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sapphire-writes · 8 months

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Chapter 1: Welcome Home

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summary ~ Hired by the elusive Aemond Targaryen, you arrive at Harrenhal House to care for his niece and nephew. Things go bump in the night.

warnings below the cut for your convenience

warnings ~ spooky ghostly stuff, angst, mentions of death, loss of a child, blood, wound care

note: and so begins our spooky adventure! I hope you enjoy it!

banner made by the ever lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

Harrenhal stands on the edge of our world atop lush, green hills. The God’s Eye Lake is the biggest in the country, more like the sea than any landbound body of water you’d ever seen before.

As the Uber driver creeps along the bend of the God’s Eye, the old manor begins to come into view. A thick layer of fog seems to cling to the bricks; gray tendrils creeping onto the driveway and spilling onto the lawn.

“Are you a long way from home?” your driver asks, meeting your eyes in the rearview as he attempts to strike up polite conversation. You assume it’s because of the rather rough start you got off with him.

“Harrenhal House?” he had asked, face red, eyes wide, “That place is cursed.”

Not exactly the warm welcome you had wished for when you arrived in the Riverlands. Not exactly the impression Aemond Targaryen had given in his email when he offered you the job. The interview had been completed over the phone. His voice was cold, words clipped as though he wanted to find someone qualified and quickly to care for his niece and nephew.

The car pulls up to Harrenhal, tires crunching against the gravel of the driveway. The iron gates were open as you’d driven up, expecting your arrival. Hedges and statues covered with moss decorate the path toward the main house. The car slowly creeps closer. Your driver clutches the wheel as though the house means to swallow him whole.

Harrenahal stands out like a stain against the clear blue sky. It is an enormous manor, with shutters, and brick the color of pitch. The terrifying eyesore of the Riverlands. Crows have made their nests in several of the gables, their beady black eyes watching intently as the car comes to a halt.

A murder.

Of course, you’d done your research before accepting the position. Both on the home and on your host.

Harrenhal had a grizzly history. Your driver wasn’t wrong when he called it a cursed place. But the dead didn’t scare you. You had ghosts of your own.

Aemond Targaryen was a different story. Second son of Viserys Targaryen, whose recent passing was still hot news in the corporate world. Not that you paid close attention, but you’d heard there still had been no decision on the naming of the new CEO of Fire & Blood Co.

The death of the patriarch seemed to trigger a chain reaction of devastating events. If Harrenhal was cursed, so was the Targaryen family tree. Wherever the silver-haired blue bloods go, tragedy seems to follow.

The death of little Jaehaerys is the most tragic of all.

You’d yet to see a child-sized coffin and desperately hoped you never would.

They’d whisked Helaena Targaryen away from the boisterous streets of King’s Landing rather quickly after the funeral of her first son. After her accident.

You didn’t know what had happened, it was omitted from the press. Even the tabloids had only guesses. You doubt there are many limitations to actions caused by a mother’s grief.

Jaehaerys left two siblings behind; a twin sister and an infant brother still too young to toddle. Aemond Targaryen was hardly ready to be a father. You’d researched him as well and read about his ascent up the corporate ladder.

The boost of nepotism couldn’t have hurt, but from what you could tell, as you hunched over your laptop in the darkness of your hotel room, Aemond Targaryen had worked hard for his success. A tragic accident when he was a child left him blind in his left eye, leaving it cloudy and sightless, though nothing more was disclosed online about the incident.

There were other Targaryen siblings; an elder sister from a first marriage, a party boy, and another brother backpacking through the eastern continent. You flipped through countless articles and stalked the Instagram pages of the elusive family.

However, Aemond Targaryen did not have social media.

What he did have, was a marriage announcement, followed soon after by an obituary.

A handsome young widower. Not even thirty.

The deceased wife was much older. You’d browsed through Google images while slurping cold pad Thai, though there were hardly any pictures of them as a couple. Aemond seemed to avoid the press at every chance.

There weren’t many photos of him; just candid shots here and there—a dark suit, a flash of silver hair. You had shut your laptop after that, feeling suddenly self-conscious, as though Aemond would know you’d read about him the first time he laid eyes on you.

Your Uber driver helps deposit your bags onto the gravel, shutting the trunk with a grunt. He turns to you, eying the manor nervously, as though it's a living thing waiting to open its jaws and devour you.

“You be careful, love,” he tells you, nodding towards the house.

“I’m tougher than I look,” you assure, awarding him a wry smile.

The smile he offers in return is more of a grimace, and he is quick to return to the safety of his vehicle. You grab your carry-on and the handle of your suitcase, gazing up at the manor. A crow caws, alerting the others to your arrival.

A group of crows is called a murder.

You walk up to the doors, knocking once, twice. There is no answer. Turning the handle, you stepped into the grand foyer. A large staircase is the first thing you see, though you’re distracted by the man walking down the steps at a leisurely pace.

Aemond Targaryen is more intimidating than the candid photos you’d hungrily browsed. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a slender waist. His long, silver hair is braided into a bun resting at the nape of his neck, a few tendrils ghosting around his face. Pouty lips, sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and a beautiful straight, pointed nose.

You’d always had a thing for noses.

Seven hells. Stop that. This guy is your boss, your employer.

His eyes. One blue, the other milky and lifeless. The gash of a faded scar running up the side of his face only served to make me more handsome.

He greets you with the title of Miss, the gentle timbre of his voice floating down to you. It’s so formal, as though you’ve walked through a portal into a Jane Austin novel. He doesn’t smile, just watches you, sizing you up.

Fucking hell, he’s even more handsome in person.

The man could be a model if business doesn’t work out for him.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you watch him descend the steps. With his hands in his pockets, and white button-down sleeves rolled to his elbows, he oozes an air of cold confidence as his eyes trace over you. He doesn’t offer a hand to shake, despite his formality. Even when he removes his hands from his pockets, letting one drag slowly down the railing.

“You didn’t arrive with any other baggage?” Aemond quips, the fingers of his left hand uncurling from a clenched fist.

You blink, before glancing at your suitcase, at the carry-on bag beside it, “No…?”

Aemond hums to himself, lips pressed firmly together. His face gives nothing away, an emotionless mask of disinterest.

“No estranged boyfriend who’ll be coming looking for you?” he asks pointedly.

Your cheeks warm at his statement. You should have guessed he’d be direct. He didn’t ask you in the interview about a partner; just made sure you were able to commit to the position for at least six months.

“No,” you tell him, “No boyfriend.”

His eyes, both the blue and the milky sightless, hold your gaze intently before he nods.

“Follow me then.”

Aemond gives you a tour of the house, showing you all the rooms you’ll have access to. Mysteries are hidden behind closed doors that Aemond doesn’t acknowledge, including a closed door decorated with paintings of vines and flowers. He omits the majority of the west wing of the house which includes the location of his study.

A man has his secrets, you suppose.

What he does show you is the kitchen, along with the nursery and the library. Despite the age of the house, the kitchen is large and modern, with cabinets painted a deep forest green beside stainless steel appliances. A gas stove houses a tea kettle, ready and waiting.

He shows you to your room last; on the eastern side of the house close to the nursery. You follow him down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence. Aemond has not attempted small talk throughout the tour of the house.

Aemond has stayed silent unless he is informing where he is taking you next, his hands clasped behind his back. It almost looks uncomfortable, the way he holds himself upright, his spine straight as an arrow.

“Your sister lives here as well, right?” you ask absentmindedly looking at the tapestries that decorate the hall.

Aemond stops in front of a door, turning back to you. Those cold eyes stoke a fire within you, setting you ablaze with each glance. He is silent for a moment before he opens the door.

“This is your room,” he continues, ignoring your question, “There are extra sheets in the lower drawers, and on Sundays, the housekeeper comes to strip the beds and tend to the rest of the house.”

He opens the bottom drawers of the large oak dresser. A large mirror rests on top of it accompanied by a dark jewelry box. The dresser matches the rest of the furniture in the room; all dark stained wood as though each piece was dunked in ink. A large four-poster bed sits in the middle of the room, the green comforter is warm and inviting. You can see God’s Eye from the large arched window; the water sparkles with the afternoon light cascading across the surface like diamonds.

“I hope you’ll find it satisfactory,” Aemond says.

You turn to face him, standing in front of the window letting the warmth of the sun on your face.

“It’s more than satisfactory,” you tell him, “Straight out of a Shirley Jackson novel.”

Aemond shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other, seemingly perturbed by your praise. He purses his lips, glancing at the carpeted floor. You swear he’s smirking slightly.

“A backhanded compliment.”

“It’s not meant to be,” you assure him, your face warming with embarrassment.

“Yes well,” he says, clearing his throat, “Let's hope that’s how the buyers feel as well.”

“I didn’t realize you meant to sell,” you tell him.

“It’s ours for now, but I mean to relocate to Summerhal,” he comments, “This house isn’t held long.”

That’s all he says on the matter. You don’t ask him to elaborate. You doubt he would anyway, he seems keen to ignore your curiosity. Aemond leads you down the stairs once more and out through the kitchen onto a stone patio. The view of God’s Eye is spectacular, it’s close enough to stand at the edge if only you run down the hill.

A garden disrupts the spacious greenery and you walk beside Aemond, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“She’s here, she’s here!” a small voice calls, followed by a young girl bursting through the doors and out onto the patio.

“Jaehaera!” a woman calls, chasing after the young girl.

She races down the steps to where you stand with Aemond in the gardens. Cheeks rosy, smiling brightly, Jaehaera Targareyn boldly walks up in front of you. Her blue eyes are wide and she holds out a fist full of daisies.

“I’ve picked these for you,” she declares and you kneel to meet her height, “Talya said I needed to wait.”

You take the flowers from her, pressing them against your nose and inhaling their sweet scent. You’ve always loved daisies.

“Which you did not,” Tayla says, catching her breath as she arrives, “I’m sorry sir she didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” Aemond quips, arms tucked behind his back, “They needed to meet anyway.”

“It’s nice to meet you Jaehaera. I love your dress,” you tell her, and she twirls letting her baby-blue skirt billow around her.

“You’re much prettier than Kepus told me,” Jaehaera says, eyes drinking in every inch of your face.

“I told you I hadn’t any idea what she looked like,” Aemond gently corrects.

You smile, chest feeling warm at her kindness. You tell her your name and her nose crinkles.

“I’m going to call you Miss Gevie,” Jaehaera declares softly, “Because of how perfectly lovely you are.”

“Someone’s been practicing their High Valyrian,” Aemond remarks, “Have you had your lessons today?”

Jaehaera sighs, a very small sound, “Kessa kepus.”

“Syz riña,” Aemond says, a small smile appearing on his face before glancing at you, “You’ll have to meet Maelor as well.”

“Though he’s rather boring,” Jaehaera interrupts, “He only sleeps. I told muña I wanted a sister. I already have a brother.”

Your stomach flips at her words and you glance at Aemond. His expression is stoic, though Talya pales beside him. She steps forward, kneeling next to Jaehaera, who is busy counting the petals of the daisies you now hold.

“Jaehaera,” she says, forcing a small smile.

“What?”

Tayla grimaces, placing a hand on her shoulder, “We’ve talked about-”

“I want to see muña,” Jaehaera interrupts, shaking off Talya’s comforting hand. She glances at Aemond for help, though he offers none.

“She’s resting now….”

“I want to see her!” Jaehaera insists, louder this time lower lip wobbling.

“Why don’t you say goodbye to Talya first,” Aemond says, “She’s been very kind accompanying you here.”

“You’re leaving?” you ask the woman.

“I’m needed elsewhere, this was a very temporary arrangement,” she tells you.

“She works for my mother,” Aemond clarifies, nostrils flaring slightly, “She was unable to make the journey here.”

You remember reading about Alicent Hightower. You don’t see any of his mother in Aemond’s features. Where Alicent is soft, Aemond is sharp; nose straight and long, chin prominent. The word lethal comes to mind.

Aemond has looks to kill.

You shake your head trying to clear your thoughts.

“Can I show you my room?” Jaehaera asks, smiling once more.

“I’d love that,” you tell her, letting her place her small hand in yours and lead you back towards the house.

You glance behind you, watching as Aemond and Talya converse before Harrenhal swallows you once more.

“Miss Gevie,” Jaehaera asks, tugging her comforter up to her chin, “Are you going to stay with us for a long time?”

You stop picking up some of her toys from the floor. You’d been playing with dolls since after dinner and had just settled down to read a story before bed. You smile, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“I am,” you tell her, “Your uncle is working very hard and needs a little extra help.”

Jaehaera nods, taking in the words you speak. Her blue eyes watch you carefully, seeming wiser than her years.

“I like you,” she says softly, “Kepus likes you too. I can tell. He just doesn’t say so.”

You smile at her. Aemond was clearly softer in the presence of Jaehaera. He’d been more pleasant at dinner than when you’d first arrived. Helaena was absent from supper.

“You’re not going to leave? No matter what?”

You stroke some hair from her face, “I am not going anywhere, any time soon.”

