worry pulsed through him. The sight of her pale, chilled skin and lips tinged with blue sent an unexpected pang through his chest, a haunting echo of memories long buried. But he shoved those ghosts aside, focusing on the task at hand. Y/N needed him now.
“Y/N,” he heard her voice, fragile and wavering like a whispered plea. “We have to get you somewhere warm.”
Nodding at her, he guided her towards the Slat, their steps slow and deliberate. But soon, it became apparent that her strength was waning, her movements faltering as her eyes fought to stay open. Kaz’s instincts kicked in, and he brought them to a nearby safe house. “Stay awake, Y/N,” he urged, his voice a lifeline.
With the gentlest touch, he grasped her sleeve, guiding her with utmost care. Inside the safe house, the dim glow of the fireplace greeted them. Kaz moved with practiced efficiency, gathering wood and coaxing flames to life. “Take the coat off,” he instructed softly. “I’ll get you blankets.”
Y/N’s trembling grew more pronounced. Her weakened state made even the simple act of unbuttoning her coat a struggle, her shivering fingers fumbling with each button. Kaz watched for a moment, concern etched on his face, before taking a step forward.
“May I?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a rare tenderness, pointing towards the buttons. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his as she nodded slightly. A barely audible “Please” slipped from her lips as he delicately unbuttoned her coat. His movements were careful, his touch a lifeline, as he worked the coat off her shoulders.
He noticed Y/N’s weakened posture, her struggle to remain upright, and her eyes that threatened to close for longer with each blink. A gentle tap to her cheek accompanied his soft words, urging her to stay awake. Once the coat was removed, he set it aside, then settled Y/N close to the warmth of the fireplace.
Debates waged within his mind as he assessed the situation. Should he fetch a blanket or offer his own warmth to stave off the cold? Y/N’s sudden cessation of shivering tilted the balance, a sign that he couldn’t ignore. He quickly discarded his clothes, his urgency matched only by his fear. Ghosts of his past slowly attacking his mind. But that fear was replaced with a resolute determination as he reminded himself that he had to help her. For fuck’s sake. She’s dying, do something!
“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice a lifeline in the quiet room. He moved swiftly to her side, his heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and purpose. He hesitated for a moment, the depth of his feelings surfacing before he banished them, replacing them with a driving need to save her.
“Y/N, look at me,” he whispered urgently, his hands cupping her face gently. The storm in his eyes met the battle in hers, a silent affirmation that they were in this together. “Stay awake, Y/N.”
With quick, precise movements, he guided her closer, his arms enfolding her delicate form. He drew her legs over his lap, holding her securely, a barrier against the cold that threatened to steal her away. His heart raced as he whispered her name, a litany of small pleas and encouragements, willing her to hold on.
His hands moved over her body, a desperate attempt to generate warmth. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, rubbing and caressing in a rhythm meant to bring life back to her numbing limbs. A sigh of relief escaped him as her body began to respond, her shivers returning.
“That’s good, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of relief and reassurance. “That’s good.”
Y/N’s voice trembled, her weariness evident as she spoke of her desire to rest, if only for a moment. Kaz’s response was a gentle yet unwavering plea. “Hold on a little longer, Y/N. You’re doing good.”
As the warmth of the fire seeped into the room, color began to return to Y/N’s face, a welcome transformation that Kaz couldn’t help but watch with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Her lips, once tinged with blue, regained their natural hue, easing the knot of worry in his chest. He assessed her carefully, the weight of his concern slowly lifting as she regained strength.
Gradually, he eased her down, his touch gentle as he ensured she was comfortable before he rose to his feet. “I’m going to get you some blankets, Y/N,” he announced, his voice soft. Y/N met his gaze and thanked him, her gratitude a quiet melody in the stillness of the room.
Kaz put his pants back on before he climbed the stairs, his steps measured, his mind focused on the task at hand. In the closet, he found a collection of blankets, each one a comforting refuge against the cold. When he returned to the room, he laid one blanket on the ground for Y/N to sit on, then carefully wrapped a second one around her, his movements deliberate yet tender.
Settling back down beside her, Kaz draped the third blanket around himself, creating a barrier of warmth between them. The room was filled with a palpable sense of quiet, an unspoken understanding that permeated the space. Moments stretched on, the fire’s crackle and pop providing a gentle rhythm to their thoughts.
Y/N, who looked remarkably better now, broke the silence with words that carried a depth of meaning. “Thank you, Kaz.” Her voice was soft yet sincere.
Kaz’s response was equally quiet, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. “No problem.”
Y/N glanced away briefly before turning her gaze back to him, her eyes holding a mixture of gratitude and something more. “I’m sorry you had to do that,” she said, her words holding a weight that was both apologetic and appreciative. “I know it must’ve been hard.”
Kaz’s mind churned, reflecting on the moments they had shared, the emotions that had surged through him. He hesitated, grappling with his own thoughts before the words emerged, honest and unfiltered. “For you, I would do it again,” he admitted, his voice a gentle affirmation of his feelings.
In response, Y/N’s smile was soft, her eyes reflecting a warmth that mirrored the fire’s glow. “I would do it for you too, Kaz. Anything.” Her words held an earnestness that touched him, a willingness to stand by him no matter the challenge.
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vanishing grace — mizu x fem!spider!reader
summary: breaking into to fowler’s castle wasn’t as easy as you’d originally thought, neither was the idea of being able to come out unscathed.
a/n: girl help! i cannot stop drawing my spidersona with mizu!!! also i think this is the longest fic ive ever written for a oneshot 💀 also this is not proofread so if there are mistakes forgive me 😭
wc: 3.9k
warning(s): guns, gunshot wound, being stabbed, slight angst if you squint, FOWLERS HEADASS, mizu being sad
from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸
︿︿︿︿︿︿ ✎ᝰ . . . .
You followed silently behind Mizu as she carefully counted the paces to the far entrance to Fowler’s Castle, making sure to place your feet in the dents in the snow where her feet had stepped.
The silence surrounding you two since everything that happened at Madame Kaji’s was tense. You were upset with her. Of course you were. She let Akemi get taken back into captivity and Ringo had left because of her actions.
You could understand where she was coming from, in a way. You can’t save everyone. It’s a hard truth you’d learned in your years as Spider-Woman, but you can’t help but feel like you could’ve done something.
Right before your face could make contact with Mizu’s back, your steps abruptly stopped thanks to your sixth sense. She used her naginata to brush the snow off the covered grate in the ground.
Mizu silently handed you your mask after slicing it open, and you took it from her hand softly. Could she tell you were upset with her? And if she could, did she even care? You shook it off, tugging on your mask.
She dropped down into the tunnel, water splashing beneath her feet softly upon impact. She glanced around quickly before turning back to you, holding up her arms to help you down.
You let her, trying to get ahold of yourself as her hands gripped your waist and gently set you down before she closed the grate with her weapon.
The tunnel darkened significantly and Mizu made a sudden move to keep your hand in hers as you made your way further in. She eventually found a dry enough piece of wood, wrapping a cloth around the top, lighting the cloth on fire to make a torch.
There was loud squeaking coming from your feet, and the two of you looked down to find around 5 rats staring up at you. Mizu killed one, and the rest scattered.
The two of you continued until you came across dozens of skeletons, children’s skeletons, and that was the only other pause you took in the tunnels.
“Oh my god,” You whispered, placing a hand over your mouth at the sight of a woman’s skeleton with her arms wrapped around the child’s far smaller one. You gripped Mizu’s hand tighter as she seethed, dragging you down through the tunnels.
She stopped just before the two of you could run into a door, and let go of your hand. She tried opening it with no luck. Then she leaned her weapon against the doorframe to take off her pack. She handed you the torch, and you glanced around the tunnel nervously.
“What’s the plan, Mizu?” You asked, your hands beginning to shake. Was it fear? Adrenaline? You didn’t know. But every fiber of your body was screaming at you like this was a bad idea, and you couldn’t help but agree.
“Don’t really have one,” She shrugged, picking up her lock picking equipment and kneeling in front of the lock. Your heart pounded at her dry and casual admission that she didn’t have a plan to get through this death house, but you took a deep breath to compose yourself. It was already tense enough. “You’re kind of my secret weapon if everything goes to shit.”
“We should’ve talked about this on the way here,” You grumbled as the lock finally clicked. You took it as good news for a moment before the tunnels behind you began rumbling.
They burst full with water, and you pushed the torch back into her hands. You rushed to the door handle, and began to yank on it with all your strength. It was heavy. You could easily throw a shipping container, and this was hard and rusted for you to open.
It squeezed open a crack, but it was too late. Mizu and you were quickly knocked out as the rushing water slammed you both against the door harshly, and everything went black.
You recovered a bit quicker than Mizu did, but quickly swam back over to the door to continue your work while praying that you wouldn’t drown. It already felt as if your mask was waterboarding you, even though you chose that fabric that wouldn’t do that when you made it (if you got back home to your time, you were contacting the seller). You broke the lock after a brief moment of suffocation, pulling the door open and pushing Mizu through before following after her.
There was finally a place for you both to surface, right under a grate in what you guessed was a supply room. The both of you hacked water out your lungs, catching your breath.
You pushed the grate off, pulling yourself up with aching limbs before holding out your hand and pulling Mizu up with ease. The two of you panted for another minute before she turned to you, her usually cold, narrow eyes more round and almost puppy like.
“You okay?” She asked softly as you tugged off your mask and rung it out.
“Besides being practically waterboarded in this mask?” You coughed up some more water, and she patted your back. “Just peachy.”
She didn’t respond, opting to take off her roll and check what supplies she’d lost in the process of the water slammed into her. She’d lost a lot, still panting before she wiped the water off her face with the back of her hand. She rolled her pack back up and helped you to your feet.
Making your way up the floors of the castle proved to be more physically taxing than you’d originally expected. Although, Mizu could firmly admit now that she was jealous of your acrobatic skills after you flipped and dodged through the corridor after getting stabbed through the ankle at the last second.
Finally, the dust from that flower had worn off for you and you heard grunting coming from a cell farther back in the dungeon. You quickly made your way over with Mizu behind you, gasping at the sight of Taigen. He was beaten to a pulp, a heavily swollen eye, and skin pale. The most frail you’ve ever seen him.
You stayed on your feet to keep watch as Mizu kneeled down to check on him.
“Taigen.” She sighed in relief, a small smile on her face.
He grunts, bringing his hand up to brush against the wrapping on her neck. “That's...” He groans, “That's my scarf.”
“Are you real?”She asks quietly, and he raises a brow to the best of his ability.
“I think so.”
You kneel on the other side of Taigen, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Can you walk?” Taigen grunts as you help him sit up.
“Might be slow.”He grumbles, allowing you to sling his arm around your shoulders and haul him up. He was far lighter than the last time you’d seen him after leaving him in the forest, and the hero part of you couldn’t help but worry.
“Better than you being dead,” You huffed, shaking your head at Mizu when she tried to help. She had to focus. You could handle taking care of Taigen.
You help him hobble out of the cell, turning left to follow Mizu further down the corridor to the next door and flight of stairs.
The large man that had sought Mizu out for Heiji Shindo was looming in before the door at the other end of the hall at the top of the stairs, and you could only sit with Taigen and watch as she fought the man. You webbed up Taigen’s wounds as some form of pressure as Mizu launched herself back after stabbed the explosive into the man’s neck.
She landed a few feet away from you before the explosive activated, killing the man and knocking all of you out.
When you came to, you were acutely aware of the fact you were slowly sliding off the remaining rubble hanging over the edge of where a wall once was.
Coughing, you propped yourself up on your elbow as Mizu began to stir awake and took in your new surroundings. A sharp pain on the left side of your torso hit you, and you hissed in pain before looking down to see a large scrape that managed to tear some of your suit.
You attention quickly turned to your right when a groan rang out, you turned your head to see Taigen slowly falling off the ledge.
Before you could lunge for him yourself, she grabbed his wrist and slid off with him, not having the strength to keep them both on the ground.
“Mizu!” You shouted, more than ready to dive off the side to catch both of them. When you peered over the ledge, you almost let out a sob from the relief at the sight of Mizu dangling from her sword that was stabbed into the side of the building, holding Taigen in her other hand before pulling him onto her back.
You rolled off the ledge, crawling down the wall to them as Mizu gained her footing and gripped onto the crevices in the stone and yanked her sword out.
“Give me your hand,” She seemed reluctant, not wanting to put more physical stress onto you. Your eyes seemed rounded, almost puppy like as you asked again. “Please, Mizu. I can carry the both of you.”
She reluctantly placed her tired hand into your own, surprised by your strength as you easily lifted both of them onto your back the same way Mizu had done to Taigen. You gingerly took her sword, biting the dull end to hold it in your mouth, almost snarling as you scaled up the side of the castle.
Mizu watched in admiration, and almost adoringly at how tenacious and adamant you were. You were easily scaling the building with two bodies dangling from your shoulders, and you were doing all of it just to help her. No one had ever been there for her the way you have (besides sword father), in just a few months as well.
You had found a small, wider ledge to pull yourself onto. You placed your elbow on the ledge and pulled yourself up, panting softly as you gazed in through the window. A small army of guards was grouped behind a door, waiting for the three of you, you guessed. Your spider sense rang in your ears and you grunted, turning your head back to Mizu.
“Hold on,” You grunted, shooting a hand out to spray a web to the top of the window. You yanked yourself up the web, internally thinking about how easily you did this back home. But you made it over the window just as a guard looked back, seeming to have heard you, but not seeing anything.
After finally reaching the room that Fowler resided in, the both of you watched from below a window as one of the lords stood in front of it. Mizu gingerly removed her sword from her mouth, raising her arm to throw it.
“After he starts to drop, throw Taigen in.” She rasped in your ear, and you nodded, not being able to stop the goosebumps that quickly covered your body from the warm breath on your neck.
It all happened quicker than you could really comprehend; Mizu stabbing the lord, throwing Taigen into the room, and launching her from your shoulders into the room. You followed after quickly, the sight of your spider-suit earning strange glares from the lords.
“Abijah Fowler!” Mizu shouted, holding her sword out and ready. “Where is he?” She wandered over to the table with you right behind her, gazing down at a sheet of paper with what seemed to be a war plan and a map of Edo.
Mizu quickly turned as one of the lords struck his sword at her, backing up into you to make sure you weren’t hit. When she struck back, the dull edge of her blade resting against the fat of his neck before lifting her leg up and kicking him back. He landed on the wooden floor with a harsh thud, making you wince.
The click of a gun cocking and the trigger being pulled registered in your head before she could notice it.
You launched yourself over the table at the much larger body; Fowler. Shooting a web on either side of him, you yanked yourself at him as he fired. You let out a shout as your foot made solid contact with his cheek, knocking him back as Mizu’s blade broke, the bullet tearing through her shoulder.
You scrambled onto your feet to sprint back to Mizu as Fowler lifted his head, rubbing his jaw with an unnerving smile.
“Now, what are you?”
Mizu whimpered as she held the shoulder where the bullet entered before looking at her broken blade mournfully. You quickly moved her hands, checking the other side of her shoulder to see if the bullet went through; you really didn’t want to dig one out of her. Thankfully it did, and you quickly webbed up the injury as Abijah stood, grabbed a brush to shove down the barrel of his gun.
“You see?” He states to Heiji, using his gun to push the man’s sword down as they watched you and Mizu. “No one murders so well as the British. It’s our number one export.”
Mizu growled at the man before lunging at him with her broken blade, but he quickly raises his gun and wacks her back, throwing her into the wall. Your breath hitched before you raised your eyes to face him, a rage bubbling in your stomach that hadn’t ever been before. It was new, and foreign, and dark.
But Mizu said you shouldn’t run from the dark.
“Look at you..” Abijah mocked, “No ones ever made it up half this far before.”
You let out a cry as you sprinted forward. He tried to pull the same move on you but you ducked under, kicking him square in the chest and sending him a few feet back. He kept his footing as he rose again, looking square into your eyes. Your nose scrunched under the mask.
“And you,” He squinted, watching as your shoulders rose and fell heavily with your pants. “I’ve never seen one like you…what are you?” He noticed the spider emblem on your suit and smiled in amusement. “Little spider?”
You remained silent before charging again as Mizu regained herself, and you were too caught up in your anger and attacking the man to notice his large hand coming up to grip your neck.
He dangled you off the ground, watching with a smile as you became more panic. It quickly stilled your movements, your hands beginning to shake as you clawed at his hand. His hand squeezed your throat tighter and you wheezed in his grip.
He wriggled a thumb under your mask and ripped it off, scoffing in amusement.
“Strong little thing, aren’t ya?” He commented, running his thumb over your jawline.
You spit in his face, mustering up the harshest glare you could must as his expression turned to anger.
“Fuck you,”
“Oh, darling,” He laughed, and before you could really process, his gun raised to your stomach and he shot you in the side.
Mizu watched in terror as you screamed. It was nightmarish. The most gut wrenching scream she’d ever heard, and she was sure it was just tattooed onto the inner most parts of her brain. She had been told of your past injuries when she helped you bind your chest, her hand gently running all your scars, but she never imagined that she’d be responsible for another one. Even if it wasn’t by her hands.
He tossed you over near Taigen like you were a rag doll, making your vision spotty as Mizu shouted again, but it barely registered in your head as a fight broke out and he began pummeling Mizu. Taigen had jumped in what you heard, and Fowler was beating him to a pulp above you.
Before you knew it, the three of you were soaring — no… falling, out of the window you’d arrived in, into the freezing water dozens of stories below.
——————
You felt warm.
Were you home?
