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galacticgraffiti · 7 months

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✿⋅ Oh, to be Alone with You ⋅✿

NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 2.6k Descriptors: I try my best to write inclusively. Reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned in her physicality but not described in detail. If anything escaped me, please let me know! Sorry I couldn't make this more gender neutral, but since this fic is a gift to @naariel I thought I'd use her pronouns. Warnings: dirty daydreams, yearning, lusting after someone, male masturbation, dirty talk, fantasy of PiV sex within the daydream, bath sex, this is written from Halsin's POV

⋆⋅ Inspired by this insane artwork by @naariel ⋅⋆

Author's note: I've been pondering, rotating and marinating this artwork in my mind for WEEKS. It haunts me in the best possible way and I am so happy Naariel gave me permission to reference her art! If you are not already following her, you definitely should - her skill and talent are infinite.

Masterlist ⋆ If you prefer AO3

───── ⋆⋅✿⋅⋆ ─────

Oh, to be Alone with You

Halsin sighs when he finally sits down, long limbs sprawling on the too-small chair that can barely contain him.

Chairs. What superfluous oddities, where a big tree stump might have sufficed. If one has to make them at all, why not at least make them comfortable? Why not sit in the meadows, why not find a place to lay where the sun has warmed a rock that has been washed and polished by the rain? But no, the rules of the city demand he be contained within four walls instead of roaming free, they demand he bathe in a wooden tub instead of out in the wilds, they demand he wear clothes and be polite to people even as they trample the Oak Father’s creations beneath their boots without even stopping to look and enjoy nature’s gifts.

Halsin shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the oncoming headache. It has been a long day and he is so tired. A long week. A long few weeks, if he is being honest with himself. In all these centuries, times have been- well- rough, to say the least. But whatever haunts the Sword Coast now… it’s different. Bigger than the invasions of Goblins across the land, bigger than the Shadow druids, bigger even than the Shadow Curse that has occupied Halsin’s every waking hour for nigh on one hundred years.

At least, Thaniel and Oliver have been reunited, some life returning to the lands as it always should have been. A victory, chased for so long, tasting sweet only for a moment before the stale urgency of the matter at hand had seeped back into Halsin’s mind: Mindflayers infecting innocents, magic-infused tadpoles, an Elder Brain… There are too many battles to be fought, and not one of them to be won.

Halsin presses his lips together and tries to banish the dark thoughts from his mind. There are some good things that have come out of this: They have not lost a fight yet, and his newfound companions are… stimulating, to say the least. Fighting alongside them has been a joy and a privilege - watching their blades sear, their magic erupt, their arrows pierce their targets as the bear Halsin rips through flesh and bone. The fighting is necessary, and his companions are more skilled than he could have ever wished for. This day may have been hard, but it was successful nonetheless, and now he is here, freshly bathed and ready to find some rest for the night. If only it could be under the stars, far outside the city walls, he would almost call himself happy. Instead, he must bed down alone, encased by too many walls and a too-small bed frame.

Halsin misses the smell of grass that has not been trampled by hundreds of boot-clad feet, he misses the feeling of bark against his fur, he misses his wildshape and trodding through calm forests instead of bloodied battlefields. He misses air that is crisp and clean and doesn't smell of artificially molten metals. He misses the Grove, he misses Thaniel and he misses the woods. The city has been forsaken by Silvanus, and even if this place is a small oasis of nature, it is not the same as being out among the Oak Father’s creations.

He cracks his neck, his hair tickling his collarbones. Halsin curses quietly to himself, pushing a curl behind his ear. He needs to cut his hair - it’s getting too long. And he needs to braid it again, his plaits are all out of sorts. It might be a hassle to do it without a mirror- but maybe he could ask-

No.

Shaking his head as if to will the thought away, he slumps into the discomfort of the chair a little more.

No, he shouldn't ask her anything. Nothing that would involve her hands on him, at least. Certainly not her fingers buried in his hair, tugging softly, her voice gently commanding that he tilt his head a different way. He can’t ask for that. It would only lead to him asking for more:

More of her hands on him, more of her skin against his, more than innocent touches and whispered goodnights across the campfire. He would ask for everything: To bury himself inside her until the world fades away, to devour her until she is slick with sweat from the pleasure he brings her. To be the keeper of her heart, just as he yearns for her to be the keeper of his.

Halsin can feel the familiar tightness in his back as the golden shimmer of his wildshape travels up to his shoulder blades. One thought of her, and already the bear stirs.

He remembers everything that happened today, even as he tries so hard to think of something else:

He remembers the way she smells, of sweet berries, blood and leather. He remembers her looking up at him, as her fingers clutch her weapon tightly. He remembers the fire in her eyes after the slaughter, the glow in her cheeks when she turned around to look at him and found only the bear. He remembers how she smiled at him, even after all that violence, a smile like the sinking sun, bloodied and red, but more beautiful than he could ever have dreamed up.

And as the day progressed: Her arm bumping into his, her head tilting up when she asked him a question and wanted to read his expression. How her hands slipped around him to reach for some food at the campfire earlier when they rested. Her sweet breath on his face and a mumbled excuse when she walked into him, still drowsy with sleep. And all Halsin wanted to do was pull her into his lap and bury his nose in the crook of her neck and forget about the world, forget about everyone watching, and have her, right then, in that moment. Have her all to himself, make her his very own. To feel her around him, to show her the depth of his affection, the desperation of his desire, the magnitude of his commitment.

All he wanted in that moment - all he still wants - is to touch her, to feel her in ways that he cannot ask for because he is scared she will not want the same thing he does. Halsin wants to lick the sweat off her skin, he wants to be buried between her thighs whenever they can steal away, even for a few minutes, he wants her taste on his tongue when he fights, and to wrap himself around her when they sleep.

The force of his own thoughts makes Halsin shudder, glowing desire stirring deep in his belly.

Her tongue in his mouth, his hands on her skin: How soft she would be against him. How wonderful to hear her voice break when she cries out for him, how she would taste if he could lick her off his fingers, the honey of her thighs, the salt of her sweat. He would give anything to know the expression on her face when she is lost to mindless bliss- he would give everything to know that he is the cause of it.

A low moan escapes his throat then, and Halsin presses his lips together when his mind returns from memory and sweet imagination to this house in the midst of a bustling city. This is not nature, where he can do what pleases him when it pleases him. No, the city - ‘civilisation’ as they call it - comes with rules, expectations, limitations.

He is in someone else’s home, exhausted from the day, the blood barely washed off his skin. And yet, all he can think about is… her. All he can feel is the constriction of his clothing, the confinement of leather where he longs to be touched. He wants to shed like the bear sheds his fur after the winter, he wants to feel free again.

Halsin hums, breathing deeply, willing away the golden sparks of his wildshape that dance along his fingertips. He listens intently, fingers dancing across his thighs, drumming an impatient rhythm.

Nothing in the house stirs. Maybe they are all gone still, running their errands, finding bath houses, visiting old friends and merchants they used to know before they return here for a long night’s rest. Maybe Halsin can have a small pocket of time to himself. Time to dream himself away, to give in to the desire he has harboured for so long.

Maybe… he could use this opportunity to release some of that tension that has settled deep in his belly. Refocus his attention. Maybe it’ll be for the best- not to think of her constantly anymore, not of her smell, or the colour of her eyes, of the way her fingers linger on his for a moment too long whenever they touch, or how much he wished they could have bathed together when he sank into the tub earlier that night.

The city has many downsides, but baths are one of the few things to enjoy. Hot springs are wonderful, but few and far between. Nature provides: The bear does not mind the coldness of a stream in the woods, or the iciness of a mountain lake. But there is nothing like a steaming bath to help prevent the sore ache that settles in his bones after a fight.

If only it was acceptable to ask her if she would join him. If only it had been her hands washing dirt and grime and blood from his skin, brushing his hair, kneading tired muscles, her hands much smaller than his, but strong and determined. Loving.

Halsin lets his head fall back, spine cracking as he settles in the small, uncomfortable chair, spreading his legs to cup his hardening cock. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine it…

She glistens in the dim light, thin streams of water trickling down her skin when she emerges from the bath, her lashes stuck together as she beams at him.

“Mhh, we should have done this ages ago!”

“I could not agree more, my heart.” Halsin loves seeing her like this. She looks happy, like she has not a care in the world.

She crawls up into his lap, settling on him, her thighs bracketing his. Her hands run across his chest, lathering him in soap that smells of lavender and thyme. Halsin’s heart is beating in his throat when she leans in to kiss his collarbone, her lips soft, her hair smelling of smoke and flowers as it always does.

Desire surges inside him, crackling like lightning in his veins, and he sends the bear away, far away. This is a moment he wants for himself: Skin against skin, tongues exploring, hands intertwined. This is no place for fangs and claws, not tonight. Halsin unlaces his trousers with steady fingers, though even those few seconds seem unbearable to him. When his hand finally wraps around his cock, he breathes a sigh of relief, only to feel dissatisfied moments after. He wants her hands, her eyes on him, her voice dripping with lust. For now, his imagination will have to do.

He dreams himself back to the bath, thinking of all he could have had, if he had only had the courage to ask.

Her skin is burning hot against his, her fingers leave a flaming trail wherever she touches him.

“Is this alright, my love?” Her voice is full of concern and affection, as it always is when she asks about his comfort and well-being.

“More than alright.” Halsin’s breaths grow shaky when she moves her hips, shallowly grinding down against him. “Gods, I want to-”

“Mhhm?” There is a curious twinkle in her eye. “What is it you want? Tell me. I’m sure I could make your dreams come true.”

Halsin shifts when the wooden backing of the chair digs into his back as he bucks his hips, fucking into his hand that is wrapped around his cock - a poor substitution for what - for who - he really wants.

A growl rings out in the empty room when he closes his eyes and imagines her again.

Her thighs look so lovely, spread wide so he can fit between them. She smells of the bath salts and of herself, and her voice talks to him through the thick fog of his desire.

“I know what you want, don’t I, bear? I’ll take such good care of you if you let me. I’ll make sure you don’t even have to ask for it. I’ll let you taste me, whenever you want- wherever you want. I’ll help you focus- you can focus on me, can’t you? There you go…”

Halsin is panting, his hand moving faster.

She feels good, so good when she sinks down on him, wet with arousal and so willing to take him.

“You, little flower, are the jewel of nature’s creation,” he mumbles. “You are all I could ever want and more. I want to taste you on my tongue, always- for there to never be a day where I won’t know the way you drip for me- for you to never go a day without being satisfied, without feeling loved and cared for. Your happiness is all I want- your ecstasy all I desire. Let me take care of you.”

She moans, her head falling back as she starts to roll her hips, taking him deeper and deeper with each stroke.

“I’ll take care of you as you do of me,” she whispers. “I’ll make sure to provide for you all you could ever need or want. You give and give, let me give you everything I am in return. Be selfish, bear. Take what you want, swallow me whole, devour me without worrying whether it’s too much. I want you to. Mark me- make me yours. Tell the whole world I belong to you, whichever way you desire.”

Her movements are desperate now, her words only sighs and moans, breathless as she buries her head against his shoulder. Halsin inhales the scent of her hair, sinks into her words as the fog of lust that has settled on his brain grows thicker and heavier, until there is not a thought left on his mind but her.

“Halsin-” Gods, his name sounds so sweet off her tongue. “Halsin, I want you to fill me. Please- please, I want to feel full with you, today and every day you’ll fucking let me. I want to fight knowing you are still dripping down my thighs, I want to kiss you under the stars and know I’ll never be without you again.”

The curses that are falling from his lips are ungodly, but Halsin does not care. He is desperate now, mouth open as he calls her name and thinks of the words he wishes he could hear her say.

“Come for me, bear. Come inside me, lay claim to me as only you ever could- f-fuck- make me yours- please- Halsin, I’m yours, I’m yours and yours and yours, as long as you’ll have me- forever if you want to-”

With a cry of her name on his lips, Halsin gives in to pleasure and lets himself be overtaken by a wave of bliss. His thighs tremble as he spills over his hand, sticky warmth dripping from his fingers. He does not open his eyes. Not yet. He wants to stay in the fantasy just a moment longer.

“Halsin, I-”

His eyes open, blood rushing to his cheeks as he returns to the real world and finds her standing in the doorway.

I'm going fucking feral. Running into the woods hoping to find him there, who's with me -

@purgetrooperfox @ashotofspotchka @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ulchabhangorm @queen--kenobi @samspenandsword @rescuethewretched @pinkiemme @baba-fett @witchklng @ladykatakuri @certified-anakinfucker @fanfiction-i-llike @voidinfernal @foxferret02 @rosieofcorona @savagemickey03 @perseny @margoisthemoon2 @shiiunn @saucyhedgehog @tonysoffice @pupshr00m @supercalifragilisticprincess @palpipeen @silly-gooseastarion @mila-bee @shit-i-say-throughout-the-day @idkwhatsgoingonwithme @aeryntheofficial @jekasha @gub @nogitsune-the @solarrexplosion @hexqueensupreme @unofficialavenger90 @frankiesghost @curtaincaramba

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#bg3 #halsin #halsin x reader #in some capacity i suppose #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #halsin bg3 #nsft #halsin x f!reader #gala writes

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she-who-fights-and-writes · 8 months

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MASTER LIST OF INSTRUMENTAL PLAYLISTS FOR WRITING (OR FOR STUDYING, MAKING ART, ETC.)

I find that the perfect writing playlist can GREATLY enhance the writing experience. Even if it doesn't make your writing "better" (which it can, since it helps writers with visualization, tone, and mood), it can definitely make your writing flow easier!

Personally, words distract me when I'm writing, either by breaking my train of thought or by getting me too into the music so that I'm jamming out to my favorite tunes instead of writing.

Therefore, I've amassed a vast knowledge of instrumental music across a variety of media over a course of many years. Now here I am, deciding to share all of them with you!

Maddy’s Favorite Instrumental Songs

Just like the title says. All of the best pieces of instrumental music I've ever heard, compiled together with no regard for genre. It can be a bit of a whiplash playlist, but some amazing recs in there that I just like listening to in my free time, not just for writing.

Maddy’s Ultimate Instrumental Playlist

A mega compilation of 550+ fantastic instrumental music from a variety of media and genres. Kind of a whiplash playlist if you put it on shuffle, but is a great start for anyone looking to find what kind of instrumental music they like! Playlist Groupings in Order: Independent instrumental songs, live action movies, animated movies, animated tv shows, live action tv shows, video games.

Maddy's Instrumental for Sleep

Some more chill vibe instrumental for people who either A) want to sleep or B) want a relaxed playlist that won't distract you with loud volume and sudden changes in tempo or melody.

MISC PLAYLISTS:

you're a haggard adventurer discovering worlds beyond your wildest dreams

Music to inspire wonder and wanderlust, the kind of feeling you get when you finally reach the end of a mountain hike and see the world stretching out before you.

you're a hero who's just lost everything

Basically the most sad instrumental music I could find. A playlist for grief and revenge.

more beneath the cut :)

you're a cowboy in the great American West

Cowboy instrumental for all of your ambient and writing needs. Or if you just really want to feel like a cowboy.

you're a divine witness

Epic choir music (no English). Most religious, some not, but all kind of have that eerie sacred vibe. I listen to this while writing my book about angels and demons.

you’re a scholar uncovering the secrets of the universe

Great chill study playlist! Has the kind of same exploratory/discovery type feel as the haggard adventurer playlist, but more dark academia.

you’re a villain plotting to take over the world

Villain-coded instrumental! Sinister, dark, and/or unsettling.

you're an academic weapon

HIGH BPM STUDY PLAYLIST! Keeps me focused, hyped, and helps me work faster!

you're an ancient god

Playlist that gives an ancient/eerie vibe. But some ancient gods are merciful- so there are some upbeat songs for wonder and awe!

you're falling in love

Music that encapsulates what I think falling in love feels like. Very beautiful, tender, and uplifting instrumental.

you're fighting the final battle

Intense and epic battle music for all of your fight-scene-writing needs! Good for getting shit done, but isn't necessarily restricted to high BPM like the academic weapon playlist.

you're having a tea party

Refined instrumental for a tea party, including classical, big band, and some miscellaneous goodies.

you're in a chase scene

Music for writing chase scenes. Pretty good hype music, too. Includes soundtracks from classic chase scenes in popular media!

you're in the medieval times

Medieval-sounding music for all of your ambient and/or writing needs.

you’re in your childhood room. the door is open a crack. people talk softly downstairs.

A playlist dedicated to nostalgia, to the feeling of lying in bed with your nightlight on after being too tired to stay awake at your family get-together. Could either make your day or break your heart lmao

you're the happiest you've ever been

Lighthearted instrumental meant to lift your spirits! A playlist dedicated to the joys of the little things.

#writing #writers #writeblr #booklr #creative writing #studying #writing playlist #roleplay #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing inspo #writing inspiration #inspo #music #music rec #instrumental music

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ceruark · 13 days

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ensnared. (yandere! prince! sunday x gn! royalty! reader)

synopsis: prince sunday invites you to dance the entwine with him. if you evade capture, he’ll finally leave you alone. but if you get caught, you’re his forever. cw: general yandere themes - obsessive & possessive behavior, implied stalking words: 3,991 disclaimer/inspiration: the dance “The Entwine” is not my idea! it's from the novel Entwined by Heather Dixon, an all-time favorite of mine :)

“The Entwine, also known as the Gentleman’s Catch, is an amusing and challenging redowa suitable for accomplished partners. [...] Similar to a trois-temps waltz, it is danced in open position with a long sash. The lady and gentleman each take ends of the sash, which their hands must not leave. In a series of quick steps (see below) the gentleman either twists the sash around the lady’s wrists, pinning them (also known as the Catch), or the lady eludes capture within three minutes’ time. STEPS. Twist (35), Needle’s Eye (35), Dip and Turn (36), Lady’s Feint (36), Bridge Arc (36), Under-Arm Swoop (37), Thread (37), Beading the Sash (38), the Catch (38).”

Excerpt from Entwined by Heather Dixon

It has been a year since the queen died.

You stand in the grand ballroom of your palace for the first time since your mother's death. It seems dimmer without her, lacking the light her laughter brought to it. Every shift of skirts has you looking for her, only to be disappointed when you catch yourself seeking out a ghost.

She ruled alone for nearly fifteen years. After your father died in battle when you were young, many other kingdoms tried to swoop in after she became widowed. They vied for her hand in marriage so they could expand their territory and get their hands on the lucrative gemstones that are excavated from your land's caverns. But the queen was unshakable, and she refused to remarry, continuing to keep her kingdom safe and opulent all on her own.

And she died last winter, an incurable sickness settling in her lungs seemingly overnight and stealing her final breath within the week.

You hardly had time to mourn her. With no one sitting on the throne, your mother's advisory court scrambled to find you a suitor so that you could marry and be crowned as soon as possible. There hadn't been a rush to find you one, but with the queen's sudden death, they need to get you on the throne before someone else came along to seize it.

Tonight, Welt— formerly your mother's personal advisor— had declared while you prepared for the ball. Tonight, we will find you a suitor. You will be coronated by summer.

You sigh as your gaze sweeps over the ballroom. Truthfully, you have no interest in any of the attendants. Most of them don't have anything noteworthy about their personalities, and those that do are individuals you've mentally decided are best kept at arm's length. You’re certain that more than half your selection pool were invited out of courtesy; none of them possess enough influence or value for your mother's advisory court to approve of a marriage between the two of you.

Except for one.

Penacony's beloved prince has been pursuing you for as long as you could remember. It started off innocent, a mere childhood crush. Long before you were adolescents, he would pluck flowers from the centerpiece vases on ballroom tables and hand them to you, ever the gentleman. You can still remember the sound of whichever court member was assigned to look after you cooing at the sight, endeared as you accepted the flower from his hands and spent the rest of the night at his side, discussing all the important matters that plagued the minds of young royalty.

And then, things changed.

As you two grew older, something about him shifted— you couldn't quite explain it. It made your skin crawl, the way his gaze trailed you throughout the ballroom, the way his fingers lingered just a little too long when he kissed your hand in greeting, the way anyone you shared mutual romantic interest with started avoiding you like the plague the second he heard of your budding relationship. There was something off about him— about his infatuation with you— and you distanced yourself from him as much as possible over the years.

Your mother's advisory court had been furious; they believed your eventual marriage to Sunday was set in stone given how taken you were with each other as children, and they planned for a prosperous future backed by Penacony's enormous and infinite wealth. They took your refusal to interact with him as rebellion and scoffed at your explanations, but luckily, you weren't alone in your suspicions. Your mother and Welt were also unsettled by the way he looked at you at formal gatherings, and your mother swiftly shut down her court's insistences on you trying to make amends with Penacony's prince.

We have no need for marriages of convenience. My child's happiness and safety will be valued above all else, she told them, and it was the end of the discussion.

Welt has upheld her and your wishes following her death, but the rest of the court are more willing to challenge him than they'd been to challenge the queen. Multiple court members have pestered you about marrying Sunday, stating that he would readily agree; you would get on the throne quickly, and the kingdom would prosper with his empire’s assets. Though they drop the topic the second you snap at them, you can tell they're still scheming, pulling at whatever strings they can to bring the prince back into your favor and push you into his arms.

And the undeniable proof of that stands across the room, piercing you with his golden eyes. Of course he's among the guests the court selected for you to choose your partner from. What else could you expect from them?

You sigh and swipe a glass of wine off a nearby table. It's going to be an incredibly long night.

As you sip at the bitter liquid and eye the blonde prince from Belobog, a familiar voice sounds behind you. "Something troubles you, Your Highness."

You turn around, relaxing at the sight of your faithful personal advisor. Veritas gazes down at you, face as neutral as ever.