Jaehaera scoots down, laying back against her pillow. You stand, pulling the covers up when something catches your eye. You reach under her pillow, removing a doll that was hidden there.

“Who’s this?” you ask, staring at the doll.

It’s barely a doll, more a stick of melted charred plastic, warped from the heat. You can see remnants of legs and arms, the path a flame must have licked up through the plastic; the hair burnt to the scalp. The face is unrecognizable.

Jaehaera reaches up, closing her small fingers around it.

“He stays here,” she tells you, “He likes to stay inside his castle.”

Geez. Creepy or what? You force a smile, letting her take the weird Barbie.

“Okay,” you tell her, “Goodnight Jaehaera.”

“Goodnight Miss Gevie,” she sing-songs.

“You know, you can just call me by my name,” you remind her.

“I like Miss Gevie better, it suits you,” she insists, yawning.

You find yourself yawning as well, and head to bed. The manor is quiet as you make your way to your room, tucking in for the night.

Sleeping in a new place can cause strange dreams.

A bloodcurdling scream tears through the halls of the sleepy manor, its icy tendrils ripping you from your dreams and back into your bed. You awake with a gasp, sucking in air as though you’d been held underwater, just breaking through the surface. Hand clutching your throat you sit up, hair sticking to the back of your neck from the layer of sweat that covers your body.

The house is quiet once more.

Breathing heavily you sit up in bed for a moment, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You rise on shaky legs moving towards the door, and the ancient doorknob groans in protest as you turn it.

The hallway is dark, moonlight shining through the window at the end painting the floor with streaks of silver.

Maybe you were still dreaming.

But then, a low groan begins, the guttural sounds of a mourning mother’s wail. It washes over you like ice water and your stomach turns as the scream reaches its highest peak. Despite the alarm in your mind telling you to turn back into your room and hide under the covers, you race down the hallway towards the sound.

With each and every step toward the western wing, the screaming gets louder, broken up with deep sobs. You quicken your pace, bare feet padding against the carpet as you reach the source. The door you’d passed earlier, painted with flowers and twisting vines is open now, yellow light pouring into the hall from the lamp.

Aemond holds a girl in his arms--not a girl but a small woman; she’s frail, elbows poking against flesh like a starved baby bird, tears streaming down her ashy cheeks. Her silver hair is damp with perspiration, clinging to her face and neck as she clutches Aemond’s forearm. They’re in a heap together on the floor, Aemond’s arms tensed around her as he gently shushes her.

“Helaena…it's alright, it was just a dream,” he assures her, his voice softer and warmer than you’ve heard since meeting him.

He glances up at you, acknowledging your presence but saying nothing; his entire attention is on his sister.

“It’s never just a dream,” Helaena wails, nails digging into Aemond’s forearm, “Or maybe it is, maybe I’m asleep even now.”

A chill runs down your spine at Helaena’s words.

“Maybe I’ve been sleeping all along,” she continues, eyes glassy and her voice hoarse, “I could feel him, Aemond, it was so real.”

“I know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into her hair.

“I could feel him…in my arms….against my breast like when he was a baby…feeding, it was so real,” she says, her voice dropping into a whisper.

Helaena’s lips trembled, parted in a silent sob. The hand that does not anchor her to Aemond rests atop her breast, as though she can feel Jaehaerys against her chest even now.

“It’s alright dōna mandia,” Aemond murmurs, still stroking her hair. He rocks back and forth, starting a gentle pace to soothe her, “Go to the kitchen.” His voice is directed at you this time, your eyes meeting his. The tone he uses is still soft, and when you don’t move, he gestures toward the hall with a nod of his head.

“Do you hear him?” Helaena continues, “Running down the hall? Jaehaerys! Māzigon kesīr dōna valonqar!” (Come here, sweet boy).

“There’s no one there, Helaena,” Aemond soothes.

“I hear him,” she sobs, turning her face into Aemond’s chest, “Why can’t you hear him?”

Helaena’s sobs and questions are still ringing through your head as you leave the room, heading downstairs.

You make your way to the kitchen, standing in the dark, shocked for a moment before turning on the light. Helaena’s cries and pleas still echo in your mind as you fill the kettle left on the stove and turn on the gas burner. Searching through cabinets you find an array of handmade mugs, choosing a purple one with a twisted handle.

You rummage through some more drawers until you find some herbal tea, setting it beside the stove as you wait for the water to boil. You tap your fingers against the counter, a nervousness curling in your belly as you gaze out the window that leads to the backyard. You had known Helaena wasn’t well, but you didn’t realize just how serious it was.

You inhale a deep breath trying to steady yourself. It’s shaken you up quite a bit, hearing her agonized screams. Your hands tremble and you press your palms flat against the counter. A door slams from somewhere upstairs and you glance at the ceiling.

You look out the window once more, peering into the darkness. The God's Eye is just a still pool reflecting the light of the moon. A shadow moves behind you, reflecting in the glass and you gasp turning around.

“Seven hells!” you curse as Aemond walks into the kitchen, “You scared me.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just watches you for a moment, chest rising and falling with his breath. He must have also been asleep when Helaena’s terrors began as he’s clad in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, silver hair loosely braided down his back.

Ruby-red beads of blood blossom from the crescent-shaped marks on Aemond’s left forearm. You watch them swell into ruby marbles against his porcelain flesh before he grabs a rag on the counter, covering them.

“Are you alright?” you ask, as Aemond sits in a chair.

It’s almost like he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him; he takes a moment to process before he nods. You watch him as he stares at the table, tension rolling off his shoulders. The kettle begins to whistle and you quickly remove it from the stovetop, turning off the flames.

You pour your own mug before moving to the cabinet where you’d found it, retrieving a second. This one is green with gray streaks. Another handmade treasure, you’re sure.

You make Aemond a cup of tea, placing it in front of him before taking the seat next to him. His eye flickers toward the steaming cup. Though he hesitates for a moment, he wraps his long fingers against it, pulling it closer.

“It’s hot,” you tell him, as he lifts it to his lips.

“I don’t mind,” he murmurs. You’d likely burn your lip if you didn’t wait a few minutes. Aemond sighs contentedly, violet eye meeting yours.

“Thank you,” he says softly, “I should have told you…”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, “I figured she was grieving. You’d mentioned she’d been unwell.”

“The doctors say it's night terrors,” Aemond comments, taking another sip, “Due to the trauma she’s experienced.”

“That makes sense.”

“I’m meant to speak with her psychiatrist later this week,” he says, “She’s begun a new medication to help her sleep. I don’t think it’s been doing her any good.”

“Sometimes those things take time,” you tell him, trying to ease some of his distress. He merely hums in response, as though he’s heard it all before. You glance at the rag on his forearm, biting on your lower lip before deciding to speak again. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

Aemond nods, bringing a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Above the fridge,” he murmurs, not looking up.

Rising from your seat, you retrieve the small kit, and place it on the table in front of you. You reach out toward him, tentatively moving the rag from his forearm, revealing the crescent-shaped marks. They’ve begun to clot, and you fold the rag into a small square, placing it on the table beside you. You dig for a few bandaids settling for the smallest ones.

“She had nowhere else to go,” Aemond says, more to himself than to you as you place the bandages on his arm, “Jaerhara, and Maelor they need to be with family. There’s no one else. Nowhere else.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” you tell him, pulling your hands away. You reach for your mug, placing your hands around it and letting the warmth seep into you.

Aemond hums, not answering, though he seems unconvinced by your statement.

“I mean it,” you tell him, “I can see how much you care about them. And your sister.”

Aemond meets your eye once more, his gaze softening.

“She is the best person,” he tells you, his voice even and calm, “The best mother….the best sister.”

There’s pain hidden behind the words that he speaks; you can hear it coating his voice.

“She’s just in one of her hard times,” he assures you, “She goes through phases. Not..not wanting to see Maelor…it comes and goes.”

You reach for his hand. In the heat of the moment, you’re not sure what else to do. There are no more words of comfort to offer him. Your hand fits in his perfectly, resting on top of the table. His palm is warm, the skin surprisingly calloused. Your lips part, a soft gasp slipping free at the feeling of his hand in yours.

Eyes wide, you smile softly at him before squeezing comfort into his hand. Aemond doesn’t squeeze back, but he doesn’t pull his hand away either. You sit like that for several minutes, neither of you moving.

“Your tea will get cold,” Aemond eventually murmurs, breaking the silence.

Your hand slips out of his grasp, the sudden emptiness making you shiver. Clutching the mug, you bring it to your lips, sipping carefully.

It’s already cold.

How long have you been sitting here?

Aemond is watching you still, as you lower the mug. He stands then, taking both mugs to the sink.

“It’s late,” he comments, “We should get some sleep.”

You nod, standing. Aemond pushes into your chair, walking beside you back upstairs. He turns toward the western wing.

“You’re not going to sleep?” you ask, unable to help yourself.

“I am,” Aemond says, turning slightly, “I prefer to stay in my study.”

“Oh,” you comment, “Well ... .goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says before disappearing down the hallway.

You return to your room, lying underneath the covers trying to get warm when you come to a realization.

That was the first time Aemond had called you by your name.

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#aemond x reader #modern!aemond #modern!aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fic #halloween fic #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #modern au #halloween au

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honeymaki · 4 months

Text

𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 .｡.:*･

Warnings: mentions of bodily harm, oral sex (f → receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, unneeded religious themes, mentions of body hair; reader has a hydro vision and is from Inazuma.

Words: 6k

Characters: Cyno; mentions of Tighnari as a reluctant tutor.

→ Notes: this is my first fic in honest to god years, proper thought out all consuming insane in the head fic; and I am proud of this.

The heat of Sumeru was different to the heat of Inazuma, the sweet smelling summers and the cool touch of the vast ocean on your toes were now just memories wisping like the steam that rose from streams, and the breeze that picked up the morning dew drops from leaves larger and thicker than any you had ever seen.

Inazuma summers meant blue ice pops and sweet milk beverages, lounging in you underclothes on the veranda, fanning yourself and whoever was your companion for the day, sucking on juicy melon slices and watching the fishermen bring in their catch of the day down by the shore, the crystal waves just beckoning you in for a much needed swim. The heat there was bearable, almost, with the promise of a fiery red autumn to follow if the sun got high enough and always smelling oh so sweet in the evenings when restaurants and common folk would move their cooking outdoors, smoke from the barbeques dancing in the mellow breeze like rice plumes in their paddy fields, carrying drippings of fat and roasted lavender melons to your nose. If the night was just right, you could just catch the slow baking of Tomoki’s dango, sweet rice cakes lathed with caramel or a soy glaze, both welcomed after hours wandering the slopes beneath Narakumi.

Sumeru summers, despite only experiencing a few in your recent years, were so stiflingly different and yet, a gentle reminder of what it was like back home. It was definitely - wetter with sweltering days that made it hard to breathe and made way for almost frigid nights, dew settling fat and heavy over the land, clouds gathering to tease a storm but only showering a gentle drizzle. The sprawling fields and jagged islands of Inazuma made way for the jungles and vast forests of Sumeru, sunlight dappled and sparkling no matter the time of day, shining through leaves and spider webs and flowers you had yet to name, catching in the estuaries and ponds snaking across the landscape. And the desert, dry and barren with the formidable beast in the sky baring down at all moments, was teaming with the same greenery as your new residence. You didn’t often venture past Caravan Ribat and the few times you did travel there, the sun was shielded behind great hanging cloths and rugs of immense beauty, some old and worn and some witnessing their first day protecting the residents and travellers of the threshold of the desert. Though the shade and protection of the trees was much more suited to you and your gentle memories of Inazuma, flitting from branch to branch the way you used to with the sea caves and shipwrecks of your home.

Sumeru summers meant ripe Zaytun peaches and crunchy radishes pickled with chilli and mint, sipping on lukewarm water from your pouch but wading through ice cold streams to document new outcrops of lotus’. It meant the constant shout of brightly coloured birds beyond your window, the low hum of traders passing through and offering their wares, the enticing aroma of curries and unleavened breads, both sitting heavy and comfortingly in your belly after every sweltering excursion.

There were times you missed Inazuma, deeply and painfully, but as it was, fate had called you beyond the services to the Shogunate and beyond the great sea which had previously been barred. The lifting of the decree saw a mass migration of people, some back to their original homes and many off to new, including yourself in the form of a letter from the Akademiya offering to school you in the great city of Sumeru.

That summer saw your first sea voyage, and your last taste of Inazuman sweetness for many years. The Akademiya was good to you, one of the first Inazumans in an age to study among their natives, bringing your knowledge of Inazuman biology and medicine to their foresight and introducing them to a world of eternity and strange new ways to ferment soybeans. It was difficult to grow accustomed to their culture, their ways and laws, and their itchy uniforms, preferring the loose garb that the forest rangers wore, their bows and their nimble knowledge. Studying under the Amurta discipline was a gentle reminder of home, reading about all sorts from around Teyvat, wishing so dearly to travel even beyond Sumeru to see it all for yourself; sitting at your desk in the early hours of the morning dreaming of the mountains of Liyue and the beauty of the Qingxin that you would find, wondering what it would be like to swim in the waters of Fontain and venture among the ancient forests of Mondstadt. Your love of the forest, of all things green and living and thriving sent you to Gandarva Villa, under the apparently famed and somewhat reluctant mentorage of Tighnari. Reluctant in that upon reading your thesis and realising that you had already submitted your first manuscript, and concluding that he had little idea of the basis of your study and that you had already nearly finished it entirely.