No… the bedding beneath you was too stiff.
Groaning, you attempted to come to a sitting position before the familiar touch of a stub came to rest on your chest.
“Stay down,”
You opened your eyes softly, letting a smile rest on your lips at the sight of Ringo hovering above you with a wet rag. When he turned back to place the rag on your stomach, he noticed your smile, and returned it with a brighter one.
“I’m glad you’re alright,” You smiled up at him, wincing at the sharp pain as the ragged soaked the water through your wound. “Did you get the bullet out?”
“Mizu did,” He replied, his smile dropping at the topic of your mutual friend. Well, once mutual friend. “It was hard for her though. Almost made me feel bad.”
You raised an eyebrow before sighing, “Let’s not talk about that right now, ‘kay?” You raised a hand and pinched the bridge of your nose. Their beef was not yours, and while you did want them to talk it out and at least make up, you weren’t going to stick your nose where it didn’t belong. He nodded hesitantly, helping you sit up and tie on a haori over your chest bindings. “Where are we?” You asked, looking around the room.
“Master Eiji’s.”
“This is the place?” You glanced around more attentively now, after finding out you were in the house of the man that had taken Mizu under his wing. You had a weird urge to hug him, but you knew that was probably inappropriate. “Huh..”
“I made you medicine,” He interrupted your thoughts and handed you a warm bowl and rose to his feet. “I’ll be just outside. Call if you need me.”
You nodded, not bothering to watch him leave before digging in. You were starving. You probably ate it faster than you were supposed to, but it tasted good and helped you feel good. You crawled over to where the other dirty dishes were stacked, placing your bowl on top. You figured you’d ask Ringo to help wash them once you found Mizu.
It was nearing the middle of the day when you stepped outside, squinting at the sudden bright light before you began wandering into the forest. If she wasn’t at Eiji’s, she was probably doing something out there. You were surprised to see her stacking rocks atop each other from the edge of the clearing, but didn’t hesitate to keep approaching.
“What are you making?”
Mizu jumped at the sound of your voice, clearly too in the zone to notice that your footsteps were loud enough for her to hear for once. At the sight of you, she dropped the rock she gripped tightly in her hands in favor of running over to you and engulfing you in a hug.
You were stunned. Sure, skinship had become a common occurrence in your relationship with Mizu, but it’d never gotten to hugging. 'Figures. Only I’d have a situationship where we’ve kissed each other before hugging,’ You thought to yourself as you gripped onto the back of Mizu’s haori while she silently cried into your hair, holding the back of your head and shoulders like you could slip away at any second.
“Don’t ever do that again,” She scolded while pulling away, placing her hands on either side of your face. She squished your face, causing you to chuckle softly before looking up at her.
Her eyes were soft, round… she’d never looked at you this softly. At least, not while you were looking according to Taigen and Ringo. She almost looked like a kicked puppy from the amount of guilt in her eyes.
“I never should have brought you with,” She whispered, letting one hand fall to your shoulder while the other rested over the gunshot wound on your stomach with a featherlight touch. She was almost scared that she’d break you if she was any more rough. “Then you would’ve been safe with Ringo and…” She sighed shakily, dropping to her knees and resting her forehead against your navel.
Your breath hitched as her hands slid down your sides to grip the tops of your hips with shaky hands.
“and you wouldn’t have almost died because of me. You wouldn’t have another scar because of me.” She almost whimpered it out, hands gripping your hips tighter as she looked up at you. “I can’t lose you.”
Her stunning eyes held the words she couldn’t muster up the courage to say herself, and your cheeks heated up immensely before you kneeled with her, your hands coming to rest on her arms. As you gently caressed the taut muscles, you swallowed the lump in your throat as your hands came to rest on either side of her face.
“You won’t,” You whisper surely, thumbs coming up to catch her tears before they could trail down her cheeks. “I won’t let that happen, and neither will you. We’re too stubborn to die.” You smile, watching her mouth as she does the same. “And I’m too stubborn to let you push me away when I know you feel the same now.”
Mizu huffs out a soft laugh, “Was I that obvious?”
“Eh,” You shrugged, doing a so-so hand motion. “I heard it all the time from Ringo and the bozo, but never really believed it until now. Your eyes are very expressive.”
Mizu chuckles, but it’s cut off when you pull her lips down to yours. Her eyes widen before she lets herself melt into you and your sweet lips, a smile tugging on her lips as her hands grip your haori and pull her closer. You gasped at the sudden gentle yank, and she took her opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth.
Reluctantly, after a few more moments you pulled away with a grin, running a thumb over her now swollen lower lip. Your attention turned behind you to what seemed to be a firepit.
“What are you making?”
Mizu turns her head to see where you’re looking before standing, helping you up to your feet again. Her hand doesn’t leave yours as she begins explaining, and you’re glad. You don’t want to let go of her.
She explains that she’s going to attempt to melt and reforge her sword, since sword father had no steel for her. You listen attentively, barely willing to let her go as she goes over to pick up the rock she dropped and place it in the right spot on the growing wall. She seems optimistic, in a sense as you cross your arms over your chest and watch her work.
“It’ll work,” She grumbles, mostly to herself, as if she’s trying to convince herself – to will it into existence, but there’s still doubt there. You catch it, frowning before taking a stone off the cart to help her. When you place it down, she looks up at you with a surprised expression.
“It’ll work,” You smile, “And I’ll be here to help with whatever you need.”
#mizu x reader#reader x mizu#mizu x you#you x mizu#blue eye samurai x reader#blue eye samurai imagines#blue eye samurai fanfiction#mizu blue eye samurai#zoe's works#my works
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December Prompts
snow prince
gallery
holly
more foxes
steam
awakening
places to bury him
skating
her darkened eyes
broth
university blues
calendar
bare
luggage
great grandmother's secret
first boyfriend
lichen
sinister era
walrus
divination
next year
cold sea
lost in the library
perhaps
little bunny
shed
unclaimed
spinning out of control
false angel
lawyer
ride home
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lovely
miles “spider” socorro x metkayina!reader
cw: nsfw (minors dni), aged up character (reference), sub!spider, dom!reader, gn!reader, intersex na’vi, secret relationship, sneaking around, interspecies sex, size difference, size kink, spit kink, praise kink, stomach bulge, creampie, etc.
notes: inspired by the thirst that tumblr ate.
word count: 1666
You eagerly follow Spider into the “mobile hab” set up on the outskirts of the village, looking out to the sea. He steps through the airlock first, shedding his mask, and offers you a respirator once you’re inside. You hook the equipment on, letting the mask hang around your neck, and look down at him. Spider smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling happily, “Just take a breath whenever you feel dizzy.” He looks so pretty that your broad tail sways behind you.
You’ve seen the Suli kids use the half masks when they go into the strange metal marui, and they explained it helps Na’vi breathe tawtute air. Just like they can’t breathe the air of Eywa’eveng, Na’vi can’t breathe their air for long periods of time. You take a slow inhale through the mask before letting it rest against your collarbones again, taking a moment to glance around Spider’s home. The ceiling is high enough for you to stand comfortably, and you spot his bed in the corner, covered with woven blankets and furs (is that yours?). It’s colder than outside, and the air feels strangely thin as you breathe, like there’s something in it is missing.
“Well…” Spider starts, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt at casualty, “what do you think?” He asks, and you can see how nervous he is. It’s a little funny, given the times he’s snuck into your marui in the middle of the night when the Suli family is asleep.
You smile, the tips of your fangs pressing against your bottom lip, and carefully cup his face with your hand. He’s so small compared to you. “It’s lovely.” You say, though you both know you’re talking about him instead.
“Oh.” He lets out, his brown eyes averting as his cheeks darken with a pink flush. So easy to fluster. “Mm, thank you…”
You hum in satisfaction and get down on your knees. Spider’s breath catches, and his eyelids flutter shut as you brush your lips against his. He uncrosses his arms as he returns your kiss, placing his calloused palms on your tattooed chest. This is the first time you’ve kissed his pretty mouth, the first time you’re together without his mask in the way. He’d tried convincing you to kiss him outside, in one of your preferred hiding spots, but you were afraid that he wouldn’t put it back on quick enough and he’d suffocate. Spider had almost jumped with joy when Toruk Makto’s tawtute allies brought the metal marui to the shores of Awa’atlu.
He eagerly parts his lips for your tongue, sighing contently when it slips into his mouth. His small hands knead your chest greedily, his thumbs drawing circles on your nipples. You pull away with a chuckle. Ever since you started secretly courting, he’s taken to groping and massaging your muscled body, admiring the evidence of your hard work at sea. Spider leans up on his toes to lick and suck at the column of your throat. His attention shifts to the swirling ink trailing down the side of your neck, and your ears fold against your head at the sparks of pleasure trailing down your spine.
Purring, you ghost your hands down his body to tug the ties of his tewng loose, slipping the garment down his legs. Spider’s blunt teeth dig into the meat of your shoulder, and he moans against you when you stroke your fingers over his hard length. “Bed— the bed, over there—” Spider gasps, bucking into your teasing touch.
Spider clings to you as you stand, carrying him over to the nest of blankets and furs, and you pin him down against the comforting softness. He blinks up at you, his pupils nearly swallowing his warm brown irises. You support yourself on an elbow and take off your tewng with your free hand. Spider’s smaller hand grips your bicep when your cock is revealed to him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
You lean down to kiss it free, slow and deep, tracing the back of his molars with your tongue. He moans softly, his back arching prettily, and his hands come up to trace the wave-like stripes on your jaw almost reverently. There are thin strings of saliva hanging between you when you pull back, and you lick them away from his kiss swollen lips.
“You taste so good,” Spider whispers breathlessly, and you smile adoringly. “I want—” A startled gasp leaves your mouth when he reaches down to gather the arousal dripping from your cock with his fingers. He holds eye contact with you as he brings them to his mouth, hungrily licking up the opalescent fluids. “I want to suck your cock next time.” Spider confesses, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pants. “I want you to come in my mouth and watch me swallow it.”
“Little one…” You groan, feeling your very core throb with the need to pin him down and take him as if you were in heat.
“But, right now,” His hand returns to your length, too small to wrap entirely around your cock, “I need you to fuck me. Please. I want you to kiss me while you’re inside me.”
You kiss him again, briefly, and curl your fingers into the furs. “Is it enough?” You ask, concerned, and glance down at yourself. Your cock glistens under the lights of the room, coated thoroughly in your slick and precum, but you’re well endowed. Spider is human, barely half your height, and his body is delicate. You could hurt him if you’re not careful, even if he did prep himself earlier.
Spider strokes you firmly and sighs shakily when you fuck into his fist. “Yeah,” He says in a raw voice, “You’re really wet.”
You press a kiss against the corner of his mouth and adjust your hips. The weeping tip of your cock presses against Spider’s hole, and his nails bite into your skin in anticipation. You push an inch of yourself inside him and go still, waiting for his breathing to slow before you continue. Spider whines as your cock stretches him open, bumps and ridges rubbing pleasantly against his insides as you slowly slide into him. It’s a smooth glide, well lubricated by your slick and the tawtute lube he has hidden in his belongings, and he’s so soft and warm that you feel like you’re about to melt inside him.
“You’re doing so well,” You murmur against the crown of his head, “So good f’me, yawntutsyìp.”
He nearly sobs your name, clinging to you and desperately seeking your mouth. You comply as you ease back until less than half of your cock is left inside, then you slam back in. Spider whines loudly, clawing at your back, but the expression you see on his face when you break the kiss is anything but pained. His face is deeply flushed, his eyes glossy with unshed tears, and his heels press insistently against your back.
“So lovely, my Spider.” You coo at him, caging him in with your massive frame, and begin to rut into him. Your eyes lock onto the slightest distending of his muscled abdomen, distorting the blue stripes dyed into his skin. You press your hand against it, unable to help the way your tail thumps delightedly against the bed. Spider groans at the pressure, and his cock drools a hefty drop of precum against his skin.
You curl your fingers around his length — careful, always careful — and stroke him in time with your thrusts. The sounds of wet squelching and the smack of flesh upon flesh fills the marui, paired with your hushed growls and his breathy moans. There’s so much slick and precum coming from you that it rolls down Spider’s ass, seeping into the sheets. “You feel s-so good,” Spider moans, his body jostling with the pistoning of your hips.
Overwhelmed tears roll over his temples and seep into his sandy brown hair as your pace quickens, the drilling of your large cock inside his hole leaving a frothy ring of slick around the base. You press his knees against his chest, delving even deeper inside him. He’s rendered speechless, only letting out little cries and sobs of pleasure. “Spider,” You brush your lips against his as pleasure coils hotly in your lower belly, “come for me, little one. Let go.”
Spider nearly screams into your mouth when he comes onto your palm, tightening around your cock like a vice as his body shakes. You pull back with a hiss, your ears pressed against your skull, and your eyes threaten to roll back. You have half a mind to avoid crushing him as you spill rope after rope of cum inside him.
“Oh, Great Mother,” Spider gasps through spit slick lips, wrapping his limps around you like he’s afraid you’ll escape. You pant harshly and your body trembles, your eyelids growing heavy. Satisfaction weighs heavily on your bones, and you feel as though you could fall asleep at any moment. “Oh, shit—” Spider pushes the respirator onto your face, and you take a deep breath. The fog in your mind clears, and you’re able to see him properly.
“Thank you.” You say, grinning tiredly, and lean down.
“Skxawng.” He huffs, shaking his head, but accepts your kiss. Spider absentmindedly toys with the armband around your bicep, tracing the woven leather with his fingers.
“Spider?” The familiar voice of Toruk Makto calls out, muffled. The human pulls away with a gasp, licking away the spit from his lips, and looks over at the door with wide eyes. You grunt, gritting your teeth when he clamps down on your cock in fright, still buried inside him. “Why is this locked?” Jake asks in that same stern voice you’ve heard your Olo’eyktan use on Aonung whenever he does something particularly reckless.
Spider lets his head fall onto the pillows and screws his eyes shut, “We’re so dead.”
#‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ nick writes !#avatar brainrot#sub avatar#dom reader#top reader#sub character#spider socorro x reader#sub spider socorro#metkayina reader#n/s/f/w#n/sfw#tw aged up character
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PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———
ch. 5
ch. 1
ch. 2
ch. 3
ch. 4
ch. 6
a/n: 😪 banners by cafekitsune and saradika-graphics
Snow still lays thick upon the soil once you’re gone. Along its boundless surface, specks of silver glisten, basking in the gentle glow of the moon, smothering the town’s bustle.
“You sure?”
The wind is cruel, lashing auburn locks erratically about Ellie’s face, numbed by the frigidity. In spite of the burning cold overtaking her limbs, her grip on the straps of the saddle tightens and her eye contact with Tommy turns ever so slightly hostile,
"Tommy, it’s been less than a day. She can’t be far. You comin’ or not? ‘Cause I’m doing this with or without you.”
He looks back at her wordlessly with a furrow in his brow, piercing through the tense silence laced with the distant bustle of Jackson,
“Alright… Let’s set off quick then.”
“Okay.”
Something compels her to silence, an impulse to keep her lips sealed over restless secrets. Maybe she knows that going after you is illogical, that it was a choice you made on your own. But she can’t bring herself to indulge in those realisations – all she knows is that she has to find you; there is no hesitation. Thankfully, the urgency in her tone was explanation enough for Tommy.
With a rushed onset, they split up to cover more ground, venturing onwards into the overrun territory encompassing Jackson with eyes vigilant, searching for signs of you, but seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to hours of vacillating between trot and gallop, losing sense of direction and fragments of determination to the exhaustion that mutinies her mind.
Thank god the hoofprints come into view when they do - as if by magic or a blessing, the impressed snow shows itself clear as day, juxtaposing the sea of white bordering it, darkened by dirt and grime. Ellie perks up with desperate intrigue so she pulls the reins and crouches down beside them, muttering to herself,
“Huh, what do we have here?”
And then her heartbeat quickens in anticipation of relief,
“She's close.”
Verily, she follows, the tracks guiding her further into the dense vegetation with senses working overtime to accommodate the fact that it is winter and hordes are rampant. She fucking prays you didn’t run into one, but the forest is deafeningly silent, seeming to hold its breath tonight.
She’s fast on your track; in this moment, the path is hope, a lifeline steering her along. Every now and then, a rustle of leaves, or the distant echoes of infected throw her mind into disarray, but she scans the area rapidly, shaky grip tightening on her firearm, before pushing on.
Just under an hour, the prints become faded and scattered, and the apprehension makes her stomach twist before she lifts her head to greet the destination - a desolate clearing.
“Fuck me.”
Dim moonlight hangs over Ellie and Tommy’s exhausted figures. The night has been relentless. The trail resulted in nothing more than wasted time and the discovery of a empty clearing, devoid of any sign of you.
Frustration and fatigue etched on her face and lingering in the air around her, Ellie kicks at a loose stone on the ground like a little kid, the full regret of having set off hurriedly with no real plan or navigation overcoming her. They’ve gotten nowhere.
In a see-through attempt at remaining pragmatic, Tommy pats her shoulder and states with a tone of reassurance, though it’s betrayed by the wearied rasp in his voice,
"We'll figure it out, Ellie. We just need to rest for a bit and rethink our strategy. She couldn't have gotten far."
But Ellie's resolve is fixed and her jaw is set in determination. It’s too late to turn back now, she knows that.
"I can't rest, Tommy. Every minute wasted is another minute she's further."
He sighs heavily with complete sincerity, running a hand through his unkempt hair.
"Ellie, she’s probably asleep right now, or some shit. And pushing yourself like this won't help anyone."