"Someone," you respond, a frown tugging at your lips. "It appears the court is still refusing to let go of their little delusion."

He glances over your shoulder and hums noncommittally. "It appears so."

You swirl the red wine around in your glass, continuing your sweep of the guests. Certainly, Belobog's prince seemed like your best option right now. Albeit easily flustered, he was sweet and courageous— you would be able to fall for him given the time.

"Gepard Landau?" Veritas asks, his gaze having followed yours to the man standing beside his sister and her wife.

You look up, meeting his doubtful gaze. "Do you see any better options?"

He takes another glance around the room, then grimaces. You bring your hand to your mouth, covering your sudden laugh.

"Though he may be the most respectable of your options, there is not much Belobog can offer you." He tilts his head, still staring out at the crowd. "I suggest you reconsider."

You flash him a tight, sarcastic smile. "If that is the standard you suggest I go by, then my options are narrowed down to Aventurine and Sunday."

You get along fine with the blonde lord hailing from IPC territory, and he possesses charm like no other. He's gotten you more flustered than any other suitor has, but you know it's all fake. Something lurks beneath his picture-perfect exterior, and he keeps his cards too close to his chest for you to guess what his true intentions are. Someone like that can't be good news for you.

Veritas sighs. "I suppose Landau will have to do, then."

A flurry of movement and fabric draws your gaze to the dance floor. You light up as you watch two figures dance in the center of the crowd, one ducking and dodging out of reach while the other tries with fervor to capture them in their arms.

They've finally brought out the silk sashes used to dance the Entwine.

Your Entwine record is exemplary. When dancing as the gentleman, there were only a handful of people you hadn't been able to catch— Aventurine being one of them. Though your record dancing as gentleman is flawed, your skill when dancing as lady is unmatched and known far and wide.

In all your years, you have never been caught during a dance.

"Wonderful," you say, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You could already feel the exhilaration that came with successful capture and evasion. You turn to your advisor, eyes glistening beneath the lights. "Veritas, would you be so kind as to humor me with a dance?"

You think it's the light playing tricks on your eyes when he flushes red. Before he can respond, though, Welt strides up to the two of you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Perhaps you could get to know your potential suitors better through the Entwine, no?" The man you've come to think of as a father figure smiles down at you, the corners of his eyes creasing as he does. "You enjoy it so much, hopefully it can be used to bring you closer to someone— both literally and figuratively speaking."

Your smile matches his. "I think that's a great idea."

"Perfect." Welt turns toward the dance floor. "Allow me to announce—"

He stops dead in his tracks, freezing just in time to prevent himself from walking into someone. He backs up, and your blood runs cold at the sight left behind.

Sunday stands before you, pristine as ever, with a silver sash draped over his arm.

Welt finds his voice before you do. "Prince Oak," he greets, dipping his head into a bow. "A pleasure to see you again. We are very grateful for your attendance."

Sunday looks at him. The fond expression he had fixed on you smooths out into his perfect half-smile. He nods at Welt in acknowledgement. "Imperial Advisor Yang." He turns to your left, appearing less enthused to greet Veritas. "Imperial Advisor Ratio."

His eyes land on you again, and a chill runs down your spine. You force a polite smile onto your face, bowing your head slightly. "Prince Oak. An honor to see you again."

He sounds breathless when he responds. "The honor is all mine."

When his gaze starts to grow heavy on your shoulders, Welt clears his throat. He eyes the fabric hanging off of Sunday's arm. "I suppose you are here with... intent, yes?"

"Correct," Sunday says. He glances down at the silk, reaching up to pinch a part of it between his fingers.

He meets your eyes again, his face imperceptible. It's more terrifying than his openly longing and lingering gaze.

"I wish to dance the Entwine with you," he says, voice diplomatic and devoid of emotion. "If you are willing."

You clench your hands behind your back. "Will you be dancing gentleman or lady?"

"Gentleman." He pauses, voice lowering a bit. "I wish to try and catch you."

You smother a scowl before it can crawl its way onto your face. Of course he would want to dance as gentleman. How typical.

But there's something to his demeanor that tells you there's more to it than he's letting on. It's sitting on the tip of his tongue: his real intent behind asking you to dance with him.

"For what reason do you wish to dance with me?" In a quieter, harsher tone, you add, "Be honest with me, or I will refuse outright."

His fingers run over the fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles that snag them. He tilts his head to the side, and the desire that swims in his eyes leaves you shaking.

"If I catch you," he says slowly, "you will give me your hand in marriage."

Bile burns at the back of your throat, your anxiety clawing its way up and trying to escape. It's a bold declaration, especially when directed at someone who has never been caught before. Your faith in your skill is resolute, but the sheer desperation on his face is enough to make you hesitate.

Your voice trembles slightly when you speak. "And if you fail?"

He hums, flicking his gaze off to the side. "If I fail, I will never ask for it again."

You latch onto the statement like a moth to a flame. All you have to do is avoid capture— something you've done time and again— to get him to leave you alone. You've never seen him dance the Entwine, or show any interest in it; undoubtedly, your skill will lead you to successful evasion.

This is your chance to get him off your back, for good.

Before you can respond, a firm hand comes down on your shoulder, pulling you backward.

"Your Highness," Veritas whispers into your ear, barely contained urgency lacing his words. "Please consider this carefully. Is this a risk you are willing to take?"

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. "I have never been caught," you mutter back.

His brows pinch together. "There is a first time for everything, and you cannot afford to let this one be that time."

You clench your jaw and cast Sunday a sidelong glance. He stares back at you, his posture perfect and features serene despite the way his eyes drink you in, ravenous. There is, as always, truth to what Veritas is saying; you've never seen Sunday dance the Entwine, but that doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't know how, or that he isn't good at it. There's still a high chance you'll be able to evade him given your record, but the chance of him being able to successfully pull off the Catch, though small, is still a potential outcome that shouldn’t be overlooked.

After all, he wouldn't be asking you if the possibility was as slim as you believe it to be.

You bite your lip, hesitating. You look to Welt, pleading for direction. He locks eyes with you briefly, looking just as concerned as Veritas, before he steps forward and partially shields you from Sunday's view.

"Perhaps another time," he says, a polite grin finding its way onto his face. "We are just coming out of mourning, and though it is nice to be part of festivities again, perhaps dancing is still a bit too much for Our Highness right now— the late queen was very fond of the Entwine. Please understand."

Sunday's mask wavers, irritation seeping through the cracks at Welt's excuse. His sharp gaze cuts back to you, but you let your eyes drift back to the dance floor, refusing to meet it.

The tension is broken by the sound of clapping. You turn your head, frowning at the sight of a member of the advisory court approaching.

"Oh, how lovely!" She swoons, pressing a hand to her chest. Her face is flushed from the wine and she speaks loudly, drawing the ballroom's attention to the cluster of people around you. "Our Highness is going to dance the Entwine with Prince Oak!"

All eyes are on you. Your guests whisper to each other, their excitement tangible and filling the air with charged energy. A long time coming, they think to themselves, oblivious to the unfortunate predicament you've found yourself in. Sunday's affinity for you isn't a secret, especially not to the royal families who watched you two grow up at each other's side. To them, this dance is simply an age-old rumor finally coming into fruition, the first step toward solidifying your relationship with Sunday. And to the advisors scattered around the ballroom, watching you like hawks, it is their efforts finally paying off— the final nail in your coffin that will secure the future they envision for your kingdom.

Refusing him now, under countless pairs of hopeful eyes, would undoubtedly leave an ugly smear on your reputation and the integrity of your kingdom.

Your tongue sits dry and heavy in your mouth. You almost choke on it when Sunday's hand finds the small of your back, gently guiding you toward the dance floor. He practically preens under the attention and pressure. It makes you sick.

Another hand catches your elbow in a bruising grip, and you jolt back, only barely catching yourself to make it seem as though you tripped. You angle your body in a way that prevents the crowd from seeing Veritas's vice grip on your arm.

"My Highness has not agreed to anything yet," he bites out in a low whisper, venom dripping off his tongue.

Sunday's eyes snap to him. His scathing glare does nothing to deter your advisor, who glares back at him in response.

When he looks back to you, the deceptively serene look has returned. With the arm not holding the sash, he extends a hand out to you, tilting his head to the side in question. The guests closest to you all coo fondly.

There's a hint of a smirk on his face. "May I have this dance?"

You place a hand over Veritas's, gently prying his fingers from your arm. You can't bear to look at him right now. "It will be fine," you murmur. "I promise."

You run your hands along your sleeves, wiping off as much of the sweat as you can. You inhale shakily, trying to keep the ballroom tile beneath your feet from swimming.

You look up, a practiced, graceful smile tilting your lips upward. You delicately place your hand in his, suppressing a shudder when he brings it to his lips and presses it to them. The steadiness and strength in your voice surprises you when you say, "Of course, Prince Oak."

The ballroom erupts into a mixture of chatter and cheers. Court advisors pester the crowd surrounding the dance floor, ushering them back and trying to clear a pathway for the two of you. You swallow thickly as Sunday closes his hand around your trembling one.

You turn to Welt and gesture at his pocket with your free hand. "If you would be so kind, Advisor Welt."

He nods stiffly, reaching into his coat and producing a golden pocket watch. "Of course, Your Highness."

Your heart hammers against your ribcage as Sunday guides you to the dance floor. A numbness settles over you, and you robotically nod and smile at the guests that you pass. Their eyes shine with an adoration that you could never possess for this supposed relationship— for him.

Sunday releases your hand when you two reach the center of the dance floor. His eyes are dark as he holds one end of the sash out to you. You take it into your hands and back away from him, toward the other end of the floor. Sunday does the same, and you both stop when the sash is pulled so taught that it tugs you a few steps forward.

The familiar fabric and set-up do little to comfort you.

The crowd shifts again, and Welt emerges from it, standing front and center before the dance floor. He holds the pocket watch up to his face, and your breath hitches with anticipation.

"Your three minutes begins..." His voice reverberates off the ballroom walls, resounding clearly over the jubilant tune the orchestra plays.

"Now."

Adrenaline shoots through you like lightning, and you fly into motion. Your vision sharpens, focused in on every movement Sunday makes as you analyze the arc of his arms and the force behind his tugs on the sash. With each under-arm swoop, you dip beneath his arms and twirl away from him with ease, the steps of the dance coming to you the way breathing does.

He's an adept dancer, you'll give him that. Perhaps if his partner was anyone else, he would have already caught them already, within the first minute of the dance. But you are untouchable on an average night, and on this one in particular, you push yourself past your limits, propelled forward by a fervor and desperation to evade his every attempt of entangling you in his arms.

Twist. Needle's Eye.

"Two minutes," Welt calls out.

Approaching another under-arm swoop, you glance at Sunday's face just in time to see displeasure flicker across it at Welt's announcement. As you glide away from him once more, unfurling the sash between you two, he gives it a sharp tug, causing you to stumble a bit and lose your footing. Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly recover, forcing your limbs to move faster and smoother and match the rapid tempo he has now set for the dance.

Sweat beads along your upper lip as you duck under Sunday's arms repeatedly. You're managing just fine, but you've never had to push yourself this hard before; keeping a close eye on his movements while making sure the sash doesn't get tangled around your wrists is a delicate balancing act, and you can feel yourself teetering back and forth, dangerously close to falling off.

He's a far more formidable partner than you could have ever imagined.

Dip and Turn. Lady's Feint.

"One minute."

Sunday furiously yanks on the sash mid-twirl, and you stagger forward. The sash wraps around your wrists once, twice— three times before you regain your footing and lean back, narrowly avoiding Sunday's sweeping arm that almost hooks around your own.

A chorus of gasps ripples through the crowd at your near capture. It worsens your fraying nerves.

You exhale with exertion, trembling on unsteady legs as Sunday raises the stakes yet again. The tempo he sets is merciless, and your body is jostled between the last of your will and the harsh tugs from the other end of the sash. You grit your teeth. The silk digs tighter into your flesh and sends pinpricks of pain up your arms with each snap of his wrists.

Bridge Arc. Under-Arm Swoop.

"Thirty seconds."

The speed at which you weave in and out of spins leaves you dizzy, nauseous. The ballroom melts into incomprehensible shapes and colors around you. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, a pitiful attempt to ground yourself so you won't trip up.

You do anyway; Sunday's movements are too fluid and swift to keep up with.

The sash binds around your wrists five more times, bringing you even closer to him— too close. You're not sure if it's skill, luck, or sheer force of will that allows you to continue to dodge his attempts at ensnaring you, but you know that you shouldn't be able to do it at this distance.

Frustration peeks through his graceful disposition. His golden eyes trail you, chasing after you as you elude his grasp once more.

Thread. Beading the Sash.

"Fifteen seconds."

You throw yourself into another dip, eyes locked onto the floor just beyond the arm obscuring your line of vision.

If you dodge this one, you'll be free.

Sunday lifts his arms suddenly and pulls, bringing the sash as far back as he can without letting go. Your arms twist in the air behind your back. A strangled gasp leaves you as you lose your footing. In a whirl of fabric, you stagger backward, away from the other side of his outstretched arm.

The Catch.

Your back slams into something solid, and before you can process what has happened, a firm arm snakes itself around your waist, pulling you flush against the body behind you. Your hands, still bound together, dig into your collarbone, suspended at an awkward angle from the sash held above you.

The crowd erupts into noise.

In front of you, a little girl pulls on her mother's sleeve and points in your direction. "Mommy, he caught Our Highness!"

Behind them, Veritas stares at you, petrified and speechless.

Snapping out of your stunned stupor feels like coming up for air after almost drowning. You suck in a shuddering breath and writhe, yanking your arms against the sash and leaning forward, futilely trying to escape. Sunday gathers the last of the fabric in his hands and gives it another sharp tug, keeping you in place against him.

He lowers his head, and his lips brush over your ear as he speaks. "Magnificent," he whispers. His voice rumbles with pleasure, almost to the point of purring. "You are truly a talented dancer."

"Let me go," you rasp out. You're physically exhausted, and your racing, panicked heart prevents you from catching your breath.

Sunday hums again, bringing the hand holding the sash to brush your cheek gently. "Why would I do that?" He chuckles softly, and it's so genuine— not the slightest bit mocking— that it leaves you all the more unsettled. "I caught you."

He brings his arm down, settling it around your waist. His fingers brush over your bound hands, and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek.

"You're finally mine."

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eraenaa · 3 months

Text

The Prince's Prize

Aemond Targaryen x Riverlady Reader

Synopsis: After his victories in the Riverlands, Prince Aemond Targaryen sought for a trophy— his spoils of war. He sought for you, the daughter of the lord who hosted him whilst he wagged his war.

Warnings: Barely any plot; just smut, Mature, 18+, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Fingering, P in V sex, Choking, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2, 720

Inspired by my Original Fic on AO3, Rivers of Fire

“The… the prince calls for you in his chambers, my lady.” Your handmaid hesitated to say as you were readying yourself for bed. It was a scandal to say the least, the prince humiliating you in a hall where a banquet commenced, all of his family’s supporters in the Riverlands in attendance and witnessing as he declared that you will be his “Beautiful, shinning prize.” As if you were some common whore. But you suppose you were one now. You could no longer keep him at bay. For weeks, you’ve felt his eye linger, his presence growing nearer and nearer. You’ve tried your earnest effort to avoid him— to keep him at arm’s length, but the prince could no longer be denied. He wanted you, and he had made it known. Subjecting you to a fate that no maiden nor respectable noblewoman should ever be subjected to. You were now Prince Aemond’s bedmate. You are now his trophy. His spoils of war.

You gave your handmaid a nod and took in a shaky breath. Wiping your clammed palms against the silk of your robe. Your graceful steps felt heavy as you walked down the halls of your home, your body leading you to the way of the prince. You took in a deep breath to calm your heart at what the night will bring. Your trembling hands managed to knock on the wooden door, waiting for a reply. “Come in,” you hear the prince’s silky voice; the voice that had been haunting you ever since he’d arrived in the Riverlands. You hesitantly opened the wooden door, your steps uncertain and your gaze on the floor as you entered his chambers.

Aemond watched as you demurely stood by the door. Eyes shielded from him, frame rigid in uncertainty. “Come here,” He ordered as he sat on an armchair, he had been battling himself throughout the night if he should ask for your presence in his chambers. But he could no longer be patient, after moons of restraint, he needed to have you. You took slow steps and stood before the prince. He motioned for you to step closer, to stand at arm’s length and you mustered all of the courage in you to do as he asked. To be obliging as your father had instructed to save you and your land from the destruction of the prince when things do not go his way. A sacrificial lamb of your house to appease a dragon.

Aemond hummed and let his fingers feel the fabric of your robe, the silk fabric hiding you from him. “Take it off,” he ordered. Watching as your eyes grow wide and your cheeks flush. Aemond clenched his jaw as you started to do as he said. He knew it was wrong to take advantage of his position of power. He knew it was damnable to take a maiden to his bed and dishonor her— the gods will condemn him, but he could not find care. The moment he saw you in walls of your home, he knew he wanted you. Your indifference and defiance did not matter— you had been resisting him, denying him, but the prince will always find a way to get what he wanted.

Your robe fell to the floor, leaving you in your shift, but the prince still nodded his head and motioned for you to take it off. The cover that your night dress provided pooled to the floor and left you completely exposed to the One-Eyed Prince.

Aemond took in a sharp breath as his eye scanned the whole of your body. His cold, callused hands place themselves on your hips. Indulging himself with the feel of your soft skin that was riddled with gooseflesh at his touch. You took a sharp breath and you feel the prince nuzzle his face on your torso, his nose caressing your skin and taking a deep breath to savor your scent. Your stomach pitted as the prince finally stood, and your eyes locked. His hold was still on your waist as he guided you toward his bed. His hands trailing upwards as the back of your knees hit the soft fabric of his mattress. He guided you to sit, and you gazed up with his as his hand ghosted upon your bosom. His eye held trepidation but as you bit your lip in anticipation, the lilac of the prince’s gaze turned dark and he finally let his cold hand cup the flesh of your tit. Feeling your softness and ampleness and resisting the urge as the simple act of touching you already brought him pleasure.

You swallowed thickly as your eyes gazed downward and saw the prominent bulge in the prince’s trousers as he continued to fondle your breasts. His finger pinching the sensitive bud, causing a jolt of pleasure to run through your body; pushing your luscious thighs together as you felt your sex grow with shameful need. You dismayed upon yourself— you should not feel pleasure by his touch. You should not enjoy his focused and wanting gaze. You must never relish at the fact of being a prince’s whore. But as a moan finally left your lips, you knew you could not abide by common sense and propriety.

Aemond smirked when he finally heard the pleasured moan escape your lips and as he saw the way your thighs pressed together. “Such a beauty you are… you have been tempting me since I’ve had arrived.” You frown at the prince’s words. “I—I had no intentions to do so my prince— believe me, it was unconsciously done,” You said and Aemond hummed and let his hand trail upwards to cup your warm cheek. “Unconscious or not… you have still tempted me.” He said. You palms growing cold as the prince sank on his knees so you two would be at eye level. “You have tempted your prince to sin and desire a maiden…” A chill ran through you as his thumb swiped across your plump lips.

No reply was made as the prince captured you into a kiss. Finally, claiming the lips he had been dreaming of for moons. The prince snaking in his tongue and smirking at himself as he had correctly guessed that kissing you would feel like heaven. His hand took yours and guided it to the bulge that was angrily straining in his trousers. “Do you feel what you do to me, little flower? You had your prince desire you… to ache for you so, and you must be the one to relieve me of this torment.” The prince rasped against your lips. You closed your eyes and let out a moaned breath as his lips nuzzled into your neck, and his hand guided you to stroke his length faster.

You gasped as the prince moved you to lie down. You raised your head to look at him with wide eyes as you were sprawled exposed in his bed, and he simply looked at you with desire and a smirk on his thin lips that were growing swollen by the minute. “So fucking pretty.” He said as he was still on his knees. His hands found your thighs and forced them to part. “My prince—“ You called as you were surprised that he’s subject himself to such actions. But your call was left on deaf ears as the prince was in a trance as your glistening cunt was presented before him.

You let a small startled sound leave your throat as you feel Prince Aemond’s lips place a light kiss before your sex. The prince enjoying the way you tensed before him— the way you tasted before him. It took moments before you finally succumbed to the pleasure that you tried hard to deny— that you felt entirely guilty to feel. You were defiantly resisting to acknowledge how skilled the prince was. Lapping and sucking your cunt, his nose nuzzling against your pearl whilst his tongue darted in and out of your entrance making you cry out in sheer pleasure.

“You were so quiet the days before… who knew I could make yo scream so loudly,” Aemond smirked as he gazed up at you whilst his fingers continued the torment on your nubbin. Admiring the way your back was arched and how your lips parted with the sound of the pleasure he gives. “Why have you resisted me for so long, little flower? Why have you denied us of such pleasure?” Aemond returned his lips to your cunt, palming himself as he tasted your essence; sweet and tart and entirely mouthwatering for him. Aemond groaned against your cunt as he felt your soft hands grab the roots of his hair, making him feel the pleasure you were lost in.

“My prince— I—“ You mumbled as you were blinded and dazed, uncertain of what was to come. The teaching of your septa only enlightens you about the pleasure the man would feel in consummation, you were not aware that women would feel pleasure as well. “You will call me by my name when you come,” The Prince ordered and his hold on your thighs are tighter, his eye drew upward and watch you mindlessly nod as your enchanting eyes rolled back.

“Aemond— Aemond!” You cried as a flick of his tongue had you peaking and writhing on his face. The prince only watched still as your cunt writhed against him, his skin scattering with gooseflesh at the way you called and cried his name.