Inazuma had been closed off, shut to any and all outsiders for a generation, prompting only theories and wild ideas about your archon and her dealings; which lead to a dramatic decline in knowledge flowing from her shores, not only technologically but also botanically. Growing your first successful lavender melon on a rickety trellis in your front garden was talked about for weeks, fuelled only by your multiple displays of how one could cook, eat and utilise it. Food from Inazuma was indeed traded in the cities, but many of the forest rangers rarely ventured into the winding, bustling streets so in between studying and writing up a new version of your manuscript; you took it upon yourself to grow as much as you could from home to share with your new and beloved friends. And the Sumeru summers were the perfect growing conditions to do this, spending your pink and orange evenings pruning the naku weed and spreading straw beneath the amakuno fruits, tending to the delicate blooms of your unsuccessful dendrobiums.

Which is where you found yourself one calm and thankfully cool evening after feasting with your companions. Knelt on the grass, books and papers surround you and your distinct annoyance, chewing your lip and pondering on the answers you finally found regarding your one nemesis. A single sprout curls and threatens to wither before you, rejecting the sprinkle of water you summon from your palm, looking very sorry for itself; a sad reflection of its carer,

“I didn’t think I’d have to resort to such sinful methods little one,” you grumble, theory confirmed by the pocketbook of your own writing completed some years ago, “But I promised Tighnari and he looks really silly when he pouts,” as if your words would suddenly spark the sprout into blooming, a crumb of soil instead shuddered and dropped from its crisped leaf in defeat. A creature called out in the distance, wind blew gently through the valley and rustled your papers, concealing the staggering breaths of a person advancing on your delicate little world, and concealing the unsheathing of a small pocket knife. It was clear your intention, fuelled by your field notes and the archived history of Nazuchi Beach, and in a dramatic display; you held your hand out over the sorrowful sprout with the blade kissing your skin.

A hiss of breath and the nicking pain never came, pressure and a grunt revealed a hand holding your wrist far from the shining lick of the knife.

“What exactly are you doing?” the familiarity of that gruff voice causes a chill to ripple down your spin, hanging your head with heat in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it was Inazuman custom to sacrifice oneself to plants, dead ones at that,”

“I wasn’t going to entirely sacrifice myself, these plants grow only where blood has been spilt and I'm not going to ask someone else to do it for me, or start a war like they did back home so I figured -,” turning to face him, something catches you off guard. It wasn’t unusual for the General Mahamtra to pass through the valley, even stay for a few nights with his fellows, but it was unusual that he seemed - not quite right, despite still gripping you and staring at you with unimpressed judgement. So much so that you abruptly ended your swotty explanation and tried to pull away from him, to no avail,

“Are you okay? You look kind of unwell?” voice gentle and curious, causing Cyno to tighten his grip on your wrist even more, “Ah ! - you’re hurting me,”

“Where is Tighnari? I need to see him, something has happened…I’ve done something regreful,” even though he seemed to have been speaking perfectly fine a few seconds ago, Cyno suddenly sounded a thousand miles away and almost intoxicated. Eyes glancing around furtively, searching for nothing and everything, specifically your reluctant mentor who currently -,

“He’s away right now, Liyue - ow ! - there was a cooking event he wanted to go to and so I asked if he could pick me up some Violetgrass and also some starconches,” you say through your teeth, struggling out of his grasp and rubbing your wrist, squinting at his figure in the doctor-ish way Tighnari taught you. All of a sudden, he didn’t look much like a General Mahamatra, or even a matra; trying desperately to hide the sways in his body and the shaking of this fists held tightly by his side, tongue dipping out of his mouth to lap at the beads of sweat rolling down his upper lip, eyes red and rimmed dark. Words seem to be a loss for him at the news, swallowing thickly and looking down at his feet, toes digging into the carefully curated moss of your garden,

“What did you eat?” your sharp question stuns him out of his stupor for a moment, scrambling to your feet to assess him properly, “Or drink, but I assume it was something edible that has you sweating like the grand sage in a brothel,”

“Don’t - ,” he spits, “Don’t mock me,” you step back, hands up in submission, face shining with the want to help,

“I wasn’t Cyno, I promise, Tighnari isn’t here right now so I’m going to help you, but I need you to answer my questions so I can do that,” it occurred to you for a moment that as the General, Cyno probably knew about his friend’s little excursion and yet, came straight to you instead of the Akademiya. But a sharp exhale banished that thought from your mind,

“In the North, near Vanarana, there were Fatui breaking protocol,” at the mention of the mysterious and mostly unmapped region, you usher Cyno into your humble hut, drawing the wicker shutters and lighting a candle in the dwindling dusk, “they had stolen goods - crests from all over Teyvat, mostly food from Inazuma, some kind of mushroom …,”

“Oh Cyno, we have both told you never to -,”

“Yeah, yeah, never eat something I can’t name, I know; but it looked like a starshroom, it was glowing and I can obviously name that so, I ate it,” sinking into a chair, Cyno suddenly looked pale in the candlelight, wiping sweat from his brow and shifting his hips beneath your scrutinising gaze,

“Did you say it was glowing? You ate a glowing mushroom?” this was hardly the time for jesting but you couldn’t help but grin, vanishing in a second under Cyno’s scowl, “Tighnari is going to be so mad at you, I thought it was obvious not to go around tasting things that glowed! We teach that to children! And newcomers who have never seen anything like it before,” your berating is only half serious, rummaging around you various knapsacks and baskets for the ingredient you needed to ease his pain, handing him a strip of dried something or other with a kind look, “Chew on this, it should stop the pain in a few seconds but just hang tight okay? I’ll take care of you,”

As much of a mother you seemed around those who made mistakes, berating them sharply before showing them the right way or the solution; Cyno almost felt like a lover to you in the way you cupped his jaw to make sure he was indeed chewing on the bark, stroking the tops of his cheekbones and the round of his collar in search of a rash, fingers soft and methodical, loving in a way he was unsure of whether you used towards other patients. He watched you work, content with his stabilising condition and preparing some kind of drink, back facing him and sweetly busy at your workbench. You were so precise and aged in your movements, picking the right herb and concoction without having to think, mixing them perfectly into a hand thrown cup with an extra spoonful of something for good measure,

“Here,” you sat down in the chair next to him, pressing a cool palm to his forehead beneath his headpiece, “I put some sugar in it to make it a little easier to drink, m’fraid I didn’t have any lavender melon syrup left,” the cup is heavy when you push it towards him, eyes curious and ever watchful, “If you need to throw up then warn me first,”

That struck him as odd. “Why didn’t you make me do that as soon as I arrived here? Surely that’s the first protocol in eating something dangerous?” you jerked your head, an indicator for him to drink and truly, the sugar did nothing to hide the foul taste and Cyno couldn’t hold back the winces and the gags as he swallowed,

“You ate fluorescent fungus, probably a rarer sub-specie that is very similar to the starshroom and native to Inazuma, obviously. The spores would have touched your lips first and as it is a very delicate plant -,” you fiddle with a small pocket book left on the table, showing him a beautiful painted depiction of the yellow-ish fungus he ate, “your saliva would have dissolved it before it even hit your stomach so vomiting would not have done much,” he nods, somewhat in defeat, gulping the last of your concoction with a poorly hidden gag, “We can sit until you feel better if you’d like, I’m surprised you didn’t have worse symptoms. Usually people get hallucinations, fainting, loss of limb control; the usual when one eats a poisonous mushroom, but you’re strong I guess,” you steal a glance at his body reclined and tense in the chair, “or just resistant,” Cyno doesn’t reply, tilting his head back and taking a shallow breath, still uncomfortable and unwell, “Just relax, it’ll take effect in a little bit, I’ll take care of you while it does,”

There was that strange feeling that made Cyno want to suck in his cheeks and puff out his chest, but it was not all that unfamiliar. Moments like this were common, more so in the recent visits, the ones where he felt like you could be a little more than the Inazuman who knows surprisingly too much. Sat around the fire in the cool nights, palm held in yours, tracing the deep callouses and lines and pretending to be a mage from your home city, making up some jumbo about his future and him suddenly so wishing you were in it; waving at him from down in the valley, wading with the fishes and the fungi, trousers rolled up to your knees and looking just about the happiest he had ever seen you; listening from the shadows as you animatedly retold stories from travelling around Watatsumi and foraging the pearls hidden beneath the glowing waters, an eagerly fond look twinkling in his eye; slyly asking about you at the Akedamiya, wondering about your studies and pretending to be interested in your thesis when all he could see was your printed name at the top of the manuscript; times when you thought he couldn’t see you looking at him with his headpiece off, a cut on his brow or a set of cards on the table in front of him, noticing your longing gaze and keeping it safe for the lonely nights in the desert.

You were looking at him now, thinking he was resting, allowing your eyes to trace the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft skin of his stomach and the trunks of his thighs, spread and inviting. It takes all he has not to smirk, or flush, or even move. It’s strange, he thinks, he feels almost uncomfortable in that he desperately wants to do something about it, in an all the more wanton way. Makes him feel wound up, on edge almost, biting his tongue and scrunching his toes in case he might stand up and simply confess.

“How do I know if I’m hallucinating?” Cyno knows he isn’t, but it fills the heady silence and he hears you readjust yourself, sitting up a little straighter,

“Well, first of all, you shouldn’t be hallucinating now since the medicine should be working,” there’s concern in your voice, licking like a lover over his ears, feeling you press forward and he feels you caress his closed eyelid, “look at me? Why could you be hallucinating now?” he’s lazy in aiding your poking and prodding, allowing you to remove his headpiece and place it on the table, blinking blearily, “Describe what you are feeling please, and what you’re seeing,”

“I’m not sure how to describe it,” he grumbles after a moment in gathering his thoughts, struggling in your close proximity, “You’re so close, it’s interfering with my concentration,” you furrow your brows, confused and more than concerned, that same soft scowl of a lover settling on your face at his words, “there, you’re doing things and saying things and making me feel things I’m not accustomed to, it feels wrong; like it and you and all this shouldn’t be here,”

“And so, you think that you’re experiencing a hallucination of what exactly?” you feel for a temperature, sitting back in your chair at his leaning forwards into the touch of your hand, “I’m not sure you’re hallucinating Cyno, your vitals are - ,” precise fingers dig into the doughy, giving skin under his chin to feel for a pulse, finding it strong and fluttering like a small bird, “Let me get you something to drink, water this time I promise,” you’re not angry with his feigning symptoms, or that concerned at his apparent anxiety, not berating him in that motherly way like you usually do and that only causes his pulse to rocket higher and the anxiety creep further into his gut. You’re acting in that way again, sweet eyes and a sweeter voice, like honey, fetching him a cool welcomed cup of water in the way such as after a night of -

You distinctly remember hearing absolute silence in the seconds between you standing to get your guest some water, and then feeling his imposing presence behind you, close enough to feel his breath on the back of your neck. Time stops at the sound of his fists clenching by his side, swallowing thickly at the sight of your inviting skin, physically shaking in his restraint,

“I feel like I’m dreaming, like none of this and none of what I am feeling is real,” you’re silent still, barely breathing in the confined space he’d boxed you into, a small corner of your hut with a sink that provided you some much needed physical support. Psychologically however, you were in turmoil. Cyno, the Great General Mahamtra, felt as if he was having a hallucination or some kind of dream in his apparent romantic or lustful pursuit of you, and the implication of what was standing behind you was suddenly too much to bear.

“I could - pinch you if you’d like,” the voice that leaves you doesn’t sound like your own, shaky and shy, “Dreams aren’t real, you shouldn’t be able to feel or touch or taste in a dream, if you concentrate hard enough,”

A beat passes, filled with sharp, quiet breaths passing between you and it aches that you cannot see what he’s doing, or what he looks like or how he feels. Your heart flutters like a sakura petal in the spring breeze, mouth dropping open when you feel his hands rest on your hips, burning hot through your clothes. Cyno sucks in a breath, lips dry and cool as they part against your neck, tongue darting out to taste the damp saltiness of your skin,

“I feel you,” he mumbles into your jugular, thick hair sticking to the side of your face and his nails dig into the cushiony flesh of your hips, “I feel you, and you feel - soft, so soft,” hips press into you, strong and hard and fluid, “And you taste like nectar, like honey and wine and - like a dream,”

“It’s been more than enough time for the medicine to take its full effect, you shouldn’t feel any more side effe…Cyno,” his name comes out a sigh at his attaching his mouth fully to your throat, wet and warm and causing your knees to buckle. He catches you, almost, slinging an around around your middle and hoisting you back against him, panting against the back of your neck,

“I guess you’re right,” one hand grips your wrist, urging you to put down the cup and Cyno lifts it to his lips, nose running down the pulsing veins as it trying to absorb your scent and the effect he has on your pulse, throbbing beneath the delicate skin, “How could this be a dream, a hallucination if I can feel everything, taste you on my tongue, touch you like this?”