Their intermingling voices rise, threaded with increasing aggression until the tension has thickened beyond salvaging, and the rift between their convictions seems insurmountable in the darkness of the night.
Finally, unable to find common ground, Ellie announces,
"I'm not waiting. I'm going to keep searching. You wanna go back? Fine."
And, without waiting for a response, she takes off, leaving her horse and Tommy, who mutters quiet cusses into the heavy stillness of the night. She moves with purpose, the flashlight attached to her backpack tearing through the darkness.
She refuses to let the ache in her feet claim her; every step she takes echoes the silent plea for you to be found. Even as the hours wear on, Ellie's determination refuses to wane in spite of the fatigue gnawing at her bones. She can’t let herself think, she can’t let herself dwell, she has to keep searching, even if she can’t tell herself why.
However, the moon, as always, gives surrender to the encroaching dawn. Ellie's flickering hope of finding you dims as her steps grow heavier and her eyes wearier, and the first light of sunrise bleeds into the sky from the horizon.
Eventually, shattered and running on sheer god-like willpower, Ellie stumbles upon a vantage point, and stands over the landscape, large enough to swallow her whole millions of times over, like she’s the last person on Earth, staring into the face of impending destruction.
But it’s just dawn, and the overcast warm glow showers upon her as the realization that she has been searching through the night hits her. The screeching thought of you inevitably having gotten hurt plagues her mind. Deep breath, in and out, she lets the weight of it all settle upon her weakened shoulders, yet there’s still no time for rest.
The search is far from over.
You strain your neck to squint up at the skeletal structure that has born the brutality of the post-apocalyptic world, barely making out the details past the overgrown foliage seeping out of its broken windows and destroyed walls.
You enter with caution and heightened senses, searching for any signs of danger. The creaking floorboards beneath your feet shatter the palpable silence in the damp air.
Shifting through the shadows, your senses remain sharp and attuned to the slightest noise, scanning the objects illuminated by the dim light of dawn filtering through the cracks in the abandoned building. Shadows loom outstretched along the corridors.
In a shadowy corner, a man is crouched over a bag, and you watch him with a racing heart before you emerge, your silhouette a silent spectre against the dilapidated walls.
Your eyes meet for a fleeting moment before you both jump into action instinctively, but you swiftly disarm him. The struggle is brief but intense, and he is overpowered, because, if there’s one thing fear has taught you, it’s that each movement has to be calculated and purposeful.
And when he’s on his knees, trying to plead for mercy, when he’s scraping pathetically at the scruples of humanity left in your soul, you remain resolute - just don’t think. Your grip is firm as you subdue him.
A few blows leave him incapacitated, and you leave it at that because you have never been able to succumb to gratuitous violence. He lets out a muffled groan with his cheek pressed against the cold stone floor.
Swiftly, you bind is wrists and ankles taut, ensuring he can’t pose a threat before confiscating his meagre supplies and rifling through them. Food, water, anything that could sustain you on the journey ahead, you take, and then you drop his bag my his side and arise.
You turn to leave, but you glance back at the man over your shoulder, meeting his eyes with a solemn expression. You haven’t done this in a while, not since you arrived at Jackson, and your penchant for showing no mercy has been buffed down.
There’s so much you have to beg your mind to steer itself away from, beg it to not to linger on the helplessness in his eyes as he looks back at you, or how you would’ve slit his throat without a doubt when it was just you and Soren.
With the stolen supplies secured, you walk through the entrance. You have to convince yourself of one last thing.
Mercy takes on different forms.
Out into the muted light of dawn, the air is brisk, and the horizon enlightening drags the worry of not making it out of the treacherous night you endured off your shoulders. A new day. A momentary respite washes over you; you’re only a little scathed.
With the first light of dawn illuminating your path,
“Only an hour or two away …”
It is a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it’s enough for someone with your past.
Mounting her horse, the familiar weight of the saddle grounds you as you set off once more into the unknown. The rhythmic, muffled thump of hooves against the snow-blanketed floor, and the shadow of the horse and rider stretched long over the ruins, a lone traveller navigating the remnants of a world.
You ride on, your mind numb to the thought of returning to Soren. Back to the old house, to the doorstep where your heart lies dormant.
Crestfallen, the fruitless landscape stands before Ellie, as if to mock her hunched over figure, bathed in the warm hues of the noontime sun. She has been traversing since the wee hours of the morning after stopping momentarily to map out a journey in her relentless pursuit of you, trying to stay determined, but the urgency that keeps her moving forward is dulled by the incessant pangs of hunger and the desperate struggle to keep her eyes open. Doubt creeps in as the vast emptiness erodes her resolution.
Just as thoughts of turning back infiltrate her sleep-deprived mind, a faint sound carries along a whistling gust of wind, drawing her fading attention. Pained noises, barely audible, leave her instantly alert, and Ellie follows the source of the sound with a subtle limp in her step. Though her senses are sharpened by the urgency of the situation, everything still seems blurrier and muffled.
Guided by the haunting echoes, she carefully weaves her way through the silent surroundings, every step weighted with anticipation, into a derelict building.
She approaches cautiously, entering a room where the sound is amplified and she comes face to face with the source: a man, bound and gagged, his eyes shut as he lies, weakened by his restraints. Without hesitation, Ellie kneels beside him, pistol pressed to his pained temple, her gaze unwavering,
“Who did this to you?" she demands, her voice edged with a fierce determination. His eyes fly open, looking up at her fearfully.
“Shit! Some fuckin’ girl – I don’t know!”
“… When did she leave?”
“Like ten minutes ago! I haven’t got shit, she took everything! I’m begging you, please untie me!”
She stands, contemplating it for a moment, before she kicks him over so that he can contort his body into a sitting position, eliciting a sharp groan. He wasn’t tied up beyond hope of managing to undo the knots, you made sure of it,
“You can figure that out on your own, I got shit to do.”
With a sense of exhilaration, Ellie jogs out and circles to the back of the building, her eyes scanning the snow-covered ground for any sign of movement where she notices a fresh set of foot and hoofprints, meeting at a point along the line where they become one trail of hoofprints, a delicate dance littering the frozen canvas.
Hope surges within Ellie as, once again, she follows the tracks. She has to move fast; you have a horse and she has only her feet. The air is tense with anticipation, but she somehow manages to power through the all-consuming exhaustion and hunger with the promise of getting closer to the elusive figure she seeks.
The sun dips lower on the horizon; the bitter cold forgotten in the warmth of purpose.
Nothing is left of your house but the gnarled bones of the home it once was. The memories of all you left behind seep through the cracked walls – the good and the bad, a silent witness to the passage of time. You hold your breath captive in your tightened chest and push open the door, its rusty hinges protesting your return with a shrill creak.
The air is thick with dust dancing in the slivers of dim light that manage to pierce through boarded windows. Everything surrounding you, once thriving and familiar, is now reduced to mere echoes, whispers. Your fingers gently trace the life left in the fray, your gaze sweeping over the remnants of all you lost to the destruction. There’s nothing but blood left to salvage, to hold onto.
You lay in the centre of what used to be your bedroom, save for the actual bed, beside the shadow of the place where Soren used to lie, but there is no reprieve. You can’t look at it, your gaze pointed to the damp-stained ceiling, rust-coloured organic forms scattered across it.
If there’s one thing you can trust to remain a constant in your life, it’s that memories flood your mind no matter when or where you are, unbidden and unwelcome. Here, you can let them play out wholly, succumb to the deserved guilt that you cannot let yourself escape.
Trace the mustard outline of the leakages in the wallpapered walls with the movement of your weary pupils, stop trying to battle the thoughts as they influx from the depths. Turn your head to look at the ruined wall – no matter how hard you scrubbed, droplets of what once was his blood, and his blood only, taken over by that cruel evil, seeped through and infected it just as the clicker infected him. They still burn as hot and bright as they did that night, staring back at you.
You had been splayed out on the floor, over tattered blankets, similar to now, waiting for Soren, who had heard a noise beyond the gate. The worry was becoming an annoyance, so you got up and ran out into the night to find him, further out than you usually would on your own.
You should’ve stayed. Never should’ve wandered. It was your fault he had to fight off that clicker, the scar etched into his back for all eternity, evidence of your fatal error. Even though you made it home with adrenaline pumping through your veins, the nagging sting eventually became an undeniable ache, and from that point, Soren was already dead.
He begged and begged, eyes glassed over for the first time since your mother died, but your pathetic selfishness left him shrinking beside the new force overcoming his body, till he became what he prayed he would never become.
Then, and only then, did you do it. Coward that you are, bashing his obliterated skull over and over in the haze, blood and brains sent adrift, consuming all the surfaces they landed on, your mind, body, and soul, for the rest of your life, and anything that lies beyond.
There’s a violent shift and you jolt back to the surface, gasping for air like you were drowning with sharp, shallow, greedy breaths.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Ellie's urgent voice cuts through the remnants of the memory.
"I got you," she whispers, a breathless relief in her voice. You, disoriented and still caught in an intersection between past and present, struggle to hold back the already fallen tears and even in spite of the glaring truth that you came here wilfully, the sight of her brings sweet relief.
“Ellie-”
“Shimmer.”
“Huh?”
“The horse’s name is Shimmer.”
#Spotify#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie x reader#ellie fluff#ellie the last of us#ellie x fem reader#tlou2#fanfic#tlou fanfiction#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams fanfic#ellie x y/n#ellie williams x reader#ellie x you#ellie williams angst#tlou part 2#tlou#the last of us#the last of us x reader#wlw#lesbian
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AUGUST.
Glimpses of the departed month go by as you reminisce by the sea.
ft. Kaedehara Kazuha x gn! reader.
cw/genre: fluff, romance.
I honestly don’t know how to feel about this piece… definitely not my best work, but I wrote it, so I’m posting it. I hope someone still likes it.
if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !
Blue.
Said alone, the word might have had a tendency for melancholy, cold, turbulence.
However, if anyone were to ask you right now, you’d deny every negative connotation the color might have ever been related to.
Because to you, blue was dusks by the sea; moments right after the last coppery rays had hidden behind the expanse of an ocean you could only wish to unveil all secrets of.
And perhaps, you liked this moment of day because the infinity of blue before you mirrored the feelings in your heart at ease.
Feelings of unbridled affection, boundless love.
For him.
Fair hair falls over his shoulders, like silk weaved out of stars, its tips illusory rose with the fading daylight. His eyes are closed against the marine breeze, flecks of moondust clinging to his lids, casting enchanting shadows over his cheeks. His shirt has been discarded, droplets sliding down his bare torso, as if he had bathed in a pool of starlight. A black leather cord rests against his tempting collarbones, a vibrant scarlet maple leaf charm dangling tantalizingly over his chest.
A dreamy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the sounds of foamy waves lapping at the white sand.
Kazuha.
He was always nothing short of ethereal, but something about him in the dimming light of a late summer’s nightfall, felt inherently magical.
“I’m going to miss this, Kazuha.” You finally say, resting your chin on your boyfriend’s shoulder.
He gently leaves a kiss to your forehead, his hand finding yours over the towel you’re sitting on. Scars jut like jagged rocks against which waves break, in the same way lightning snuffed out a life dear to him all that time ago.
And yet, the smile on his lips is almost palpable when he says:
“We’ll be able to come back, my dove.” His thumb runs soothing circles over the back of your hand. “Before we realize, summer will greet us again.”
You chuckle. Kazuha had such a poetic way of approaching things; even when the sun went pitch black, he would forever remain a beacon of hope to you.
“I know, I know…” You clarify. “It’s just… I wish I had more free time to spend with you like this during the year…”
As much as autumn brought found memories and your beloved’s birthday, September always had a tendency to leave you yearning for the long days of summer.
Echoes of August replayed behind your eyelids every time you closed them, reminiscent of stolen instances held in the brief minutes in which the sky was dyed in shades of neither day or night.
Those eyes that held the suns of a million dawns focus on you. Starlight from constellations that will sleep soon seem to frame them, those long lashes fluttering in tune with your heart.
“I know, my angel…” Your lover utters, as he delicately tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d like to stay with you like this, for all eternity…” His stare of gentle embers takes you in.
His muse, his perfect love, his forever.
The samurai’s free hand reaches to cup your cheek, his touch, a dove’s first flight in its tenderness.
Beneath the darkening skies, you were the brightest star. Every lash, every pore and freckle, the everglow that fueled his verses.
“But we’ll always have the weekends,” He reassures, those fingers that penned the most romantic eulogies tracing your jawline, the column of your neck, your exposed collarbones.
Dilated pupils stare at his lips, images of kisses coated in ice cream and cocktails flashing through your dazed mind.
“And every summer after that.” The poet adds, noses mere millimeters away now, separated only by salt air and dying sunlight’s rust.
“Every summer.” You repeat.
Then, the magnetic force of both your desire-ridden lips reigns over, his kiss, an intoxicating collision.
Your hands lock behind Kazuha’s neck, pulling him closer. The droplets of sea water on him feel cool, flecks of stardust tattooing your skin in every place your bodies touch.
The wandering samurai’s lips are an expanding sunrise, and you, the tsunami that desperately reaches for his light-tinted heavens.
One of his hands sets on the soft sand, keeping him upright, while his scarred one tenderly cups your cheek. Your lean against him is soothing, healing, clear August skies, birdsong written in between retreating clouds.
Behind the undulating horizon, gold dyes silver.
Constellations begin to waltz far above, the lovers by the sea, their directing lyrics.
It’s a symphony about a season that will never die, its score inscribed in indelible blue ink in the heat of yours and Kazuha’s fervent kisses.
#astronetwrk#genshin impact x reader#kazuha x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact x you#kaedehara kazuha x reader#kazuha x y/n#kazuha x you#kaedehara kazuha x you#kazuha x reader fluff#kazuha fluff#genshin impact fluff#genshin impact fanfics#kazuha imagines#genshin impact scenarios#genshin x reader#genshin x reader fluff#kazuha scenarios#genshin fluff#genshin impact oneshots#kazuha fanfic#kaedehara kazuha#kazuha#kazuha genshin x reader#kazuha genshin impact#genshin impact
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Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Natsuo, fem!reader, smut (short & not graphic), viking themes, Shoto is a spoiled brat
Summary: in a Viking world of power, secrets and warriors, a young woman captured during a raid finds herself entangled in the life of Dabi, the enigmatic eldest son of the ruthless earl. As secrets, scars, and desires collide, their unconventional connection unfolds in a tale of love, danger, and destiny
Word count: circa 5.9k
A/N: for a few years, I've held a fascination with Viking themes and their historical era. Recently, I had the idea to place Dabi in such a setting and see where the story would take me. I sat down to write and found myself falling in love with this new narrative instantly. While it might seem trivial to some, it's already become a precious gem to me. I plan to unravel the story over six chapters. I hope you enjoy the first one, and I'm open to all opinions. If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥
MASTERLIST
NEXT CHAPTER
ACT I - UNMASKING THE SCARS
As the longship glided silently through the dark waters, the moon cast a pale, ethereal glow on the rugged Viking coastline. The scent of salt and adventure filled the night air, and the crew of fierce warriors, led by Dabi, the renegade son of the brutal, ruthless Viking earl, Endeavor, prepared to make landfall.
Dabi, at thirty years of age, bore the marks of a troubled past. Dabi's once-pale skin was now marred by those burns, darkened like a charred log in the heart of a raging fire. His body bore the scars of a fire that had ravaged him in his youth, a cruel gift from his own father, who had attempted to kill him. But it was these very scars that had forged his determination and honed his indomitable spirit. His hair was the color of snow, and his eyes were as blue as the frost-covered sea. He had a reputation as a fierce warrior, known for his ruthless tactics and the way he fought with the fury of a tempest.
The village he came from was a place of cold stone and rough-hewn timbers, where the Viking way of life reigned supreme. The women of the village shied away from Dabi, for his scars marked him as an outcast. He lived a life of solitude, seeking solace in the wild, untamed lands that surrounded their settlement.
Their destination was a small Christian village, nestled among the rolling hills. It had been raided by Dabi's people before, but tonight was different. Tonight, Dabi's heart was restless, and he was inexplicably drawn to the village's fate.
As the Vikings stormed the village, chaos erupted. Houses were set ablaze, and the cries of the villagers filled the night.
The raucous cries of his men filled the air as the village burned and the spoils of their raid were gathered. Dabi stood at the heart of the chaos, an enigmatic figure in the midst of destruction. A faint, unsettling smile tugged at the corners of his lips, hidden beneath the eerie wolf's jaw mask.
He watched with satisfaction as his warriors, his loyal comrades in arms, looted and plundered. The riches of the Christian village flowed into their grasp, their spoils of war. It was a successful trip by Viking standards, a brutal triumph in the unforgiving world they inhabited.
Amidst the smoldering ruins of the Christian village, the Vikings had unleashed their wrath. Blood had been spilled, and the lives of some villagers had been brutally cut short.
But not all of the villagers had met a swift and merciless end. The Vikings, with a calculated eye, had chosen to capture several women and a few men, sparing them from the fate that had befallen their companions. These survivors would serve a different purpose, as slaves in the service of their Viking captors. Among them a young woman. Her hair was the Y/H/C, and her eyes held the innocence of a world untouched by the brutality of the North.
As the raiders dragged the captives away from the charred remains of their homes, the air was heavy with the weight of despair and uncertainty. These men and women, once free, were now prisoners of a world far removed from the peaceful existence they had known. Their lives had taken a harrowing turn, marked by servitude and the harsh reality of Viking conquest.