You were still dazed from your high when you noticed the prince pulling you sit once more. His lips that tasted of you against your own. His cold, callused hand around your neck whilst the other guided your hand back to his length once more. Lost in pleasure, you boldly slipped your hand in his trousers. Letting your skin finally touch him, a stifled groan left his lips. Aemond parted your lips to remove his tunic, your eyes following every movement he made while your hand were still in his trousers, striking his pulsating and large length. “Remove my trousers, little flower,” He ordered as your eyes where on his toned torso. Aemond watched in dark desire as you slowly nodded your head and removed your hand from his length. Your soft fingers brushing with the skin of his waist and your lip between your teeth.

Your eyes widened when his length sprang free. Gods, he was beautiful. You never thought that you would find something so phallic to be so… appealing. Your hand gripped the base of it once more and your eyes locked with the prince who watched you expectantly. “Put it in your mouth,” The prince gritted. You froze at his order, uncertain how to do as he asked. Aemond took hold of your chin and his thumb pried your mouth to part. “Put it in.” He ordered, voice deeper and harsher. You licked your lips and took the tip of him into your mouth. Startled as the prince let out a groan leave his lips and his hips thrusting forward, urging you to take more of him.

You didn’t realized that hearing the prince spew out moans and groaning your name would elicit such a reaction from you. That his sounds of pleasures made your core twist painfully yet pleasurably so; that your nipples would pebble and tighten uncomfortably yet you enjoyed it. You crossed your legs as you feel your essence drip down and your cunt wanting to feel the pleasure that a dragon prince could provide.

You gasped as the prince removed his length that had been hitting the back of your throat. Aemond dipping down and placing his hand around your neck, kissing your lips, uncaring that it had been recently subjected to pleasure his cock. “I do not know if I liked you better defiant or obliging, little flower,” Aemond whispered against your lips and you crossed your legs tighter as his hold on your neck strained your breathing— oddly adding to your desires.Aemond pushed you to lie down once more, laying his wight on top of you, his length resting on your thigh and you could not decide if you felt fear or excitement.

Fear that after this moment you will no longer be a maiden— that you’d be tarnished and be the Prince’s whore. Excitement that this moment would bring you pleasure— that you would have your desires tamed.

Heavy breathing, whines, and groans mixed as the prince tore his way through you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails digging on his shoulders. “Your highness, it’s too much— I can’t,” You cried as the pain did not wash away and pleasure was far from reach. “Aemond. You will call me Aemond.” The prince grunted as you clenched around his length. He watched as the tears spilled from your eyes and your breast heaved in pain. Was it so bad that he enjoyed the sight of it? That he relished at the idea that he was the one to take your maiden head. That in the eyes of men and the laws of the gods, you were now bound to him.

Aemond was slow with his actions, waiting for you to grow accustomed to him. Waiting for you to bless his ears with your pleasure moans once more. The prince dipped his head down and captured your tit into his mouth whilst his finger drew circles on your cunt. It was entirely difficult for the prince to hold back— with the way you clenched around him and the way your hand would grip his hair every time he dared to move… he could’ve come right then and there— filling you with his seed and ruining you to another degree.

But he could do no such thing— not yet at least. He needed to feel how your cunt would tighten around him as you came. He needed to hear the way you would scream his name as he filled you with his seed. He needed to feel you in pleasure more than he needed himself to feel pleasure.

“A-Aemond,” You called when finally the excruciating pain faded away and was replaced by the pleasure you felt moments ago. “Oh…” You sighed as his length was met with a spot in you that made your toes curl, and your eyes roll back. Never had you felt so full— so oddly complete. The prince tucked his head in the crook of your neck and would nip your salted skin that glistened with a thin layer of sweat. “You’re mine, little flower,” Aemond grunted as his thrust grew deeper and your moans louder. “Say that you are mine.” Aemond removed his head from the crook of your neck to look at the state of you.

Your tits bouncing with each of his thrust. Your eyes rolled back, and your hands fisted the sheets. Your lips parted and spewing his name in satisfaction. Aemond placed his hands around your neck once more, delighting in the way that your cunt clenched tighter around him. Surprised and thankful that you’d enjoyed roughness, for that was the only thing the prince had ever known. “Say it.” He spat and you cried as his thrusts were harder deeper. “I’m… I’m yours!” You cried and took hold of his hand that was around your throat, urging him to grip tighter as you were nearing your peak. “Fucking hell,” The prince said harshly as he realized you wanted him to grip you tighter when his cock could barely move by the way you clamped around him.

“So fucking perfect,” The prince praised and shifted his weight for your lips to meet. “Come for me, my flower… come for your prince,” Aemond cooed against your lips, and you were quick to obey as you finally let your tightened core loose. The prince was quick to follow you in pleasure, him grunting your name as he filled your cunt with his seed. Uncaring of the possibility that he’d create a bastard for himself. “I should have claimed my spoils of war sooner,” The prince mumbled and kissed you again. Your brain battling with your body as you could not find care that he’d call you his spoils of war— that you were reduced to his prize.

If you enjoyed the premise of this story, you might like the inspiration for it!

#aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond smut #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #house targaryen #prince aemond fic #prince aemond x reader #hotd ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 link #fanfiction #ao3 fic

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mooshywrites · 4 months

Note

I saw the beautiful art of your Tav (and the AMAZING writing you’ve posted) and it inspired this headcanon request! Would you mind sharing your headcanons on how Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, and any other of your favorite NPCs would react to giving and receiving flowers to and from the (feminine) reader? Thank you so much!!! <3

Aweeeee, thank you so much for the compliments!!! I would absolutely love to <3 <3

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Giving and receiving flowers from Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, and Karniss

Masterlist

Flower Tav Drawing

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Astarion -

Giving them flowers

~ It would be so nerve-wracking to give Astarion flowers, he’s such a perfectionist that you’d spend way too much time perfectly arranging the wild flowers you found

~ He would be so surprised that you put that much thought into it, looking over it with a teasingly critical gaze

~ He’d try pointing out that a few of them were actually weeds

~ As soon as your face would fall, he’d absolutely panic, giving as many compliments to the flowers as possible

~ “These are wonderful, darling.” He’d assure you, even letting you put a daisy behind his ear

~ Even though he acted judgmental of the gift, you caught him preening over the flowers. Watering and taking care of each little bud until they’ve wilted

Receiving flowers

~ Astarion would proudly bring you a bouquet, hiding it behind his back as he approached you smiling

~ When he finally presented them, you more than a little confused to see a bundle of thin greens with tiny unopened bulbs

~ You’d try your best to play along, not wanting to hurt his feelings since he had picked them out specifically

~ He’d roll his eyes knowingly, telling you to be patient to actually see the flowers

~ That night, he’d pull you into his arms and point you to the vase of greens you had left in the window

~ Much to your shock and awe, the tiny bulbs had opened into beautiful white flowers, blooming in the moonlight

Gale -

Giving them flowers

~ Gale would LOVE getting flowers from you

~ He’d make some dorky joke like “For me?”, looking behind him to anyone else who you could possibly be receiving flowers from

~ Unfortunately, you’d picked an array of flowering leaves that he was deathly allergic to

~ He would try so hard to appreciate the flowers and smell them to appease you, swallowing back the itching already starting around his eyes

~ The rest of the day would be spent with you apologizing, Gale showering you with affection, and the two of you trying every which way to ease his sniffles

~ Even after all of that, Gale would brave his allergies to keep one of your death flowers in amongst his things

Receiving

~ Gale had spent the entire day closed up in his room

~ You heard the occasional grumbling and shuffling, but other than that, there was no word from your wizard

~ Just when you were starting to get annoyed at the secrecy, Gale would pop open the door with a giant grin

~ He’d have you close your eyes, placing something heaving and cool in your hands

~ As soon as you opened your eyes, you see a beautiful pink rose. It glittered in the light, almost as if it were made of millions of tiny crystals

~ “It’s a forever rose. I made it especially for my forever person”

Wyll -

Giving them flowers

~ Wyll’s face would light up as soon as you presented him flowers

~ “How’d you know my favorite?” He’d say, sweeping you twirling into a hug.

~ He didn’t actually have a favorite flower before, but he after seeing your shy smile, he decided he definitely did have a favorite now ~ He’d wind them into a place let, showing you how to do the same with the thick vines

~He never took the bracelet off after that, it was almost impressive how long the crumbling flowers lasted

~ It would finally break during a particularly difficult battle, much to his dismay. But he spent the whole evening after looking for the exact same flower so he could make a new one

Receiving flowers

~ Wyll would wan’t the flowers to be absolutely perfect.

~ He’d spend the morning talking to every florist he could find, trying to remember the meanings of all the flowers

~ The more he “researched”, the more stressed he would get

~ Finally, he’d start the walk back to camp, feeling a little defeated that he couldn’t find anything that seemed perfect enough for you ~ Along the way, he passed by a patch of rain lilies, deciding it would be better to bring those than bring nothing

~ His heart stopped in his chest after he gave them to you, your misty eyes meeting him as you asked how he could’ve found your favorite flower

Halsin -

Giving them flowers

~ Halsin would be very pleasantly surprised by the flowers. Even in his long life, this was a first of sorts

~ He’d sit with you, smiling brightly, looking over all the flowers

~ He’d tell you the name of each and every one, telling you what they could be used in as well

~ In return, you’d show him how to weave a flower crown, trying to include every flower you had gathered

~ In the end, there wasn’t a prettier cave bear princess in the entire world

Receiving flowers

~ Halsin would know exactly where to find the best wild flowers, gathering a huge bouquet by the time he was done

~ They were a little slobbery from his cave bear form carrying them around, but he could wipe them off later

~ He’d lumber his way to you, not hearing the faint sound of buzzing

~ He didn’t understand why you shrieked so loud when he gave them to you, that is until he saw the flurry of bees that had accumulated around his bouquet of sweet smelling flowers

~ It took many kisses and close attention to scattered bee stings to get back into your good graces

Kar’niss -

Giving them flowers

~ Kar’niss didn’t know what to think as you gave him flowers, not familiar with the gesture

~ “Kar’niss can’t eat plants” He’d say with the most adorable confused look on his face

~ You couldn’t help but giggle and leave kisses all over his face. After, you explained that people gave each other flowers as a sign of affection

~ His cheeks would redden, shyly accepting the gesture

~ He treated the flowers so gently after, almost as if it were his newest prized possession

Receiving flowers

~ After learning about this brand new world of flowers, Kar’niss quickly became an expert

~ Anytime he saw even a tiny bloom, he’d scoop it up to bring to you ~ He kept his eyes peeled, not a single flower safe when the drider was near

~ You taught him how to care for the flowers, trimming them and keeping them in enough water to sustain

~ His graceful fingers found comfort in the menial task of caring for the plants. It always warmed your heart, knowing his careful consideration was just his way of showing his immense love for you

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trikaranos · 4 months

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TRIKARANOS CHAPTER I: S·T·T·L

TRIKARANOS is a dramatized narrative based on ancient events following Crassus (and Pompey and Caesar) through the years 87-48 BCE. Intended for an adult audience.

⭐ Trikaranos will always be free to read. In the near future, you’ll have the option to support this comic & my ability to spend time making it (I Am Extremely Fucking Broke And Have Bills To Pay etc etc) through Patreon! currently, I have a tip jar!

⭐ There is no set update schedule (chapters vary in length and will be posted as I finish working on them)

⭐ alternative places to read it (coming soon!)

CREDITS all additional art used are in the public domain, and the specific images used are open access, etc

🍊the first collage panel is combination of: Plate 113: Greeks Battling the Trojans (from Ovid's Metamorphoses), Antonio Tempesta / The Trojans pulling the wooden horse into the city, Giulio Bonasone (after Francesco Primaticcio) / Terracotta hydria displaying Achilles waiting to ambush Triolos and Polyxena 🍊the second collage panel is: The Lictors bringing Brutus the bodies of his Sons, Jacques Louis David / the paint over of Brutus executing is own sons is my own work based on the composition of this relief of Brutus and condemning his sons to death. 🍊I also used my own art: a panel from the Prologue, and my own illustration of Brutus with the bodies of his sons

📖 PREVIOUS CHAPTER | START HERE | ToC (under construction!)

UNDER THE CUT creator’s commentary, ancient citations, whatever else seems relevant. ideally, this is optional! you shouldn’t need the citations for it to make sense as it unfolds since it’s a comic and a story first and foremost, but it’s here if you’re curious about something or want to see where the inspiration is coming from!

I'm so fucking normal about Crassus and his family (<<< this is a lie)

Marcus Crassus was the son of a man who had been censor and had enjoyed a triumph; but he was reared in a small house with two brothers. His brothers were married while their parents were still alive, and all shared the same table, which seems to have been the chief reason why Crassus was temperate and moderate in his manner of life. When one of his brothers died, Crassus took the widow to wife, and had his children by her, and in these relations also he lived as well-ordered a life as any Roman.

Plutarch, Crassus

like, it actively fucks me up that this is something that's survived about him for over 2,000 years. they all ate together at the same table. Jesus Christ.

so! Crassus' dad! Publius Licinius Crassus (consul 97) fought on the side of Cn. Octavius (consul 87) in the Bellum Octavianum, and it didn't go great for him.

Crassus: A Political Biography, B.A. Marshall

also. currently, if you look Publius Licinius Crassus up on wikipedia for an overview, his page lists his son (and also my main character for this comic) with the cognomen Dives, which is in-fucking-correct.

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

and to circle back to houses and meals shared with family, some citations that made me feel some kind of way when I read them

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

finally, there is discourse or whatever on the placement of the sons of Publius Licinius Crassus. Crassus is the baby brother here simply because I'm writing this story and I get to pick the themes, but also because no one has provided a solid enough argument for him being the second eldest son that I'm willing to buy into with enthusiasm, and I'm more inclined towards G. Sampson's conclusion on the matter.

Defeat of Rome: Crassus, Carrhae, and the Invasion of the East, Gareth C. Sampson

and while I'm just kind of talking about stuff that I read that I enjoyed, this article by Martin Stone lives in my head rent free

A Year of One's Own: Dating the Praetorship of Marcus Crassus, Martin Stone

#trikaranos the komik #hehghghh HELLO i'm back. oof. hgh #if i think too much about them as a family i take critical damage to my hit points

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motherofdogs1010 · 3 months

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Of Messiahs and Seeds I (Dark!Paul Atreides x Reader)

Summary: Emperor Paul of House Atreides has set forth with expansion of his empire on the planets that have resisted and has now come across the last stronghold that resists him: Terra Millennium...

Warnings: eventual 18+, dark!fic, eventual forced marriage, eventual NONCON, eventual pregnancy, dark!Paul Atreides, more to come as story progresses

A/N: Reader is inspired by Daenarys Targaryen with dragons and Sailor Moon's Silver Crystal lol, so I hope you all enjoy!! Terra is similar to Earth, I imagined Lord York to be Tyrion Lannister so please picture that

😈 Dividers by @firefly-graphics 😈 Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Part II

"Terra Millennium stands as a enomely in the universe for their rejection against the Empire", the hologram records said. "A two-century long battle was waged for the planet through the Great Houses yet the people won through the help of someone they have since called 'The Conqueror'."

Paul had heard of the Terra Millennium, their planet one of lush greenery, vast oceans and an abundance of resources that the previous Emperor had tried countless times to harvest just as House Harkonnen had done with the Spice on Arrakis, but alas, no one had ever been successful in mining Terra Millennium. He had heard that they experience something called 'seasons', he wondered what that was.

Just as he had done with Arrakis, Paul sat in his private room, watching hologram clips of Terra Millennium as his fleet flew to the planet to finally land conquest through the help of the Fremen.

"Anthropologists have never been able to stay long on the planet or among the people, but what has been gathered is the people have rejected the teachings of the Bene Gesserit, labeling it as hertic literature."

Terra Millennium was an odd planet with an odd people who had unusually long live spans, being able to live into their thousands without a single wrinkle or grey, they repented against the Bene Gesserit, the use of the Spice; he had heard of the people of that land believing solely in the ruling Queens because of a crystal, one of immense power that was sought after.

"Characterized by their white hair, the ruling House of L/N have upheld the traditional values of the planet, which has a population of over 1 billion. Only female heirs have been able to inherit the throne and it is rumored that a single crystal that is worn by every ruling Queen is said to hold immense power that has granted its people longevity, peace and prosperity."

A knock interrupted his research, Paul seeing Stilgar walk in followed by Gurney.

"Muad'Dib, we have touched land on Terra Millennium", Stilgar said, "they have responded to our communication message."

"What did they say?" he asked, Gurney chuckled.

"They said if we proceed with our mission, they will see it as an act of war", Gurney said, "they're real hard asses here."

"You've been, Gurney?" Paul asked, curious.

"Once", Gurney replied, "I came with your father on a diplomatic assignment, but that was with their previous Queen Helene. This one is new, just coronated a few months ago."

He thought back to the new dreams he had been having of a woman whose hair was the color of white that hung down near the ground in large curls, whose eyes were hard and the color of lilac with the roar of a great beast that rung in his ears when he would awaken from his dreams.

Unlike his dreams with Chani, these felt different now that he had drunken the Water of Life. His visions of the woman consisted of a gentle breeze sweeping through her hair, it curling around her as she was dressed in a long, white silk dress that clung to her body and trailed in a long train behind her with woven golden in the upper bodice. She stood on a tall pillar of crystal, a tall scepter in her hands that she was raising above her head as the breeze picked up.

Soon, the dreams melted in a great war as crystals encapsulating him, a bright light that blinded him yet filled him with warmth and security.

"Show them the full might of the Empire", Paul said, "after all, they are in the presence of the Muad'Dib."

And it was those eyes that greeted him when he finally set foot on the pavement of Terra Millennium with its tall structures that were made of variously colored crystals.

Neo-Queen Amaris was the regal name Y/N had chosen to go by when she took the throne a mere few months ago. Of course, she went by her name, Y/N in private with those closets to her and only by her regal name with others.

Y/N had heard the rumors of the new Emperor wanting to claim her home, her people; he wanted to bring her planet into the vastly growing empire that he ruled under as a supposed Messiah to the Fremen and Bene Gesserit: Muad'Dib. Everyone had heard of how he supposedly liberated Arrakis and the Fremen people, marrying Princess Irulan as a political move to secure his position as the new Emperor.

Only a few days ago did a message come into their Communication's Hub from the Emperor about finally claiming Terra Millennium for not only himself but for the Fremen as it would be their 'Green Paradise'.

War will come to Terra Millennium if you refuse to submit, the message read.

"My Queen", her advisor, Lord York, said as she sat on her throne. "Reports have come in that the Atreides fleet has made contact on the landing pad near the Capital. Scouts have seen the Atreides Army beginning to get ready."

Lord York was a man of small stature with a head full of bronze curls and dark brown eyes that always looked calculated as if he was already ten steps ahead.

Y/N looked over at Lord York before bringing a hand to the crystal that hung around her neck on a chain that could never be removed from her neck before slowly standing up from her throne that was encrusted in gemstones.

"I believe it is time we greet them", she said, looking over her court. "After all, hospitality is what our people are known for."

And it is not like they have any chance of having their weapons working; outside weaponry not from Terra M had no chance of working and she wondered what their reactions would be once they realized this.

"But before we go", Lord York said, "may I make a suggestion?"

Y/N made a motion to the man, who gave a nod and said, "I believe it is our Queen's best interest to wear your ancestor, The Conqueror's crown and scepter to greet our guests. It would show the great strength you possess, a message to not only the Great Houses but the Emperor as well."

"That sounds like a great idea."

"You are the presence of our Neo-Queen", a man said with a thick facial beard, "first of her name, descendant of our goddess Selene and The Conqueror, wielder of the great Silver Crystal, Mother of all, Neo-Queen Amaris."

Paul watched as the man motioned to the woman he had been dreaming about, he could see that as the breeze came that she wore no shoes; all the Terrians didn't despite their silken clothes as they stood amongst the tall crystal structures. They had landed as close to the Capital, finding that there was a landing pad despite the relatively isolated nature of the planet.

"I welcome you, Paul of House Atreides", she said with a stoic expression. "But now you must leave."

The woman, their Queen Amaris, looked upon them with a hint of annoyance as she held a large scepter in one hand that was as tall as Duncan Idaho had been with gold and gem embellishments, but what was curious was that at the top of the scepter where it looked as if a missing piece was needed. The crown she wore on her head was large, glittering in diamonds and curved up into a point as she stood there, her hair having a few small braids that pulled the framing hair away with kiss curls on her forehead.

"Leave?" Paul said with some amusement.

Irulan stood next to him dressed in a silver mesh outfit, a metal hair net that connected over into her dress that held down her short blonde hair. Paul was glad that he Voiced the woman to stop talking, she would not stop and frankly, he had no desire to try and pursue a romantic relationship with the woman after Chani chose to leave further into Arrakis.

His mother stood amongst them, holding the bundled form of his sister, Alia.

"I did not realize a Emperor could have poor hearing", Amaris said, "you are not welcome on Terra Millennium nor do we plan on allowing for you to colonize us. Terra M remains alone."

Paul took in the way she spoke, her accent one he had never heard before and the formal way of speaking. He noticed the large gem that hung around her neck, it sparkled in the sunlight as she stood there and looked to be the size of a her palm.

"Also, we did not apperciate your Bene Gesserit coming", she continued, "spreading their heretic language, you will find them in the Prisoner's Bay."

"You don't believe in the Muad'Dib, the Kwisatz Haderach?" Paul asked.

"We believe in our Queen, may her reign be as prosperous as Selene", the bearded man said.

The Queen just looked at him with contempt, he saw her lip curl a little in annoyance.

And it was that look that made something stir deep in Paul and made him feel something that he never felt before. She looked at him as if he was a bug ready to be squashed underneath her foot

He wanted to possess the woman in front of him, at all costs and he didn't care who he had to kill... he was going to.

#paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #dune #dune x reader #x reader #reader insert #timothee chalamet #chubby reader #smut #dune imagine #dune part two #dune part ii #duneimagine #dark!fic #dark!paulatreides #yandere #yanderexreader

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torukmaktoskxawng · 11 months

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our paths crossing

Pairing: Tsu’tey x Avatar!Reader + Adopted!Spider

Summary: Tsu’tey is given a second chance at life, but not even Eywa could convince him to accept it.

Word Count: 9k+

Warnings: single mom power, generational trauma, parental manipulation (tsu’tey’s parents suck), fluff

Na'vi words used: pa'li - direhorse, nivi - hammock, olo'eyktan - clan leader, ikran - mountain banshee, Iknimaya - Rite of Passage, marui - home, oel ngati kameie - I See you, taronyutsyìp - little hunter, teylupil prrnen - teylu face baby, niktsyey - food/leaf wrap, tsaheylu - bond, sa'nok - mother, Uniltaron - Dream Hunt, irayo - thank you, tawtute - human, tswin - queue braid, maitan - my son, sa'sem - parents, taronyu - hunter, tsahik - spiritual leader, tsakarem - tsahik in training, meresh'ti cau'pla - banshee catcher

A/N: This was heavily inspired by other Tsu’tey works written by @simps256 @byunpum @shu-box-puns and @little-box-of-autism on Tumblr, and @ AlexiHollis on Ao3

~~~~~~~~~

PANDORA, 2154+

Everything is connected, one way or another. From the tiny stem of a plant, to the pa'li that steps on it, and to the ginormous tree looming over it. Pandora is made up of various different sizes of networks, from microscopic to gigantic. Some are easier to see than others. The network of tree branches and roots is clearly visible, but there are small ones, not physically distinct, and Eywa can see it all as clear as day.

The same goes for two souls. When two Na'vi-- when two souls mate, they are mated for life. It won't matter if they met when they were children or if their paths meet when they are old and wrinkled. Two souls are still two souls, meant for each other no matter how or when they meet.

Tsu'tey, like all Na'vi, believed this to be true. Sylwanin was the soul meant for him, ever since they were children. However, Eywa had other plans in mind for the young couple and destiny tragically separated them, forever shattering their former entwined paths. Later in life, Tsu'tey finally accepted that all things happen for a reason, and perhaps in another life, Sylwanin would have been his mate. But in this life, Eywa protects the balance of it all and in order for Jake Sully to one day arrive and save this beautiful world, beautiful souls like Sylwanin would have to be sacrificed. Tsu'tey came to terms with this one day, weeks after the battle against the Sky People.

He had plenty of time to think about many things, lying in his nivi and resting from his injuries. As Toruk Makto, Jake happily took temporary command of the Omatikaya clan whilst their olo'eyktan healed from his wounds. It would be a long journey for Tsu'tey, but those who respect him and call him 'brother' were just happy he survived that fall and all those gunshots. At first, he was not as happy or even relieved. Why would Eywa deny him the chance to see Sylwanin again? As he took time to heal, he eventually mourned properly for the first time in years and was able to heal mentally as well as physically. Tsu'tey had finally managed to let his young love go, may she rest in peace.

In return for his loyalty and devotion, Eywa rewarded her olo'eyktan with a gift fit for a good man. However, it would be years before he graciously accepted it.

Tsu'tey was always aware of the other sky demons possessing Na'vi bodies. He had seen many over the years, especially when he was just a student in Grace Augustine's school. He had always found them strange and ugly and didn't hesitate to let Jake know how he felt about his appearance. Jake never took it to heart and eventually learned to laugh at such comments. Tsu'tey grimaced, almost hating the fact that Jake was getting used to him. The other dreamwalkers --"Avatars, brother, they're called avatars,"-- never really got used to him but they greatly respected him, especially after Tsu'tey allowed them to live among the Omatikaya once the rest of the Sky People were sent off-world. He had accepted these 'scientists' and 'avatars' into his village, much to Toruk Makto's influence, and so therefore, over time, Tsu'tey began to treat them all as part of the People-- his people.

As he accepted the sky demons, he also began to learn their names. One of which he was always aware of but had never bothered to learn her name.

Y/n was an avatar driver and a scientist. Even though she hadn't been on Pandora for long, she had been allowed to visit Hometree several times before its destruction, always tagging along when either Grace or Norm Spellman visited. She was part of the young group of scientists who had received an avatar before the battle against the Sky People that actively cut off the scientists' funding to make more, therefore she would be one of the last of them, as would Norm and Jake. In many ways, it was like watching the end of a species that would cease to exist once the avatars all died out. That is until children like Kiri and Lo'ak were born.

By the time Neytiri bore Jake their first son and had adopted Grace's daughter born of mysterious circumstances, Tsu'tey had begun to notice that Y/n was not just a random avatar who opted to stay on Pandora. She had also opted into becoming a mother.

It was safe to say Tsu'tey didn't know of Spider's existence firmly because the baby wasn't old enough to wear a mask and exo-pack yet, therefore he had never visited the village. It wasn't until the fierce olo'eyktan followed Jake to the functional biolab of Hell's Gate one day did he finally meet the next generation of Sky People. At first, Spider was strange to him. With a full head of yellow curls, pink skin, and a gummy smile, Tsu'tey gained enough willpower not to verbally comment about how the sky demons' offspring were even uglier than the avatars. Jake had asked him to be civil prior to this meeting, so he indulged his brother out of respect for Toruk Makto.

If Y/n had seen how put-off Tsu'tey was by her son, she didn't mention it. In fact, she barely acknowledged the clan leader, instead devoting her time to making sure her adventurous toddler didn't get into any trouble. Much to all the scientists' dismay, the child had learned to run before he could walk, therefore the attempts to baby-proof the whole place had been frantic and half-assed at best. But wherever Spider ran, Y/n was not too far behind him, always making a game of the chase and making the toddler laugh until his sides hurt.

From what Tsu'tey had learned, Spider is not Y/n's child by blood. The baby had been left behind when the Sky People left, too young for space travel. Everyone was positive that his biological mother was killed during the Battle of the Hallelujah Mountains, and as for his father... from vague descriptions, Tsu'tey had gathered who the man was and decided not to ask any further. Now, in replace of Spider's biological parents came Y/n. Even though the scientists were all more than happy to help raise the kid together as a village, Y/n had become his sole guardian, claiming that Spider should always have that one person to rely on before all others. She had gone on record stating that the boy needs a mother before a village and he shouldn't be treated as an object or a pet the Sky People pass around. No one questioned her, especially when shown how everything she does she does it for the boy and not for her own selfish needs. The scientists all proudly took the roles of aunts and uncles to the boy, but by all rights except blood, Y/n was Spider's mother. She fed and bathed the baby, clothed him, nurtured him, and sang songs to get him to sleep. Sure, she would let the other scientists help with Spider if she needed to take her avatar out for a drive, but she was determined to be Spider's family when no one had formally stepped up.

Even though he didn't realize it back then, Tsu'tey had come to greatly admire Y/n for her sacrifice and determination to raise a child all on her own. She didn't expect anyone to help and she took motherhood in stride. She acted as if she was always meant to be a mother and she had been waiting for this moment her whole life. After first meeting Spider, Tsu'tey wouldn't visit Hell's Gate for some time and didn't often think about the human child or his mother. It would be years before Tsu'tey is reacquainted with them, their paths crossing once more, and only because Spider was finally old enough to wear a mask.

PANDORA, 2163

Spider was nine years old when he first donned a breathing mask and ventured out into the vast world of Pandora, leaving the square walls of the biolab behind him. The scientists had made it into a whole celebration like it was his birthday, providing gifts of Na'vi-make and even a cake before he got too antsy and was ready to go outside. His mother was equally excited for him. Dawning her avatar, Y/n brought Spider outside after triple-checking that his mask was firmly in place. She first let the boy wander into the treeline a little bit to get the feeling of grass beneath his feet and let him try to climb the trees like the little spider monkey he was named after. He had struggled to climb the first couple of tries but managed to get the hang of it before Y/n took him on a ride aboard her ikran that she had tamed only a few years prior.

While Norm was able to gain a banshee not long after the war, Y/n had decided to wait out her training to become a Na'vi warrior due to raising a human child who couldn't go everywhere with her. Once Spider was old enough not to need his mother every minute of the day, she finally felt comfortable with occasionally leaving Hell's Gate and learning the ways of the Omatikaya. The start of her Iknimaya went smoothly due to the number of teachers she had, and eventually, she came home flying her very own ikran. Spider squealed and laughed from his bedroom window at the sight of the creature, already in love as if his mother had just brought a stray cat home. Y/n immediately sat her son down to gently let him know that an ikran is not a pet and demands respect and space. However, the ikran appeared more than happy to act like the family pet, curiously watching Spider from behind the window and resting right underneath said window whenever the creature wasn't out flying.

And when Spider was finally allowed to go outside, the boy and ikran finally got to officially meet. It was like watching a rescued animal find its forever home. Immediately cozying up and trusting the nine-year-old, the ikran allowed Spider to hug its whole face in his arms while jumping up and down happily. With excitement, Spider begged his mother to take him on a ride and finally, he got to learn what it was like to fly.

Y/n immediately flew Spider to the village so he can lay eyes on all the Na'vi for the first time. The People were happy to greet the child after hearing so many stories from his mother. The Omatikaya had grown to love Y/n and the other scientists as part of the People once they had begun to learn the Na'vi way and tame their own banshees, so when the Na'vi were finally introduced to Spider, it was like meeting the first grandbaby of the family! Everyone wanted to hold Spider due to the fascination of the fact he was still so small at his age, and the kid happily ate up all the attention. Through his excitement, he kept jumping between languages when speaking, but most of the Omatikaya were able to grasp the boy's words with ease and would respond in kind. Eventually, Y/n managed to bring her kid to the Sully marui without too many people resisting, and so Spider got to meet his best friends for the first time.

Jake and Neytiri excitedly welcomed Spider, hugging him and dragging him inside like he was a nephew who had been far away from home for far too long. Y/n followed them into the home, smiling fondly as Spider was introduced to Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo'ak. All three Sully kids were very bug-eyed and curious about this new friend. And for the first time since arriving in the village, Spider was suddenly shy with all the attention he was getting. He ran back to Y/n and hid behind her legs, nervously holding her tail while peeking at the kids behind his mask. The adults all laughed while the Sully kids continued to ask Spider questions until finally, he got comfortable enough to come out of hiding. Y/n and Spider stayed for dinner that evening after the kids begged their parents to let them stay so Spider could play. Once they got over poking and prodding Spider with interest, the two Na'vi boys and girl kept dragging him everywhere, frantically wanting to show him all their toys and favorite hiding spots, acting like he was leaving forever the moment he and Y/n would eventually step out of their home. The adults calmly remind the children that now that Spider is big enough to wear a mask, both he and Y/n would be coming back to the village as many times as they want, but that didn't convince the kids to slow down.

Tsu'tey was invited to dinner as well, but due to his responsibilities, he arrived late and could only stay for a little while. Y/n happily greeted him like an old friend -they had only met a few times over the years-, pressing her fingers to her forehead and lowering them in his direction, "Olo'eyktan. Oel ngati kameie."

Tsu'tey gestured in response out of respect but otherwise said nothing. Had he still been younger and just a warrior, Tsu'tey would've been able to help mentor Y/n during her Iknimaya trials. But due to being olo'eyktan now, he had to hand down those responsibilities to someone who had the time to do so, therefore his meetings with Y/n were far, and few in-between. As she was training, there were communal dinners where both parties were cordial to one another, entertaining small talk but otherwise keeping their respective distance. Y/n had become closer to Jake, Neytiri, and their growing family, therefore she and Tsu'tey saw each other more than usual but still in passing, like two ships in the night. Tsu'tey was like a teacher and an uncle to the Sully children, while Y/n was becoming to be a friend of the family. Now that Spider was in the picture, Tsu'tey had a feeling he had not seen the last of the mother and son.

If everyone thought Spider was shy meeting the Sully kids, they had not seen Spider meeting Tsu'tey. The boy immediately straightened his back and froze like a deer in headlights. Despite being shy and refusing to say a word, the human child looked at Tsu'tey in awe of him, recognizing his station as the clan leader of the Omatikaya. Y/n laughed and gathered her son up in her arms when he couldn't move, facing Tsu'tey so both Na'vi man and human child could get a better look at each other, "Spider, this is Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyo'itan. You've met before, but you were too little to remember. He is olo'eyktan. Do you remember what we say when greeting someone new?"

Under Tsu'tey's stare, Spider's hand shook as he brought his tiny fingers to the top brim of his breathing mask before lowering it in the Na'vi man's direction, speaking just above a whisper, "O-- Oel ngati kameie..."

The marui is silent and the boy waits with bated breath. To Spider's credit and everyone's amazement, Tsu'tey thinly smiled and made the same hand movement back to the child, "You speak very good, taronyutsyìp. Your mother and other caretakers have taught you well."

Spider's frozen shock had broken in exchange for a large, beaming wide smile, staring at Tsu'tey as if the man had just handed him the world. Y/n smiled at her adorable son's reaction and gratefully nodded to Tsu'tey before the moment was broken by none other than Jake's teasing, "How come you weren't complimenting me when I was learning, brother?"

"Because you were a teylupil prrnen who had to hold Neytiri's hand every step of the way," Tsu'tey was quick to respond but made sure to only speak in a hushed voice which only the adults could hear.

Neytiri playfully scolded Tsu'tey for his language and shoved a small niktsyey into his hands before he could leave, all the children confused as to why both Jake and Y/n were laughing to the point they had missed Tsu'tey sneaking out of the pod.

~~~~~~~~~

That was indeed, not the last time Tsu'tey would see Y/n and Spider. The next time they visited the village was a week later, and Tsu'tey wasn't even aware of their presence until his evening tasks were disrupted by a small force running into his legs and hugging them tightly. Startled into looking down, Tsu'tey found Little Spider, not even standing up to the height of the chief's knees, clinging to his strong blue legs for dear life while beaming up at him through his mask. Spider laughed due to Tsu'tey's reaction and paid no mind to his mother when she finally arrived. Tsu'tey didn't even notice Y/n until she stood in front of him, looking guilty and apologetic.

"Forgive me, ma olo'eyktan. He didn't want to go home until he got to see you."

Her ears pinned back against her head, tail drooping as she stared anxiously at the usually fierce and stone-faced clan leader. She looked tired, likely from a long day of following her child everywhere while he went on these new, exciting adventures around the village and surrounding forest. Y/n had volunteered to take Spider and the Sully kids to the nearby river so they could play and let off some steam. Jake and Neytiri had gratefully accepted the offer, ready to have some time away from their children for the first time in years. One look at the female avatar and Tsu'tey could tell just how drained she had been from watching all four children who barely grasp the idea of being 'careful.'

Years later, Tsu'tey will not be able to recall what came over him, but in a split-second decision, he bent down and scooped the little human boy into his arms, much to Spider's delight who squealed and laughed happily. To no one's surprise, the pink-skinned child was lighter than a basket of banana fruit and didn't struggle when Tsu'tey lifted him up over his head until the boy was sitting on his strong, broad shoulders. Spider dutifully grabbed onto Tsu'tey's braids to stay upright, eyes widening in joy and wonderment as he looked around, seeing the world from a new height that Spider could only dream of.

Tsu'tey made no sound to acknowledge his decision, despite already clocking a few bystanders who had stopped to stare at their olo'eyktan in shock before he turned to Y/n, speaking as blunt and firm as always, "He has seen me. Now let's get him to your ikran."

Initially surprised, Y/n could only nod and obediently led the Na'vi man in the direction of the claimed ikran rookery. They walked in silence apart from Spider's ramblings, beaming and waving down at all the Na'vi they passed by. Tsu'tey stubbornly ignores the stares, keeping his head held high and his gaze ahead of him, still exuding the confident, proud walk of a chief without ever acknowledging the sky demon child sitting up on his shoulders. Spider wasn't bothered by his silence, still babbling about all the things he did today and excitedly exclaiming how he couldn't wait until next time. They finally walk up to Y/n's ikran and without a word, she formed tsaheylu and expertly hopped up into her saddle, bending down to accept Spider from Tsu'tey once the man plucked the kid from his shoulders. Taking this time to admire the handiwork Y/n put into making her ikran's saddle as she secured her son in front of her, Tsu'tey nearly made a fool of himself by staring and immediately shook out of his thoughts.

"Now, boy," Tus'tey spoke carefully, lowering his voice so as not to startle the child as he stepped away from the banshee, eyeing Spider with a stern expression, "Be good for your sa'nok the rest of the night. Do not give her trouble and do as your told."

"Yes, sir!" Spider puffed out his chest and dutifully nodded, excited to follow an order straight from the Omatikaya's olo'eyktan.

Y/n huffed in amusement before flashing Tsu'tey a small smile of gratitude, "Thank you, Tsu'tey."

"Get some rest, my friend," Tsu'tey firmly nods back, "That's an order."

To his internal surprise, Y/n laughs, and even though he was confused, Spider laughed with her. Tsu'tey didn't react to their laughter, every muscle in his face coming together to keep as firm and as serious as he could manage. He wasn't sure when was the last time a woman laughed at something he said. Normally, no one laughed at Tsu'tey, believing he was too serious and he was taken as seriously as one could manage. It wasn't as though he was trying to be funny, but it was like Y/n could see something behind his eyes that told her that at this very moment, she didn't have to treat him as the clan leader. Perhaps it was the way he called her 'friend' that made her realize that she didn't have to be so formal around him. Either way, he didn't plan on correcting her manners.