He’s grinding against you, body writhing in tandem with his in response, mouth open with heady gasps and mewls that remind him over and over that not only did you save him from certain madness, but you also were eagerly reciprocating his equally eager advances. Long fingers unlace the ties of your trousers and dip beneath your waistband, instead dragging up into your shirt, loose and comfortable for your planned evening of study, now easily parting like clouds on a blustery day for him. The first touch against your chest sends you shivering into his grip, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast oh so softly and politely before gripping a little firmer, then altogether greedily. Flesh spilling between his fingers, nipple catching on a callous, rough and a little mean but eliciting such a submissive little reaction that Cyno nearly folds forward against you.

“Please, please, please,” you’re muttering desperately, sacred like you’re saying a prayer, pushing your chest further into his touch and arching your back, “Touch me please,”

“You’re always so polite,” he isn’t much for words, let alone praises but you’re so dear and so sweet in his arms, shivering like a little lamb and even bleating at the slithering of his other hand into your trousers. With his face still nuzzling into your neck, Cyno is only just able to hide his distinct devastation at how wet you are, positively soaking your underwear and covering his fingers in honeyed slick. He grips your breast harder, plucking at your nipple at the same luxurious pace as his forefingers sliding through your cunt, slipping sloppily over your clit and you all but howl. You aren’t quite sure what to do with your hands, the one he was previously lathing kisses to was now somehow tangled in his hair, holding him in place and it’s grounding, it’s anchoring you to the intense, gooey pleasure coursing through your gut. Your other hand is gripping his forearm, the one deep between your thighs or the one greedily fisting your breasts, you aren’t sure but your nails hurt and you think it’s because you’re holding on too tight, but how can you not when too much is happening all at once?

Cyno feels your arousal coating his hand, palm sticky and fingers pruning with his assault, languid circles over your clit, following the shivers and writhes of your body with grinds and jerks of his own. Gods, he’s so hard that it hurts, and he knows that you’re so close, so fucking close to cumming but he can’t help but still worry if he’s dreaming, if this is all an after effect of his incident, if you’d neglected to tell him how long something like a hallucination could last. He vaguely hears you howl in agonising dejection when he rips his hand from your trousers, strings of arousal glistening in between his fingers in the light and he’s struck with how you’d much prefer to cry over the loss than watch him lick up the mess you’d made. You only just manage to catch his eyes rolling back at the taste, dripping down his wrist, three fingers shoved into his mouth and positively devouring the essence of you. Tears leak down your cheeks, replacing his fingers with your lips in a whirlwind of need and hard, hot desperation, swallowing his surprised grunt with a whine of your own. Cyno doesn’t respond for a moment, shocked at your display of wantonness, tongue licking inside his mouth in a thinly veiled attempt at tasting your own arousal and his grip on you suddenly becomes all the more fierce.

“I can’t - I can’t -,” your kisses grow sloppy with your begs, struggling to pull your trousers down, almost losing your balance and it pains Cyno to part from you for even a second to disrobe himself. Red eyes follow your every movement, toeing off your shoes and ungracefully kicking away your trousers, bending over for a moment and it takes everything in him not to cum on the spot. Nestled between your thighs, dripping and plump, the scent of it wounding him to his knees, crawling half dressed over to you,

“Gods - fuck,” eyes fluttering closed at your suprised gasp, tongue darting out to lick gently, lightly like he was licking honey from his finger, catching the leaking drops and feeling his stomach clench, and his cock kick against his thigh. You remain in place, frozen against his curious, pointed licks, flattening his tongue after having his fill and splitting your pussylips with a lewd noise. He could be content between your thighs for the rest of his life, Akademiya be damned, coming home from his duties to this lifeline of saccharine sin that he swallows down greedily and selfishly. The wings of your shirt sit bunched over your hips, sliding low over your ass until he frustratedly fists the cotton against your cheek and spreads you enough to put his whole mouth against you.

“Cyno! Ah - !” you startle forwards, but he only follows like a worshipper, slurping and swallowing every flutter and every throb of you, fingers digging hard into your thigh and ass to keep himself in place. A tentative hand cards into his hair, a question and his answer was a long, slow moan directly into your cunt, vibrating between your hips and the result was your closeted strength almost shoving him over, nose hitting your clit and causing you to gyrate deliciously.

That was all he wanted, this drawn out stupor only stabilised by your shuddering grinds against his tongue, palm slapping against the countertop. If you’d allow him, Cyno would do this every day, he’d gladly station himself in the city if he got to taste the heaven between your thighs even for a few seconds in the mornings before he was called in to deal with the country’s worst and the best. It would be a welcome reprieve, one he’d been craving without even knowing it; in the moments alone with you, sacred and secret, soft and sweet and warm. To feel you gushing down his chin, moans reaching their crescendo and legs shaking on your tiptoes, all but sobbing into the crook of your elbow as you cum; it would be worth the sacrifice.

Cyno felt selfish, detaching himself from your cunt, resting his forehead against the back of your thigh and smoothing his hands over your shuddering calves, down to your ankles and then back up to your ass.

“Are you okay?” his breath is hot on your skin, and through your gulping pants, you manage to answer with a cracked ‘mhm’. You feel him smile wide and smug, standing and hiccuping at the state of you, slumped against the sink and writhing as if in pain, whole body breathing with your dwindling orgasm, “Come here, I got you,”

Carefully and all too greedily, Cyno scoops your torso against his with his hand angling your jaw, tilting your face up to his. A kiss is pressed to your lips, languid and lazy, a stark contrast to the blunt head of his cock kissing the lips of your cunt. You shudder, unable to return his kisses but trying so desperately to keep his stare, eyes boring into yours as he angles his hips.

“I got you,” he murmurs a promise, feeling your fingers lace with his over your throat, watching your lids flutter as he presses into you, “Stay with me, I got you I promise, just a little more,”

Breathy and fleeting, Cyno recites his words like a prayer, thrusting gently and shallowly at your wobbling bottom lip, swallowing your discomforted hiccups. He doesn’t thrust to the hilt like he so dearly wishes to, filling you in one swipe and leaving you reeling - no, he’s slow, methodical, precise and doesn’t break eye contact for even a second. Keeping a firm grip on your jaw, chasing the breaking down of your resolve every inch he slides into you until there’s no more, snug and warm and so fucking wet. He feels you against his pelvis, against his thighs, sticky and warm, shuddering when he kisses you once more, almost like a praise for taking him all the way.

You’re trying to speak, trying to make any sort of sound but the breath is stolen from your chest when he starts an agonisingly deep grind, up into you, hardly leaving the warmth of your cunt and digging hard into your belly. It feels as though he’s in your throat, eyes never leaving yours and sending you spiralling, gasps turning into whimpers turning into hiccuping sobs of his name with every defying push of his hips. Cyno sees your eyes flutter for a second, lips parted and brushing yours, swallowing every delicious sound you make, responding with grunts of his own in both encouragement and sin.

“Eyes on me,” he purrs, a crack in his voice at the sudden way you choke him, cunt clenching at the drop in his tone. Cyno shudders, pace slipping and he slides his hand down over the swell of your belly, feeling for the slippery bud of your clit. When he decides to match the slow, heady pushes and pulls of his hips with heavy thrums over your clit, you’re quite unsure of how you manage to stay standing upright.

“Ah - ! Cyno !” he never falters, not even when you grind back up against him, not even when you try to lick into his mouth for even a semblance of grounding, not even when you cum so hard that fat tears roll down your cheeks, not even when you finally catch your voice and reach back to grip hard at his hair, “Again, make me cum again please,” you beg, “Please Cyno, please - inside, cum inside, make it deep - please,”

Begging didn’t seem to be about your usual person, the one he knew that shared their meals and knowledge with anyone who asked, so to hear it fall from the heaven of your lips was surely his downfall. It was unexpected, it tore a deep and long snarl from his chest, grinds turning into thrusts turning into something damning and gut wrenching. The fingers on your clit were kinder, swift circles to keep you leaking down your thighs but the cock battering your sensitive walls was less so.

He never stops watching you though, even when you reach a second completion, all the more messier and sloppier than the first, red heavy eyes boring into yours without faltering for even a second. Cyno presses his forehead to yours, the angle causing your neck to ache but it goes unnoticed through the life giving pleasure he brings you, with every greedy slam of his pelvis against your ass. Lips touch yours in the moment he cums, eyes finally snapping shut and you think he looks beautiful through the fog of your orgasm; illuminated by the candle light, sweat flecking his brow, hair mussed and tangled in your fingers. Jaw ticking with every twitch of his cock deep inside of you, warmth spreading through your hips and thighs, feeling his hand flatten over your stomach as a kind of worship, caressing the space he fills so deliciously.

“I - ,” he swallows heavily,

“It’s okay,” is the first thing you can think of, “I wanted it too,” Cyno’s eyes open and he searches your face, “For… a while,”

It feels like eternity before he answers, nudging his nose against yours affectionately,

“Would it surprise you to admit I felt the same? That I waited far too long, and chose a rather idiotic time to do it?” the corner of his lips lift in a smirk,

“Honestly and with your track record? Not really, you have a bad habit of keeping things to yourself,” with bated breath you lean to kiss him softly, “But so do I, I guess,”

Cyno clenches his jaw as he pulls away from you, surveying the mess of your coupling before surveying the mess between your thighs. He flushes dark, lust threatening red again at the white threatening to spill to the floor,

“Here, let me - help you,” he aids in removing your soiled shirt, using that as a rag between your thighs and he hisses along with your protests at the sensitivity, “I’m sorry, I’ll be gentler next time, I promise,” you aren’t shy in your nudity, how could you really? And you turn to Cyno with heated cheeks,

“Next time? When - urm - when do you plan on having a next time?” Goosebumps flurry over your arms, nipples perking in the coolness of the night and Cyno can’t help but reach out, cupping the weight of your breast and sighing at the feeling, “I can’t, not right now - that’s too soon Cyno! You gotta let me rest! Don’t be so - !”

And he laughs. Full and loud and hearty, gripping you and embracing you and kissing you with laughter wrinkling his face, craning you backwards and swaying you to and fro. You squeal, thighs tacky and sticky but following his movements, allowing him to swing you over to your cot on the far wall.

“I would never defile you without asking, and not before tasting you thoroughly too,” Cyno kneels before you, a covenant and their disciple, hands tucked together in prayer, “And besides, I’m still questioning whether this is a dream,”

“I could pinch you, again, if you like?” You draw your blanket up around your shoulders, sliding backwards further on to the bed, noticing for the first time that Cyno still had a majority of his upper clothing on and there was something about the exposure of his abdomen, the ripples of his muscles, the thatch of white hair trailing down from his belly button to his cock resting between his thighs that gets you all tingly and warm again. He folds himself into the small space with you, catlike and flexible, kissing your forehead with a hum,

“Maybe in a few hours, I’ll probably wake up and need a splash of something on my face to remind me I’m not hallucinating,” it takes you a second to catch on, hiding your face in your hands with a mortified groan and Cyno laughs again, gathering you close, keeping your quaint reaction to his terrible joke a secret, a safe little slice of heaven only for him to enjoy. In the back of his mind, he remembers suddenly that out of everyone; you’re the only one who entertained his jokes and silly puns, and the first time you genuinely laughed at one was also probably the first time he decided that he loves you. The word chases tails in his mind as he succumbs to sleep, tucked up against you and keeping his lips firmly pressed to your forehead, an imprint of himself for you to feel even when he wasn’t there.

#cyno x reader #cyno smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #cyno x y/n #cyno x you #genshin impact x you #I hope this one shows up:((((

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mangekyuou · 5 months

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Hi. If you're comfortable with writing this ( if not, please feel free to ignore, no pressure on you, I really really appreciate your hardwork & I love your writing thank you so much for all of this amazing fanfics you keep bringing!! 💗💗💗💗 ), may i request some angst where Zoro & gn!reader gets into a heated argument with each other which leads to reader wanting to break up with him?

★ WHAT ONCE WAS! roronoa zoro ★

── pairing. zoro x gn!reader.

── summary. change was something you feared. but it had happened before your very eyes as you watched your long-term boyfriend train to take on unknown dangers out on the sea. you can’t even recognize him anymore.

── cw(s). angst. gn!reader. no pronouns used. shitty summary. reader says something kinda mean. zoro being kind of a jerk. takes place pre-timeskip before zoro leaves the shimotsuki village. mentions of kuina.

── wc. 1.2k.