For Dabi, this decision was not only about power but also about securing the resources and labor needed to sustain their existence in these harsh northern lands. The villagers had been caught in the merciless currents of fate, and their futures were now inexorably tied to the whims of the Viking warriors who had chosen to spare them for their own purposes.
As Dabi inspected the captured men, his gaze swept over the somber group, each face marked by fear and resignation. But then, as if guided by a force beyond his control, his eyes fell upon a young woman. The sight of her took his breath away, and for a moment, he couldn't lie to himself – she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes upon.
Despite the dirt, blood, and tears that marred her face, her beauty shone through like a radiant star in the night sky. Her cheeks bore the scars of anguish, her eyes, streaked with despair, created rivulets in the dust and grime that clung to her skin. Her once-neat clothes, now tattered and dirtied, bore witness to the cruel turn of fate she had endured.
Dabi's heart, which had been hardened by the harshness of Viking life, thudded in his chest with a new and unfamiliar emotion. She was a vision amidst the chaos, and in that moment, he realized that there was something more to her than just her physical beauty. There was a strength in her, a resilience that had allowed her to endure even in the face of such brutality.
As Dabi's eyes locked onto her, a strange and unsettling sensation coursed through him. It was a feeling he couldn't quite comprehend, a magnetic pull that defied all reason. In the midst of the chaos and destruction, this woman, captured from the village, appeared before him like an enigma.
Her hair, now messy, and those defiant eyes held a fierce determination that had not been extinguished by the horrors of the raid. She was a picture of vulnerability and strength intertwined, a paradox that captivated his very soul.
Dabi, who had always been driven by the uncompromising resolve of a Viking warrior, found himself unnerved by the intensity of this attraction. He was a man of few words and even fewer emotions, but her presence stirred something deep within him, a longing he could not explain. He questioned the very nature of his emotions, grappling with the unfamiliar warmth that her presence kindled within him, even though they hadn't spoken.
He couldn't tear his gaze away from her. Every time their eyes met, it felt as if the fates themselves had intervened, weaving their destinies together in a tapestry of fire and ice.
Their initial meeting was far from the romantic tales sung by skalds. She was bound and helpless, standing amidst the ash and ruin of her once-peaceful village. Dabi, cloaked in darkened furs, surveyed the captives with an air of detached authority. His icy gaze met hers, a meeting of two souls from opposite worlds. "You," he spoke, his voice as cold as the northern winds, "What's your name?"
The woman's voice trembled as she replied, avoiding looking at him, "It doesn't matter anymore."
Dabi's frustration simmered just beneath the surface as her initial reply didn't satisfy his curiosity. He huffed in annoyance, the cold air from his breath mingling with the tension in the atmosphere. His desire to understand her and the strange attraction he felt only intensified.
Closing the distance between them, he moved with a predatory grace, catching her by the shoulders and forcing her to turn to face him. His grip, firm but not unkind, held a subtle hint of authority. Their eyes locked, his piercing gaze penetrating her soul. "I asked you for your name, woman," Dabi demanded, his voice tinged with impatience. It was a command that brooked no disobedience, his intensity pushing past the boundaries of the tumultuous situation they found themselves in. His own desire to know her name and the unexplainable connection he felt had turned into an obsession, and he needed answers, regardless of the circumstances.
As Dabi's demand hung in the air, she met his unwavering gaze. Her eyes, a mixture of fear and defiance, looked up into his, a silent struggle raging within her. But shortly after, her gaze faltered, shifting to the mask he wore, crafted from the jagged jaw of a wolf. The sight sent a shiver down her spine, a symbol of the fierce, untamed nature of the man who stood before her.
The man, with the mask that lent him an imposing visage, was tall and imposing, easily towering over her. His presence alone was enough to instill a sense of vulnerability in her.
Trembling, she finally surrendered to his demand, her voice quivering as she spoke, "I am Y/N." Her name, offered with a tremor in her voice, was a fragile gift, a shard of her identity laid bare in the face of the formidable Viking who had claimed her as his captive.
For the next two days, the Viking raiders worked tirelessly to pack the spoils of their conquest onto their longships.
Dabi, ever the watchful leader, stood guard over the entire process, ensuring that the riches plundered from the Christian village were securely stowed away. The village's treasures, from precious metals to food supplies, were meticulously organized and divided amongst the victorious Vikings.
The night of their conquest, the Vikings celebrated their successful raid with an infernal party. Driven by the spoils they had claimed, they emptied the Christians' pantries of beer, meat, and mead. The sound of merriment echoed through the night, a stark contrast to the sorrow that had befallen the captured villagers.
However, amidst the revelry, there were dark moments that marred the festivities. Some of the Viking warriors, fueled by intoxication and the ruthless nature of their world, committed terrible acts upon the captive Christian women without their consent. It was a grim reminder of the brutality that often accompanied such raids, where power and desire clashed with the innocence of the conquered.
Dabi, torn between his leadership role and the strange attraction he felt for one of the captives, observed the chaos with a heavy heart. The celebration, for him, was a juxtaposition of the jubilant and the sinister, a reflection of the duality that defined their lives as Vikings.
After days of tireless packing, the Viking raiders were finally ready to set sail for their homeland. The longships, laden with the spoils of their conquest, were now prepared to embark on the journey back to the rugged shores they called home.
Dabi took his place at the bow of his longship, a position of command and observation. His keen, turquise eyes surveyed the captivated people who had survived the ruthless acts of the past nights. They were a motley group, marked by both the physical and emotional scars of the raid. Some carried the burden of their violated dignity, while others were haunted by the loss of their loved ones and the destruction of their once-peaceful village.
The longship that Dabi commanded was the largest among the six that had come to the shore. It loomed like a dark behemoth against the horizon, its figurehead carving through the waves, a symbol of the Viking's ruthless power. Dabi watched as the captives, those who would serve as slaves in their new life, reluctantly boarded the vessel. It was a moment that carried with it a sense of foreboding, a step into the unknown, as they embarked on a perilous journey to a life that was bound by the harsh code of the Viking world.
Dabi's keen eyes never left the captivating young woman named Y/N as she hesitantly approached the longship. She was one of the last to board, and her trembling form didn't escape his notice. She might have tried to mask her fears with a poker face, but the vulnerability that emanated from her was unmistakable.
A faint, almost smug smirk played at the corners of Dabi's lips. He knew that Y/N was not going to be easily sold in any market or to another earl. The strange attraction he felt for her had ignited something within him, a desire to protect and possess her. He understood that she was unique, an enigma amidst the other captives, and he was prepared to put pressure on his father to ensure she remained with their family in their Great Hall.
The journey back home was arduous and relentless, the Viking longships battling through raging storms and colossal waves that crashed against their sides. The tempestuous sea was a cruel reminder of nature's might, a fierce adversary they had to contend with on their voyage.
For days on end, they sailed through the tumultuous waters, each day bringing new challenges and peril. The crew worked tirelessly to navigate the treacherous waves, their lives intertwined with the unpredictable whims of the sea. The longships, laden with their ill-gotten gains, were tossed like leaves in a tempest, and the thunderous roars of the ocean were their constant companion.
Dabi, despite his role as a leader, occasionally took walks along the longship to check on his comrades. It was an excuse, he told himself, but the truth was that he sought to steal moments to take a closer look at the captivating young woman named Y/N. She was bound to a mast, her body curled in a defensive posture, a vulnerable figure amidst the chaos.
One night, as they braved the wrath of the sea, Dabi stood close to the place where Y/N was tied. He leaned against the side of the boat, his arms crossed, gazing into the darkness that enveloped them. The crashing waves and the howling winds created an eerie symphony, but his focus remained on the woman who had become a focal point of his thoughts.
"I was curious how," Dabi's voice suddenly pierced the silence.
Startled, Y/N was pulled out from a shallow slumber she had allowed to envelop her. She blinked, momentarily disoriented. "What?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and apprehension.
Dabi, who had been standing nearby, turned his gaze toward her. "How do you know our language?" he inquired, his words delivered with a curious, almost neutral tone. It was a question that had been gnawing at him, the mystery of her familiarity with their Viking tongue.
Y/N hesitated, her thoughts racing as she grappled with how to respond. The truth was a delicate matter, a secret that she had guarded with her life. "My father was a Northman," Y/N replied, her voice carrying a note of bitterness, "and as long as he was around, he was teaching me some things."
Dabi's response was not immediate, and in the dim light, his smirk was concealed by the wolf's jaw mask he wore. The revelation intrigued him, and the knowledge that she had learned their language from her Northman father added another layer of complexity to the enigma of Y/N. It was a connection he hadn't anticipated, a bridge between their two worlds that he had yet to fully explore.
"What are you going to do to us?" Y/N asked suddenly, the uncertainty in her eyes betraying her anxiety.
Dabi sighed heavily and walked closer to her, resting his hip against the mast to which she was tied. "You'll work for us," he replied simply, his tone carrying a hint of slyness.
Y/N's expression darkened as she processed his words. "So, we're going to be your slaves," she said with a tinge of bitterness, "a beautiful perspective."
Dabi chuckled softly, the sound muffled by his mask. "Well, we Vikings have a different way of looking at things, you see. You'll find our 'perspective' quite interesting, I assure you."
"Why us?" Y/N asked, curiosity mingling with her apprehension.
Dabi's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Your village was raided before, and you happen to possess a huge amount of goods we needed," he replied, the slyness in his voice becoming more apparent. "You could say it's just a matter of unfortunate circumstances."
"You're a monster. You all are. You killed innocent people!" Y/N ground the accusation from the depths of her mind.
Dabi chuckled darkly, his head tilting back slightly. "We? Oh no, sunshine, we're not monsters," he retorted, his voice dripping with a chilling nonchalance. Dabi leaned in closer to Y/N, his voice low and filled with an air of mystery. "You see," he began, a hint of smugness in his tone. "We are Vikings, warriors of the North. Our ways are brutal, but they're also fiercely proud. We live by the sword and sail by the stars. Our world is one of conquest and survival, where strength and cunning are the ultimate currencies." Dabi paused for a moment, as if considering whether to reveal more. "And you, Y/N, have found yourself caught in the wake of our world. Your journey is now intertwined with ours, and how it unfolds, well, that remains to be seen."
His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the unknown.
Dabi's sharp ears caught the sound of Y/N's quiet sobs, and he turned his gaze toward her.
Her words, filled with pain and anger, washed over him. "I wanna rather die than be a slave," she lamented, "you're animals, killing and robbing for fun. I'll never forgive you for killing my friends."
He let out a low, almost amused chuckle, a sound that resonated with a kind of sly arrogance. "Animals, you say?" he responded, his voice carrying a note of mockery. "Perhaps, but in our world, it's the fittest that survive. We aren't much for sentiment, and the reality is, we did what we had to do to ensure our own survival." Dabi's gaze remained fixed on her, and his tone took on a more cryptic edge. "As for forgiveness, sunshine, that's not something I'm particularly concerned about. We live by the code of the North, and it's a world where the line between predator and prey is often blurred. It's a harsh existence, but it's ours."
As the Viking longships sailed southward through the tempestuous sea, they finally reached their home village, known as Skjaldvargr nestled on the southern shores of Norway.
The arrival of Dabi and his crew was met with a raucous reception. The people of Skjaldvargr, mostly guards and shieldmaidens, had been eagerly awaiting their return. The shieldmaidens, with their fierce eyes and battle-worn armor, stood proudly alongside their male counterparts, a testament to the equality that defined Viking society.
The village came to life with the clanging of shields and the joyful cries of reunion as the raiders disembarked, their ill-gotten treasures in tow. It was a homecoming marked by the spoils of their conquest and the triumphant return of their warriors, a scene that underscored the unyielding spirit of the people of Skjaldvargr.
The longships were expertly unloaded, and the captivated men and women were carefully escorted off the vessels. They were bound together, forming a dispirited line, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and resignation. The captives from the Christian village now stood on the wooden pier, their lives forever changed by the Viking raid.
Dabi was the last to disembark. As he stepped onto the pier, the people of Skjaldvargr erupted into cheers. His name carried weight in the village; he was known not only as a fierce Viking warrior but also as one of the heirs to Endeavor, their ruthless earl. His presence was a symbol of power and authority, and the villagers greeted him with a mixture of reverence and admiration.
The triumphant return of Dabi and his crew marked a momentous occasion in the life of Skjaldvargr, where the spoils of their conquest and the legend of their daring deeds would echo through the halls of their Great Hall. The fate of the captives, bound and silent, hung in the balance, as the world of the Northmen unfurled before them.
Among the men and women on the shore, there was a tall, white-haired male with a thick, long fur draped around his shoulders, a figure that stood out amidst the assembled Vikings.
Dabi approached the man and wrapped him in a warm hug. "Natsuo, brother," he greeted him with a grin that couldn't be seen behind his mask.
Natsuo, the younger of the two, returned the hug, placing his hands on Dabi's shoulders. "Looking good and returning successful again. Wonderful," he replied with a hint of admiration in his voice. He stepped back, taking a moment to study his brother. "But what's all this fuss about a Christian village?" he inquired, his curiosity evident. "You've got everyone talking."
Dabi's smirk only widened as he regarded his brother. "Oh, Natsuo, it's a long story. Let's catch up over a drink at the Great Hall. I have quite the tale to tell."
The brothers shared a knowing glance, the unspoken understanding between them evident in their eyes.
Dabi wasted no time in issuing his orders to one of his men. "Make sure the Y/H/C woman is not sent to the market but is brought straight to the Great Hall," he commanded, his tone devoid of any room for discussion.
His bondsman, ever dutiful, nodded in acknowledgment of the directive.
Natsuo, wearing a mischievous grin, couldn't resist teasing his older brother about the mysterious woman. "Dabi, she must be quite the catch if you're keeping her for yourself," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "Hope you're going to share a little!"
Dabi scoffed, playfully shoving his brother's shoulder. "Don't be absurd, Natsuo. She's just a captive from the Christian village. I've got more important matters to attend to," he replied, his tone gruff but carrying a hint of a secret smile. "Now, off to the Great Hall. Father is likely impatient for the reports."
The banter between the two brothers continued as they made their way to the heart of Skjaldvargr, leaving behind the captivated woman who had captured Dabi's attention and a tale that had yet to fully unfold.
His hips moved with swift and forceful determination, and the woman beneath him found herself panting and moaning his name in response. With a final series of intense grunts and thrusts, the young man with distinctive two-coloured hair reached his climax, giving one last deep thrust into the girl, spilling his seed in her.
She gently placed her palm against his cheek, her touch brushing over a scarred, reddened area under his left eye. However, her hand was met with a swift and firm push as he growled, withdrawing from her and hurriedly adjusting his pants.
"No," he snarled, pushing her off his bed with ease. "Get the fuck out now," he demanded, his tone filled with a brusque and dismissive edge.
"But you told me you liked me and that we'd have more time together," the young thrall whispered softly as she gathered her clothes from the wooden floor.
The young man's chuckle was cold and devoid of genuine emotion. "Are you that naive?" he sneered, "I only wanted your pussy, nothing else. Get out of my bed before my father or older brother catch you. You don't want to find yourself in trouble, do you?"
The thrall, disheartened and regretful, quickly dressed and left the room. She entered the main chamber of the Great Hall just as Natsuo and Dabi stepped through the massive doors.
Their father, Endeavor, the fearsome earl of Skjaldvargr, was seated at the throne at the end of the chamber, grinding his axe. His stern gaze bore into his eldest son as they approached, a silent expectation for a report on their latest raid.
"The raid on the Christian village was a resounding success. We looted their coffers, took their goods, and brought back valuable supplies that will sustain our village for the winter. The riches we've acquired are beyond our expectations."
Endeavor nodded, acknowledging the information. "Any captives?" he inquired, his eyes scrutinizing his son.
Dabi continued, "We have several men and women who will serve as thralls. We've also secured a Y/H/C woman who is very unique, father. She possesses knowledge of our language, and I've made the decision to keep her within our Great Hall rather than sending her to the market."
He listened to Dabi's report with a stern demeanor, his eyes narrowing as his son spoke about the captive Y/H/C woman. When Dabi finished, the earl's voice held a note of warning. "You know that you shouldn't be making such decisions without my consent," he admonished, his tone heavy with authority. "But this time, I will let it slide."
Inside, Dabi couldn't help but heave a silent sigh of relief. Endeavor's leniency meant that he would have the opportunity to interact with Y/N more freely, a chance to explore the mystery and attraction that had drawn him to her during the journey home. The knowledge that he wouldn't face immediate consequences for his impulsive decision filled him with a sense of gratitude, even as he maintained his outward composure.
Natsuo, on the other hand, took a seat at the long table, where freshly cooked meat was being served by their thralls. He joined the warriors who had gathered to eat, listening to the tale of their successful raid with a satisfied grin. The sounds of feasting and celebration filled the Great Hall, a stark contrast to the darkness and secrets that had transpired on the longship during the journey home.
As Dabi stood in front of his father, a sudden presence caught his attention. A young man with two-colored hair, neatly groomed but slightly untidy now, had joined them. It was Shoto, Dabi's youngest brother, who had recently celebrated his eighteenth spring. His appearance and demeanor appeared deceivingly innocent, but Dabi knew that his younger sibling was not to be underestimated.
"So, you've returned, brother," Shoto said, his tone dripping with feigned sweetness. He offered Dabi a smile that was almost too saccharine, given the complexities of their family dynamics.
Dabi acknowledged Shoto with a nod, a sense of unease brewing beneath the surface.
Shoto turned his attention to their father, Endeavor, his voice carrying a subtle air of request. "Father, this winter, I want to visit Earl Gizzor's settlement, as we discussed. It's crucial that we maintain good relationships between our settlements."