Tsu'tey couldn't remember when they eventually flew away, back to Hell's Gate. He could only remember standing there like an idiot even after the mother and son were out of sight, their gentle, sweet laughter still echoing in his ears.

~~~~~~~~~

It became a sort of tradition. After a long day of being in the village, Spider would always escape his mother and run to Tsu'tey every time she told her son it was time to go home. After the first three times he did this, both Tsu'tey and Y/n just silently agreed to go along with it and indulge the child in his little tradition. Every evening Y/n and Spider were visiting the clan, the olo'eyktan could count on the young boy to find him like clockwork, then Tsu'tey will, again, lift Spider up onto his shoulders and follow Y/n back to her ikran.

Tsu'tey noticed that the mother and child were visiting the village more and more and he chalked it up to be because Neytiri had just announced that she was pregnant again. Everyone was ecstatic, especially the children. Knowing that a new baby was on the way, Spider could be spotted around the Sully marui almost every single day. The kid was in awe at the idea of meeting someone who was finally going to be smaller than him, at least for a little while. He also fully ramped the other Sully kids up, getting them to be excited for another little sibling, especially Lo'ak, who was ready to finally be a big brother instead of the youngest.

As tradition goes, the People would gift the expecting parents food and necessities in preparation for the unborn child. It was a good way to help Jake and Neytiri focus on their growing family and pay more attention to their three children instead of worrying about getting much-needed supplies ready for the baby. After Y/n explained this tradition to her son, Spider was determined to also present a gift to Jake and Neytiri, and who else could possibly help him with that but none other than Tsu'tey?

The olo'eyktan helps the boy, despite the nagging voice in the back of his head, and tries his best to help when he has the time. If Tsu'tey is not making his usual errands, he can be found with the human boy who practically drags him through the forest, looking for appropriate items to gift the Sullys. Y/n usually goes with them, never too far from her son, therefore she finds herself in Tsu'tey's company more than she ever has in all the years she's known him. And he doesn't appear bothered by it. In fact, he inwardly looks forward to these small adventures, feeling like a young warrior again who could freely leave the village without too many responsibilities weighing down his shoulders. Either Spider blindly takes the two adults through the trees without any idea of where he was heading, or he lets Tsu'tey take the lead, always excited for where the chief will take them now. The three of them do this for an entire week until Spider presents Neytiri with a beautiful bracelet with six, various different colors of beads to represent how many people will soon be in her family. Neytiri's smile was like starlight, so wide and emotional as she pulls the small boy into her arms, kissing the glass of his mask as tears stream down her cheeks. After Spider asks her why she was crying, she was quick to reassure him that they were happy tears and tells him how much she loved his gift, all the while Tsu'tey and Y/n are standing off to the side, fondly watching this scene take place.

It was an eye-opening moment for the usually fierce, stone-faced olo'eyktan. He had been standing so close to Y/n, closer than he had ever allowed himself to be with anyone, while they both watched Spider beam up at Neytiri and happily ramble about his adventures while finding the perfect beads for his bracelet. As the child explained that Tsu'tey and Y/n always went with him, even Neytiri looked surprised, glancing up at the two other adults with her ears flicking with interest. Tsu'tey swallowed and stood firm, trying not to appear nervous under the Na'vi woman's gaze.

Neither Spider nor Y/n noticed this brief interaction as the boy finally turns back to his mother and the olo'eyktan, remembering their presence and running toward them, cheering, "She liked it! She liked it!"

"I can see that," Y/n smiled, giggling as she bent down to receive Spider, picking him up in her arms without a sweat. Normally, it's a struggle in her human body to lift him up as he continues to grow, but as an avatar, it's like holding a three-year-old again. Oh, how she missed those days.

Still in Y/n's arms, Spider reaches for Tsu'tey, making grabby hands at the man who stood close enough for the boy to touch him. Tsu'tey nearly froze under the boy's attention, his own tongue betraying him when he couldn't find anything to say. It was too domestic, watching the way Spider looked for approval from both Y/n and Tsu'tey. Watching as both Spider's and Y/n's eyes land on him nearly takes his breath away, as if seeing the pair of them through rose-tinted glasses for the first time. And while standing so close, Tsu'tey can almost pretend, just for a moment, that Spider was not just any child, but his, the child wanting to share the events of his day as he had run to both Tsu'tey and his mother like they came as a pair, not just one or the other.

This was the first time Tsu'tey ever realized the gift Eywa was offering to him, but at the time was too cowardly to accept it. Taking one last look at the way Spider leaned his soft pink head on Y/n's blue shoulder, Tsu'tey looked away, purposely engraving the sight of those two small brown and gold pairs of eyes staring questionably up at him.

Even though there was no need to go out into the forest anymore, Tsu'tey still insisted on taking the mother and son out on adventures under the guise that it was time Spider learned how to gather and forage. Tsu'tey firmly stated that the boy needed to recognize certain plants before he could ever learn to become a hunter. Spider perked up at this idea, cheering and running to Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo'ak to brag about his upcoming lessons. Y/n appeared hesitant at first -call it a mother's concern- but eventually accepted the idea, happily tagging along so she could witness her son's first lesson.

One lesson became two, then three, then four, five, and six. Eventually, Tsu'tey had lost count of the number of days he had squeezed in time to teach Spider the ways of the Na'vi. It had been weeks, easily, and he had no intention of stopping. He was exhausted between his usual duties and his newly acquired student, but Tsu'tey would only have to look as far as Spider and Y/n's smiles to think it was all worth it.

Before he knew it, Y/n had fully completed her Iknimaya. After surviving the Uniltaron, she was painted and born a second time as one of the People. The whole clan was happy for her, and even Tsu'tey bore a small but genuine smile as he stood before her as her olo'eyktan and welcomed her into the Omatikaya clan, placing his arms on her shoulders as everyone else followed suit, creating an overflowing circle of Na'vi all around her.

With Y/n being recognized as a member of the clan, Tsu'tey feels a small barrier break between them. Something unspoken had come to light and before he could argue with himself, Tsu'tey had done something he hadn't done in a while.

His carving skills needed improvement after so many years of nonuse, but it was still a talent he possessed. The next time he spotted Y/n and Spider in the village, he boldly approached them without a second thought. Spider saw him first and excitedly ran to Tsu'tey, hugging his legs until the olo'eyktan crouched down to his height. Y/n walked up to them just as Tsu'tey held out his hand to the boy, "For you, Spider."

Spider greedily held out both of his hands with wide, bewildered eyes just as Tsu'tey handed him a simple but perfectly carved wooden pa'li toy. Spider initially stood there, shocked, staring down at the toy while Tsu'tey began to shuffle uncomfortably on his heels, "I understand if you think you are too big for toys--"

His backtracking was quickly interrupted by Spider lunging at him, throwing his little arms around the man's neck before practically squeezing the air out of him. Tsu'tey let out a gust of wind at the impact, unaware that the kid had that much strength in such a small body. It took a moment, but eventually, Tsu'tey began to awkwardly pat the boy on the back while Spider continued to hug fiercely.

Y/n was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling and was failing miserably, the smile stretching far enough to make her facial muscles hurt. Tsu'tey bravely peered up at her and offered his best, closed-mouth smirk, despite still awkwardly holding the child in his arms. Y/n took a deep breath and was able to rein in the smile until it was small and gentle, clearing her throat to get her son's attention, "What do you say, Spider?"

"Thank you. Irayo, " Spider whispered into Tsu'tey's ear before finally pulling away, clutching the pa'li toy in one hand while his mother took the other. Slowly, they both walk away but would occasionally look back at Tsu'tey with those sweet, dazzling smiles that make Tsu'tey feel as though he had just lifted a mountain that was in the mother and son's path. After they disappeared into the crowd, he finally stood back up, stubbornly ignoring all the stares the scene no doubt caused before going about his day as normally as he could.

Once almost every week, Tsu'tey would have something new to offer Spider. It could be a toy, small bracelets, armbands, or even Na'vi child-sized clothes, Tsu'tey would make them all for the small human child. Spider's personal favorite was the small bow, already strung up and carved to his tiny size with equally small, harmless arrows. Over time, Spider was becoming more accustomed to Na'vi culture and started to wear his hair in beads and braids and continuously wore a loincloth. The Sully kids were eager to help Spider form his new style but it wasn't hard to get the supplies, seeing as though Tsu'tey had already provided Spider with everything he needed to complete the look. Each gift was more thoughtful and appreciative than the last, and each time, seeing the look on both mother and child's faces made Tsu'tey feel a thousand times lighter.

He thought he was being subtle, but that was far from the truth. Nearly everyone could see it apart from himself. He knew he had been a fool to believe otherwise when he was abruptly visited by his parents, cornering him in his own marui.

"What is this about you courting a demon?" His mother, Artsut, sternly asked.

"I am not courting anyone." He easily answered without hesitation.

"That is not what we heard. The People say their olo'eyktan has taken a liking to the dreamwalker they call Y/n and her demon child."

"Is that truly what the People say, Mother? Or is it just you?" Tsu'tey accused, eyes narrowed on her, "From what I have seen, the People love Y/n and Spider."

"Spider?" His father, Ateyo, repeated the name on his tongue and screwed up his nose, "What a strange name."

"This is not acceptable," Artsut shook her head, "You should have taken Saeyla as your mate when you had the chance. At least she is one of the People and she would have accepted you."

Tsu'tey nodded in agreement, but kept his face impassive, "Yes. She would have. But I will not have her and she will not have me. She is mated with Ka'ani now."

"You should have chosen her the moment Neytiri ran off to mate with a tawtute."

His eyes darken a shade of color and his parents are quickly reminded that they spoke to the olo'eyktan, one of said tawtute's strongest allies who was quick to defend Jake Sully after years of friendship, "You will not address Toruk Makto in such a way. And I do not want you to ever speak of Y/n as if she is not Omatikaya. She has learned our ways and had successfully completed her Iknimaya. In time, her son will follow her footsteps."

The sneer on his mother's face was potent as ever, "Do you actually believe that a sky demon can complete the task of becoming a warrior when he doesn't even have a tswin? Even if he were to be accepted as one of the People, he will struggle all his life and suffer without the means of bonding with the Forest, the animals, or even other Na'vi! You are olo'eyktan and your duty to the People also involves having heirs to succeed you! Raising this human child alongside this dreamwalker will end your line!"

Her voice had only ever risen higher until his father gently placed a withered hand on her shoulder. Artsut immediately silences herself while Ateyo turns to Tsu'tey, "Maitan. Tell us the truth. Are you courting this woman?"

Tsu'tey grits his teeth, staring both of them down, "I am not."

The words are bitter on his tongue, distasteful. What he would give to say otherwise and make his parents flinch as if in pain. His mother shook her head, her tone quieter but still accusatory, "Others have seen you gift the child many things. Do you think we are blind and deaf? We hear whispers, Tsu'tey. We hear that to win Y/n's heart is to dote on her son. You may not be courting the woman with gifts for her, but you are courting her with gifts for her son."

The marui grew in unpalpable silence. Tsu'tey remained quiet, unable to deny it, but kept his gaze sharp and locked onto Ateyo and Artsut. Ever since he became Eytukan's heir as olo'eyktan, he had learned to stop listening to his parents constantly whispering in his ears. He had quickly realized how poisonous they were, hungry for power, believing they know the will of Eywa better than anyone, even Mo'at. He had thought he had fed their thirst for power after becoming olo'eyktan, but that still wasn't good enough for them. For years now, they have shaped Tsu'tey's younger brother, Arvok, into their preferred image now that their golden son had chosen his own path without their consent. Tsu'tey wished his brother had learned to stop leading by their influence and start forming his own future, but has been unable to advise Arvok to do so, given how busy he is as the clan leader. On top of growing up in Tsu'tey's shadow until recent years, Arvok has no part of himself that their parents didn't twist and manipulate. Arvok was no longer his own person and it broke Tsu'tey's heart to watch from a distance, unable to save his brother from himself.

A wave of guilt washes over Tsu'tey but he strongly holds firm, blatantly refusing to let his emotions show, let alone in front of his sa'sem. He regrets not taking Arvok under his wing. He regrets taking time to be with Y/n and Spider and none to be with his own flesh and blood. Perhaps a small part of himself believed he could help his brother if he could help someone as hopeless as Spider, someone who couldn't truly become one of the People, just like his parents said--

'No. That is not you talking. Already they are trying to spin their words to make it sound like your own. Do not let them poison you.'

His own thoughts drown out all the doubt and regret and so Tsu'tey shakes his head to be rid of them with a deep, dark snarl, baring his fangs at his mother and father, "You forget yourselves. You forget your place. You are right about one thing. I am olo'eyktan, and I don't take orders from you. I will never listen to you or agree with you because every word that falls from your mouth is like a sharp blade in my ears. Your ways are of the past when I, your chief, aim toward the future. By the laws of our people, Y/n is taronyu, and Spider is her son. That is enough for me, and I order you to keep whatever you have to say about that woman and her child to yourselves from now on."

~~~~~~~~~

Despite holding firm against Ateyo and Artsut, Tsu'tey couldn't help but feel sour for the rest of the week about what was said in the confinements of that room. Their lecture plus Eytukan's teachings continued to ring in his ears, unable to let him rest. They were right that as olo'eyktan, it was his duty to find a proper heir to take his place and guide the People after he is gone. He could sire an heir or choose one from the clan, but he must choose wisely, nevertheless.

For years, Tsu'tey never worried about heirs. He was openly adamant in wishing Jake Sully to take his place should something untimely happen to him. Toruk Makto had sons and a daughter with possibly another on the way. At the very least, Jake's line of succession was secure if he was olo'eyktan.

But Tsu'tey was alone.

It didn't help that as olo'eyktan, he was still in need of a mate who would one day become tsahik. Mo'at has made it very clear to him, "I am not getting any younger. I will need at least three seasons to train a woman before she can become tsahik."

Neytiri was no longer tsakarem due to choosing Jake as her mate, and while Kiri was a good option for Mo'at to take under her wing, the young girl was still too young to worry about such responsibility. Tsu'tey was positive that Mo'at would rather have her granddaughter become tsahik over whoever he chose as a mate, but he was positive it was due to favoritism. Mo'at would rather teach family over a stranger, and Tsu'tey couldn't blame her for that. Her own legacy was shattered due to losing her first daughter and becoming estranged from the other, neither of who was capable of becoming tsahik like their mother one day.

The harsh reminder of Sylwanin made Tsu'tey's stomach clench with guilt and despair. He had moved past her death years ago, but at the idea of him finally moving on, the phantom pain returned to make him feel regret all over again.

She was meant to be his mate for life, and this all felt as though he was betraying her.

Tsu'tey let his feet take them to a destination, and they end up leading him to the Sully marui. Inside, Neytiri was alone since Jake decided to take the kids fishing with Spider and Y/n, her baby bump becoming more visible by the day. Looking up and recognizing Tsu'tey, she only held his gaze with a smug, all-knowing expression.

He scowled while walking further into the home, sitting across from her, "I assume you heard the rumors."

She shrugged, smirking, "I think everyone has heard or seen something or other. The question is whether or not it's true."

The man hesitates, unable to form the proper words he wanted to say. Here sat his young love's sister, someone who would know better than anyone how he feels because she suffers the same pain and loss every day. And yet... like Sylwanin, he felt as though he was betraying Neytiri as well, "I... I don't know."

Her gaze narrows at him, surprised and under scrutiny, "You don't know?"

"I thought I did," Tsu'tey confessed, his eyes only gazing at the small fire between them, "I was ready to take and bring both of them into my care."

"Then what's stopping you?" She carefully watches him as they sat in silence, letting it linger and simmer like the meat she had just hung over the fire. When Tsu'tey had yet to look up, Neytiri had discovered the answer on her own, "Sylwanin?"

Solemnly, he nods, "We were promised to each other. It is a promise meant forever."

Her posture relaxes, relenting whatever tease she planned on dishing him out in exchange for pity. Her words were gentle as she spoke, forlorn and sympathetic, "You were not mated yet, Tsu'tey, and it was many, many years ago. You are allowed to grieve, mourn, and miss my sister. But I think she would understand if you had fallen for someone else."

Leaning forward to the best of her ability in her condition, she reaches and grabs tightly onto Tsu'tey's hand. Finally, once his eyes met hers, Neytiri whispered, "She wouldn't want you to be alone forever."

She lets him think about what she said, turning back to the food she was preparing in silence. Neytiri lets Tsu'tey hide away in her home, stewing with his thoughts as the village moves on about their day around them. Before eclipse could even make an appearance, Jake and Y/n return with the children from their fishing trip. Looking up, both Neytiri and Tsu'tey take note of how exhausted all the kids look, especially Spider, who was passed out cold in Jake's arms alongside Kiri.

Jake smiles at his wife before turning to Tsu'tey to properly greet him, "Brother. I'd offer you my arm, but I kinda got my hands full."

"So I see," Tsu'tey huffed, slightly amused at the sight before his gaze flicks over to the woman standing beside Jake, "And how are you, Y/n?"

She appeared startled at the question being directed at her, but quickly covered it up with a soft smile, nodding down to Tsu'tey, "I'm alright, ma olo'eyktan. Thank you."

Neytiri smirked, sparing one glance up at her husband before pretending to absentmindedly hum in thought, "Perhaps if you leave us Spider's spare mask, Y/n, you could leave him here for tonight and have at least a few hours to yourself?"

Both Neteyam and Lo'ak are suddenly wide awake, ears perking up at the mother's intention. Y/n paused, about to open her mouth when Jake beat her to it, "That's not a bad idea. He's already asleep and there isn't a reason to wake him," the female avatar turned to the male one, who's quick to reassure her, "I promise he'll be in good hands. And the kids would love to wake up in the morning to find Spider still here."

Again, the concern Y/n displayed on her face was about to voice her answer before Neteyam spoke up, keeping his voice sweet and soft, "Please, Aunt Y/n? Can Spider stay here tonight?"

Lo'ak chimed in, too, albiet a bit louder, "Can we have a sleepover? Pleeeaase?"

All the adults present quickly shushed the young boy when Kiri and Spider squirmed in their sleep but everyone relaxed when the sleeping children eventually settled back down. Jake moves further into the marui to gently place them down on the mats while Y/n turned around only to be met with two round pairs of pleading gold eyes staring up at her, both Neteyam and Lo'ak poking their bottom lips out for added measure.

Y/n snorts, playfully rolling her eyes, "Well, who could say 'no' to those charming little faces?"

Both the boys silently cheer and run in the direction of the other two sleeping children, anxious to join the growing cuddle pile. Y/n watches them go with amusement before she hands Neytiri the spare mask she always kept hooked around the belt of her cargo shorts, "I'll be back for him early in the morning."

"No need to rush," Neytiri smiled with assurance, "Just stop by for breakfast and you can take him home after."

Jake then proceeds to hand the single mother a throat mic and earpiece, "Just in case we need to contact you or you just wanna talk to him."

Y/n visibly relaxed a little at the lengths both Jake and Neytiri were going just to make her feel comfortable leaving her son with them. She dutifully nods and clips on the throat mic as Tsu'tey stands to meet her, the olo'eyktan tilting his head to the marui exit, "Let's get you to your ikran."

If she found his offer unexpected, she didn't show it and followed Tsu'tey out of the marui, unaware of the knowing look Neytiri was watching them leave with. Once they disappeared, Jake turned to his mate with a confused expression, "What was that about?"

Neytiri's eyes shine with a mischievous gleam behind those golden orbs, "With any luck, by the end of the night, Spider will officially have a father and we will have our future tsahik."

~~~~~~~~~

Tsu'tey and Y/n mostly walked in silence back to her ikran, the beauty of the night slowly making itself known as eclipse finally arrives. Over the years, Y/n was used to how intense and silent Tsu'tey could be and no longer found these quiet interactions awkward. If anything, the silence was actually comforting.

They approach her ikran and Y/n busies herself by tending to the banshee, comforting the creature when it squawks indignant and trying to look occupied to calm her own nerves. It was possible her ikran could sense said nerves and continued to act belligerent. Eventually, Y/n turned back to the olo'eyktan and nods in gratitude, "Thank you, Tsu'tey. I'll be back again in the morning."

He only nods and so Y/n took it as a sign to take her leave as the silence lingers. Double-checking the straps of her ikran's harness, she swung her leg over the creature and grabbed her queue braid--

"Y/n..."

She looked up, "Yes?"

Concern clouded her mind as Tsu'tey's eyes briefly look away, unable to meet her gaze. His ears flick at the same speed as his eyes, betraying him of his nerves as he spoke, "Do you wish to be courted?"

Befuddled, her eyes narrow cautiously, tilting her head with curiosity. Perhaps she heard him wrong, "What?"

He took a deep breath to steady himself, straightening up to be the taller more regal olo'eyktan she had come to know him. His voice is suddenly more confident and formal as he finally looks up at her, "It would be a great honor, Y/n of the Sky People and of the Omatikaya, if you would allow me to officially court you."

Y/n could initially do nothing but sit there on the back of her ikran, frozen and dumbfounded. The silence that was once so normal and comfortable between them was now intense and tightly wound like a meresh'ti cau'pla. As the avatar woman replayed his words back in her head, she couldn't depict anything else from the proposal other than one singular word, "'Officially?'"

Tsu'tey nods while further explaining, "It was not my intention to let you believe I was only tending to your boy in the hopes of courting you, nor do I wish for you to believe that I expect something from you in exchange for training your son. Spider is a spirited child and he is lucky to have a wonderful woman for his mother. You and your son have shown me what it would look like to be a part of your family and now that I have a taste of it, I want to know more. I wish to court you not just in the hopes of being your mate, but one day-- if you and the boy will have me, I want Spider to one day look up to me as his father."

The confession was something Y/n wouldn't have expected in a million years. It wasn't as though she believed Tsu'tey to be too proud, but as the clan leader he had a reputation to uphold and a responsibility regarding the wellbeing of his people. Immediately her thoughts turned to what other Na'vi might think about their olo'eyktan taking a sky demon as his mate, someone who can walk in two bodies instead of one, an alien whose species would do unspeakable things to cheat death and go against everything Eywa stood for. She never took herself to be an insecure person, but Y/n couldn't help the fear she felt when thinking about what the Na'vi people might think about her son if she decides to allow Tsu'tey to adopt him. Sure, the Omatikaya act as though they love Spider now, but what about when they learn that their olo'eyktan's legacy depends on a boy born from the Sky People?

Despite her fears, she couldn't help but think about how much happier Spider has been around Tsu'tey and the village. Y/n thought about how the boy would suddenly become sad upon returning to the biolab and leaving his friends behind, or how when he adamantly talked, it was only about the Na'vi and the Sully kids and of course whatever Tsu'tey had taught him that day. Though Y/n and the other scientists have tried to teach Spider the ways of the Sky People with the proper education and history of their culture, the kid doesn't want anything to do with Earth and tends to stick with whatever he had learned from the Omatikaya. Over time, Y/n had told the other scientists to give it up, coming to terms that Spider didn't want to learn about where he came from, only about the home he had now and the friends he had gained. Y/n couldn't blame him. Tsu'tey was a better teacher than even Max or Norm when it came to the topics Spider wanted to actually learn about. Tsu'tey was patient but firm. Informative but vigor. On one hand, he would make sure Spider listened and held onto every word he said, but on the other, he was a good listener and would praise Spider for every achievement made in his lessons. Y/n remembered watching them with fondness, amused and delighted by their interactions. As often as she sees her son and the olo'eyktan together, the more she, too wished to see what would happen if she allowed herself to feel something for that man. The man who opened his arms out to selected Sky People, allowing them into his village. The man who took Spider under his wing despite the fact the boy was human and treated him with kindness and respect even though he didn't have to. Tsu'tey has every reason to hate the Sky People and the face Spider wears, but he doesn't, and what Y/n initially thought she felt was admiration for Tsu'tey was actually a growing love for him and his character.

But she had stamped down her feelings because she was afraid of getting Spider's hopes up. She couldn't afford to disappoint her son when he already adores Tsu'tey to no end. When Y/n opened her mouth, she whispered her own confession to the olo'eyktan anxiously waiting for an answer, "... He already does."

She watches as his eyes widen before she made the decision to hop back down from her banshee, closing in the gap between them as she took the necessary steps to stand right before Tsu'tey. She watched his eyes for a moment, looking for something, likely making sure he wasn't joking despite knowing he was the last person on this planet who would. She hadn't realized they were standing so close until she felt the warm air of his breath softly fanning her face, causing her to blink rapidly and clear her throat when her skin began to prickle into a soft blush. Ignoring her brief fluster, she allowed herself to slowly, cautiously lean forward and felt relief when Tsu'tey did as well. Their foreheads faintly touch until their movements became bolder, pressing closer until they were sharing the same tight space and combating the tense air between them. Leaning into him further, Y/n closed her eyes and basked in his embrace, "You really want this?"

His shaky exhale hits her face, her eyelashes briefly twitching but otherwise remaining closed as if afraid to open and see his expression. Tsu'tey's voice was less confident now and more breathless, unable to take in a full gulp of air in this woman's presence. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the closeness, even if only for tonight, he didn't care if it was selfish. He gently gripped her arm as he whispered, wanting to pull her even closer to him than possible, "Yes. By Eywa, yes."

Her lips twitched into a smile at the same time her heart lept in joy, "I accept your proposal."

Faintly patting his chest, she then pulled away, both of them opening their eyes and smiling shyly at one another. Y/n blindly backs away to reach her ikran, unwilling to look away until the last second, "I'll see you in the morning."

~~~~~~~~~

Also heavily inspired by illustrations called ‘our paths crossing’ by kening zhu

Lemme know if you would like a Part 2! I was hoping to write more for this but it was starting to get long, so you decide if it should continue! Also leave a request in my inbox but be sure to check up on the rules first. Thank you!

#tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey imagine #avatar tsu'tey #tsu'tey #tsutey #tsutey imagine #tsutey x reader #tsu'tey fic #tsu'tey fanfiction #tsutey fic #tsutey fanfiction #avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar imagine #atwow imagine #atwow #avatar 2 imagine #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water

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atlabeth · 11 months

Text

come on back to me - nikolai lantsov

summary: five times you save nikolai and one time he saves you.

a/n: if you've seen my thoughts as i read through siege and storm and ruin and rising then you know that i am deeply in love with nikolai lantsov and since ive finally finished the trilogy i finally feel qualified to write about him lmao. i actually don’t think i’ve written a 5+1 which is crazy so here you go. i wrote this in like 2 days in a spurt of inspiration and im absolutely in love with it, so i hope you all are too!!

title from you’re the one by greta van fleet

wc: 7.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, canon typical violence, siege and storm & ruin and rising book spoilers (i have not watched the show), medical inaccuracies, nikolai's volcra era, hurt/comfort and a happy ending (as usual)

Os Alta

It all happened rather quickly.

One moment, you were in the infirmary mending a poor soldier’s broken arm. The next, screams were erupting everywhere.

You and the soldier locked eyes, and you did a final bit of healing on his arm before you nodded at each other and darted off.

The soldier grabbed his gun and went further into the palace, no doubt to find the royal family, and you adjusted the collar of your kefta before you ran out into the fray.

Nichevo’ya had surrounded everything, attacking anyone they could find, and their shadowy bodies were like a void’s blight on the land. You knew the sight would be forever burned into your mind.

You knew the Darkling was going to march on Os Alta, that he would have to do it directly to use his shadow soldiers, but this was so much earlier, so much worse than you’d expected. Enforcements were meant to come from Poliznaya. You guessed that was off the table.

You were fine at fighting—alright with a pistol and better with a dagger—but you were a Healer. You spent more time dealing with the aftermaths of battles, more skilled at setting broken bones and mending bullet wounds than inflicting them.

Times like these were the ones when you normally questioned your decision to not hone your abilities into a Heartrender, but now you would at least be a dead man either way. Nichevo’ya didn’t exactly have hearts to stop and organs to manipulate.

You had to get to the other Grisha. You had to make sure the Sun Summoner made it through this attack, even if it meant you wouldn’t.

You broke into a sprint, trying your best to ignore the crippled and broken bodies in the carnage. Your instincts tugged against you, but you knew there was nothing to be done. If you stopped to help a dead man, you would soon join them.

You nearly battered into a group of people from your speed and lack of attention, and you reeled to the side seconds before a head-on collision. When you looked up, drawing in ragged breaths in the one second of rest you’d gotten, your eyes widened.

You were face to face with the royal family. The King, the Queen, and Nikolai Lantsov. The absence was glaring.

“Grisha,” Nikolai breathed, and he grabbed onto your shoulders like a madman as his fingers ran over the embroidery. He might as well have been one, the way wildfire flickered in his eyes. “You’re a Healer? One of Alina’s?”

You nodded rapidly. “Are you—”

“I’m getting them to safety on the Kingfisher,” he cut off, “and she wants me to get that old woman as well.”

“Baghra—?”

“You’re a Healer?” the King interrupted harshly. Your heart stuttered—you’d never been directly addressed by the King, but you supposed circumstances like these called for different standards.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Are you hurt?”

“My wife,” he said, and your attention turned to the Queen. Genya’s absence had taken a toll on her, and the shards of glass sticking out of her side weren’t doing her pallid frame any favors.

“Madraya,” Nikolai whispered, his eyes wide, “I didn’t even notice.”

“Alexander—” her voice was ragged, her entire appearance pallid— “we’ve much bigger concerns.”

“Nonsense.” The King’s gaze bore into you. “We have time. Heal her.”

You screwed your eyes shut, your hands closing into fists for a moment before both opened and you nodded. “Keep an eye out, moi tsarevich,” you huffed, and you moved to the Queen’s side. Nikolai’s head perked up for a moment at your words, but it disappeared just as quickly as he adjusted his grip on his pistol.

“Of course,” he said wryly. “Not that I don’t trust your work, and not that I don’t trust my abilities, but it would be grand if you could do this quickly.”

“Working as fast as I can,” you muttered, ignoring the noises the Queen made as you pulled the shards of glass out with little care. Your mentors would be rolling in their graves if they could see you.

“Vasily is dead, by the way,” Nikolai said, attention focused on the nichevo’ya all around. Thankfully, you’d run into each other in a spot relatively hidden from view. Hopefully it extended to shadow creatures. “I know you were wondering.”

Your hands faltered for a moment, but it was hardly noticeable as you continued to work. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m so sorry.”

The Queen choked back a sob, and the King’s face betrayed the slightest bit of emotion.

“An awful way to go,” Nikolai muttered, more to himself than anything. “But fitting that he brought about his own end.”

His parents said nothing to your surprise, but you stood up from your knees and nodded at the King and Queen. “She’s healed enough. No internal bleeding, at least.”

“Healed enough?” the King repeated. “That is not—”

“It’s the best we can hope for,” Nikolai interrupted sharply. “We’ve already wasted too much time out here.”

He then nodded, grasping your hands with fierce desperation. “The crown thanks you, darling.” You’d never seen him like this—you’d never seen him fear anything. The Darkling and his creations were a good start. “I thank you, truly.”

“Just doing my duty,” you assured, and you pulled a small container out of the pocket of your kefta, leftover from your work in the infirmary before it all went to hell, and pressed it into his hand. “She should be alright, but I’ve been slightly rushed. Rub this salve on her wounds when you’re out of danger just to be sure.”

Nikolai nodded again, slipping it into his own pocket. “Keep our Sun Summoner safe,” he said. “Or else this’ll have all been for nothing.”

You nodded. “With my life.”

Nikolai’s eyes met yours, and something unsaid passed between you. Then his hands slipped off of yours, and he continued to herd his parents away from the chaos. You muttered a quick prayer to any Saints that would listen for their safety, and then you head off on your own way.

2. The Pelican

You thought either the bones in your hands or the wood was going to crack with how tight you were holding onto the side of the ship. Your heart was still hammering away in your chest—the adrenaline from the battle and Nikolai Lantsov’s sudden appearance and being shot at a thousand different times by a thousand different militiamen still had you quite shaken.

You knew the sort of chaos you were in for when you made the decision to travel with Alina Starkov rather than stay in the White Cathedral, but you think you hated being in the air like this even more than you hated being trapped underground with those zealots.

Someone called your name, and you turned to see Adrik a while away with wide eyes. You huffed a sigh as you reluctantly let go and hastened your pace to catch up with him. If he was sent to fetch you, then someone needed healing, and you couldn’t exactly hold off on the one thing you were good at.

Adrik led you over to a corner of the Pelican where a large portion of your group of Grisha were gathered. Tamar was kneeling next to whoever was injured, one hand splayed above their chest, and you took a deep breath as you forced calmness to wash over your mind.

“What are we dealing with?” you asked Tamar, but it was clear enough when he spoke up.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Just a flesh wound.”

“He was shot,” Tamar said dryly, “and he refuses to accept its severity.”

“So we meet again,” you said placidly.

Nikolai seemed to perk up when he saw you, any prior frustration absent from his face as he grinned at you and said your name. “If you’re the Healer here, then I guess I’m not so fine.”

“Am I ever going to be around you when you’re doing important princely things,” you said as you crouched on the other side of him, Tamar continuing to keep his heart rate steady, “or only when you’re injured?”

“This is a very important princely thing,” Nikolai said. “I’m showing my soon to be subjects that I’m just like them.”

“You were shot and you thought you were fine?” You let out a loose sigh and shook your head—it wasn’t worth getting into it. “Keep it steady, Tamar.”

She nodded, and you reached out to begin unbuttoning his outer coat. He wouldn’t stop shifting around, and it made it infinitely harder.

“Will you sit still?” you snapped.

“I am,” Nikolai said.

“You are not,” you asserted, and you undid the final button on his coat after a struggle, “and you are making this much more difficult.”

“My apologies,” he said. “Usually women that are taking off my clothes aren’t this angry with me.”

You scowled, only making his smile grow.

“You do it yourself if you want to be like that,” you said, letting your hands fall back to your side. “I’m sure the rest of your soldiers will listen to a Healer.”

“Ah, but none of them bravely threw themselves into danger for you,” Nikolai remarked. “I’m sure that earns me a few points.”

“Points that you’ve immediately lost by being this difficult with me.” You crossed your arms. “And you did not throw yourself into danger for me—you were in the battle and you got shot.”

“We came to save you all, and you are a part of it,” Nikolai said. “I’d say I definitely threw myself into danger for you.”

“You’re impossible.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Will you not even allow a dying man some honor?”

“You are not dying,” you said, “but you will be if you continue talking. Now take off your clothes and stop being so difficult so I can fix this up before you do die.”

He tutted as he shed his jacket and worked on the rest of his clothing. Princes were apparently fond of multiple layers. “For a Healer, your bedside manner is remarkably poor.”

“Don’t worry,” Nadia piped in, “she’s always been like this.”

“I have very fond memories of you healing my broken ribs,” Alina said dryly.

“All of you are still alive,” you said tartly with a glance back at your fellow Grisha, “aren’t you?”

“I think you made me wish I wasn’t,” Harshaw mused.

You scowled again and Nikolai laughed. “That bodes very well for me, considering how much I seem to irritate you.”

“You’re going to be fine,” you grumbled. When you turned back to him, he’d gotten down to his undershirt and unbuttoned it. Blood had spread across the white fabric, but apart from being shot, the wound wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. It’d had the chance to fester for a bit, but with Tamar’s aid it hopefully wouldn’t be a problem.

You took a deep breath as you placed your hands on his chest—lucky as always, you could sense the bullet missed all his major organs—but Nikolai grimaced before you could even do anything.

“Are you alright?”

“Your hands are very cold,” he said and you just shook your head.

“How no one has wrung you by the neck is beyond me.”

“Many have tried.” He flashed that smile again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add your name to the list.”

You ignored him, taking another deep breath before you closed your eyes. You felt your power within you, the tug you’d grown accustomed to over the years, and you focused it into a single point.

You slowly worked on healing Nikolai, making sure you went from the inside out to stop any internal bleeding before you carefully wedged the bullet out with your knife. Surprisingly, he managed to keep his mouth shut for the most part. He watched you the entire time though, wholly unyielding, and it was unnerving.

Nikolai covered up his pain remarkably well, but you still caught the slightest grimace when you practically stuck a dagger inside him.

“Do you always try to injure your patients more when you’re healing them?” he asked innocently.

“You typically don’t make fun of the person fixing you up,” you said, and you held up the knife, “or the one holding the blade.”

“Surely you could’ve used David to get it out,” Zoya offered lazily. “Better than practically stabbing the King of Ravka.”

“I’m not the king,” Nikolai said. “Not yet, at least.”

“And I’m not stabbing him.” You held up the bullet with your other hand, then let it fall to the floor. “I just didn’t feel like digging around inside him.”

Nikolai picked up the bullet, and you frowned in question. He just shrugged. “To hold onto the fond memories of this battle and the kindest, prettiest Healer I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Someone snickered behind you, and you turned to see all of them just standing around—Zoya, Harshaw with Oncat perched on his shoulder, Adrik ignoring his sister to watch, even Alina and Mal were still there. At least Tamar had enough sense to stay quiet while she helped you.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snapped. “It’s hard to focus with you all watching me.”

Alina blinked, seeming to come back to her senses. You almost didn’t blame her—she had so much on her shoulders, it made sense to just want to stand and stare for a minute.

“Right,” she nodded, and she gestured at Zoya and the Squaller siblings as she started walking across the ship, “Adrik, Nadia, I need you all over…”

Alina's words trailed off as she got farther away, and the small crowd dissipated to find duties to carry out without their Sun Summoner to indulge their whims.

“Thank you for your help, Tamar,” you mumbled. “I can take it from here.”

She nodded and went off to join the others—the controlled state Nikolai had been in dissolved as she let go of the hold she had on his heart, and the slight daze in his eye went away.

“Are you always this mean?” Nikolai asked. You turned back to find him with that same unshakable confidence, same lazy smile even in the face of it all. It was no wonder noble and commoner girls alike tripped over themselves when he returned to Ravka.

It was no wonder Alina fell for his charms despite the tracker by her side—he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel like everything would be okay, and in the midst of Ravka’s endless war, that was a valuable quality indeed.

“I save it for irritating princes,” you remarked. With a final flourish, his wound was sewed up, and Nikolai raised his eyebrows as he touched the newly healed skin.

There was another slight wince, but he still smiled up at you. “Excellent job.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Grisha handiwork,” Nikolai said as he pulled himself up from the side of the ship. “Especially the healing kind.”

“It would do you good not to get used to it,” you said. “You may not be king yet, but Zoya is right. I’d appreciate it if you tried to stay out of my infirmary.”

“Do you not enjoy my company?” he asked.

“I don’t enjoy bringing Ravka’s only heir back from the brink after every battle,” you corrected. “You’ve got a lot more weight on your shoulders now, moi tsarevich.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your Ravkan. “Say that again.”

You frowned, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Nikolai continued staring at you, so you sighed. “Moi tsarevich?”

He laughed, and that only soured your mood further. “What are you laughing about?”

“I recognized it back during the attack but I didn’t fully think about it,” he said. “It comes out the most with your R’s. You’re not Ravkan, are you?”

You paused at his sudden subject change. “You were focusing on my accent when everyone was dying around us?”

“Answer the question.”

Your frown deepened. “I am in most senses of the word.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Kerch.”

Your lips twitched. “Yes, but I don’t—”

“You still haven’t lost the accent somehow,” he continued. “At least, in how you speak certain Ravkan words. Is it Ketterdam?”

“Don’t you have better things to do than quiz your Healer on her childhood?”

“Perhaps,” Nikolai said, eyes twinkling, “but if you’re really my Healer, as you said yourself, I’m surely allowed to ask as many questions as my heart desires.”

“Your heart desires no more,” you said wryly. “I have other injured to attend to. Call if you find yourself actively dying.”

To his credit, he didn’t try to fight it. Just offered that same smile that weakened knees from the Kaelish to the Shu. “I’ll be sure to ring before I’m dead and buried.”

“Put your clothes back on before you do,” you said.

“Ah, but isn’t this your reward for putting up with the irritating prince?” Nikolai asked with a slight gesture at his chest. “I’d imagine you’d want to keep an eye on your handiwork.”

That sparked a rare smile of your own, and you bowed your head. “Moi tsarevich,” you said before you walked off.

You felt Nikolai’s eyes on you even as you approached an injured First Army soldier, and after the first few preliminary questions you couldn’t help but look back.

When you did, he was gone.

3. Monastery of Sankt Demyan

You sat on the Spinning Wheel, off to the corner so you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone, staring at your hands as you tried to ignore the thousands of things bumping around in your mind. You’d been on the run with the Sun Summoner and a smattering of other Grisha for longer than you would have liked, but you had to accept that this was what life would be like until the Darkling was either defeated or destroyed you all.

It was a damning sort of fate, knowing what awaited you unless the impossible was done. At least it would be quick if the nichevo’ya tore you apart.

You grimaced. That was one thought that would do you no good—if you’d made it this far, from Os Alta under the Darkling’s control to Os Alta under Lantsov control to the White Cathedral and now to Fjerda of all places, what was one more piece of the puzzle?

A very big piece of the puzzle, of course, and there was still the intrinsic distrust that some soldiers—and even Alina at moments, flickers of it you could see in her eyes against her will—had towards you. You, like the rest of the Grisha here that hailed from the Second Army, served the Darkling until you’d switched sides. You wanted nothing more than to see the Darkling to his grave, for Ravka to be restored and for all of this to be over.

But you had switched sides in the first place, and you knew enough from the looks of those soldiers—they still believed that if you could betray the Darkling, you could always still betray the Sun Summoner if given enough cause.

You didn’t try to dissuade their views through words; it wouldn’t do any good. You just hoped the long hours you spent holed up in the infirmary healing the injured would. You missed Maxim if only so you wouldn’t have to do it all alone.

“Vlachka for your thoughts?”

You looked up, surprised to see Nikolai Lantsov of all people. You hadn’t held a true conversation with him since you healed him after his bullet wound. He’d been busy with princely things like banishing his parents and saving Genya’s livelihood.

You were thankful for that, at least. She’d suffered too much at the hands of the Darkling and the King.

“You’d need a lot more than that,” you said.

He smiled. “I’ve got quite a bit. Have you seen this place?”

You chuckled and shrugged. “Just thinking. About our next move, about the Darkling, about what will be after this.”

“You certainly aren’t the only one,” Nikolai said. “Lately it seems to be all anyone can think about.”

“I’m sure you’d much rather have them thinking of you,” you said wryly.

“Oh, there’s plenty of that going on as well.” Nikolai smiled. “An even balance, I’d say.”

You chuckled again. “What brings you here, Nikolai?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to get to know my Healer.”

You huffed a sigh and looked away. “Why do you call me that?”

He was awfully good at feigning innocence. “Call you what?”

“My Healer,” you repeated. “Your Healer. I don’t understand it.”

“I like the sound of it,” he said. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

You felt your cheeks heat and you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not that. It’s just—”

“Because I can,” he continued. “Would you prefer lapushka? Milaya? Perhaps babya.”

You scowled as you turned back to him, and you hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You should stick to the seas and the throne, moi tsarevich. Comedy is not your strong suit.”

“I like it when you call me that,” he mused. “I like your accent, your voice.” He sat down next to you, mildly unexpected, and you hoped you did better at hiding your surprise than it felt. “There’s something soothing about it.”

“I am from Ketterdam,” you said after a moment. “You guessed right. Born and raised. When my abilities started showing, my parents put me on a ship to Ravka with a map, some vlachki, and the clothes on my back. I made my way to the Little Palace, pleaded my case to the Darkling, and I haven’t seen them since.”

Nikolai was silent, and you fully turned to look at him. “You wanted to know more about me. That’s who I am. A girl from Ketterdam in over her head.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Nikolai said. “You’re a woman from Ketterdam in over your head.”

You huffed a laugh, and Nikolai’s expression softened a bit. “Why did they send you away? If that’s alright to ask, of course.”

You shrugged. “Being a young girl in the Barrel is bad enough. If anyone figured out I was Grisha, I would either be dead in the streets, indentured before I could blink, or worse.”

“They thought it would be safer in Ravka,” he guessed. “In the Second Army.”

You nodded. “They couldn’t have known any of this would happen,” you said dryly.

“Do you miss your parents?” he asked.

“Every day,” you said quietly. “We sent letters when we could, but it was never enough. And those stopped after Alina left the Little Palace, obviously.”

You didn’t need to recount the months of the Darkling’s madness as he searched for his Sun Summoner. Nikolai might have been Sturmhond at the time, but you didn’t doubt that he had contacts in the Little Palace. You didn’t exactly want to remember it either.

“How about this?” Nikolai adjusted his position so he could look right at you, those smart hazel eyes enough to get lost in. You forced yourself not to. “On the slim chance that we make it through these next few weeks, when the dust has settled and I’m officially King, I’ll charter a ship for you back to Ketterdam.”

Your head whirled back to look at him, eyes widening. There was no sign in his eyes of a false promise, only that soft smile, charming as ever. You had the sudden, misplaced urge to wind your fingers into those blonde curls and kiss him.

“You’d do that for me?”

He nodded. “Of course. Only the best for my Healer, right?”

That got a laugh out of you, but the heat rose to your cheeks all the same. “That would be incredible, Nikolai. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

He looked—gazed— at you for a touch longer than usual before he spoke again.

“There’s going to be a meteor shower later tonight,” Nikolai said. “One of my crew figured it out—he’s very fond of the sky, and he told me it would be… quite the sight.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Was he—

“I’d like to watch it with you,” Nikolai continued. “Of course, I have to put on a display with Alina, but after that,” he looked over at you, hazel eyes gleaming, “I’d like to spend the night with you.”

It took a moment for your brain to fully process his words. “Moi tsarevich, are… you asking me on a— a date?”

“Just Nikolai, please,” he said with a grin. “And yes, I am.”

It seemed so trivial in the scheme of things. You were leading an impossible battle against the Darkling, and as a traitor to his throne, you would end up dead or worse if he caught you. The near entirety of the Second Army was dead, friends you’d grown up and honed your power alongside with ripped apart by nichevo’ya. Your chances for victory relied on the firebird, and no one knew a damn thing about it.

It was trivial. It was frankly ridiculous, for the prince— the King of Ravka—to be asking you on a date, especially when it was imperative for him to present a certain image with Alina.

But for all the triviality and ridiculousness and idiocy, you found that you’d never wanted to accept something so badly.

So you did. You nodded, smiled, brighter than usual. Nikolai seemed to have that effect on you.

“I’d love to.”

“Wonderful.” Somehow, impossibly, his grin grew bigger. Nikolai took your hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it before he stood back up—you’d never been so thankful for his confidence, because you found yourself at a loss for words. “I’ll see you tonight, darling. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

You nodded again, and you knew you looked like a dazed idiot. The better half of a decade spent training as a Grisha and all it took was a kiss to your hand for your brain to stop working. You really had been at war for far too long.

Nikolai could tell every thought—or lack thereof—in your head by the overly pleased expression he wore as he walked away, and your entire face burned as you bit back your smile.

He knew exactly what he did to you.

4. The Bittern

Sergei sold you out.

That son of bitch had betrayed you all to the Darkling the first chance he got, and he’d been rewarded with a quicker death than any of you would get.