── notepad. i actually been so long since i’ve written something angsty that just stayed angsty. it hurt my soul just enough. so thank you so much for this !! i know the rq says that the reader wants to break up, but this one is kind of a mutual break up

things just kind of happen, don’t they? everything feels fine one moment, but the next moment not so much. people change all the time, even when you don’t want them to. maybe, you were afraid of change. maybe, you were just afraid of him changing.

he didn’t hold you anymore. when the sun had fallen to rest, and the moon had taken its place to shine silvery blue in the cool night sky. not once had his arms draped over your body like they used to. he hadn’t even faced you, as he drifted into the world of dreams. most nights, he did not even come to bed.

instead of lying beside you until sunrise, he found himself striking a dummy a hundred times with the same attacks to perfect them. instead of breathing in your cozy scent, he had pushed his mortal body way beyond its limits.

he didn’t kiss you like he did before, full of passion and love. his strong hands cradled your face as he kissed like every time would be the last one. instead, he had settled for quick pecks to the side of your temple, as he muttered “love you” against your warm skin. hardly even a moment later, he would be out the door. he didn’t even give you a chance to say it back. he never even said ‘i love you’ anymore.

maybe it was a minor thing to gripe about for some people, for it to be those special three words instead of the two. but it meant a lot to you, and he knew that. or at least you thought your boyfriend of several years would have known that.

you made up excuses, anything to keep you from believing that the man you loved more than anything was changing before your very eyes more and more every day. you found yourself thinking questions you never wanted to think about.

does he care anymore? was he no longer attracted to you? did he even love you anymore? had he ever even loved you?

it filled you with so much dread, to the point it was overwhelming. it was getting harder and harder to keep how you were feeling behind the closed door of your, well once shared bedroom.

you couldn’t keep going on like this. going on like everything was fine when it wasn’t. pretending to be fine, as you watched your neglectful boyfriend exert himself to near injury in the name of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman.

now he was talking about leaving the village to challenge dracule mihawk to a duel? you loved him dearly, but you heard one too many stories about “hawk-eyes”, none of them were good. allowing your boyfriend to even set foot off this island was sending him to an early grave.

you believed in him, sure. one day he would be the greatest swordsman. but for once, you just wanted him to be realistic and realize that that day will not be tomorrow, it won’t be next week, it won’t be next month.

why doesn’t he understand you feel this way because you care about him?

“zoro…” you say gently, standing at the door frame of the dojo.

the swordsman was still swinging away at the wooden dummy that was a few swings away from falling apart. of course, he didn’t hear you the first time. he never did.

“zoro” your voice was much louder this time, finally grabbing his attention. “huh?” was all he even said before he went back to swinging at the dummy. he didn’t even spare you a glance.

“can we talk, please? it’s important.”

“just say what you’re going to say, ( y/n )”

“WILL YOU PUT DOWN THOSE LOUSY SWORDS AND LOOK AT ME!”

you didn’t mean that. you knew just how much his swords meant to him, especially the one dawning a pure white hilt. you knew what his dream meant to him. you were just angry. frustrated. tired.

you watched as he sheathed the swords, and did as you said. his expression was stone cold. it was like looking at a whole new man. never had he ever looked at you like that. you knew what you said hurt his feelings.

“if you’re still trying to talk me out of leaving, forget it. if i don’t do it now then…”

“THEN WHAT?! you’ve never been out of the east blue! and you’ll be a DEAD MAN if you challenge a shichibukai!” you couldn’t stop yourself from yelling. “you don’t know what lies ahead of you in the other seas, zoro! i’m just trying to help you!”

“i never ASKED for your help!” he retorted, clenching his fist around the hilt of one of his swords. he continued, “i never WANTED your help! i never NEEDED your help!”

a silence filled the room, as your face dropped and your heart sank into the dark void of your body. you opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn’t even form the words you wanted to. you weren’t even exactly sure what those words were.

“if i don’t do this now…then i may never have a chance to do it again. i have to do this, I thought you understood that.” his voice was full of disappointment, as he turned his back to you, as if you had meant nothing, as if this has all meant NOTHING.

you balled your fists, “i do understand that! but i also understand that there are battles that we are not prepared for just yet! kuina meant a lot to you, zoro. her dream has become yours, and you want nothing more than to achieve that for her. but you are not ready. letting you go would be suicide! kuina would not want that!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE WOULD HAVE WANTED! YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HER!” he snapped at you.

“YOU’RE RIGHT! I DIDN’T! BUT I KNEW SHE WOULDN’T WANT HER FRIEND DEAD! AND I’M NOT GOING TO SIT BACK AND LET THAT HAPPEN TO YOU!”

“then don’t. leave.”

“…what?”

just like that, you felt everything crash around you. leave? what did he mean 'leave'? leave and go where? how could you leave when this was all you knew? HE was all you knew. you were each other’s firsts. how….could you just leave?

how could he throw everything away? everything you were willing to stay and fix.

“leave! you don’t want to be here then go. nobody’s stopping you.”

he made it clear.

it couldn’t be any clearer than that.

with shaking hands, you slowly turned on your heel, putting one foot in front of the other, walking out of the dojo, walking away from your first love, walking away from the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

you had hoped, he would have stopped you. that he would drop his swords and chase after you, pull you into a hug, and apologize for what he said. you had hoped you just start over, like none of this ever happened. that he would see that you meant well, that you just wanted to keep him safe, that he would stay here with you.

but that didn’t happen. tears flooded your cheeks, as you continued to walk home without him.

it was over, wasn’t it?

#☆ — MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE.#one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro oneshots #zoro scenarios #zoro imagines #zoro headcanons #zoro angst #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons #one piece angst

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yandere-romanticaa · 10 days

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Humor me a little.

A door appears in front of you. You instantly recognize it, being the same pale white door from the Genshin Impact loading screen.

You have the option to open it, step into Teyvat but there's a catch. You can never go back here, in your own world.

Stepping into the world of Teyvat would surely give you fresh new opportunities, lands to explore and colorful people to meet. Perhaps you could discover something new about yourself, something that you could have never even thought about if you stuck around in our own world.

A light breeze beckons you, tempting you to just push. You can feel the endless sea of possibilities right in front of you, all of which are just so close, they are so close you can have them all.

However, you're suddenly kissed by the warm rays of the sunlight and hear the cozy laughter of children close by. Pulling out your phone, you skim through all of the contacts in it and keep going back to all of the memories you have made with all of these people. Some are good. Some are not. But even so, those memories, these people, they have made you into what you are.

If you choose to forsake them, they will assume that you are either dead or missing. Or, perhaps your existence would be outright erased from this world in its entirety.

Not to mention the fact that, Teyvat is not a complete paradise. Many ancient and old mysteries lie dormant beneath its starry sky, many of which speak your name in earnest but is your survival truly guaranteed? What's to say that you will not be killed by someone - or something - the moment you step foot into that glorious land?

There is also the fact to consider that you would never be able to obtain a Vision. Visions are granted to individuals only who were born in Teyvat, which you are not.

Of course, there are other ways you could obtain power. Perhaps you could find yourself a teacher and study pyromancy, hydromancy, alchemy or any other form you see fit.

The canvas is stark white, all yours to paint.

Are you ready to take the brush? Do you want to take the brush?

You have two choices - do you come to Teyvat, forsake absolutely everything and everyone you have ever known for a chance to experience something both beautiful and horrific at the same time? Or, do you stay here, in the place you call home, where all of your loved ones are? Our world isn't so bad, perhaps you could meet someone new here... But that door will never appear in front of you ever again.

Ever.

What will it be, Traveler?

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x chubby reader #genshin x you

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eulalias-haven · 1 year

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summertime—sweetness.

─┈ in which the cloud general of the xianzhou luofu finds peace in how you smile.

ㅤ─┈ jing yuan x gender neutral reader. a small drabble to kick start this blog!

❪⠀themes : fluff & romance!⠀❫

as the general of the xianzhou luofu and the most important man present in the ship, jing yuan has always been surrounded by people who were related to his work. yanqing, his young and dutiful retainer. fu xuan, master diviner of the divination commission. yukong, helm master of the sky—faring commission.

it isn’t uncommon to see jing yuan surrounded by extremely important people; asides, when he’s leaving work to find a good place to nap. the general of the xianzhou luofu is also a member of the seven arbiter general of the cloud knights and the six charioteers.

what was uncommon, though, was to see jing yuan be accompanied by a perfectly normal person that resided in the xianzhou luofu. commonfolk would clamor you once the general left your side to attend his duties, questioning why the ever so elusive and mysterious cloud general spend time with you.

though your answer— “he finds my presence enjoyable! we play chess often.” — would often leave them unsatisfied, only jing yuan would be able to answer that. perhaps fu xuan too, if she dared to rely on her divination. she wouldn’t, though. not after jing yuan himself warned her not to.

jing yuan found peace in your smile.

the first time he saw you smile, he was out with yanqing, surveying the busied streets of the ship. people parted for the general, offering their respects and well—wishes, which he was immensely grateful for. no matter how many times the people in the ship thanked him, jing yuan found it heartwarming all the while.

and yet—nothing could quite compare to your smile.

optics of molten gold catches sight of your smile—his eyes, ever so charming yet meticulous, hidden behind curtains of white. the cloud general found himself stunned; rooted to the spot, as he gazes at your smile. perhaps for others, it was another smile in the sea of other smiles, but it was different for the dozing general.

he finds himself drawn to it—to the way your eyes sparkled slightly in the sunlight, how your smile made the corners of your hues crinkle. the full cheeks, dusted by roses blooming ethereally, partnered with the soft laugh you let out—his favorite melody, unbeaten.

it was not a question of “why?”, but a statement of “because.”

why was jing yuan drawn to you? because he found your smile utterly captivating, he loves seeing you smile, he loves hearing you laugh—like the first taste of iced cold tea after a long day of training, akin to the sweet—sourness of lemongrass steeped into it. or, maybe even the first beam of sunlight after tedious cold nights. if jing yuan was a retired soldier who became a poet, he’d compare your smile to the first glances of light after a long battle, to the glow of a healer’s ability after suffering from an arduous wound.

for jing yuan, your smile was light itself; and as the cloud general of the xianzhou luofu, he found peace in it.

#🌷 lovingly adored by ophelia.#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail jing yuan #honkai star rail jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr jingyuan #honkai jing yuan

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valkyriepirate · 1 year

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Elrond x Reader- Always Been Yours

Summary: You and Elrond have been close for many years because of your positions on the council. When an army of orcs unexpectedly attacks Lindon while Elrond is away in the dwarven kingdom, you become near-fatally wounded in battle. Elrond rushes home to find you barely alive, calling the name of your lover in your sleep. Little does he know you are dreaming of him.

Word count: 4.9k words

Warnings: Battle violence, fluff <3

#1- Always Been Yours

Spring had finally arrived in Lindon, and the air was thrumming with the promise of life. A fresh, warm breeze gently swayed the trees of the forest like a rebellious eddy on the open sea, lifting your long sleeves and carrying your voice to the sky. It wasn’t often that you sang on the palace grounds; while you had a beautiful voice, you never prided yourself in it, but the day was far too beautiful not to let it fill your heart with joy through song. You could almost sense the flowers readying to break the surface of the soil and taste the dew that would settle on their leaves.

You knelt next to a tree by the river, caressing the dirt with your fingers. Your mother had always said that the forest should be greeted as your dearest friend, for it was your greatest protector. As you ran your hand through the crystalline water, you could imagine her voice intertwining with yours, just like how you two would sing together all those years ago. Being here amongst the trees and the earth made you feel closer to her, as if her spirit lived on in the forest.

“I didn’t know you sang,” a familiar voice from behind lurched you from your thoughts. You turned around, already feeling the tips of your ears heat in embarrassment, to face your longtime friend.

“Anyone with a voice to speak can just as well sing, can they not?” You brushed loose dirt from your dress as you stood up.

Elrond smiled, glancing politely toward the ground. “Many can speak, but not many can sing like you. Please- don't stop on my account.”

“I’m afraid that is a song for the wind and water, not for the ears of well-meaning friends,” you teased.

“Then it would be best I said nothing at all,” said Elrond.

“And leave me to go on with silent listeners nearby? I think not.”

You stepped out onto the main path, Elrond falling in step beside you. Even though you were reluctant to let him hear your voice, you felt comfortable in every other way around him. You couldn’t help the little spark of gladness that flickered in your chest whenever he was near.

“What are you doing out here in the forest?” you asked, glancing sidelong at him. The sun was casting amber hues through his hair, making him look like a crowned prince.

“Looking for you,” he folded his hands behind him. “The High King Gil-galad is sending me to Forodwaith to establish terms of trade with Durin and the dwarves of Khazad-Dum. He expects me to leave in the morning.”

“So soon? It feels as if you just returned from your last journey,” you said, trying and failing to keep the disappointment out of your voice. Seeming to hear it, he nodded regretfully.

“Apparently I was specifically requested by Durin. The High King fears he won’t negotiate terms with any elf other than I.”

“Ah, I see. The dwarf wants another excuse to see you.”