Dabi furrowed his brow, disbelief tinging his words. "What? How do you intend to do that? We've declared war on them."
Shoto maintained his sweet smile as he responded, "While you were away, brother, father and I reached an agreement. We've decided that it's no longer necessary to wage war with Earl Gizzor. Instead, we've buried the hatchet."
Dabi was taken aback, struggling to process what he was hearing. Earl Gizzor was known to be a man of dubious trustworthiness, and the sudden reconciliation with him left a bitter taste in Dabi's mouth. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, and the unexpected alliance between his younger brother and their father raised more questions than it provided answers.
Endeavor nodded in agreement with Shoto's proposal, adding his voice to the conversation. "Shoto is right, Dabi. Maintaining alliances and peace with neighboring earls is essential. We can't be at war on all fronts."
Dabi, with a simple nod of acknowledgment, turned to leave the throne area of the chamber. However, before he walked away, he caught Shoto's shoulder, his grip gentle but firm. "You have a fucking sperm on your pants, you little bastard," he grumbled, his voice low and filled with a blend of irritation and brotherly mockery. "Which poor thrall have you managed to lure into your charms this time?"
Shoto, not one to be easily cowed, replied in a wry and cocky whisper, ensuring their father couldn't hear, "You're always looking so closely, brother. Some of us don't need a mask to be charming. If you looked look like a real man, you wouldn't need to be envious of my romantic pursuits," he quipped, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he took a not-so-subtle dig at Dabi, looking him hardly in the eyes.
Their exchange, hidden beneath the veneer of family respect and decorum, hinted at a deeper sibling rivalry and a history of conflicting personalities. The tension between Dabi and Shoto was a thread woven into the very fabric of their family.
Dabi's patience worn thin by the exchange with Shoto. He scoffed and let go of his younger brother's arm. He turned and made his way straight to his chamber, his footsteps heavy.
Natsuo, who had been a silent witness to the situation between his two brothers, watched with a heavy heart. He loved them both and couldn't bring himself to pick sides, but the tension in the air was palpable, and he worried about the growing rift between Dabi and Shoto.
In his own chamber, Dabi wasted no time. He shed his outer layers, discarding the fur, the mask, woolen shirt, and pants until he stood naked in the room. He flopped onto his bed, which was covered with furs, and stared at the ceiling. His mind was filled with thoughts about everything that had transpired during the days, and he couldn't help but wonder about Shoto's intentions and the potential consequences of their father's newfound alliance.
After some contemplation, he decided to take a bath to clear his mind. Dabi wrapped a towel around his hips and called for one of the thralls to prepare a hot bath for him.
As the thrall prepared the bath, the steam filled the room, creating a cozy and relaxing atmosphere. Dabi wasted no time and immersed himself in the hot water of the wooden tub. The soothing warmth seeped into his muscles, and he leaned back comfortably against the edge, closing his eyes.
The scent of the bath's herbs and oils mixed with the steam, creating a fragrant haven that allowed Dabi to momentarily escape the complexities of his world. With each passing moment, the tensions seemed to melt away, leaving him in blissful solitude and the serene embrace of the soothing bathwater.
As you were brought to the Great Hall, everything appeared new and unfamiliar. Fear coursed through your veins as you found yourself surrounded by strangers, most of them men whose eyes bore into you with an unsettling hunger. The air was thick with whispered, lewd comments, but you did your best to avoid drawing attention, keeping your gaze lowered and your composure intact.
Amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, an older woman, a thrall who had been through similar experiences, extended a hand to guide you away from the prying eyes. She offered a reassuring smile as she took your hand and spoke in a soothing tone. "Come with me, child. I'll explain your new duties and help you settle in," she said, her voice filled with empathy. "You'll find your place here, and in time, it will become more familiar."
Her words provided a glimmer of hope in the midst of your fear, as you followed the thrall to begin your new life in the Great Hall, embarking on a journey that held both uncertainty and the possibility of finding your own strength in a world of unfamiliar faces and customs.
The thrall, as she handed you a plain, thick, greyish dress, began to speak about the members of the earl's family. Her voice was gentle and informative, and you listened attentively, eager to learn more about the people you would be serving. In the end, it was your new life.
She explained, "The earl is Endeavor, a formidable leader and the head of this settlement. He's known for his strength and authority, but also for his ruthlessness."
You nodded, taking in the information, and she continued, "Touya, the eldest son, is a fierce warrior, and he's known for his prowess in raids. His younger brother, Natsuo, is more diplomatic, often seeking peaceful resolutions. The youngest of Endeavor's sons is Shoto," the thrall continued, her voice carrying a more cautious tone as she spoke of him. "He can be the most problematic one, especially when it comes to his affairs." Her words were filled with a hint of warning. "Shoto is known for his charisma and charm, but don't be fooled. He's a smooth talker and has a way of getting what he wants." She leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing as she emphasized, "Be careful around him, dear. He may seem charming, but his intentions can be far from virtuous."
Overwhelmed by the realization that you had been reduced to nothing but a slave, a feeling of hopelessness and anger welled up within you. You turned to the elder woman and, with a hint of defiance, you declared, "I don't want to work. I won't be a slave."
The thrall, her expression heavy with the weight of harsh reality, looked at you with a stern gaze. She leaned in closer, her voice low and foreboding as she whispered, "You don't have a choice in this matter, my child, so hadn't I. If you refuse to work, you won't survive for long. This is the way of our world, and it's a harsh one. I arrived here several years ago, after being taken from the settlement of another earl who was killed in a battle with Endeavor, and ever since, I've been toiling for the earl's family. The tasks are far from rewarding, but such is the way of life," she explained, her voice tinged with resignation.
As you inquired about the tall man who cnquered your village, the thrall's eyes held a certain intensity, and she clarified, "It was Dabi. Dabi is his chosen warrior name. His given name is Touya."
You had obediently completed your first task of cleaning the Great Hall, even though it felt like a menial chore that reflected your new life as a thrall. However, when another thrall instructed you to go to another room to help with the bath, you complied without question. With a heavy sigh, you followed the directions and pushed open the door.
As you stepped into the room, a rush of steam enveloped you, carrying a fragrance of herbs that filled the air. Your brow furrowed in surprise, but before you could react further, the steam dissipated. What lay before you was a scene that caught you off guard: a large bed and clothes, and a mask that you recognized from when Dabi had worn it.
Then, your eyes fell upon the figure in the bath, and a gasp escaped your lips, a sound you couldn't control. You took an involuntary step back as the sight unfolded before you. The man in the bath was Dabi, his body covered with a patchwork of purple, dark, scarred skin. These gnarled, wrinkled, and disfigured patches marred much of his lower face and neck, extending past his collarbone, and continued down his arms and legs. Your whimper of shock hung in the air, and you couldn't help but take another step back, horror etched on your face. It was the first time you saw him without a mask.
Dabi's turquoise eyes opened slowly, and he gazed at you with a haunting intensity. "That's you," he whispered, a quiet acknowledgment of your presence, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery and a deep well of secrets.
As the realization of Dabi's disfigured appearance settled in, the room seemed to grow heavy with tension. Your initial shock gave way to a mix of empathy and curiosity, wondering about the circumstances that had led to such extensive scarring.
The room, suffused with the aroma of herbs, steam and the eerie sight of his scars, seemed to cradle you both in its embrace, marking a pivotal moment that was only beginning to unfold.
heathen wolves: @indignant-alpaca @misafiryanki @roast-toast @within-eyesight @crystalwolfblog
#viking!Dabi#viking!Shoto#earl!Endeavor#dabi#touya todoroki#bnha dabi#dabi my hero academia#mha dabi#todoroki touya#dabi fanfic#touya imagine#touya#mha touya#bnha touya#bnha fanfiction#todoroki toya#toya todoroki#shoto smut#dabi x reader#dabi x you#touya todoroki x reader#touya todoroki x you#shoto todoroki#endeavor#enji todoroki#dabi x y/n
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❍ the 2k event: jeonghan + jellyfish
vote for this fic in the poll!
alternative title: down here in the deep blue sea
pairing: siren prince!jeonghan x selkie!gn!reader
genre: mythical au, siren au, friends to lovers
word count: 1130
warnings: none
event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @weird-bookworm @my-moarmy-heart @hannyoontify @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @sweet-like-caramel @horanghae8 @graybaeismytae @karionice @hopetiger10
The bottom of the ocean is dark and cold and unpleasant. There is little light, and the creatures that live here are fierce, hardened by the harsh environment they’ve evolved to survive in. Here in his palace, Jeonghan is shielded from the worst of it, but even he understands that the never-ending abyss that makes up his family’s kingdom is nothing like the glittering, lively seas that their distant mermaid cousins live in.
But it’s all that Jeonghan has ever known.
That is, until he met you.
“Jeonghan! Jeonghan, Jeonghan, I’m here!”
Jeonghan doesn't have time to look up before a selkie comes crashing into him, all sleek, soft fur and big eyes. He laughs, because he's used to this by now, and pushes away your head slightly so that you're not squishing your cheek against his.
"Get away from me, you rascal, you're going to mess up my hair," he says, but he's smiling, and you beam at him in return, all twinkling irises and bubbling laughter.
"Yeah, yeah, it's gonna get messed up anyway," you say, ruffling his hair just to prove your point. "Anyway. Ready to go?"
Jeonghan cocks his head, smiling. "Maybe. Where are we going this time?"
You tap your lips secretively. "It's a secret. You ready to come or not?"
He rolls his eyes, pretending to give a long-suffering sigh. "Alright. Let's go." He looks around the darkened sea garden, peering into the bushes. "Shua!"
Another siren pops his head up above a cluster of bioluminescent sea flowers. "Yes, sire?"
"I'm gonna leave," Jeonghan says, pointing to you. "Y/N's taking me hostage. Don't expect me back until at least supper time."
Joshua crosses his arms and swims towards where you and Jeonghan are sitting. "Jeonghan, I can't keep covering for you forever," he protests. "I think there are only so many times I can pretend you got lost in the Royal Seaweed Maze before someone realises I'm lying about the Crown Prince's whereabouts."
"Then just this one last time, Shuji," Jeonghan says easily, grinning. "I'll bring you along next time Y/N and I go somewhere. How about that?"
Joshua wrinkles his nose, the scales on his cheeks glowing neon pink in the light of the flowers. "Hmph. Just go. Tomorrow, I'm resigning as your personal guard."
"You do that," Jeonghan says with a smile, because they both know that Joshua would never leave him. "See you tonight, Shua!"
"Yes!" you cheer. "Let's go!" You ruffle Joshua's hair in consolation before grabbing Jeonghan's hand, sending a bright grin over to the siren prince and then swimming upwards, up, up, away from the kingdom down in the abyss.
———————————— 🪼
"Are you really not going to tell me where we're going?"
You look over at Jeonghan, whiskers twitching, and reply with a chirrup, bubbles escaping your mouth.
He sighs at you, smiling, flicking his tail and swimming faster so he's beside you. You slap at him with a seal flipper when he attempts to poke your cheek, making more seal noises before he laughs and holds his hands up in surrender.
"Okay, okay. But seriously, where are we going?"
You morph out of your seal form into one that's slightly more conversation-able, the faintest whiskers still on your cheeks and the sleekness of your selkie fur blending into something resembling human skin. You grin, and point upwards. "Not a where. A what."
Jeonghan looks up, and his eyes widen.
You've led him so far away from the depths of the ocean, and with just a few miles of swimming he'd be able to break the surface of the water. But that's not what he's looking at.
Above you both, there's a swarm of transparent, floaty things, tinted in pretty pinks and oranges with what looks like long, thin threads dancing in the movement of the sea.
"We're here to see the jellyfish," you say, and he mouths the word to himself in wonder.
He watches as the jellyfish bob around, following the movement of the current. They look almost like mysterious spirits, with elusive purposes and elusive aims and elusive goals.
It's fascinating.
Their transparent bodies filter the rays of sunlight right through them, and it's a kind of glittering, crystalline wonder that Jeonghan has never been able to see before in the near-pitch black darkness of his kingdom. He finds himself awed, unable to take his eyes away even as you take his hand and draw him closer to the shoal.
"Jellyfish have no brains, no hearts, bones, or eyes," you say.
"Aw. That's actually really sad," Jeonghan says. "Imagine not having a heart." He pauses. "Oh, and no brain, too."
You smile.
"They're actually mostly made of fluid and transparent muscles, which are the bell parts that you can see," you carry on, pointing to one jellyfish. "And these thin tentacles? They help the jellyfish catch their prey."
"How do they eat?" Jeonghan asks, confused.
"They trap their prey in their tentacles, and then eat through the opening in the middle of their bell body," you say. "See? It's like their mouth is in the center."
"Huh."
"Do you wanna touch them? They're dangerous for humans, apparently, but I found out that they're pretty much harmless for us to touch."
Before you came into his life, Jeonghan lived almost entirely within the walls of his palace, surrounded by darkness, knowing and going no further than the surrounding cities. It was a miserable existence, to always be held on a leash, unable to stretch his fins and breathe in new water into his gills.
But then came you. You stumbled into the palace gardens one day, all twitching whiskers and bright selkie eyes and a smile and an outstetched hand that promised new, bright, wonderful, fascinating.
Jeonghan had grown up being told not to take risks, but taking your hand?
That felt like coming home.
You come to him randomly, with new facts and new adventures and every day he's with you feels like living a new life, witnessing the shimmer of aquamarine seas and vibrant coral reefs with his own eyes. It's exhilarating, makes the blood in Jeonghan's veins sing. And listening to your voice, filled with such eagerness and fondness, is more mesmerising than any siren song that even his father could conjure.
"—not actually fish, you know? And they're pretty much harmless. Okay, maybe not totally harmless, but they don't bother you if you don't bother them."
You pause, then, because one jellyfish chooses that moment to bob upwards in a swirl of translucent jelly right into your face, and you scrunch your nose with a barking laugh.
Jeonghan watches you, the smile widening on his face, before he pauses.
Oh.
He might be just a tiny bit in love with you.
#fairyhaos.works#k-labels#the 2k event -- fairyhaos#svt#seventeen#jeonghan#seventeen fic#jeonghan fic#svt fic#svt jeonghan#svt x reader#jeonghan x reader#yoon jeonghan#jeonghan x you#seventeen x you#jeonghan x y/n#seventeen x y/n#seventeen x reader#seventeen jeonghan#seventeen yoon jeonghan#svt yoon jeonghan#svt fluff#seventeen fluff#jeonghan fluff#jeonghan imagines#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic
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60 with Lo'ak x reader? I put in 1-101 on a generator and this came up three times so i think it's a sign PFFT
it just feels right for lo'ak to have this with someone, kind of like Ronal and Tonowari speaking with their eyes basically!! reader can be omaticaya or metkayina , whatever you deem fitting :)
#60: In Sync/Wordless Conversations
Pairing: Lo'ak x Fem!Metkayina!Reader
Warnings: Language, fluff, time skips
Na'vi Words: olo'eyktan - clan leader, tanhì - bioluminescent freckle, marui - home, sem'pul - father, maite - daughter, nivi - hammock, skxawng- moron, nantangtsyìp - dog (Earth animal)
A/N: Oh, hell yeah I love this sort of prompt. Wordless Conversations is definitely my love language. Do I love it because I'm terrible at vocally expressing my feelings and crave for someone to know me inside and out without prodding me for words? Shut up and lemme cope.
He had always struggled with saying what he meant, and he always said things he didn't mean. In his youth, he was Jakesully's troubled son, someone who wasn't Neteyam, the firstborn golden child. Being second in everything, Lo'ak couldn't live up to so many expectations being Toruk Makto's son, and so his communication skills were shit, to say the least.
Lo'ak knew Y/n would one day be his mate simply because no one understood him like she did, and she understood him without even asking.
From day one, when he first saw her emerge from the waters of Awa'atlu, their eyes met, blue on yellow, he knew he was done for. Those eyes stared into his very soul and read him from the inside out. He wasn't sure if it was even possible to keep a secret from her. During their very first interaction together, when Tsireya had properly introduced the pair, Lo'ak couldn't hold back what he was thinking, no matter how hard he tried to keep it to himself. One look from Y/n, and he was spilling his newly found secret, "Beautiful."
Day one and Y/n could See Lo'ak in ways that no one, not even his family, could see.
~~~
It was safe to say that Lo'ak could See Y/n, too. After he had called her beautiful, their interactions were cute, shy, and flirtacious. Y/n would help Tsireya, Rotxo, and Ao'nung teach the Sully children their ways in between her chores. Nearly every time she walked up to their little group, Lo'ak is the first to spot her, and every time he grins and calls out, "She's back!"
"I am. And how are you, Lo'ak?" She rolled her eyes, despite smiling.
"Same as yesterday. You didn't stay away long," his grin was attractive, fangs sparkling in the sun, and looked as though he knew the secrets of the universe, "You just can't get enough of me, can you?"
"Please make him shut up," Ao'nung snarled under his breath, addressing it to only Neteyam who stood beside him.
~~~
Even before learning the sign language, Lo'ak was able to See Y/n. While Tsireya is using hand gestures to speak to the Sully kids in the water, Y/n spoke to Lo'ak with her eyes. They swam close together, weaving through the coral reefs as they explored the sea life around them.
Lo'ak had reached out to touch a particular fish that glowed green, but one glance in Y/n's direction beore he had done so made him pause.
She didn't move her hands or even shake her head to tell him 'no'. Her eyes, staring through Lo'ak's soul, said what he needed to know. 'Stings.'