You’d been left fighting for your lives against the Darkling’s oprichniki, Grisha, and nichevo’ya alike, and as usual, you were hopelessly outnumbered. You knelt over Adrik as Zoya, Nadia, Harshaw, and David kept the crowd of enemies back, doing your damnedest to keep him from bleeding out from his nichevo’ya bite.

His arm hung at a bizarre angle, and you didn’t know how you would tell him and his sister you didn’t think you could save it. You were sure Genya’s whispered words were the only thing keeping him even slightly calm.

By the time the Bittern was in the air, precarious but afloat, you were about ready to collapse. It had all been too damn much, with the Darkling and Baghra and Nevsky, and now the poor schoolboy lying beneath you with an arm you couldn’t save.

“He’ll be okay,” you murmured to nobody but yourself, wiping beads of sweat from your forehead as you laid against the side of the ship. As okay as any boy who lost his arm to a shadow monster and went through what he just did.

Thank the Saints for Tolya keeping both Adrik’s and your heart steady during that ordeal, because you were sure your panic would have won over.

Everyone in your motley crew was injured in some way or another, and you were the only Healer. Soon you were back on your feet, pushing the horrors of the night out of your mind as you mended lacerations and fixed up bullet wounds.

Every so often, your eyes would drift over to Adrik. You’d healed him the best you could, but it wasn’t enough.

And then your mind went to Nikolai.

Nikolai.

In the chaos of the battle and the subsequent healing haze, you hadn’t even realized he wasn’t with your group. The Pelican had taken off before you all got to the Bittern, but Nikolai wouldn’t have left Alina on her own after all he’d done to ensure her safety.

You were almost too scared to ask, but you did anyway.

“Alina,” you asked, slightly surprised at the sound of your voice in the silence of the night, “where’s Nikolai?”

Her eyes were unfocused, arms crossed around her midsection for warmth despite the light that glowed beneath her skin. “The Darkling,” she murmured.

“Wh— what did he do to him?” you continued. “What in the Saints’ name happened to him, Alina?”

“He ruined him,” she whispered. “He turned him into a monster.” The look on Alina’s face broke you into even smaller pieces. “He turned him into a monster all because Nikolai dared to stand against him. He’s gone.”

Your grip tightened on the side of the ship as she explained what she had to watch, and your knees threatened to buckle.

Maybe it was stupid, but you hadn’t even realized you cared this much about the prince. The king, you had to keep reminding yourself. But the thought of him hurt—a hurt that you couldn’t heal—it tore your heart to shreds.

Only last night you were laying on a blanket next to him, staring up at the meteor shower through the glass dome. He’d never looked more beautiful than he did then, with the streaks of light illuminating his handsome features and those hazel eyes you’d grown to appreciate.

Few words had passed between the two of you, but once Nikolai had taken your hand in his, neither of you let go for the remainder of the night. That urge to kiss him came back in spades, but you never acted on it.

Saints, you wished you had.

“Do you think you can heal him?” Your voice sounded oddly foreign, but you didn’t even feel like you were in your body. Like you were watching it all happen from above, because this couldn’t have been happening. Not to Nikolai— to your Nikolai.

You were his Healer, and he was your Nikolai. That was how it was supposed to be.

“I don’t know,” Alina admitted, her tone strained. “My light might be able to help, but… but whenever I’ve used it against the nichevo’ya, against the volcra, I— it kills them.”

Her voice broke on the last few words, and you wanted to hug her. Alina didn’t love him, you knew that much, but anyone could tell she’d grown close to Nikolai over the months. She was hurting just as much as you.

You didn’t. You found that you couldn’t do much but stare into the night sky.

He was all alone. Forced into a monster, and now he was all alone.

It felt like ages before the Bittern finally landed, everyone’s teeth stained rust-orange and bones run deep with exhaustion. Everyone was still alive when you woke up the next morning, and after another check-up on Adrik, you went off into the woods under the guise of searching for kindling.

Really, you needed some time to yourself. After what had happened—Sergei’s betrayal, losing even more Grisha when you had little to start with, Baghra’s sacrifice, Adrik and his arm, and— and Nikolai—

It was too much. It was just too damn much.

You’d never gotten close like this to anyone before, never moved further than some useless flirtations and a few stolen kisses with various Grisha when you were bored back at the Little Palace, and when you finally did, with the damned future King of Ravka, this is what happened.

Guilt tore away at you as you plodded through the woods, and you let the tears you’d been holding back all night fall. You wished you’d been there for him. You wished you’d kissed him. You wished you were strong enough to take the Darkling down on your own for what he’d done.

The hairs stood up on the back of your neck, and you heard the rustling of branches. You whirled around to the source of the sound, taking a few steps to peer through the trees, and that was when you saw it.

Your eyes widened and your heart cracked all at once.

“Nikolai,” you whispered.

You’d have recognized him anywhere. Despite the shadowy veins splintering across his chest, the wings furled behind his back, claws and fangs in place of fingers and teeth—he was still your Nikolai. His blonde curls remained, his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, even his clever eyes—even if they were black instead of hazel.

The smear of blood around his mouth was a sharp contrast to it all. You wondered what—or who—had become his unlucky victim when he could no longer control his hunger.

Nikolai didn’t move as you stepped closer. His dark gaze was unreadable and you wanted to sob for what the Darkling had done to him.

“It’s me.” You continued to speak softly as you moved closer, saying your name in hopes of even a spark of recognition. “Your Healer.”

His eyes followed your movements, his gaze falling down to your hands. He pointed at them with a clawed talon.

You held them up. “My hands?”

You realized the blood around his mouth wasn’t the only bit of it on his body as your eyes trailed across his bare chest. There were cuts all across his arms and chest, most small but some deeper. He pointed at a thin scar near his abdomen, the only sign of the bullet wound you’d stitched up.

He wanted you to heal him. He knew who you were.

This time, a small sob escaped you, and your hand flew up almost on instinct to cover it. You brushed the tears brimming in your eyes as you moved closer to him, and you gently placed your hand on his arm. You felt his limb stiffen for a moment before they relaxed, and you couldn’t help your small smile. Your Nikolai was still there.

The thin cut vanished as you healed it, and you continued to do the same for the myriad of other injuries on his body. You felt his gaze on you the entire time, and some part of it was comforting. Nikolai was still there—his humanity was still there. This was the least you could do to make him feel the part.

Once you’d healed up the last of his wounds, you felt the glow of Grisha power inside of you. Nikolai grabbed onto your hand the moment you’d finished, and you looked up into his dark eyes as your fingers clasped around his talons.

“We’ll figure this out, Nikolai,” you whispered. “I promise.”

The corner of his lips curled up ever so slightly, the barest sign of the old smile you’d grown to love.

And then he let go of your hand, and he shot up into the air. It took only seconds for him to disappear, but your gaze remained stuck in place.

All you could think of was Nikolai’s dark eyes and the shattered shadows beneath his skin, the feel of his taloned hand in yours.

You would find a way to bring him back. You knew that much.

5. The Shadow Fold

“For Saint’s sake— catch him, Zoya!”

“You screeching at me isn’t helping,” she snarled, her hands held out above her as she summoned wind to break Nikolai’s fall.

It was almost laughable, how Alina ended it all with a bit of stabbing. First Mal, then the Darkling—now Soldat Sol and oprichniki alike were glowing like human lamps around the Fold. The nichevo’ya dissolved with the Darkling’s power, the same thing that created Nikolai’s monster—you screamed in general when you first saw him falling, and then you screamed at Zoya. It was a credit to her growth that she didn’t slap you first.

Thankfully, the updraft did its job, and he only landed in the sand at concerning speeds rather than very concerning.

You ran for him without thinking, not even feeling the jolt in your ankles as you lept from the skiff onto the sands. You no longer had to fear the Fold—the various Sun Soldiers that had gotten Alina’s powers had done away with the remainder in no time—and even if you did, you would brave a thousand volcra for Nikolai.

He looked so small, so vulnerable laying there in the sand, only clad in torn pants and a myriad of bruises. The last of the shadows receded when you finally reached him, and you didn’t try to stop the tears as they flowed freely down your cheeks.

“Nikolai,” you whispered, falling to your knees in the sand next to him, “Nikolai, can you hear me?”

You cradled his head in your hands, tears splattering in the sand around you, and then his eyes opened.

His beautiful hazel eyes opened and looked right at you, his lips tugging into a smirk as he said your name.

“Would you say this is an important princely thing?” His voice was husky, damaged from whatever dark thing that had taken a hold of him, but the usual lilt was there. “Or just another injury?”

You broke into full on sobs, unabashedly and unashamed as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. You felt his arms around you as well, and he rubbed circles on your back.

“I had time to think,” Nikolai murmured, “and I think I’ll settle on lapushka.”

Darling.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you moved away from him just so you could look at him, gaze at him, never forget his beautiful features.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I knew I would be,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I had you looking out for me.”

“Stop,” you said, your voice watery. “I can’t keep crying in front of you.”

“I think you’ve more than earned it, lapushka.”

You laughed again as you shook your head. “How do you feel? Can you still move all your limbs?”

Nikolai took his hand in yours, fingers intertwining with yours. His gaze didn’t move from you. “Limbs are fine.”

You let your smile shine unabashed as you squeezed his hand, thankful for the lack of talons. “Can you sit up?”

Nikolai visibly winced at the effort, but he managed with your help. “My chest hurts quite a bit.”

“You’ve definitely broken some ribs,” you murmured, “but it’s nothing I can’t fix up.”

“There’s nothing you can’t fix,” Nikolai said.

“Careful with all the praise. I might get used to it.”

“Good.”

You glanced over to see Tolya and Zoya moving across the sand towards you and you looked back at Nikolai.

“We’re going to get you back on the skiff, Nikolai,” you said. “I’ll get you healed up and then we’ll get you some clothes. Alright?”

“I told you,” Nikolai said, “this is your reward for putting up with the irritating prince.”

“That was for the prince,” you said, running a hand through his blonde curls to untangle them. “My reward for putting up with irritating kings is to make sure they’re clothed and healed.”

His smile shone brighter than anything Alina could conjure up.

The Darkling’s Skiff

You ended up below deck with Nikolai, Tolya, an unconscious Alina and Mal, and the Darkling’s body. It normally wouldn’t have been a cheery atmosphere, but you were just thankful to be alive after all you’d done. Thankful that Nikolai was alive and himself and that the Darkling was dead.

A First Army uniform was folded next to Nikolai’s makeshift cot where you sat next to him, and Tolya’s companionable silence was appreciated as he stayed by Alina and Mal to ensure they stayed alive.

“You broke a few ribs in your fall,” you murmured, your hands placed on his chest, “but overall, I’d say you made out pretty well.”

“Yes,” Nikolai said wryly, looking at his hands. Faint black lines ran across each of his fingers, where claws had torn through his skin. Though the other shadowy marks had faded, these appeared to be permanent. “Pretty well.”

“You know what I mean, Nikolai.” You moved your hand over his ribs and focused your power—by the slight grimace on his face, the itch that came along with Grisha healing, you knew they were mending back together. “You’re still alive. You’re you again. That means everything.”

“And your hands are still freakishly cold,” he mused. You smiled.

A moment passed before he spoke again.

“You know,” Nikolai said, and you felt his eyes on you again, “I remember everything. Everything that I did when I was that… that thing.”

Your throat bobbed, but you nodded, encouraging him on.

“I went to you,” he said, “and… you helped me. You weren’t afraid—you understood what I meant, and you healed me.”

“Of course I did,” you said softly. A smile tugged at your lips. “I am your Healer, after all.”

Nikolai placed his hand over one of yours, and your power wavered for a moment as your heart stuttered.

“One of your ribs is still broken, Nikolai,” you said. “I have to—”

“I love you,” he interrupted. Your eyes snapped to him, and you thought you misheard him.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, as if it came as easily to him as breathing. “Forgive me for the lack of ballads and sonnets on how to express it—I plan to remedy that as soon as we’re back in Os Alta. But I love you, and it’s the one thing I’m sure of at this moment.”

You continued to stare at him, as if you’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. Nikolai was no Corporalnik, but you were sure he could hear how loudly your heart was beating.

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same,” Nikolai said, “or if you’re not ready. I’m a very patient man.”

It was like your limbs had suddenly regained the ability to move, because something clicked in your mind. You took his face in your hands and you kissed him with a brazen fierceness you didn’t even know you had.

For a man with two bruised ribs and one broken one, he kissed you back with the same intensity, if not more. You poured all your fear, all your anxiety, all your worries about him into the kiss, reveling in the warmth of his lips and his hands and—

Tolya cleared his throat. “We’re nearly out of the Fold.”

You pulled away as quickly as it had started, Nikolai looking very pleased with himself as you fixed the collar of your kefta and looked over at him with eyes that were surely more pupil than iris.

“Thank you, Tolya,” you said, and you cleared your throat as well. Good of him to ignore the two of you. Embarrassing of you to nearly forget about your surroundings when you looked at Nikolai.

“Yes,” Nikolai said, mirth in his voice, “thank you, Tolya.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back to him, your lips still burning from his kiss, and you settled your hands back on Nikolai’s chest.

“No more interruptions,” you said. “I’ve got to get you healed and dressed before we’re off the sand.”

His eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, lapushka.”

You had no idea what was next. The Sun Summoner died on the Fold, the Darkling’s reign of terror was finally over, and Nikolai was to be King. You didn’t know where you would fit in, though you were sure he would find a place.

But you loved Nikolai, and by the Saints, Nikolai loved you.

And for now, that was more than enough.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x y/n #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #nikolai lantsov the love of my life #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse x reader #sadie writes

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costelloschoice · 4 months

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"Nice Riding, Girl"

-Mizu x fem! cowgirl! reader

-warnings: nsfw, fingering, pet names, praise, riding ofc, sub! Mizu, dom! reader

-minors dni or ill steal your family’s pet

-it’s my world and you all are just living it in. I’m bringing back cowgirl reader cause this is my dream right here

-!this is inspired by this post by @roninzuzu!

This scene felt familiar to Mizu.

Here she was again, living a domestic life in the mountains far away from society. Only this time, she wasn't arranged to meet someone. Mizu had met you on her own and fell in love with you, a foreign cowgirl who managed to sweep her off her feet.

You were such a hard worker. And you never wanted Mizu to help since ‘a pretty girl shouldn’t get her hands dirty’, but she still helps feeding the chickens and sheep, and brushing the horses. Sometimes she’d pretend to come outside for some important reason just to see you move heavy stacks of hay, wrestling the chickens to get them out of the coop for you to clean, or, her favorite, watching you chop wood.

Mizu loves how you always managed to make her smile, even with the little things. When you managed to convince her to get a dog so you can have ‘someone to protect the sheep at night’, but Mizu loved watching you play fetch with the dog. Hell, you built the dog its own home off the side of your house. You loved the dog so much and she named the dog, "Kai".

She couldn’t be happier with anyone else. She slowly stopped wearing her masculine clothing around the house and wore typical kimonos. Mizu also loved how you would come up behind her while cooking just hold her waist and kiss her neck…before you had to take over the cooking since she’s not the best at it. But she loved it this way and so did you.

It was late afternoon when you decided to take a horse ride. Mizu never refused riding her horse with yours, wanting to share as many memories possible. She was impressed how you never used a saddle to ride, you told her that you grew up learning to ride without one and kept it that way. But Mizu also love how you always helped her up on her horse, even though she more than capable of doing it herself.

As you two rode your horses fast, your giggles and laughs were heard by the trees around you. She smiled as she saw you ahead of her, “Slow down!” then you would laugh and yell, “Well keep up better, darlin’!” you smiled and turned your head forward to keep riding steady and fast. Your hand resting on top of your cowgirl hat she grew to love as you and your horse 'Slowdancer' were ahead of her.

Once you two finally find a spot by an orange tree, Mizu goes to lay under the tree, using a small knife to peel her own orange while you collected some for home, "You know something baby doll, I haven't had an orange since I was home in America," you said, jumping to grab an orange from a branch. You instantly started to peel an orange to eat it, smiling as you recognize the sweet taste of the fruit.

She giggled as you ate the fruit sloppily, seeing how happy it made you. The sweet juice of the fruit ran down your chin and throat. The site of you devouring the fruit made her remember how you devour her at night...

As you finished and wipe your face, turned to her eating the fruit slice by slice. Smiling and feeling giddy, you sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her, "Taste good?" you asked. She nodded, looking up at you as she ate the citrus fruit. Once she finished, she tossed the orange rime to the side, taking in your warmth instead.

After a while of just sitting and talking, you get the bright idea of rough housing. You were a tough girl, and she knew it, seeing you fight in battle was one of the ways she knew. They way you handled your pistol and how you fight fought them was extraordinary to her. You softly tackle her to the ground, giving her what you called a "noogie", rubbing your knuckles on top of her head. She laughed out and tried to push your hand away, "Stop! Please!" she laughed, managing to flip you over on your back, sitting in your lap.

You looked up at her, eyes wide. She looked so beautiful on top of you. You smirked flipping her over, you can play this game as well. Mizu knew this meant war...figuratively speaking. The both of you stood up to start play wrestling with each other. Your combined laughs and giggles filled the air, the pink and orange hues in the sky creating such a beautiful core moment for the both of you in your relationship.

You smiled as you picked her up, spinning her around as she laughed loudly. The wind blowing their direction made her feel like a princess, "Put me down!" she smiled, her hands resting on your shoulders. Wrapping her legs around your waist, humming happily as you put your hands on her ass to keep her up and support her.

"You look beautiful, baby doll...You should wear your hair down more often," You smiled, kissing her cheek. The samurai blushed, holding your cheek as you kissed her, “I just might now that you mention it..” she says, returning the favor and kissing yours. She hold on tightly as you sat down with her still in your arms.

She smiled resting in you lap, hands rubbing from your shoulders to your chest. She pays attention to little details on your buttoned up shirt. How the floral designs are put in stitch by stitch, the use of different fabrics, and the small stars on your buttons. Mizu felt your hand creeping up her exposed leg, “Mmm…darlin’…Your skin is so smooth,” You praised, moving to kiss her exposed neck, slowly moving your lips.

Mizu rested a hand on the back of your head, keeping you close. The soft breeze makes her shiver slightly, so you held her closer. It was only you two in on these mountains, no one else in sight. Even if there were, you don’t care, you wanted to make love to your woman.

Before she could say your name, you pulled her hips close to yours. Mizu could feel something hard in your pants, “Are you…wearing it?” she asked, making you nod as you kiss her neck. Now the situation got hotter and heavier.

“Grind down, girl…” You instructed, making her nod and listen to you. But she also had a surprise for you since she wasn’t wearing underwear underneath her kimono. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of your kissing her neck and grinding down on your strap that was in your pants. Her moans were soft and light, body shuttering at the feeling of your lips and your strap.

Your hands got curious and moved the top of her kimono, wanting to see her breast. You pulled away from her neck, the wet spot from your mouth shining in the light from the sunset. Your mouth gravitated to her breast, lightly sucking her left breast. Mizu moaned accordingly, trying to undo the buttons to your shirt. She fiddled with the buttons, stopping her grinding monetarily to try and free your breast.

But you lightly smack her hands away, groaning as you flick her nipple with your tongue. Your hand sneaked down to move her kimono, exposing the fact she wasn't wearing panties. You tsked, "Naught, naughty..." you whispered, your middle finger rubbing along her slit.

Biting her bottom lip, she looked down to watch your hand. You always had a way with her body that no one else could match up with. Was it because you were also a woman and knew the sweet spots? Or were you just a sex god? Either way she didn't care, she loved it.

Your middle finger slipped in, curling to hit her sweet spot. The warmth around your finger felt like home, hitting that sweet little button inside to make her louder. Mizu clutched your shoulders, heavily panting and her moans were higher pitched, "F-Fuck..!"

You then added another finger, smiling at her moans and reactions. Wanting more, you moved your fingers faster. You wanted nothing more than to make her feel good, "Look at you, taking it all so well.." you mumbled, fumbling to open the button of your pants and zipper. You pulled out your strap, stroking it as if it was your own cock.

You leaned down to dribble your own spit on the fake dick, your hand coating it with your own saliva. Mizu blushes at it, it felt so dirty...But so hot. Your fingers continued to work her cunt and your fake cock, smiling up at her, "Wanna ride your cowgirl, baby?" you asked, a smug look on your face and she nodded rapidly. You couldn't help your heart skip a beat as she looked at your with her lust-filled blue eyes.

You leaned back on your left forearm, taking your fingers out of her to grab your strap, "Ride it, girl.." you said, watching her nod and move her hips up on the dildo. She moaned as she moved down on the cock, groaning at the feeling of being full.

You laid all of the on your back, looking up at her. Her breast were out, bouncing as she moved up and down, her kimono opened to show her pussy taking your strap. Her eyes were closed as she bounced, moaning loudly. Mizu's sounds were swallowed by the trees and you, but unlike the trees, you listened and enjoyed them.

"Nice ridin' girl...You look so beautiful bouncing up and down like that," you praised, rubbing her hips. The scene in front of you was better than any other view before this one. She looked so beautiful bouncing and grinding against you, the orange tree's branches behind her moving to the wind.

You let Mizu take her pleasure from you. She shouted your name, her hands now resting on your breast, squeezing roughly as you were generous enough to thrust your hips up into her. "Fuck yes! You feel...s-so good. Ah..! Thank you my love..!" She groaned, earning herself a slap on the ass, "Good girl...Thankin' me without havin' to be told to do it.."

Your hips thrusting to match hers was making her movements weak as you took the reins. Mizu leaned forward, receiving kisses on her cheek as you thrusted into her at a fast pace, "Good girls take cock so well....You a good girl?" you asked, breathing heavy as your thrusts weakened her, "Yes! Yes!" she moaned resting her head in the crook of your next as you thrusted.