Elrond laughed good-naturedly. “I doubt that. I think I’m simply the one he wants to hit with his hammer the least.”

“You give yourself too little credit, Elrond. You have a spirit more kind and gentle than anyone I know. Even a dwarf can see that.”

He pinked in the cheeks. “And I think you give me too much credit, (Y/N). Besides, the kindest heart in Eriador certainly doesn’t belong to me. I’m afraid that title is taken by a particular elf-maiden with a lovely voice.”

A fluttering sensation enveloped your stomach, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling. “When do you think you’ll return?” you asked evenly.

“In a fortnight, perhaps. Though these trips always seem to take longer than initially planned. You know Disa’s hospitality.”

That you did. You considered the female dwarrow a dear friend. Your position as the general of the Sindarin army sometimes took you to distant lands across Middle-earth, and you had become acquainted with Disa in your travels long ago, before she had married Durin. Though you suspected you were in for a thorough scolding the next time you saw her, if Elrond’s account of Durin’s anger amounted to anything. Your kind were wont to lose track of the days, unlike the mortal races. It made you wonder how long it really had been since you’d seen Disa last.

“Give her the warmest tidings from me,” you said sincerely. “I miss her dearly. How I wish I could accompany you.”

“I wish much the same,” said Elrond bashfully, not meeting your eyes. “The road travel can be quite lonely and tedious at times.”

“Here.” You bent and plucked a white-plumed daylily from a bush that was rooted in the stream, handing it to him. “Keep it with you. When you feel alone, you can pull it out and think of me.”

He handled the flower reverently, as if you had bestowed upon him a precious jewel. He looked up at you, the sweetest, humblest smile gracing his features. “I most certainly shall.”

The two of you talked far into midday, wandering the forest and ignoring the existence of your duties. Your heart began to ache the more time you spent with him, however, knowing that he was bound to disappear once more, and all too soon you bid him goodbye. There were several things concerning the Sindarin warriors to discuss with the king, and Gil-galad was not one to be kept waiting.

You slept fitfully that night, Elrond’s face flashing in your mind every time you closed your eyes. You rose before the sun the next morning and raced as elegantly as possible to the road past the waterfall where Elrond was set to depart. Only the guards were awake, nodding respectfully to you as you passed. All of Lindon dutifully recognized your position as a war general even when you weren’t in your armor.

As periwinkle streaks of dawn bled across the sky, you nearly began to worry that you had missed him, but your worries ameliorated when you caught sight of his robes by the front gates. Elrond was loading his supplies onto his horse, his face turned away from you. Silently, you approached him from behind, hoping you didn’t appear as if you’d rushed out to meet him in a frenzy.

“Attempting to leave without saying goodbye, are we?” you said into the still morning air. Elrond looked up, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he tied one last knot around his knapsack. “I only wished for you to have as much rest as possible. It is early to be awake even for I.”

“So you may say.” One side of your mouth quirked up. “Is everything prepared?”

“Yes. All I need is to collect my will to mount this horse and leave Lindon behind.” His voice caught as he said Lindon, as if he were about to say you.

Your heart was buzzing inside your chest as if you were a restless bumblebee being separated from your flower. “Do not forget,” you reminded him softly, spotting the daylily tucked into his robe. You reached over and tenderly pressed the petals against his chest. “This flower means I am with you. You will be in my thoughts, Elrond.”

He held your gaze, his eyes filled with some deep emotion you couldn’t express. Gently, he grasped your hand and grazed your fingers with the barest of kisses. Physical affection was rare among your kind, particularly in public, though you sensed the only bystanders observing your interaction were the dandelions beneath your feet and the forest critters slipping between the trees.

“And you will be in my heart, (Y/N),” promised Elrond. He was the embodiment of a dulcet predawn dream, the kind you wanted to get lost in forever, to never wake up from. Yet you knew both his duties and yours were to the kingdom before they answered your own desires.

You gave his fingers a slight squeeze. “You will give Durin and Disa my best, will you not?”

He smiled. “I shall.”

“Do be safe. You have duties and friends to come back to, you know.”

“I will do my best,” he bowed. “I am sure my heart will ache with every step I take away from you.”

You parted, feeling as if you were forcing yourself awake from a pleasant dream, and watched as he mounted his horse and trotted away from the front gates. At the end of the path, he halted and turned to face you one last time.

“Goodbye, (Y/N),” he called.

“Goodbye, Elrond,” you returned, and didn’t allow yourself to blink until he had passed over the hill into the far reaches of the forest, where the trees seemed to lean down and caress him with their branches as if he were not simply an elf, but a king venturing into a distant land, riding away with your stolen heart.

*****

A harsh, screeching noise tore you from your sleep. With a jolt of panic, you bolted upright in bed, trying to collect your bearings. Liquid moonlight spilled through your leaf-paned window and leaked over the floor. You judged that it was a little over two hours past midnight. The horrible, dissonant noise seemed to come from all around you. You picked out the sound of Lindon’s warning bell from among the chaos, coupled with pained screams and the sound of something shattering.

In a heartbeat, you leaped out of bed and grabbed your silver-plated longsword by the door. You burst out of your room and flew down the stairs towards the commotion. The clanging noises intensified as you ran to the royal courtyard. You deduced the source before you saw them- orcs.

Dozens of the grisly fiends were pouring over the gates, brandishing crude, makeshift weapons and baring their black teeth. Several other elves had already arrived on the scene, defending against the attackers with deadly grace. Swords flashed and arrows flew under the silvery light of the moon, and blood the color of the night sky painted the ground before your eyes.

You seamlessly entered the battle, lopping the heads off one orc after the other, not stopping to ponder how or why the orcs were leading this raid. Your senses clicked into the mode of war, as familiar to you as breathing. Within seconds, you had effortlessly picked out the opening points of the battleground that were most concentrated by the enemy, and called out regiment orders as more of your brethren rushed into the courtyard. The few elves donning soldier’s gear hastened to obey your command.

You drove your sword into the gut of a nearby orc and sliced another in half at the waist. The rest of your thoughts fell away with every kill as you allowed your sword to become a part of you, as dexterous and fluid as an extension of your arm. Any sleepiness you might have felt was replaced by an acute focus of your surroundings.

You worked your way towards the gates to quell the flush of orcs streaming into your territory. With a spin, you dropped three of the beasts at once, moving with all the poise and accuracy of an elven warrior. As you did, you spotted Galadriel at the far side of the courtyard.

You had to step over the bodies of your victims to make berth towards her in the rushing sea, as if you were caught in a dangerous dance between life and death. “Galadriel!” you yelled. “How did this happen?”

“Someone has left the anterior parapets unfortified,” she called back, ducking to avoid a swinging club. “These gates were open when I arrived!”

“How can that be? There are guards stationed here day and night!”

“I do not know. The Dark Lord must have found out about our affairs in Númenor. We are at half our strength. He senses weakness.”

“He won’t find any,” you gritted your teeth. You stabbed a nearby orc in the neck and spun to avoid the spray of black blood. If the Dark Lord thought catching you off your guard would give him the advantage, you were prepared to prove him wrong.

“There is something adrift about this attack. Something...foul. Within the kingdom.”

You raised an eyebrow, though it was doubtful Galadriel could see it in the dark. “You think there is a traitor?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Or an intruder yet to be detected.”

This troubled you. You were the head of the Sindarin army. It was your job to keep the kingdom safe. If there was a spy under your nose, you would be the first to know about it. Yet with half the army stationed in the Southlands aiding the Númenorians, an attack could come from any side.

Irrationally, you found yourself becoming steeped in worry for Elrond. It had been days since his departure, and if this orc army had advanced in from the south, it was likely Elrond may have crossed paths with them. While he was more than a capable warrior, standing alone against an entire army wouldn’t be easy even for you. You hoped he had already made it to Khazad-Dum...

Suddenly you cried out in alarm. While you were worrying about Elrond, an orc had approached on your left flank and slashed you across the shoulder.

Focus, you reprimanded yourself. Do not forget the battle in front of you.

You dispatched the orc quickly and kicked the dismembered helmet away. Then Galadriel screamed. You whirled around to come face-to-face with the largest orc you had ever seen.

It was almost twice your size, and armed with a cruel-looking blade. Its armor was detached in places, as if it had outgrown its battle garments too fast for them to be replaced. Galadriel had taken a swipe at the exposed part of its hide, but her sword had lodged in its armor on an angle. In a blink, the orc slammed both its fists into her arm, emitting a sickening crack.

Her sword dropped to the dirt. You rushed to her side, ferociously stabbing your sword through its calf. The orc roared in pain and slashed at you with its blade. You deflected and thrust upward at its chest, but its height momentarily gave it leverage. It swung again and you narrowly dodged what could have been a fatal slice to the throat.

“Archers, to me!” you yelled over the din of battle. Two elves equipped with bows and arrows raced toward you, taking aim. “On my count!”

You pressed forward, trying to prompt the orc to step into the open. Galadriel took position on your right, one of her arms hanging limply at her side. Together you attacked as fiercely as you could. You needed to wound it somehow and step out of range for your archers to have a clear shot. Any head shots would be futile against its obsidian helmet.

You moved to the left, trying to keep it distracted, but the orc was swiping at you with its sword in one hand and swatting at Galadriel with the other. You ordered the archers to fire, but most of the arrows struck harmlessly over the thick armor. The ones that buried in its skin didn’t seem to slow it down at all.

With a growl, the orc hobbled forward and shoved Galadriel to the ground. She cried out as she landed on her broken arm. Without hesitation, you lunged to put yourself between her and your attacker. It raised its blade above its head.

“Fire!” you screamed at the archers, but it was too late. Time seemed to slow down. Arrows flew. Your sword glinted in the light of the moon, sending the world up in a flash of white, and you swung.

There was a thump and you looked to see the orc’s meaty arm lying in the grass, separated from its body. Its crooked fingers were no longer clasped around its blade. You blinked and gasped, suddenly hit with a wave of pain, and looked down to see that the blade was buried in your stomach.

One of the archer’s arrows struck clean through the orc’s bare neck, and it was dead before it hit the ground. The sound of it rattled your brain. You felt blood gushing from your torso and trickling down the front of your white nightgown. Your hands grasped the hilt of the orcish blade, but you didn’t have the strength to dislodge it. Your knees gave out and you crumpled.

Galadriel was frantically calling out your name, but her voice soon melded into the sounds of swords clashing and orcs roaring in the battlefield around you. Your vision went blurry, your lungs desperately searching for air; you were drowning, and all you could see was red before the night itself bled over the trees, overtaking your body completely.

*****

Elrond rode on a steed of wind and rain. The sky over the next range of hills was darkening so quickly it was as if clouds of ink had been spilled from the heavens, leaking down to the earth in the form of icy droplets that stung his eyes and soaked through his cloak. His heart was pounding in tune with the beat of his horse’s hooves on the soil. Desperately, he pressed one hand against his heart, where (Y/N) had tucked the daylily. He had taken it out each morning of his journey and run his fingers over its soft petals, knowing that with every step he was farther away from her, but feeling her presence in his mind at the very thought of her face.

He pictured her now and fervently prayed that she was unharmed. Elrond had only been in the dwarven kingdom two days when Durin informed him of the attack on Lindon. The report hadn’t come with many details, only word of casualties among the elves. Elrond was trying to ignore the fact that (Y/N) would have been on the front lines, leading the defense.

He urged his horse faster. Lindon’s sunset-orange elm trees came into view. He sped into the kingdom, past the gates, and into the royal courtyard. The midnight battle occurred over a day ago, but Elrond could still see the bloodstains painting the ground, a canvas saturated with too much color. He averted his eyes as he dismounted his horse and rushed into the palace.

Lindon’s exquisite halls, which usually shimmered with magic and light, were opaque and desolate, echoing the sound of thunder and rain pattering against marble. No one was about roaming the palace grounds. It almost seemed that the kingdom was deserted.

He spotted Gil-galad as he turned the corner, standing in the hall outside the infirmary. The High King, usually so serious and serene, was gazing in concern at the inside of the room.

“My King,” Elrond said as he approached. “I came as soon as I heard of the attack.”

Gil-galad nodded solemnly. “The Dark Lord sees too much. I’m afraid if he were to advance again, with double the forces, we may not be able to hold our position for long.”

“Our army. Is it...?”

“Intact? Yes. Yet not entirely stable. All we can do is wait and recover.”

“And the wounded?”

The King looked at Elrond and in his eyes was utter sorrow. “Perhaps you should go in.”

Elrond bowed, feeling as though his thoughts were laid bare. With his heart in his throat, he steeled his emotions and stepped into the infirmary.

It was a wide, circular room, the far side bordered by an arched veranda that opened out onto a terrace with a view of the waterfalls. Curtains of leaves were draped over the arches to keep out the rain, cloaking the room in dim light. Cots layered with forest-green silk were placed evenly about the space. Nearly every one was occupied by a wounded elf. A handful of healers moved about the room, pressing cold cloths to foreheads and spoon-feeding herbal concoctions. A scatter of lit candles cast the place in a sleepy red hue like blood washing away in a river.