He moves away from the fish, swimming closer to her instead, eyes bright and eyebrows raised in her direction. He was smiling with his eyes, and even through his eyes, he was grinning. 'Worried for me?'
She rolled her eyes in response, and his own crinkled as his way of laughing. He didn't miss the way her ears darkened a shade of teal.
~~~
Payakan was his Spirit Brother and Lo'ak would defend him, even against a mighty olo'eyktan like Tonowari. However, even Y/n knew when enough was enough, fearing her clan leader more than Lo'ak did in that moment of stupidity. From over Tonowari's shoulder, Lo'ak caught Y/n's gaze, and with one look, her ears pinned back to emphasize the warning, Lo'ak closed his mouth.
~~~
Quaritch had grabbed Y/n by the throat and all Lo'ak could see was red. He lashed out, hissing and baring his teeth, struggling against the orange cuffs. He was so preoccupied with insulting the Recom with every bit of foul language known to Na'vi that he nearly missed Y/n's eyes flicking in his direction, her second pair of lids wiping away the salt water that was her tears. Lo'ak noticed, anger slowly calming as he stared back at her. It was obvious she was afraid, and much like how you would try to appear smaller when calming a scared cat, Lo'ak did just that. He stopped struggling against his restraints, closing his mouth to hide the fangs away. Ears resting in a more natural position, Lo'ak made sure to keep Y/n's beautiful eyes on him. His gaze softened once she slowly began to calm herself, eyes blinking slowly as she caught her breath. Lo'ak smiled at her and nodded with encouragement. 'Do not be afraid.'
After they escaped, Lo'ak gathered her in his arms. Gently cupping both sides of her face in his hands, he stared her down with one glance, 'Okay?'
She nods, sinking into his embrace and hiding her face away in his chest.
~~~
With one tilt of her head, his tail swayed in response, betraying his thoughts as he watched the way her smile twinkled and their eyes met again. The tilt of her head was pointed in the direction of the jungle behind the village, and after the communal meal, Lo'ak found himself following Y/n there, without a verbal invitation needed.
She was leaning against a tree, facing him when he broke through the heavy foliage. Expectedly, he waltzed over to her, eyes never leaving hers as she tilts her chin up to follow his height. They stood so close now, sharing the same air as the sky darkened and the fauna around them began to glow, igniting both Omatikaya and Metkayina tanhì like constellations. Lo'ak knew what she wanted without ever saying a word. Leaning in, he did what she had asked and kissed her.
~~~
It wasn't their first fight, but for Lo'ak, everything with Y/n felt like the first time. They had been mated for three years up until this point, three years of gaining more tribal tattoos, being one of the Metkayina, and lying in a hammock that was meant for two with the most beautiful woman in the world.
He couldn't remember what the fight was about, but between his pride and Y/n's stubbornness, it was safe to say that both of them could have easily been the cause of it. After the argument, Lo'ak left to cool his thoughts. He had already said some things he didn't mean (as always, it was still a bad habit) and struggled to say the things he wanted to say. He couldn't bare to stay any longer knowing he could do something he would sincerely regret. After a few hours to relax and recollect his thoughts, he returned. Y/n was still in their marui and didn't bother looking up when he entered. She keeps her head facing away from him and purposely pinned her ears back. 'No, I don't want to talk to you.'
He understands clearly. Trying his best not to touch her, he pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear and left to go hunting with Ao'nung, Rotxo, and Neteyam. He had stayed in his parents' marui that night.
After he returned the next morning, Y/n was still there, though her posture had definitely relaxed and her mood had shifted. She stood up and moved out of her husband's way so that he could get what he needed to be ready for the day. When he turned to leave again, she cleared her throat. Right, how could he have forgotten? Lo'ak turned on his heels and fit himself in front of his wife, planting a parting kiss on her lips and reveling the smile she bore as he left.
~~~
Almost every night it was like this, their little girl begging to stay up late because all her older cousins get to.
"Sem'pul, can I please stay up with you?"
Her eyes were even bigger than Tuk's when she was that age. Lo'ak was ready to give in until he saw the way Y/n looked at him behind their daughter's back, "Of co-- Actually, maite. I just remembered how I'm not feeling well and should probably get some sleep."
"Oh, no! You have to rest, Dad! I can tuck you in."
"That would make me feel so much better, baby. Thank you."
Y/n smiled with her eyes, nodding with approval as she moves to join the two in their family-size nivi. Lo'ak was nearly smothered with the little girl nestled in his chest and the woman pressed comfortably at his side, but he wouldn't want it any other way.
~~~
Ao'nung's son? With Lo'ak's daughter? Hell fucking no! What is that skxawng thinking?!
Lo'ak makes one step toward the son of the olo'eyktan only for Y/n to step in front of her mate, keeping his line of sight strictly on her. She stares up at him with half-lidded eyes and a sweet -if not amused- smile. Both smile and eyes now had soft wrinkles in the corners, and her hair wasn't as dark as it used to be. But, like before, time with Y/n was always like the first time, and nothing had changed except for their age and the fact that Ao'nung's son wished to court Lo'ak's daughter!
The thought brings anger back into Lo'ak's eyes that Y/n quickly stamped down with a glare of her own, her amusement forgotten in replace of forcing her husband to sit down with just one look. Kiri had watched the scene with amusement, muttering "Walk him like a nantangtsyìp, Y/n," loud enough for Lo'ak to hear it and snap his teeth at her.
At least Ao'nung was just as displeased as Lo'ak was when he found out about it. Finally, they agreed on something. However, everyone knew that Lo'ak was wrapped around his baby's fingers, and eventually, he welcomed the chief's son into their family after his daughter exclaimed, "I want what you and Mom have!"
He couldn't argue with that.
#loak#loak sully#lo'ak sully#lo'ak#loak fanfiction#loak fic#loak imagine#loak x reader#loak x y/n#loak x you#lo'ak imagine#lo'ak x reader#lo'ak fic#lo'ak x you#avatar imagine#atwow imagine
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Hot & Bothered: Snack Shack [Avenger!Loki x Fem Reader]
Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection
A link to my Masterlist is HERE
Summary: (14) Ice-cream ain't the only temptation waiting in the Snack Shack.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Hostility. Language. "Friends" w/ benefits. (4.2k)
You and Loki walked most of the way in silence. A small hut came into view, a half-shuttered awning facing the sea. The Snack Shack, a faded rectangular sign above the front read.
Loki chuckled mockingly, shaking his head. “I shall never become accustomed to this realms insistence on purchasing frivolities.”
“Like food?” you muttered. “Besides, you’re like, the poster boy for frivolities.” you said scathingly, pinching the arm of his chiffon robe. Loki sniffed. “I meant the exchange of coin. So uncivilised.”
“Well, it may surprise you to know” you whispered secretively, leaning towards him. “That not everyone has the benefit of being a spoilt arsehole.”
Loki scoffed, offering a dismissive wave of his hand. “I can assure you that if I was necessitated to use such vulgar methods of capital exchange, I would not waste it on trifles such as…”
He trailed off, searching for any sign on the dilapidated exterior of what could be found inside the Snack Shack. You rolled your eyes, turning the key.
“After you, my Liege.” you mocked, waving him inside. The god tilted his chin up, flicking his hair past his shoulders before striding barefoot through the rickety door in a swirl of black silk-chiffon.
Prick, you thought. “Peasant.” Loki snapped dryly in response, not looking back.
You tilted your head, a wave of irritation at his insufferable new habit giving way to curiosity. “I thought you said you could only see flashes of things. Like photos of certain...whatever?”
Loki nodded, picking up an empty plastic jumbo-cup and inspecting it with mild interest. He tilted his head, voice saturated in feigned innocence.
“You must be feeling something very strongly, Agent. Either that or the reason for your unfortunate position is deepening its hold. Oh dear.” He ended with a theatrical narrowing of his eyes, the blue of his irises darkened in the unlit gloom.
A coy smile pressed against the god's cheek as he watched your brow twitch; words failing to bridge the gap between your brain and tongue. He straightened, flipping the jumbo cup to spin flawlessly back to its position at the top of a curved stack.
A beam of afternoon sun snaking through the shutters ran a sliver of sunlight across his broad chest as he leant against the counter. It caught the golden embroidery of the caftan resting against his obliques, illuminating the luxurious weave that hung like a fucked-out lover around the muscle of his hips.
The god’s hands gripped the sides of the stainless steel, drumming them lightly as he waited for you to respond.
“Steve didn’t ask you to talk to me, did he?” you said, suddenly very aware you were bare but for a simple bikini. In the cover of shadow, Loki let his eyes wander leisurely over your curves; a flash of pink running across his bottom lip. His tell.
“He spoke to me earlier. He didn’t speak to you.” you analysed slowly, running a finger along the length of the steel counter. Loki’s eyes flashed, a roll of his shoulders betraying his arousal. He pulled the flowing length of the caftan to the side, letting it swirl and flutter. You supposed he thought it looked casual.
“He spoke to me prior to-” he started confidently.
“-Liar.” you snapped, cutting him off.
The god raised his brows. “You lied to me, Loki.” you said coyly, noting the way he was pressing himself back against the thick steel bar. His grip had tightened around the edge, the unexpected causality of your statement taking him by surprise. Not that he had lied. But that you had caught it.
Loki glowered, lowering his chin. “You are the one lying Agent. To me. And to yourself.”
“You’re full of shit.” you snapped, heart beating louder with every slap of your flip flops against the rudimentary tiled floor. “Why did you lie about Rogers? Why did you come over to sit with me? Did you miss me?” you goaded, pouting mockingly as his glare intensified. The bitterness in your voice surprised even you.
He had shuffled slightly to the right, subconsciously moving away from your stalk around the L-shaped counter. “Or did you miss your toy? The game.” you continued non-nonchalantly, reaching out and gathering the opposing edges of his caftan in a fist. “Which you were cheating at, by the way.”
You could smell the dried salt crusting in his hair, the undertone of spiced musk which infused his insufferably biteable skin hanging thick in the heat. A thrilling tingle soared over every hair on your body, his beautiful eyes squinting suspiciously as he tried to read you. “What’s wrong, Loki? Lost your upper hand?” you sneered.
Suddenly you pulled the fist gathering the sides of the slutty caftan towards you, slamming his mouth to yours in a violent kiss. Loki jolted in surprise, before his hands fastened to either side of your head. The feeling of his warm tongue invading your mouth after so long was heaven. Infuriatingly, it was fucking heaven.
He shuffled you back across the tiny kitchen. You lost a flip flop. And then two.
The force of his kiss was electric, the animalism of his covetous passion overpowering every ounce of dominance you had held mere seconds ago. He released you against the opposing steel counter, a fresh chill of metal hitting your lower back.
“You wish to know why I can see the desires that your mind screams across the lonely abyss you have created around yourself? One of misdirection and sabotage?” he hissed, taking no mind of the fist still gathered at his chest. Loki’s face was inches from yours, eyes wild and dangerous. Salted onyx curls fell around his cheekbones, rugged and dry.
“No.” you said slowly, rounding your lips. You watched his eyes hover on them as they remained parted, waiting for him to fill them again. “Liar.” he echoed.
You rolled your eyes, using the free hand not hoisting his robe together to roughly palm the front of his swim shorts. Unsurprisingly, he was already hard. Of course he fucking is, you thought. Despite your distractions, Loki continued unperturbed.
“You think that by conceding to your need for my intel on our little party trick, that you concede yourself?” he let out a mirthless laugh that stifled the small space, vibrating against the pots and pans hanging on the wall behind your head. “Oh Agent…” he hissed, as you squeezed his manhood tighter than any mortal man would find pleasure in; “...we are too far gone for that.”
“You’re awfully full of yourself for a man in a negligee.” you snorted, dragging your nails along the sensitive ridges of his cock through the nylon.
Loki grimaced, releasing a ragged growl as his head fell back to the ceiling. He let himself enjoy a few moments of submissive pleasure, before he brought himself forward; renewed determination glowing in his eyes.
“Be that as it may...it does not change that I can read you the way that I can.” he smirked, trailing a long finger between your breasts. He drew it between the mounds, groaning lightly as the digit disappeared into the valley of your cleavage before tracing it up your neck. His thumb lingered on your thorax, igniting the nerves that longed for his absent touch.
You let your head loll to the side, hips thrusting forwards as you felt him grow harder through the tight swim shorts. Harder? Fuck; you thought, as Loki’s fingertips grazed the length of your neck, back and forth; feeling every pulse, every breath. He descended to sweep your exposed collarbone, drawing tingling lengths over every pleasure point hidden beneath your skin with the lightest of touches.
It was torture. He was torture.
Loki’s forefinger and thumb clasped lightly beneath your chin, pressing against the angle of your jaw and forcing your face to his. He rocked his hips into your hand, grinding against the passive fury of your desire. “So fucking weak for me, aren’t you, Agent?” he murmured thoughtfully, eyes narrowing as he watched a new wave of infuriation blossom over your features nestled in shadow.
Before you could answer, his hands were wrapped around your wrists; tearing them from their grip on his caftan and cock like tissue paper. You gasped as he raised them above your head, sliding them roughly down your naked waist and hoisting you on top of the counter with a jolt.
“The only time you’re drawn to me is when I make you rage, isn’t it?” he grunted, grasping ravenously at your thighs as he spread them wider and slotted himself between. You panted, gasping as his hands wound in your hair possessively. “You are such a fucking arseh-”
“-Yes, Agent.” he groaned from deep in his gut, clawing mercilessly at the bikini bottoms wrapped to your hips.
“Loathe me. Scorn me. Hate me. Rage for me...I care not.” he spat through a desperate moan as the white briefs were cast to the floor by your flip flops. “Just fuck me.”
His own swimwear had disappeared in the fray. The thick cock you fantasised about filling you in the long hours of the night bobbed at his naval as he closed the distance between you. “Don’t, Agent.” he said softly, pressing a finger to your lips to quell the biting words hovering there.
Perched on the counter-top, you gazed up at the god who irritated you more than anyone or anything ever had. If you chose, you could pick up your shit and leave. But why would I do that? you thought fleetingly, catching a fleck of something spark in the greenish hues of his eyes.
You lurched forwards, catching the tip of his finger in your mouth and sucking with your eyes locked to his.
Loki lowered his chin with a rumble, the timbre making your slick pussy tremor as you swirled your tongue around the tip. “You are playing with fire, little thing.” he growled, tinged with desperation as your mouth released his finger with a final wet slurp. “Fucking burn me, then.” you snarled, running your palms down his chest to the treasure below.
“A month…” Loki groaned wistfully, as your hands looped around his neck; pulling him deeper against your keening body. You wondered if he had meant to say it out loud. His mouth latched to the curve of your shoulder, sucking messy kisses into the salted skin.
The flimsy material of your bikini top did nothing to stop pangs of pleasure soaring as your nipples rubbed against his body; shooting in blissful stars.
With an aggressive sweep of his hand, the pans hanging on the wall behind you shot across the room; clanging menacingly against the stove and falling chaotically to the floor. You gasped, descending into giggles as Loki lowered you against the cool counter-top with a satisfied smirk.
He hoisted your legs onto his shoulders, the silky material of the chiffon caftan feeling taboo beneath your naked calves. The god towered over you who lay spread and ready; running his feral stare over your glistening pussy as your back arched against the steel.
You moaned his name in frustration, pulling shamelessly at the golden hem of his slutty cover-up. Loki chuckled, holding his cock in one hand and dragging it leisurely against your wet slit.
“And you think you’re not weak for me...” he muttered, dipping the wide tip teasingly inside; watching a sticky web of arousal string outwards as he withdrew. His hair fell around his face, his eyelids closing gently with the smallest thrust of his hips edging lightly against your core.
“Only for what you can do…” you teased, fingers grasping around the counter’s edge; steadying for the coming reckoning. You bucked your hips so the first inch of his cock was swallowed into wet heat. “Fuck.” Loki choked, losing his concentration. His palms slid up the front of your thighs hanging against his chest before he bit ravenously into the flesh to his side.
“Please.” you sneered, feeling his length pulse against your clit as he stalled for time with his teeth and tongue. “You’re weak for me, Laufeyson.” Your fingers tightened around the chiffon hanging at his waist, yanking hard. The god’s eyes fluttered open in your direction, lips still fastened to your skin mid-bite.
“So desperate for the one who doesn’t want you.” you cooed, watching the familiar primal glaze blossom in his stare as you arched towards the ceiling. “So desperate for v-validation…”
The god’s hands cupped your knees, straightening your legs against his broad shoulders. “Lying to yourself again, Agent? How unattractive.” Loki snarled.
His fingers wrapped around your calves, squeezing tightly as you squirmed on the steel like an animal marked for slaughter. You bucked upwards, trying to capture the tip of his weeping cock like before. Loki tutted, wild hair melding in amongst the folds of black fabric covering his shoulders. “Doesn’t seem like you find me unattractive, Loki.” you purred, pressing your lips together mischievously.
Your hostile lover’s jaw clenched, grinding his teeth together as he leant forward; tight obliques pressing against the rear of your thighs. The veins of his furiously hard cock pulsed against your slit as he slid back and forth through your folds. Testing you. Teasing you.
You gasped as Loki thrust into your pussy without warning, his brows slanting before resuming their haughty, regal set. He bottomed out, a low groan vibrating against the back of your legs through his chest as he began fucking you with your straightened limbs jiggling shamelessly by his ears.
Dirty grunts spilled from his lips as he rode you into battle, primal desperation soaring as you rocked violently into his passion.