Her hands rested on yours, grabbing your wrists as she felt close. Her stomach felt like it was doing cartwheels, you knew how to fuck her good and she loved it. "I'm coming, fuck! I-" she moaned, trying to focus on the treatment you are giving her.

Her mouth opened wide but nothing coming out. Then she let a finally moan, grabbing his wrist tightly as she came. You stopped your movements, not wanting to overstimulate her...at least not this time.

You kissed her forehead and moved your hands on her back, "You did so well, baby girl...You know how to ride don't you?" you asked, making her nod. She lifted herself up, making eye contact with you, Before you she could say anything, she felt an orange drop from branch and hit her on the head.

You gasped then started to laugh, rubbing her head, "Are you okay?!" you laughed, her nodding and giggling, "Yes...I'm fine..." she hummed, before smiling at you. She then leaned down and kiss you, enjoying the rest of the sun set with you.

"I just noticed something..."

"What is it, darlin'?"

"...You kept that stupid hat on the entire time.."

#bes mizu #bes #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #blue eye samurai #mizu x you #blue eye samurai x reader #wlw #blue eye samurai x you #mizu my love #mizu smut

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kitsune024 · 4 months

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More Harry Potter Recs

Dramione Fic Recs

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Metanoia by isobelx I Chapters 46/70 I Draco Malfoy Redemption, Slow Burn, AU - Canon Divergence, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Horcrux Hunting

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He's always watched her. He can't help it. Merlin help him, he's been fucking trying though. She hates him. He's a vile, bigoted arsehole. Of all the people who have made her feel small, who have made her have to fight and scrape and claw for her place in this world ever since she was eleven, he's the worst of them all. But when things take a turn at the Yule Ball, Draco Malfoy decides he's done fighting himself, and Hermione Granger is left floored, struggling to understand this new, strange version of him.

Dramione with Fanart

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Bookmark Series

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#dramione #dramione fanfiction #fic rec #fanfic rec #draco malfoy #hermione granger #dramione fanart #harry potter recs #ao3 fanfic #dramione recs

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doormatty3 · 5 months

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Ocean Eyes: Chapter 1 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands. You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour. After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 4134

A/N: This is the first chapter for a (probably) 4-5 chapter fic

Also: Our boy Orm deserves some love so this happened.

Normally, you actually like water; after all, it’s an integral part of your life as a marine biologist.

You’ve spent countless hours immersed in the briny depths, studying the mysteries that lie beneath the surface. In the embrace of the watery depths, you’ve unravelled the secrets of hidden ecosystems, marvelled at the kaleidoscope of marine life, and witnessed the symbiotic dance between predator and prey. The ebb and flow of tides, the rhythmic movement of ocean waves – these are the elements that typically elicit admiration and wonder from you.

However, this affection for water does not extend to rain, especially when it chooses to make an unannounced entrance when you’re out for a walk along the seaside.

As the heavens open up unexpectedly, you find yourself caught off guard, the rhythmic pitter-patter of raindrops on the sand disrupts the usual symphony of your thoughts. A muttered curse slips through your lips, a reflexive response to the inconvenience of precipitation, and you hastily reach for your umbrella.

The once-clear sky, a former blue sphere, now cloaks itself in shades of grey, as you struggle with the umbrella, desperately attempting to shield yourself from the sudden downpour threatening to soak you through.

“Thank god,” you mutter under your breath when you finally manage to open the umbrella before being drenched.

As you trudge along the wet sands, your now open umbrella in hand, the lack of shelter becomes painfully apparent. The vast openness of the seaside, which had promised freedom and expansiveness, now offers no refuge from the relentless rain.

The sea, once a source of inspiration, now seems indifferent to your plight, its waves crashing rhythmically as if mocking the irony of a marine biologist seeking escape from the rain.

Amidst the relentless downpour, your attention is drawn to a solitary figure at the edge of the beach. Despite the bad weather and the onslaught of rain, the man remains unwavering.

His gaze is steadfastly directed towards the open expanse of the ocean.

Even from afar you can tell that he’s completely soaked, his blonde hair clings stubbornly to his head, and his clothes adhere to his form like a second skin.

Intrigued by the enigmatic scene, you find yourself pausing in your own battle against the weather, momentarily captivated by the man’s unwavering focus. The rhythmic cadence of the rain seems to fade into the background as you observe the drenched stranger.

Curiosity propels you towards him, each step accompanied by the squelching sound of wet sand beneath your shoes.

Instinctively, you move closer to the man on the edge of the beach, extending the canopy of your umbrella to encompass both of you.

He turns around, surprise evident in his expression, as if awakening from a deep reverie. It becomes clear that your approach went unnoticed, his focus entirely absorbed by the vastness of the open ocean. The sudden shelter you provide seems to bring him back to the present moment.

As your gaze flickers over him, you find yourself inadvertently appreciating the details of his appearance. His smooth skin contrasts with a well-groomed stubble, and his piercing blue eyes hold a hint of depth, perhaps mirroring the expanse of the sea he was lost in moments ago. Expressive eyebrows, a straight nose, and pink lips contribute to an overall attractiveness that stands out even amidst the dampness and the downpour - perhaps the rain even intensified this as your eyes follow the path of a raindrop as it traverses his forehead and nose, eventually dripping from the tip.

Despite the adverse weather, it’s evident that he takes care of himself. The rain reveals the contours of a muscular physique beneath his soaked clothes. A defined chest, broad shoulders, and sculpted arms speak of a physicality that has weathered more than just the current storm.

A quiet “thank you” escapes his lips, accompanied by the subtle curve of a smile that plays on them. As he holds your gaze, his blue eyes reveal more than words convey. There’s an intensity in his look, a depth that suggests the weight of unspoken thoughts resting behind those expressive eyes.

As he breaks the gaze and turns back to the open sea, his presence lingers, all-consuming, and you find yourself unable to simply walk away. Instead, you remain rooted in your spot, holding the umbrella over both of you.

The rhythmic rise and fall of the waves draws your attention, each wave pooling onto the smooth surface of the sand before dispersing like foam. The ocean, in its relentless dance, momentarily recalls its waters, leaving behind a glistening trail of wet sand in its wake.

As you stand there, sheltered under the umbrella, the tableau before you becomes a canvas of contrasts – the vast expanse of the open sea, the ephemeral beauty of the waves, and the tangible presence of the stranger beside you. The sound of raindrops on the umbrella becomes a quiet rhythm, harmonizing with the natural symphony of the seaside.

It really has been ages since you allowed yourself to simply take in the beauty of the ocean and breathe. The thoughts of work, responsibilities, and the hustle of daily life seem to dissolve, rendered insignificant in the face of the vast, timeless expanse of the open sea.

Under the shared umbrella, the ceaseless rhythm of the waves becomes a soothing lullaby, and the salty tang of the sea air fills your lungs with a refreshing breath. The worries and stresses that usually occupy your mind are momentarily eclipsed by the sheer tranquillity of the moment.

With each inhale, you absorb the invigorating sea breeze, and with each exhale, you release any lingering tension. The rain, which was once an inconvenience, now feels like a gentle cleansing, washing away the mental clutter that often accompanies the demands of everyday life.

Normally, your beach walks are just a way to clear your head with familiar surroundings but nothing more than that. So you sift through your thoughts and you ponder the possibility of having seen the man before but his regal demeanour and striking looks leave no trace in your recollections.

Breaking the comfortable silence, you voice your curiosity, “I haven’t seen you here before…” He turns to you, fixing his intense gaze on your face, awaiting your words. “Are you from here?” you inquire.

A subtle smile graces his lips, a fleeting acknowledgement of your question. His hand glides over his chin, tracing the stubble that accentuates his features. Your gaze follows the motion, noting the details - the thickness of his hands, the length of his fingers, and the neatly trimmed nails.

“No,” he begins, and as if sensing your curiosity, he offers a bit more insight, “I’m from far away. I’m… just passing through.”

Despite the cryptic nature of his words, you find yourself captivated by the mysterious charm he exudes. His subtlety and intensity draw you in, leaving you with a desire to unravel the layers behind those enigmatic blue eyes.

“Well then, it’s nice to meet you!” you express with a genuine smile. Taking the initiative, you extend a hand in introduction.

In response to your greeting, he graces you with a full-blown, toothy smile that illuminates his face. His eyes sparkle, reminiscent of sunlight dancing on water, and the skin around his eyes crinkles with the warmth of the expression.

You… want to see that more often, you think. You’d like to be the reason for that infectious smile, to be the reason behind the sparkle in his eyes, and to cast away the haunted look that seems to linger within their depths.

“Happy to make your acquaintance,” he responds, his hand enveloping yours with a firm grasp. As his long fingers curl around yours, a subtle current of electricity prickles at the point of contact, and you find yourself missing his touch when he drops your hand.

“I’m Orm,” he introduces himself.

“Orm,” you test the pronunciation of his name, and you catch the flicker of his eyes as they briefly lower to your lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name,” you remark, your curiosity piqued.

In response, he shrugs, a somewhat sheepish expression crossing his features. “As I said, I am not from here,” he adds.

“If you ever need a tour guide, let me know,” you offer, extending a friendly invitation. His eyebrows raise in response, and you catch a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “I know a few nice places… some even provide a better view of the ocean.”

As a gust of wind swirls around you, the dampness of your clothes coupled with the cold air sends a shiver down your spine, and goosebumps emerge on your skin. The sudden chill causes you to freeze, the contrast between the warmth of the moment shared under the umbrella and the elements outside becoming palpable.

In contrast, you observe Orm, still drenched but seemingly unaffected by the cold.

The offer to be his tour guide hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, a subtle fear creeps in. Was it too forward? Does he wish to cut the conversation short, politely concealing any desire to decline?

A sense of relief washes over you as Orm’s response breaks the brief tension.

“That would be nice,” he says, his eyes straying back to the expanse of the ocean as if lost in thought.

The soft pitter-patter of the rain envelops you both in a cocoon, creating a serene backdrop to the moment. Despite the logical inclination to seek shelter and escape the rain, something within you resists the notion of leaving. A peculiar reluctance binds you to the spot as if an invisible force tethers you to Orm’s calming presence.

Standing beside him, you feel a sense of grounding and tranquillity it’s a sensation that you haven’t experienced before - well, if you’re honest with yourself, you have felt it before. It’s the same feeling you get near or in the ocean.

Maybe it’s his eyes. His deep, blue eyes seem to hold all the mysteries of the sea, mirroring the tranquil rhythm of the rain and the timeless expanse of the ocean.

____

A few days later you see him again and you find yourself back at the same spot.

Today, the weather is vastly different - there’s no rain, and the sun graces the scene with its warm glow.

As you approach the familiar location, the memories of the previous meeting flicker in your mind. You wonder how Orm will look in the bright sunlight - he had already been a vision when completely drenched.

When he comes into view, you find that he’s even more striking than before,

He is clad in a basic black shirt and matching slacks, the fabric sits snugly on his broad frame, accentuating the contours of his muscular body. The sunlight enhances the contrast, casting a play of shadows that dance along the lines of his thick body.

The blonde hair, now dry and therefore lighter in the sun, is neatly combed back, reflecting the sunlight like strands of golden thread, creating an almost ethereal aura around him.

His gaze is fixed on the sea again. With his head held high and arms folded behind his back, there’s a regal air about him.

“Orm! Hey,” you greet him, genuine warmth in your voice as you approach, happy to see him again. As he turns around to face you, there’s a radiant smile on his lips.

The sunlight adds a gleam to his features as he returns your greeting.

“So, what do you want to see?” you ask Orm, eager to tailor the experience to his preferences. “Have anything in mind?”

He responds with a gracious simplicity, “No, I leave that in your capable hands.”

You can’t help but feel a subtle warmth creeping across your cheeks because he really is rather sweet and charming.

So you clear your throat before speaking, “I promised you some nice places to see the ocean, so let’s do that.”

With a subtle gesture, you signal it’s time to leave, and you start walking with Orm following closely behind. As you set the pace, you observe him adjusting his strides to match yours, a small yet thoughtful gesture that makes your heart beat faster. It’s rare that a guy just does that without having to be asked.

He slips his hands into his pockets, seemingly unsure of what to do with them.

“We’re gonna have to drive a bit,” you mention, looking up at Orm, and tugging your lip between your teeth, “Is that fine for you?”

You gesture towards your small blue car and watch Orm’s gaze as his eyes shift from you to the car before nodding slowly, “Sure.”

As you lead the way, Orm walks behind you, and you notice a hesitation in his movements when you reach the car. He doesn’t do anything until you open your door, watching your movements. To you, he looks a bit lost, as if he’s unsure about how to open the door. But you disregard that thought, it is probably just your mind playing tricks.

As you both get into the car, the doors closing with a reassuring thud, you settle into your respective seats.

“If you need more leg space, feel free to adjust the seat,” you offer, considering he is taller than you.

He meets your gaze with those striking blue eyes before nodding, “Sure, but I’ll be fine.”

Orm’s gaze wanders around your car, and you notice his eyes catching on the seashell chain dangling from the rearview mirror. His hand raises, and his fingers delicately trace over the hard exteriors of the shells. The gesture carries a certain intimacy as if he’s unravelling the stories embedded in each shell.

The image in your mind briefly diverges, envisioning those deliberate touches on your skin with the same care and intensity. You swallow dryly as you try to remember why you’re here - to show him some spots, to be his friend, not to fuck him.

As you start the car, the engine humming to life, you catch what seems like a subtle jump in the corner of your eyes from Orm. However, you dismiss it, attributing it to a trick of the mind or perhaps a momentary startle that often accompanies the sudden sounds of a car coming to life.

“Do you mind fastening your seatbelt?” you ask, your concern for safety evident in the request. Sure, he’s muscular and fit but in case of an accident that won’t help him much sadly.

Orm nods in acknowledgement, and his eyes meet yours as you secure your seatbelt before mirroring the motion.

He is rather strange.

_____

The drive unfolds in a quiet contentment, accompanied by the soft murmur of the radio playing music at a low volume. Orm, for the most part, gazes out of the window, seemingly lost in thought or captivated by the passing scenery. As the sunlight plays on his face, casting gentle shadows, you find yourself fascinated by the play of light, accentuating his features.

At some point you start humming, caught in the melody of a song and even sing quietly along. After a few beats you notice that Orm’s gaze is fixed on you now, an intensive look in his blue eyes as he studies you with a depth that makes you feel vulnerable.

As you become aware of it, a blush creeps across your cheeks. To your surprise, Orm responds with one of those sweet smiles before breaking eye contact and redirecting his attention to the scenery outside the window again.

“We’re here,” you announce to Orm, bringing the car to a stop. The engine’s hum fades as you turn it off, and you both step out.

You brought him to a medium-high cliff site.

The cliff, standing just a few feet above the ocean, is characterised by weathered stones, carved over time by the relentless touch of the water. It’s not a typical beach setting, but the raw beauty of the scene never fails to captivate you.

Below, the waves crash with a rhythmic symphony, their energy echoing against the stone walls in a natural percussion. Each surge sends sprays of seawater into the air, catching the sunlight like a cascade of liquid diamonds before dissipating into the sea breeze.

The sun, hanging high in the sky, bathes the entire scene in a warm, golden glow. It casts its warm embrace upon the waves, creating a dazzling display as the light interplays with the water that reflects the brilliance of the sun. The golden rays catch in the frothy crests of the wave.

A small path, worn by time and exploration, winds its way down the cliffside side presumably leading to a beach down below.

In the stillness of this remote haven, away from the clamour of the city and the watchful eyes of the world, the air carries a purity that is both invigorating and calming. As you close your eyes and inhale deeply, the crisp, clean air fills your lungs, creating a sense of tranquillity that is uniquely serene.

As you stand there a realization dawns upon you - you’ve never brought someone here before. Yet, as you stand there with Orm, the decision to share this sacred place with him feels instinctive, as if his presence harmonizes with the essence of the surroundings.

Deep within your consciousness, a recognition stirs, an understanding that his eyes mirror the tranquil beauty of this place. There’s an unspoken connection between him and the sea, a sentiment that resonates with the rugged cliffs, crashing waves, and untamed nature surrounding you both. It’s as if his very presence is an extension of the landscape - a kindred spirit to the ocean.

“Beautiful,” Orm’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie, prompting you to turn around and face him, finding that his gaze is fixed on you, not on the breathtaking scenery that surrounds you.

“Yeah, I come here to think - I just feel like I can breathe here,” you share, offering a glimpse into the personal significance this place holds for you.

As you speak, you notice that Orm’s eyes remain glued to your form, not wandering to the sea. His intense gaze seems to linger on you as if captivated by something beyond the natural beauty of the landscape. You feel your heartbeat in your whole body and electricity coursing through your skin.

Orm steps closer his intense blue eyes never leaving yours. With a gentle touch, he lifts a wayward lock of hair that has fallen in front of your face and tucks it behind your ear.

The gesture is tender, a subtle connection that transcends words. The proximity and the soft touch create a moment suspended in time, the crashing waves and the untouched beauty of the surroundings fading into the background.

Your breath catches in your throat, momentarily you forget to breathe as you feel his warm skin on your face.

You can’t help but notice the vibrant glow in Orm’s eyes. The sunlight catches in the deep blue hues, and they seem to come alive with a vivid intensity. His gaze, vibrant and open, mirrors the brilliance of the sun that bathes the surroundings.

At that moment, his eyes are a reflection of the untamed beauty of the sea, filled with depths and mysteries that seem to echo the vastness of the ocean.

Orm’s proximity brings with it an enveloping scent that fills the air around you. It’s a fragrance that captures the essence of the sea, a symphony of the breeze, sea salt, and the unmistakable aroma of the beach.

As you breathe in, the familiar notes of the sea transport you to the shoreline, the rhythmic sounds of the waves echoing in your mind.

It is as if he’s water itself.

In the silence, with Orm’s hand gently cradling the side of your face, you notice the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. In a moment of courage, you decide to close the distance.

With a small, bold step on your toes, you reach for his lips, closing the gap between you and Orm. The kiss is a gentle meeting, a fusion of shared connection and unspoken emotions. The crashing waves and the sea breeze seem to hold their breath as if nature itself is pausing to witness this intimate exchange beneath the warm glow of the sun.

Orm’s response is immediate and enveloping. Instead of pulling back, he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you even closer against his frame. The kiss deepens a mutual exchange that goes beyond words. The embrace is strong and intimate as if the crashing waves below have found their echo in the connection between you and Orm.

Time seems to slow, and the kiss becomes a shared moment suspended in the tapestry of the cliffside sanctuary. The scent of the sea, the warmth of the sunlight, and the touch of his lips create a harmonious symphony, blending with the timeless rhythm of the waves below.

You feel Orm’s stubble against your skin. The subtle scratch of his facial hair becomes a grounding force, connecting you to the present moment, reminding you that this is happening.

It is as if your entire being comes alive.

Every touch, every nuance of the kiss, is a vibrant testament to the living, breathing connection between you and Orm.

Breathless, you break the kiss, and as you look at Orm, he appears positively ravishing. The sea breeze plays with his tousled hair, and the sunlight casts a golden glow upon his features.

His eyes reflect a sense of wonder as if the shared moment was something extraordinary and beyond expectation. And then, with a captivating smile, he pulls back slightly, tracing his tongue over his bottom lip, savouring the taste of the kiss.

“That was unexpected,” Orm says, his intense gaze unwavering as he keeps his eyes firmly on you.

“Unwelcome?” you question, searching for reassurance.

“No, I didn’t say that. It was most welcome,” he assures you with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting a genuine appreciation for the shared moment.

“It’s different from what I thought or expected,” Orm mumbles quietly, his expression turning thoughtful, the words almost lost in the hushed tone.

“What?” you ask, a hint of confusion in your voice, urging him to repeat himself since you didn’t quite catch what he was saying.

“Oh, nothing,” Orm dismisses with a subtle smile, as if choosing to keep certain thoughts close to himself and not to elaborate further.

You lose your train of thought as soon as Orm reaches for your hand, giving it a subtle, reassuring squeeze, telling you without words that you shouldn’t worry about it.

Orm gently releases your hand, his attention drawn to the scenic surroundings. Taking a few steps forward, he moves closer to the edge of the cliff, where he peers down at the undulating water below.

In the soft glow of the sunlight, his features come alive, it paints him with warmth, casting a radiant glow that enhances every detail. The light highlights the slight tousle of his hair as the wind delicately weaves through it.

Orm turns to you again, his eyes reflecting a deep appreciation for the surroundings. “I can understand why you come to this place,” he says, his voice carrying a sincere tone. “It really is something special.“

You nod in agreement and offer a warm smile. “Are you hungry?” you ask because the rumble in your own stomach suggests it’s time for a meal. Orm seems to ponder for a moment, considering the idea, and then he agrees with a subtle nod.

Curiosity piqued, you ask, “What do you feel like eating?”

His response is straightforward. “I’d like a burger with fries and a Guinness.”

A grin spreads across your face as you reply, “I know a spot that serves good burgers. I’m not too sure about the Guinness though - but I’m sure you’ll find something.”

Orm nods in satisfaction and you suggest getting back to the car.

“Lead the way, oh guide of tours,” Orm says, his choice of words eliciting a snort from you at the quirky phrasing.

As you both settle into the car, you take the driver’s seat and start the engine.

Without many words, Orm carefully places a hand on your thigh.

Initially, it’s just the featherlight touch of his fingertips, but when he senses your ease, he gently lays his hand down, spreading his fingers to cover as much space as possible.

The warmth of his touch seeps through the fabric of your jeans, a searing heat that radiates from your leg, enveloping your entire body. Turning your head towards him, you find his gaze fixed on you and in response, you offer a warm smile.

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