Elrond walked among the wounded. Most of them were familiar faces. Some had sheets pulled over their heads. Others were so scarred and bloodied or covered in salve that he couldn’t recognize them. But there was one elf he was searching for in particular.

He found her on a cot by the far wall. Her face was so gray that she looked on the verge of melting into a puddle of raindrops. Heavy gauze was wrapped around her navel up to her sternum. Her hands rested peacefully at her sides.

Elrond’s heart broke at the very sight of her. (Y/N) looked so drained, so lifeless- the stark opposite of the lively elf maiden he knew.

He lowered into the chair at her side and took her hand in his. Her fingers were like ice. Fighting the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, he whispered, “I’m here, hiril vuin. It’s me.”

She didn’t stir. Elrond could almost imagine that she was a statue made of marble, carved by a delicate hand, framed in stormy light. Her breathing was so shallow it was hard to believe she was alive at all.

Elrond didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at her unmoving form. He murmured sweet nothings under his breath as he stroked her palm, as if his whispers would coax her from her sleep.

A healer came by at some point to check up on (Y/N), but there wasn’t much to do besides dab her forehead with a cloth and make her as comfortable as possible. The healer hummed an old elven healing song over her before moving on.

“Come back to me,” Elrond whispered as soon as the healer was out of earshot. “You are the light in my life, (Y/N). I cannot walk the darkness alone.”

He reached into his cloak and brought out the daylily. The tips of its petals were wilting, as if responding to the condition of its giver. He leaned over and tucked the flower into (Y/N)’s hair. “There was never a moment you escaped my thoughts,” he said. “You, nin lilui, my daylily, are my dearest friend. Yet you are also so much more.” A tear traced its way down his cheek and dripped onto her fingers. Elrond caressed her cheek, his voice breaking. “You are so much more to me.”

He stayed by her side as the night passed. Soon enough rogue streaks of dawn shone through the curtains. Weariness and heartache weighed him down, but he couldn’t sleep while she was like this. Her eyes moved rapidly beneath her eyelids like she was trapped in a dream and couldn’t find the way out.

Elrond pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Dawn is here, nin lilui. Do not let the darkness claim you.”

(Y/N) made a sound in the back of her throat. Her brow furrowed in pain. “Nin onlui mel...”

Elrond sat up straight. He searched her face for signs of life. “(Y/N)?”

She mumbled unintelligibly in Elvish. Elrond’s heart raced. “It’s me,” he said. “It’s Elrond. I’m here.”

“Nin onlui mel,” she muttered. “Mi van me, nin mel...”

Where are you, my love?

Emotions clouded Elrond’s mind in a swift blur. She was on the verge of consciousness. She was going to be okay. His daylily hadn’t left him. And yet a bitter taste filled his mouth.

She was calling out for her true love. And it wasn’t him.

*****

You ran through an endless forest. Black trees like twisting claws kept bursting from the dirt, redirecting your path. The hungry screams of your enemies echoed from all sides, and you spun in confusion and fear, unsure where to run. You had no weapon. Your nightgown was drenched in blood. Your heart beat frantically in your chest like you were a wild, hunted animal.

You followed the line of trees, but shadows formed illusions in the darkness. The trees seemed to grasp at you, pulling your hair, tearing your clothes. Everything looked the same. There was no way out.

The screams sounded closer now. You turned and ran, but the ground was wet and you slipped. When you got to your knees, you realized you had fallen in a pool of your own blood.

Your vision was hazy, but you could see vicious shapes snarling and snapping out of the corner of your eye. You felt so weak, so tired. Looking up at the gray sky, you were ready to give up hope.

“Elrond,” you sobbed. You yearned for him with an aching you couldn’t express. The thought of him was like sunlight in this dark place. Your Elrond- kind as summer, gentle as a breeze. “Where are you?”

Your enemies howled, and the world was then no more.

*****

You didn’t remember opening your eyes.

At first, you weren’t sure what was a dream and what was reality. The shadows seemed to linger around your body, their wispy hands trailing against your skin. Your head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. The gray sky had disappeared, and the light of day was pouring into the room from somewhere.

You blinked, feeling like your eyelids were made of iron. Your entire body ached. An incisive pain ripped through your stomach as you woke, bringing your surroundings into focus. You laid on a cot in the infirmary. Sitting to your left was an elf with tousled brown hair.

“Elrond?” you groaned. It was as if your throat had been charred with firewood.

"(Y/N),” he sat forward, holding your hand. In his eyes were a million emotions. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

The sight of him was going to make you cry. “Oh, Elrond.”

He quickly poured you a glass of water and held it to your lips. “Drink this.”

You obliged, though just the movement of your neck set your torso on fire. You had been wounded in battle countless times, though never as bad as this.

“You came back for me,” you said. Your voice sounded scratchy to your own ears.

Elrond looked on the verge of tears. He smiled at you, and despite your pain, giddiness fizzed in your veins. “No sooner had I been in Khazad-Dum two days when Durin gave me word of the attack. I set off again that same hour. I came as fast as I could.” He looked down. “(Y/N), I am so sorry.”

“Elrond,” you reached out and cupped his face. “I am a soldier. Battles happen. Warriors fall. Nothing is your fault.”

He closed his fingers around yours. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were drawn and his hair was a tangled mess. You had the urge to run your fingers through it.

“(Y/N),” he said carefully, “What were you dreaming of?”

You closed your eyes again, remembering the figures in the darkness, the gnarled trees moving you about the forest like a ghost, the way you were drenched in blood.

“I thought I was dead,” you responded weakly. “There was darkness, and I was lost- there was so much blood...”

“You were calling out for someone in your sleep,” he said softly.

“I was? W-who?”

You saw the answer in his eyes before he spoke. “’Nin onlui mel.’”

Silence like an ocean stretched between you two. You turned to face the terrace, where the curtains had been pulled back to provide you with a view of the waterfall. “My true love,” you translated, unable to look at him.

He let go of your hand, placing it at your side. He didn’t speak for a long time. The silence was devastating.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore. “Elrond-”

“(Y/N)-”

You turned to face him again. He didn’t meet your eyes.

“It would be a lie to say some part of my heart does not ache,” he said. “Yet the desire of my heart is for you to be happy. I will not get in the way of your devotion to another.”

You tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea forced you back down. “Elrond, I don’t understand.”

“I am sorry if I have been a bother. It was foolish of me to think...to think with such selfishness.”

“What are you saying?”

He glanced at you. “Whoever he is, as much as I wish not to be, I am, shamefully, envious. I only hope that you can forgive me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, Elrond, you don’t understand. There isn’t someone else.” You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Nin onlui mel. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

His expression matched himself on the day you’d given him the daylily- as if your small kindness was as valuable to him as sparkling treasure. “Me?”

You nodded. “I cannot help it. You are the water to my soil; you have made spring bloom once more in my heart where I thought it not possible. You give me hope. My soul longs for you, nin mel. I love you as I love life.”

Tears fell from his eyes. He was beautiful. He brushed a stray curl from your face and murmured, “And to truly live is to love. Will you allow me to love you with all of myself?”

“My love,” you whispered, “I cannot live any other way.”

His lips were soft as he kissed your temple. He leaned his forehead against yours, and in that moment, you had the world.

Masterlist

#elrond x reader #rings of power x reader #lotr x reader #trop elrond x reader #lotr #the hobbit #elrond fanfiction #elrond imagine

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givemea-dam-break · 5 months

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heart's fury - chapter one

book one: hope "the distant light"

in which hope blossoms.

pairing: zuko x (fem) reader

a/n: chapter one is here! if you're just finding this part randomly, know that there is a prologue that i would recommend reading just for a little background, but it is not necessary! it can be found on the masterlist below, or at the bottom of this chapter! i hope you enjoy!

warnings: none

words: 1.4K heart's fury masterlist

Bright lights were never a good sign.

Bright lights meant danger. They meant something new. They meant -

“Finally.”

(y/n) turned her gaze from the beam of blue miles and miles ahead to the prince standing just a few feet away. His expression, which usually displayed nothing more than frustration or displeasure, had moulded into something she recognised far too well - hunger . Eyes bright and murderous, hands fisted by his sides as if ready to attack at that very moment, Prince Zuko felt as though he had found exactly what he was looking for.

And though most strange encounters led to there being no Avatar, only disappointment, she couldn’t help but feel sick this time.

“Uncle, do you realise what this means?”

Iroh, sitting at a low table decorated with pieces for his favourite game, Pai Sho, said “I won’t get to finish my game?”

“It means my search is about to come to an end,” Zuko announced.

He stared at that beam of light as if it held the power of the entire world and, though she didn’t want to believe it, (y/n) had an inkling that it did. Every place they had gone before this in their pointless search had only ever been discovered by chance, or had been home to various Air Nomads a century before - the extinct people from which the Avatar was part of. Nothing like this had ever happened. She wanted to believe that it was the magic of spirits, or perhaps a rogue waterbender that made the sun reflect off the water, but she knew in her heart and her gut that it wasn’t.

Iroh only sighed, placing another piece down on the table. How he could play alone was something (y/n) would never understand, but something she had never questioned.

Zuko turned to face his uncle once again. “That light came from an incredibly powerful source. It has to be him!”

The bright light faded, leaving only the clouds in the sky.

“Or it’s just the celestial lights,” said Iroh. “We’ve been down this road before, Prince Zuko. I don’t want you to get too excited over nothing. Please sit. Why don’t you enjoy a cup of calming jasmine tea?”

“I don’t need any calming tea! I need to capture the Avatar! Helmsman, head a course for the light.”

That was the way it had always been. Despite Iroh’s best attempts, Zuko would never listen. And, of course, he would get his way.

Sitting down across from Iroh, (y/n) offered him a small smile. “I’ll have some tea if you don’t mind.”

She could hear Prince Zuko scoff behind her before trudging rather loudly to the bow of the ship, but she paid no mind. Over the years, she had learned many ways to ignore the prince’s attitude yet, still, it took far more effort than it was worth to tolerate his presence. She had never wanted to be on this stupid quest for honour in the first place, much less with him.

“What is on your mind?” Iroh asked as he handed her the tea.

The cup warmed her hands, which felt like they were becoming solid blocks of ice. Perhaps, in time, she may become an iceberg floating in the southern sea. It sounded like a better fate than being stuck on this ship for much longer. But, even so, she had a duty to fulfil. A duty to not only her parents but to the world.

“I can’t help but feel as though he’s right,” she uttered.

Iroh gave her a quizzical look. “My dear, of course, he needs some jasmine tea! Whatever are you on about?”

She fought the urge to laugh. “About the Avatar, I mean. Something’s telling me that the source of light… it was him.”

“I am merely on this journey to protect my nephew and make sure he doesn’t get himself killed,” Iroh said. Then, his voice dropped to nothing more than a whisper. “I am not here to capture the Avatar. If there came a chance that Prince Zuko did manage to capture him…”

The words went unsaid, but she understood them all the same. If the Avatar was caught, she would have to set him free.

Iroh was wiser than most. He understood the intricacies of the world better than anyone (y/n) had ever met, and he was by far one of the strongest firebenders in decades. He realised how important balance was for the world - how having a world ruled by a tyrant like Ozai could destroy everything they held dear. If there was anyone she was glad to have in her corner, it was him.

But, in the long run, he would not be able to save her if she was caught.

The day passed slowly, slower than many before, but perhaps that was because of Zuko’s anticipation. He barked orders at the soldiers every chance he got. Demanded the ship sail faster as if firebenders could do anything about that. There was a slight reprieve; after all, his focus was solely on reaching the Avatar rather than spending his time being an ungrateful, brooding prince who wanted the world handed to him on a silver platter. Or his honour. She wasn’t quite sure which he would rather.

It wasn’t until the evening that she shared her first words with Zuko that day.

They didn’t talk often. Despite being the same age, (y/n) could not imagine that they had an awful lot in common and, well, his temper wasn’t exactly ideal, so she opted to just exist in the same space as him. It was plenty enough for Zuko. They hadn’t been friends growing up, merely children who played in the same vicinity.

Sometimes, she wished she had known him as a child when his mother was still around. Ursa had been a kindhearted woman, and while she lived in the palace, (y/n) had only ever heard good things about the prince. It was beyond her station to befriend him, but, even still, she much would’ve preferred his company over the perpetually angry boy she had to spend every day with, now.

For the sake of her mission, she pretended to tolerate him, to listen and obey as a member of nobility should. Inside, she seethed.

But, seeing him stand silently on the balcony of the ship’s tower, she could almost see that boy again. The one with a spark in his eye - for the entirely wrong reason, but even still, it was better than his usual look. It was a hopeful spark, full of ambition and purpose, and, for a short moment, she could feel her anger fade away. He was just a boy, wronged by his father, proving he was capable of being loved.

Then his gaze found hers, and all notions of sympathy ebbed away like ice in a stormy sea.

“What do you want?” was all he said.