You could do nothing but feel the enormous weight of Loki’s arousal stretch and fill your sex, every long drag of his cock making your face scrunch in aggressive pleasure. Loki’s jaw gaped, unhinged as dark hair swung against his cheekbones; errant strands sticking against his parted lips.
A line of utensils on the wall shook, every messy slap of the god’s hips meeting your centre making them clang. A spatula clattered to the steel counter, bouncing along the shaking surface before descending loudly to the floor. A ladle followed.
One of his hands ran down your thigh, finding its way between your spread legs. He began rolling your clit with his horizontal thumb; firm and mercilessly targeted – each massage of the digit timed against his wet thrusts.
“Tell me what I want..” you gasped between filthy curses, your back squeaking against the steel as sweat made it stick. In a flash, Loki roughly lowered your legs around his hips, swooping his hands beneath your waist and heaving you into the air.
His cock never left your slit as you clenched around him, hanging on to the heady fuck only he could deliver with all the strength you had.
He slammed you against the lowered shutters, crushing your mouths together like a man possessed. You’d never seen him like this, hands spasming in their impatience to squeeze and grip and pull every curve of your body to his. “Say that again.” he growled disbelievingly by your ear, making you shudder.
“Tell me..w-what I want, d-dickhead.” you managed to gasp as he rutted into you; your back flat against rickity corrugated metal. It rattled ominously with every smack of his hips, your hands running through his hair and pulling his head back with a sharp tug. Loki hissed, lips stretching to reveal his teeth bared as he bit air. “F-uck, Agent…” he groaned. “I shall n-never understand you.”
“Good.” you whispered groggily, clenching tightly as he dragged his pelvis against yours. He couldn’t be any deeper. Every tight thrust bottomed out as he impaled himself again and again, withdrawing only an inch or two from the back of your channel before the temptation was too much. “You owe me that.” you murmured breathily, wrapping your arms around his neck.
His face hovered in front of yours as he stilled, fully sheathed and hard as rock. He jutted his chin, capturing your lower lip between his teeth and drawing it back. A thoughtful hum shuddered the air as he squinted, eyes flickering between your own. You could feel a tingling by your temples, a low buzz of static filling your mind as your lungs clenched. Am I imagining that, you wondered; as Loki’s hypnotic stare sank into yours.
The god inhaled sharply, head titling to the side as he pursed his lips. “You’re a bad girl.” he murmured, punctuated with a slow roll of his hips. “No worse than you.” you countered, as Loki’s attempt at a lean for a kiss turned to a grin.
“Where?” he said. “There.” you replied, nudging your head towards the opposite side of the small kitchen space. The only unspoilt surface.
Loki smirked. “Very well. Although don’t be disappointed when you do not have the strength to facilitate the desired result.” he mocked, sliding his cock from your tight, wet heat and lowering you to the ground. The tiles were cool on the soles of your feet, flushed with faint pins and needles from Loki’s iron grip on your thighs. “Oh, we’ll see.” you replied petulantly. “I have a lot of pent up frustration.”
Loki chuckled, backing slowly towards the steel counter on his left. “That much is obvious, Agent. Perhaps it will teach you not to punish yourself with the withdrawal of your affections from me.”
You rolled your eyes, before being drawn back to the sight of him leaning seductively against the ledge. His slutty caftan spread out as he rested his hands casually behind him, knuckles popping as long fingers wrapped around metal.
The chiffon cover-up glinted in the slivers of light through the squint shutters, embroidery framing his deliciously luxurious erection in the scruffy surroundings. “Or perhaps affections is the wrong word, hmm?” he interjected, looking at you appraisingly through heavy-lidded eyes.
You stepped forwards, noticing him brush the long line of dark material from one thigh, holding it beneath his thumb against the steel. It exposed the meat of his muscled thigh which bulged as he adjusted his stance. Tease, you thought with a smile as you padded past him, enjoying the moment his look of smug assurance melted to a frown.
“What are you doing?” he snapped incredulously, as you reached up to a high shelf. You fished around in a box, drawing out a solitary wafer cone before placing it beneath the ice-cream machine beside Loki.
“I’m mortally offended you would choose that over the delicacies I offer, Agent.” he coyed, bristling beneath the humour. You shrugged, watching the vanilla soft serve swirl in a perfect loop, higher and higher. The machine growled, chugging as an exasperated huff expelled from Loki’s throat. You smirked.
Turning to face him, you held up the loaded cone. “I thought you said you can see what I want.” you postured bluntly, before giving the ice-cream a whoreish lick. Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed.” he growled, widening his legs. You sashayed the several steps between you, pressing your chest to his. He opened his mouth, eyes never leaving yours as you let him lick the cone. Slow, sensual. Filthy.
You whimpered as he covered the tip with his mouth, sucking before his tongue darted across vanilla-soaked lips. “I’ve had better.” he murmured playfully, a dark strand falling over his eye. “Me too.” you said, before shoving the remnants of the ice-cream in his face.
Loki spluttered, smiling back at your own grin as you began to run the ruined cone down his neck. A drop of white fell from his nose, splashing your cleavage. The scent of artificial vanilla filled your nostrils, soft serve melting instantly against his heated skin. It nestled in the crevices of his collarbone; sticking in tacky pools before finding a slow path down his chest.
“Did you see that coming?” you whispered provocatively, letting your tongue roll over the final word. Loki shivered, shaking his head. You ran your palms up his neck, feeling the thick sugar clinging to your fingertips drag across his skin. They slid over his cheekbones, carding past his temples as Loki gave a reluctant twist of his neck.
“Beware the robe” he muttered, “it was crafted by Asgardian crones, the finest weavers in all the realms.”
You smirked, wiping a wet finger down the embroidered collar. “Oops.” you purred. Loki sighed heavily, restless irritation bubbling beneath the surface of his perfect skin. It felt like all your senses were heightened. His submission. That was what you had wanted more than anything else, right here. Right now.
A seaborne breeze fluttered through the gap in the shutters, coolly kissing the sweat gathered on your chest and neck. Without a moment’s pause, your messy hand slid down his abdomen, rippling over valleys of muscle before wrapping around his heavy cock. Loki hissed, a rasping groan filling the air as you began to slowly wank him back and forth.
Your free hand fastened around the thick muscle of his neck, the cartilage of his Adam’s apple hard against your tingling skin. The span of your thumb and forefinger barely reached edge to edge.
Loki smirked down beneath half-lidded eyes. “I told you.” he growled goadingly, before you pushed the flat of your palm backwards. Loki let out a grunt of surprise as the digits hooked beneath the angle of his jaw, tilting his head back further as you increased the speed of your hand around his cock. The drying stick of ice-cream made every tug drag as you watched him relent beneath your touch, becoming undone against the steel.
“Gods...more…” he whimpered huskily, toes curling on the floor. Loki’s thighs twitched, femur muscles bulging against your own as you pressed harder against the soft flesh of his neck. “Fuck.” he choked, rasping moans filling the air as wetness slid between your legs.
You squeezed his windpipe, clenching at the sound of half-breaths struggling to surface. The god’s hair swung around his shoulders, chin pointed to the ceiling. His stomach muscles flexed against your chest, the desperate thrusts of his sex into your palm making you feel more than turned on. Making you feel alive.
You slowed the motion of your hand, feeling a silent whimper vibrate his throat. Toying with the foreskin covering his shaft, your fingertips gently massaged the weeping tip as his knees began to buckle.
“You’re so fucking weak for me, Loki.” you parroted, seeing his brow crease in feral anticipation. If he could, you were sure he would have nodded. You pushed the hand pressing at the angle of his jaw further, making his eyes roll back as you tugged the delicate skin of his cock out and pulled it back with aching slowness.
A ragged groan from Loki charted every step of it’s ascent.
“Mercy.” he gasped, as you stroked him slowly. Too slowly.
Every devastating rub of his sensitive tip made him lean back further under the weight of your hand at his throat. He was dripping with precum, each roll of your thumb against his frenulum making another pearl squeeze forth. You glanced down, seeing his fists clench and unclench against the metal counter-top, body shaking with unspent lust. Ready to burst.
Your pace quickened.
“Why can you see into my head, then?” you panted, beginning to tug mercilessly. The fluid motion of your hand sliding against the magnificent column of flesh was it’s own reward, the pretty flutter of his lashes as he came undone making you mewl alongside him.
Loki let out a strangled moan, velvet skin melded to your own; moist with arousal and saliva and liquid sugar as you stroked the underside of his exposed shaft with every flick of your wrist. The veins on his neck stood erect as muscled shoulders juddered, abs clenching as he leant into your grip.
“Because you...fuck. l-love me, f-fuck...uhhh…” he groaned, eyes squeezed shut as glorious white seed spurted over your fist. His roar was apocalyptic, a deafening exhale of your name as he spilled himself over your waiting skin. His cum shot up your wrist, coating your palm. Your forearm. Your chest.
You squeezed a final time as Loki let out slow, shallow pants; gathering every drop before smearing the handful down your cleavage. Bringing your fingers to your lips, you sucked the remains as the god leant forwards, tongue primed.
He met the curve of your breast with a sigh, letting slow licks trail languidly as he lapped himself from your skin. Fuck, it tastes even better than I remember, you thought; pressing the back of the god’s head further between your mounds.
There was still a ringing in your ears as he surfaced. “Did you hear what I said, Agent?” he said tentatively, mouth sticky with ice-cream and semen; glistening in the low light. “I was distracted...” you purred, your hand already fumbling for his cock, ready for round two.
“Because you love me.” he said slowly, brows slanted. An awkward smile tugged at his lips.
You snorted with laughter, brushing a thumb against his mouth to gather the remnant slick gathered there. You sucked it, able to instantly tell the difference between the ice-cream and his own delicious vanilla-infused seed.
“Very funny. You’re insane.” you snapped, pulling the collar of the sluttish caftan towards you to kiss him. Loki frowned, placing a palm gently against your lips. His brow was furrowed, deep lines set above eyes which sparked with barbs unsaid.
“I should have known better than to think you’d actually tell me.” you said petulantly, muffled against the flat of his palm. The god leant forward, the scent of his cum hanging sweet and heavy on his breath.
“Since you will not take my word, I think it best you have a conversation with my brother.” Loki said with disquieting bitterness, lowering his hand. You realised that the tight swim shorts had reformed around his hips as he readjusted the sheer robe, haughtily flicking fucked-out hair over his shoulders.
“Wait-what?” you stuttered, stumbling to gather your bikini bottoms from the floor. “Loki, wait –is that it? What about the water?”
“I have it on my person.” Loki grunted dryly, casting a shaded glance behind him with a theatrical flourish of the slutty caftan. “You are not the only expert at hiding things, Agent.” he said snidely, letting the door to the snack shack clatter shut behind him.
Continued in Bow to Me
Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection
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#loki x reader#hostile f*cks collection#loki x reader smut#loki smut#lokismut#loki x female reader#loki x female reader smut#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson smut#loki fanfic#loki fanfiction#loki laufesyon x reader#loki x yn#loki x yn smut#loki laufeyson#loki x fem reader#loki imagine
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🧊 with nico <3
NOOO NOT NICO ANGST. IM GONNA THROW UP AND CRY, i love writing angst sm tho
im not the biggest fan of cheating plots but i've been listening to 'babe' by taylor on repeat for like 3 weeks straight, blame tay not me 🫢😗
there is calm after every storm, the quiet and peacefulness. the sky, once a tranquil painting of sky blue, now darkened with dark clouds that rolled like giant ships into an angry sea.
distant thunder echoed through a valley, quickening heartbeats. the air grew thick with tension, carrying the scent of rain and electricity. the wind rustled leaves and branches, whispering secrets only the brave dared to hear. rain, at first hesitant, intensified, assaulting the earth. lightning streaked the sky, revealing nature's wild dance. amidst chaos, beauty bloomed. the storm's fury held an undeniable allure, a reminder of nature's power.
there is calm after every storm, the quiet and peacefulness that follows the tempest. but in that moment, as nature waged its war, the world trembled, and the storm reigned supreme.
and that's exactly what happened with you and nico; a storm, the biggest storm possible. the very worst kind, relentless downpour of broken promises and the dissolution of a once-loving relationship.
in the wake of the turmoil, the skies above your hearts darkened with resentment and disappointment. the thunderous echoes of arguments and unspoken grievances reverberated in the spaces between you. just like a storm, it arrived without warning, tearing through the tranquility that once defined your love.
the tension in your connection grew as thick as the humid air before a summer shower. words, like angry gusts of wind, whipped through your conversations, leaving wounds that would refuse to heal. you both grasped at the fragments of your past, trying to piece together what had once been beautiful. but it seemed as though every effort you made only fueled a storm's rage.
lightning strikes of resentment and hurt lit up your interactions, revealing the jagged edges of your broken love. the storm of emotions seemed unending that left you drenched in sorrow and confusion.
there's always calm after a storm, a sense of peace that follows even the most tempestuous of times. but in that cold moment, as you and nico stared at one another, there seemed to be no calm.
the image kept replaying in your mind; the girl's hands on what he promised was only yours, her fingers running through his soft hair as she stared into his once beautiful and innocent eyes; your favorite thing on his face.
it was a betrayal that cut deeper than any words could ever convey, leaving an extensive gap between you and nico. in that silence, there was no solace, no reassurance, only the painful awareness that the storm within your relationship was caused because of him.
it wasn't just the physicality of their connection that hurt the most; it was the emotional intimacy that gnawed at your soul. those hands that once traced your body with affection now caressed another, you saw a connection that cut deeper than any physical act. it was the emotional betrayal that tore at your heart, a betrayal of trust and shared moments.
you would have almost preferred it to be purely physical, something purely carnal that could be dismissed. but it wasn't just that; it was the depth of their emotional connection that had been breached. it was the shared secrets, the whispered dreams, and the cherished memories that now felt tainted, forever marred by the storm within their relationship, a storm caused by him. it felt like a betrayal of the soul, as if he had given away something that was meant only for you.
his beauty was always undeniable, everyone knew that. he had the prettiest of eyes, the most precious smile and most importantly, the biggest of hearts. that's why it hurt so much, watching him be so careless with your heart.
his carelessness felt like a betrayal of everything he was supposed to represent ─ kindness, compassion, and love. the pain of seeing him treat your heart so thoughtlessly cut to the core, leaving a wound that was felt never-ending, that felt like it would never heal.
his eyes had once been a safe haven, a place where she found solace and comfort. but now, when she gazed into them, the kindness she once saw had faded. they no longer held the same warmth, the same promise of security. instead, they seemed cloudy, their depths concealing secrets and uncertainties like a storm that has yet to be studied. those eyes, once a source of unwavering trust, now left her feeling adrift in a storm of doubt.
silence hung heavy in the room as nico packed his belongings. it was as if the gravity of your pain didn't register with him, or maybe he just didn't care. you even would've considered giving him another chance, fighting to salvage what was left of your relationship, but it appeared that he had made up his mind. he was willing to walk away, to leave you behind for her, and that realization cut deeper than any words could ever convey.
as nico zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, he turned to face you. his expression was unreadable, a stark contrast to the countless emotions swirling within you. his once familiar and comforting presence now felt foreign and distant.
"how could you do this?" " your voice carried the weight of a hundred emotions, from the searing pain of betrayal to the disbelief that the person she loved could cause such hurt.
in that moment, you realized that some storms couldn't be weathered, some betrayals couldn't be forgiven, and some love stories were destined for an agonizing end.
nico turned away and walked out of your life, leaving behind a void that no amount of time or healing could ever fill. the storm had passed, but the damage it had wrought would linger, a painful reminder of a love that was, and a love that would never be again.
MY 100 FOLLOWER CELLY!
#── ✦ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲!#nhl angst#nhl#nhl eastern conference#nhl hockey#nhl imagine#nhl fic#hockey#ice hockey#hockey smut#hockey fic#hockey stuff#nico hischier fic#nico hischier x reader#nico hischier blurb#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier#new jersey devils x reader#new jersey devils fic#new jersey devils imagine#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes
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prologue
PART OF neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons by the sea DRABBLE SERIES ↠ masterlist
- Lucy Gray Baird & Daughter!OC, mentioned Lucy Gray Baird x Coriolanus Snow
Summary: 1.7k words - The words were on the tip of her tongue before Coriolanus had let it slip that he'd killed three people.
As Lucy Gray became a ghost lost in the wind, so did her secrets.
a/n: i cannot stop thinking about snowbaird !! inspired by my visenya-verse and also bc i love writing about children being loved :)
also, shout out to PlayingTheGameOfThrones' It's Quiet Uptown! i was reading snowbaird fics and i was so happy to find a secret kid fic. literally squealed in excitement bc i was like, that's what's literally in my brain rn
In truth, Lucy Gray was too young to be doing this. Halfway eighteen, with her heart broken by a man — a boy, really — who almost killed her. Ironically, the suspect of her current predicament was the same person. Oh how Lucy Gray hated it that he still haunted her now.
She had Lucy Gray’s tan skin, her baby girl. The wisps of her hair stuck against her forehead were bright blond. Lucy Gray wondered if her hair would darken eventually.
Annabel Rose Baird was a sickly baby. Her heart was weak and every night, Lucy Gray would have trouble sleeping, afraid that she’d wake up with a cradle gone cold. But she was a survivor, her Annie. Much like her mother. (And father.)
But they could not live on that alone. Lucy Gray, barely recovered from birth, wrapped her baby tight on her back with a sling and took their meager belongings in a bag, setting out to find the community up North Billy Taupe had once talked about. Lucy Gray walked for miles and miles, sometimes wishing she hadn’t left behind that lovely orange scarf her lover gave her. It would’ve made for a more comfortable sleep in their journey. She could’ve given it to Annie as her baby blanket, something to remember her childhood by — the one piece of her father she would ever know or keep. But alas, Lucy Gray had left it behind along with the broken pieces of trust she once thought she could rely on.
Lucy Gray found them eventually. Or rather, they found her. It was in the middle of the night and she’d just put Annie to sleep when flashes of light shone through the gaps between the trees. Cradling her whimpering baby close to her chest, Lucy Gray raised a hand in surrender, hoping that she was saying the right words for them to not shoot her.
They took them to their leader and gave them a small cabin. It was cozy and comfortable but it wasn’t home. Not when their leader, with his calculating eyes and access to Capitol broadcasts, look at her and her baby with such intense scrutiny. Lucy Gray’s paranoia increases every time he “accidentally” chances upon her with questions about the Capitol, about the Hunger Games, about Annie. He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is. Lucy Gray endures his questions, answering casually to alleviate the suspicion upon her. Her heart threatens to beat out of her chest every single time. She could only properly breathe again when she’s back within the four walls of their cabin, with Annie safe in her arms, her little puffs of breath warming Lucy Gray from the inside out.
The one saving grace of the place was Dr. Hartree. She was training under some big shot Capitol doctor when she fled, so she knew more than the District healers did despite the meager hospital equipment she had. She diagnosed Annabel Rose with something called moderate Ventricular Septal Defect; a heart disease she had since birth. Dr. Hartree let her listen to the whooshing sound of her Annie’s heartbeat through the stethoscope. Her baby’s got a hole in her heart. Lucy Gray wept.
Dr. Hartree said that the hole might yet repair itself, that she could look for some medicine that could help strengthen Annie’s heart muscles. But if it did not, Annie would need heart surgery which Dr. Hartree was neither qualified for nor equipped to do. In that scenario, going to the Capitol would be Annie’s best hope, said the doctor. The community’s leader approved Dr. Hartree’s request for getting the medicine. In exchange, Lucy Gray had to take on additional work on top of what she’d already been assigned with to earn her keep. Lucy Gray was both thankful and suspicious. She was no fool, a big favor like that didn’t come without heavier strings. But her baby was alive so Lucy Gray kept her head down. (For the moment, at least.)
Annabel Rose grew up a happy child. She was small for her age but her presence filled the room and her heart was so full of love. Whenever she smiled, a deep dimple showed on her cheek and her warm brown eyes would shine like stars in the night sky. Her baby never did grow out of her blond hair, riotous curls tumbling down her head. She looked like an angel; Lucy Gray’s own angel.
She was truly heaven sent. There were no words to describe how much her daughter made her happy, which was something, coming from a songwriter. Oft Lucy Gray wished the Covey had a chance to know her daughter. Annabel Rose fit in alright with the children of the community, but children can be cruel sometimes. Annie’s body was weak and she ran out of breath fast, making her unable to be included in strenuous physical activities. Lucy Gray was not deaf to the whispers of “runt” that surrounded her daughter, whispers that eventually reached Annie’s ears, causing her to come home tearfully, fisting her mother’s skirt and asking what it meant. Once upon a time, Lucy Gray would have been rearing for a fight but everything was different now. She didn’t have her Covey; her and Annie were alone.
Oh, people were nice enough but, like in District 12, they seemed to be able to sense an otherness in her and Annie that made them unable to accept them fully. It didn’t help that the community leader’s demeanor was like that either. The residents liked and respected him better than the strangers they barely knew anything about, so of course they’d follow his example.
Lucy Gray had been missing her Covey so much that she contemplated going back to District 12, back to her family, when she’d heard that an electric fence was put around it, complete with Peacekeepers patrolling the perimeter. They’d never bothered with that area before, but Lucy Gray had an inkling why they suddenly found it important.
So what else could she do but grit her teeth and bear it? Every night Lucy Gray would sing songs to Annie and tell her stories about the Covey, about her family and the colorful nights and laughter they shared. And Annie’s eyes would shine in the low lamplight, humming along to the tunes.
Lucy Gray did not bring her guitar with her during her journey out of District 12, but she was able to obtain a smaller version — a ukulele — from a traveling salesman. His initial offer nearly took all her saved up money to pay for, but she was able to haggle down to a more reasonable price. At 3-years-old, Annabel Rose learned the basic chords from her mother. The first song she learned was to the tune of Lucy Gray's namesake.
It tugged at Lucy Gray’s heartstrings to hear her Annie’s sweet voice in the warmth of their home. She resolved to write a song for her daughter’s fourth birthday as a gift. Lucy Gray had her song, and so did her Capitol boy. It was only apt that Annabel Rose had one too.
It was the night of Annabel Rose's fourth birthday when everything went wrong. Lucy Gray was humming underneath her breath to the tune of a new song, their tiny kitchen fragrant with the smell of a birthday cake she’d stolen half the ingredients for to bake. She lit up a deformed red candle she attempted to mold from whatever melted wax she could find, cupping the flame between her palms briefly to keep it from being blown out. With a satisfied sigh, she wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the bed to shake her daughter awake.
All Lucy Grey felt was the cold skin of her daughter, her breathing shallow and her skin tinged blue. Her heart dropped to her stomach. With shaking hands, she wrapped Annie in a blanket and lifted her into her arms.
On the way to Dr. Hartree’s cabin, Lucy Gray would not realize that she’d been singing the song she’d written for Annie. And she will sing it under her breath while the good doctor examined her daughter, telling her the heart defect had gotten worse. She’d sing it at the back of her mind while Dr. Hartree tells her that surgery wasn’t an option anymore, that the medicine Annie’ll need is only available in the Capitol, that if she wants her baby to live she’ll need to find some way to get her a heart transplant. She’ll sing it and sing it, hoping the girl she’d written it for would awaken long enough to sing it with her.
She would only stop when Dr. Hartree clasped her hands, telling her in a hushed whisper that she’d found a way to get them to the Capitol discreetly. The doctor’s got family among the Peacekeepers in District 12 who was going to go to the Capitol in two days. Some officer fellow that was high-ranking enough to have his own private train cabin, and kind enough to share it with them. Dr. Hartree had given her temporary antibiotics for Annie with an apology that she couldn’t do anything more. When they arrive in the Capitol, Lucy Gray was on her own. Lucy Gray who had no penny to her name, who would probably be shot on sight once the Capitol had caught wind of her existence.
Her mind was racing on the morn she and a barely-lucid Annie snuck out to the gates. They were met with a heavyset man two heads taller than Lucy Gray, driving a military jeep. Time passed quickly and they encountered no hurdles getting to the train station on time. He lent them warm Capitol-style cloaks so they could blend in upon arrival. He’d even made her a cup of tea, noticing the nervousness in her demeanor. Lucy Gray had not been expecting such kindness from a Peacekeeper, no matter how highly Dr. Hartree spoke of him.
It was nighttime when they arrived, snow falling heavily on the ostentatious buildings. It wasn’t only the cold that made Lucy Gray shiver.
Under the cover of the night, Lucy Gray held her Annabel Rose and rapped on the door of the one she’d hoped would help them. If blood was not an enough reason, she could always appeal to their conscience.
The door swung open.
“Tigris, I need your help.”
#snowbaird#snowbaird drabble#snowbaird kidfic au#lucy gray baird#original child character#tbosas#the hunger games#i've only seen the movie so characterizations are probably off but i just wanna have fun ok
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distractions (nico robin x reader)
nico robin masterlist
long live, nico robin. what is this but a one-sided fictional crush? essentially, she owns me. i also don't know how to use tumblr.
cw: suggestive (mdni), gn!reader, pining.
Leaning against the taffrails, the scent of sweet tangy citrus mixed with salty sea breeze placed your mind in a state of ease. The sky had darkened considerably. Sounds of crashing waves were interrupted only by the muffled squabbles of Zoro and Sanji from the kitchen. You were contented to just unwind for the rest of the evening, but flower petals materialising from the corner of your eye incidentally ruins your plan. Not that you were complaining. A single hand appeared on your shoulder, gently caressing your chin, turning your head towards the other side of the ship.
There she was, the culprit. Head resting on her palm, a knowing smile graces her countenance as she shoots you a playful wink.
What do you call this arrangement? Limbs tangled in a pretty mess, muffled melodies of quiet moans, fingers desperately curling against the bedsheets as if begging for more.
Resting your trembling hands on her hips as you tentatively shifted closer to her, afraid to touch her beyond this. Still, the fleeting skin-to-skin contact as you felt your hips against her ass was enough to send your body into a heated frenzy. It burns where you touch her, and it aches in emptiness when the contact leaves. Taking in the gorgeous sight of her bare back, you traced the outline of her curves with a single index finger. Each touch and caress becoming bolder as her pretty whimpers egg you on. Her pleased hums when your fingers graze the right spot, the contented sighs that escape her lips when you press yours against the crook of her neck. Your body’s sole purpose was her pleasure, and hers alone.
To say that you were lovers might be an overstatement, but to call this a casual fling leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
There was nothing casual about the way you felt for her. There was nothing casual about the way you felt against her. You stifled the desperate desire to keep her pretty moans as a filthy secret shared only by the two of you, within the confines and privacy of her room. You couldn’t afford to feel anything more than lust for her, or to let this arrangement evolve into anything other than an occasional carnal desire meant only for solemn midnights.
Still, you crave for permanence, to etch a sign of your presence on her skin. Anything, to remind her of your existence after you leave her bed. Anything, to falsely convince yourself into believing that she could be yours, even if just for a while.
Your body knows this, and so you move closer to her, arms wrapping around her gorgeous chest as you pulled her close to you, softly biting into her neck. Murmuring sweet nothings into her skin after every nibble and every lick of the bruises you left behind. Hoping that in the peaks of her high and haze of the moment, her own moans would drown out the words you sighed into her skin. Willing, that she would forget the sincerity that coated your words in the morning. Because ultimately, to her, you were nothing more than a -
“Distraction?” Her sultry voice snapping you back to reality as she notices the distant look in your eyes. “It is me you should be paying attention to.” Hooking one leg around the back of your neck as she swiftly buries you face first between her thighs. Torturously slow was how you dragged the flat of your tongue against the length of her -
“Can’t.” She panted, “…can’t stop now.” It sounded more like an order. But, you knew better. If you had been anyone else, you might have missed it - the soft, frustrated sigh that she unknowingly lets out when she’s close and needy for just a little bit more stimulation to send her over the edge. Her calm, distant demeanour rarely breaks. She remains stoically unflinching in most life threatening scenarios. Yet, how cute it was that she could make such impatient sounds in bed.
The night ends the way it begins, with her hand caressing your cheeks, thumb softly brushing your lips. Her gaze lingers on your face for a moment longer than usual and you swear that you could see a faint blush on her cheeks even in the dim of the night. This moment almost always deceives you into thinking that she might feel an ounce of the way you feel for her. Eventually, the moment ends when she catches herself staring and looks away, kissing you noncommittally on the cheek as she whispers a quick goodnight. A sign for you to leave.
Yes, the night always ends the way it begins. You sigh, pick your shirt up from the bedside and leave before dawn. You don’t mean to, but you find yourself leaning against the taffrails again. The scent of sweet tangy citrus mixed with salty sea breeze fill the air again, and all you are left with is a Nico Robin shaped void in your heart.
#one piece x reader#nico robin x reader#nico robin#robin x reader#nico robin x you#nico robin x y/n#one piece fanfiction#one piece smut#x reader
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FROM ME TO YOU.
Because good things take time and it’s not too late for happy birthdays.
ft. Albedo x gn! reader.
cw/genre: fluff, birthday special, reader is an amateur painter.
this is just something spontaneous that I came up with… I just… kinda gave free reign to whatever flashed through my mind once I was before the blank document, parting from a very vague idea I had haha.
if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !
Autumn’s cold always arrived early in Dragonspine.
The faraway rays of a molten copper halo fuse with the peaks outlined on the horizon.
Magic is the word you’d use to describe such scenery; seconds that seemed to both be suspended in the helpless passage of time, and slip between your fingers; like golden sand inside an hourglass too small to savor every snapshot brought by the incandescence of crepuscular skies.
On instances like this, you wished your painting skills were better; if only to capture the glow of early dreams threaded through the asters of twilight.
For now, however, this will have to do.
Why did you wait until so late for this, you are unsure.
True, wishing a happy birthday to someone as the clock strikes twelve is not an uncommon occurrence.
And you’re kind of doing just that, more or less.
Except…
Well, it’s usually when the special day starts that calls are made, starlit whispers are uttered between lovers, and secret kisses are exchanged.
So you can’t help but wonder… is it too late?
For this? Or to back out now?
A sigh escapes your chapped lips, into the dimness of dusk, the stillness of frozen peaks, the stars.
Stars.
Your gaze is drawn to the easel you’ve set before you, fingertips delicately trailing over the four-point asteroids decorating a heaven made of brushstrokes.
Gold pinpricks, almost aglow beneath the darkening penombre of sundown, over a backdrop of ultramarines and indigoes, akin to sunlight over the depth of a frozen sea; a mirror image of the sky now hovering over snowy plains.
Looking up, you find a firmament of constellations. Stories, sketched in the silver flames of light years away suns, above an infinity of obscurity.
Those tales, however, had a tendency for lighting up paths that fell victim to the constant fluttering snowflakes.
“Hello, dearest.” A voice, smooth, liquid dawnlight over dewed cecilia petals, greets. “Am I late?”
The sound of crunching snow fills the fire-lit silence, the torches from his camp casting him in tepid hues.
“Albedo!” You call him, turning around.
And when you do, you swear he alone outshines every galaxy you could ever dream of rendering on canvas.
Tendrils of midnight sun and honeycomb seem to meld together in the blonde locks framing the alchemist’s porcelain-like face. Spotless, argent light from distant stars kisses his skin, fading into flecks of sparkling acacia blossoms to halo his gaze.
Summer skies.
That’s the image his eyes always evoked: clear skies, endlessly blue, over meadows to lie on, the low grass soft beneath your forms, as hands entwined and fingers pointed above, determining the shapes of the occasional cottony clouds.
What a paradox, how someone who spent his days surrounded by ice could make sparks ignite in your heart, cheeks heating up like the embers that remained after the coziness of a homey hearth.
“Is there anything you needed my help with, love?” He asks, gloved hand running its thumb over the back of yours.
Your gaze flits from your intertwined hands to his smiling lips, taking in his features in full.
“Not exactly your help.” You offer, your own lips a moon shaped brushstroke of vermillion. “I just… would like you to see something.” Your hand squeezes his, as you swing your linked hands between the both of you. “It’s your special day today, after all, isn’t it?”
Your rhetoric is met by the alchemist’s windened gaze, followed by one of his subtle smiles.
Tugging him along, you guide him to the candle lit spot where your easel is propped up.
Why are you feeling nervous all of a sudden? You internally chide yourself, biting the inside of your cheek.
Relaxing your shoulders, you turn to face your lover, gaze averted when you mumble:
“It’s not much but…” You scuff one of your boots on the dirtied snow. “I just… I remembered your painting, ‘You and I’ and… well… you know… I…” Your lids close, your nose scrunched up in that way he always found utterly endearing. “I wanted to make a painting for you too!” You finally sputter, stepping aside so he can see your masterpiece.
From that moment on, Albedo would forever believe no starry night could ever come close to capture the sheer magic of your art.
Gilded speckles abound in your make-believe heavens, each of them a shade slightly different than the previous one. They rest against a backdrop of cyans, accentuated in baby blue around your handmade constellations, the piece’s finale, a violet horizon. Outlined against it, two figures seem to dance, their happy ending created by them, rather than foretold by the celestial bodies staring in envy at a proximity that doesn’t burn, but warms and completes.
“I know it’s not the best but-“
“It’s perfect.” Is the kreideprinz’s awestruck answer, as his svelte hands hover over the frame. “You’re perfect, [Y/n].” He blurts, still staring at your work.
Then, he meets your eyes again. Your face is in his tender hold, a fleeting frosted kiss landing on your lips.
“I love it.” He assures. ‘I love you.’ His dilated pupils confess.
“‘From me to you’. Its title.” Your hand reaches up, resting on top of his. “You know… I hope you didn’t think I had forgotten about today… I just… kinda wanted this to be your last memory of your day.”
With that, both your gazes fuse in a watercolor of each other’s lips, of the anticipation of feeling them against your own.
“Happy birthday, Bedo.” You utter, before leaning in.
And then, the night, the snow, the starshine, all fade away, in a myriad of rose colored frenzied blazes. Your hands lost in the ash blonde strands at his nape; his, pulling you closer by the waist. Your kiss is a nebula of pulsating light, undimmed by even the most ruthless blizzards, lighting up the ebony of the pines obscuring the moonlight. Frozen air is exhausted in your lungs, but you don’t care right now, not when you’re kissing your prince charming under the lights of an aurora that’s still hours away.
A few moments pass, with the stars orbiting marking the approach of midnight.
A snow-kissed breeze caresses both your faces when you part, causing a shiver to rake through your body.
Your prince’s arms wrap around you.
When you look at him, matching chuckles fill the night air.
Moments like this were worth waiting all day for.
#astronetwrk#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#albedo x reader#albedo x you#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x y/n#albedo x y/n#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin x y/n#genshin impact fluff#genshin impact scenarios#albedo imagines#albedo fluff#genshin x reader fluff#genshin impact fanfics#albedo fanfic#genshin impact oneshots#albedo x reader fluff#genshin impact#albedo#genshin albedo#albedo genshin x reader#albedo genshin impact
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