(y/n) wrapped her robe around her body tightly as she stepped out onto the balcony, staring out at the evening sky. Slowly, so slowly, navy blue seeped into an inky black, speckled with sparkling stars. Stars like she had never seen in the Fire Nation Capital. She wondered if stars had always looked like this.

“It’s late, Prince Zuko,” she said, offering a small bow. “You should get some sleep.”

The prince all but scoffed. “I’ll sleep when I have the Avatar in chains.”

Was it wrong for her to want to strangle him? Her father, bless his soul, would be mortified at the mere thought, but her mother would’ve smiled at her in that unique way of hers, with her jade eyes crinkling and her cheeks becoming rosy. The way that said all the words she would never dare utter.

“Do you really believe you can capture him?” she asked. “I mean, your father and your grandfather tried. Neither succeeded.”

“That’s because their honour didn’t hinge on his capture.” Zuko’s voice was tight and as sharp as a blade. She’d have to be careful not to push her luck. “I will defeat the Avatar.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“I’m going to bed,” she decided. “I’ll see you in the morning, my prince.”

<- prologue chapter two ->

#zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #atla zuko x reader #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender x reader #prince zuko fanfiction #zuko fanfiction #atla fanfiction #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #zuko #prince zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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satorkiees · 1 year

Text

love at first sight `` ~ ୨୧ ♡ ·

synopsis- prince todoroki is on the quest to find out about his mother's death when he meets you - a mermaid. what will come of it when you both really get to know who the other one actually is?

content: not proofread, the little mermaid au, prince!todoroki x mermaid!reader, gn reader

wc: 1.5k - part 2, part 3

for the todoroki family, being cut off from the wider kingdoms put them at a slight disadvantage in many ways - namely trade. however, whenever endeavour, shoto’s father yabbered on about it, all he could do was daydream about what was beyond their island, what was there to see beyond the walls of the shore.

for you, being underneath the sea was first nature for you, you knew nothing else of it. however, maybe due to you human mother, you had always had a fascination for the human world, for how they worked and lived. though, whenever you mentioned that thought to your father, your relationship became ever-strained. since your mother died at the hands of an unknown man on that island, your father had become cold and distant just like the rest of your 6 sisters. and though you knew humanity was to blame for the death of your mother, you couldn’t help but feel a strong calling towards the surface - towards a new life.

however, as the light shimmered through the clear blue waters, you swam gracefully throughout the sea determined to find more human ‘gizmos' for your ever growing collection in your cavern. your long iridescent tail propelled you throughout the waters, your sea-creature friends following behind you worried. with a mischievous look in your eye, you’d tease a passing school of fish by catching them off-guard before playfully darting away leaving the fish to continue on their journey. the water caressed your skin as you made your way towards another (more recent) shipwreck. carefully, you rummaged through the remains seeing fragments left behind from the humans up above: photos filled with love and adoration, letters that confessed their love for one another explaining concepts like ‘dancing’ which were so foreign to you. hours passed you in a flash and the clear blue waters turned navy but flashes of warm orange light flickered on the service.

enchanted, you made your way to the surface, a sense of never-ending wonder growing bigger inside you by the moment. an array of stimuli hit you at once: the loud booming of bright lights in the sky, exploding stars; fresh air hitting your face; sounds of boisterous men echoing loudly on the boundless expanse of sea. as you approached the festivities, you felt that for once in your life, you were so close to a dream that you had always wished for.

the men on shoto’s ship were loud, boisterous and he could hardly blame them - they were celebrating his birthday after all. january 10th. the weather was colder than usual and as dusk had rolled around, the only lights they had were the warmth of the lanterns strung on the ship. he tried his best to revel in the festivities of the ship however he had a nagging feeling. though his trip from the neighbouring kingdom was successful, he doubted his father would be impressed enough. his father’s assistant - keigo takami - warned him on multiple occasions he should stop living in this fantasy that he’s find something, someone, out here.

shoto was busy essentially brooding in the corner of the ship when takami ushered him to join in on his own festivities.

“it’s your birthday for god’s sake!” takami beginning to slur on his words due to his lack of self control. “ you need to give up on this fantasy of trying to find shit that isn’t there. you’re going to be a king.” though takami said it lightheartedly, built-up anger seethed in his chest. he knew something was out there - something or someone had saved his mother that night many years ago. that night, a beautiful melody rang out throughout his kingdom which echoed throughout his mother’s dying body. she had fallen off the ship but was brought to shore somehow. in his heart, he knew someone had brought her to them and though she never woke up, he was given the grace of never being left wondering about the whereabouts of his mother. through gritted teeth and an unwillingness to fight with keigo, he joined the festivities once again.

you watched all of this play out on the side of the ship, entranced by the events playing out. how they sang and danced and were smiling so bright, it competed with the explosions of stars in the sky. you watched eyes widened, particularly interested in the man they all seemed to be praising. though he tried to reject the contagious festivities in the air, not even he was immune to it, a small smile tugging his lips. he was beautiful you though, his hair was split - one side as white as the pearls in the sea and one side as red as the coral that was plentiful in your home. that prior dream burned inside of you, wanting to be one of them, you had to stop yourself from boarding the ship too. a cute animal had come to you, a black cat, one with the silkiest fur that was quickly taken away from you from a gentle calling from the dual-coloured hair man.

the festivities lasted for hours on end and as you were finally ready to go back to your home under the sea, a turbulent rumbling entered the atmosphere. all of a sudden, the calm waves became violent, hurling themselves against the boat, unbalancing the sailors on the ship. once a boisterous crowd became deathly serious. the sailors struggled to maintain their footing as the vessel tried its best to fend against the crashing waves. torrential rain hurled from the clouds tearing the lanterns from the strings causing an onslaught of fire to dominate the ship. paired with the winds that picked up with an eerie howl which helped the spread of the fire.

“abandon ship!” shoto demanded, his crew immediately following his orders. he searched frantically, making sure everyone was able to get off the ship. you did your best, underneath the water, guiding those towards the ship pushing away excess wood that had been ripped off the ship.

todoroki heard a distant meowing. one he knew well, he made his way towards his inky black cat, athena. quickly, he was able to save her from getting squashed by burning wood. as gently as he could, he hurled her towards his crew which were eagerly waiting for her (and him) to board. underneath, you gently guided athena towards the crew members wishing her a safe travel. the ship became more strained than ever, its timber groaning and creaking in protest, unable to withstand it anymore, it split in two, causing shoto to fall off the other side from the rest of his crew members.

overwhelming. water flooded all of his senses, it consumed him and he had no will to fight back against it. all he could wonder if this is how his mother felt all those years ago. alone and cold but at peace in a way. he lost consciousness, the thought of those who he loved easing him into a deep sleep.

adrenaline was present in every fibre of your body as you grabbed the dual hair coloured man and brought him to shore. you stayed with him till daylight (after making sure he would be okay till help arrived in the morning) admiring his features and how the rising sunset kissed them so gently. and as the sun rose, you sang your siren song to call the other sailors over to come and find him. a sense of disappointment washed over you as you were coming to the end of your song as the man interlaced his fingers with yours, becoming more conscious by the moment. though not fully awake, as he locked eyes with you, he felt as though his whole spirit had been restored and time had stopped completely so he could take you in. you were beautiful, stunning, the finest person he had ever seen. it felt like the atoms in the universe had conspired so they could be together, their souls respectively noticing something profound in one another.

though, he was too weak to convince you to stay, you hurried away, giving him a final squeeze and a quiet ‘good luck’. as soon as you left, time returned to its steady march continuing on as it did prior. and as he drifted back into a deep sleep, he could only see the way your kind eyes locked with his own.

a/n - requests are open!!!!! also i loved the new movie. i want prince eric rn

#bugeatermaya #shoto x y/n #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #shoto x reader #my hero academia #shoto fluff #shoto angst #bnha #bnha au #little mermaid #little mermaid au #shoto torodoki #shoto todoroki x you #shoto x you #todoroki x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x you

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sunandsstars · 1 year

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ONE OF THE PEOPLE

CHAPTER 1

Recom!Miles Quaritch x Metkayina!Reader

Summary: When Miles gets saved by a Metkayinan, he realises eventually they aren’t all so bad. But when his mission comes back to him, is it worth leaving it all behind?

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of wounds/death, Alien racism

Word count: 2k A/N: This is my first fanfic on here please be kind! There may be spelling errors (i am currently writing this at 3am) so if you see any please point some out and i will change them. But omg i am so exited for this to be read, I have so many ideas for this story and many others!! :>

It was brutal, the pain, searing through his abdomen and spreading across the torso in pulses. Blood dripped down the large blue hand keeping pressure on the wound. Colonel Miles Quaritch, former human, now recombinant, soured through the sky on his banshee away from the battle him and his men took part in and towards Bridgehead for safety. He needed to heal up and gather more forces as soon as possible.

‘Jake Sully got away again’. He seethed, sucking his teeth. ‘When I heal up, I’ll come back and kill his whole fucking family’.

It was a promise he made to himself ever since Jake joined the Na’vi all those years ago during the war, he was a traitor to human kind and a threat to the RDA, the raids where getting worse and no progress has been made because of it. Now, he has been brought back to life in the form of what he hated most, and he will do well to keep his former promise. He was stronger, faster, and a hell of a lot taller. If anyone can get the job done, it’s him.

The wind started to pick up and rain gradually drizzled down from the sky, his banshee screeched in alarm not used to flying in stormy conditions like this. The two of them were still travelling over the sea and Miles didn’t know when they would arrive back to base, hopefully it wont be too long. The sky turned darker and the bioluminescent glow of the plants in the water created a beautiful light to guide his way back to the jungle, but the impending storm made him grit his teeth and fly faster, not stopping to take in the view. Pandora’s as beautiful as it is dangerous.

‘’Ardmore’s gonna kick my ass’’ Quaritch groaned out. The whole reason he was brought back to life was for this stupid mission and now he’s on the verge of death and his whole squad is wiped out, he wonders if anyone has made it out alive from all that and his mind flashes to Spider. Best not to dwell. Luckily he was far enough away from the wreckage to be captured by any of those hostiles, the last thing he needs is one of those things coming after him.

Famous last words.

Suddenly the creature he was sat on squawked and started to sway violently, Quaritch gripped on until his knuckles paled ‘’WHAT THE FUCK’’. A giant net came crashing into them, capturing both and squeezing them uncomfortably tight together. The net fell through the sky and into the ocean with a massive splash, the recom felt himself and his banshee panic through the bond, the animals shouting deafening his ears. They were under the water and sinking fast, the rocks on the sides of the netting pulling them down.

They needed to get out of here.

He quickly grabbed the seal knife that was strapped to his thigh and and started to cut the seaweed that trapped them, luckily it didn’t take a huge amount of effort and the blade sliced through the plant with ease. With the last slash of the weapon an opening was made and his flying companion wriggled out and swam towards the surface disoriented and in desperate need for air.

‘Fuck’ the recom however, got caught onto the netting and the bond with the ikran broke. The makeshift netting turned and twisted with every move the man made and air was running out quickly.

He lost the opening to the netting in his effort to untangle himself and went to cut more of the seaweed when his chest tightened and he chocked out. A few bubbles flew to the surface and more followed hastily as Quaritch was forced to breath, desperate for air. His heart raced and his vision created patches of darkness.

As his brain fogged, his sight of the ocean became black and he stopped his struggling, sinking slowly to the sea bed.

‘Eywa give me strength’ lips locked together in a hurry and quick puffs of breath where given into ones mouth. A woman was pushing down onto his chest, hoping and praying to her deity he wasn’t dead. ‘It was an accident, I did not mean to harm him’ she panicked and locked their lips again, hoping to save his life. She was merely hunting outside the reef alone, just her and her tsurak, taking time for herself and her thoughts when she caught sight of something flying nearby. Thinking it may as well be caught as food, a net was unleashed and captured the creature. She only just saw the Na’vi as they were sinking into the waters.

The man suddenly opened his eyes and inhaled sharply coughing up whatever liquid he inhaled while he was drowning. ‘’oh thank you great mother! You are alright!’’ she helped him sit up and patted his back to ease his pain. As the stranger was regaining his breath she took the time to examine his interesting attire, he was wearing a chest piece unlike anything she’s ever seen, most men back at the village wear toe guards which protect the heart, not whatever this is. The man also has long cloth wrapped around his legs which ended above his feet, ‘is it not hard to move in those?’. A hand suddenly grasped her arm and threw her to the ground underneath a hard body, she squeaked as she was turned to her stomach and a knee was pushed into her lower back and her hands were bound behind her body by a larger one.

‘’Now just what do you think you’re doing huh?’’ He growled out, the words not making any sense to the woman underneath him, she just saved his life and this is how he thanks her?. ___ wriggled and tried hard to escape, not understanding what he was saying to her and unaware of the horrible insults thrown into her face.

‘’let me go! I do not understand what you are saying!’’ She begged, the pressure on her lower back increasing tenfold and causing pain. She winced and stopped, unable to move more as the knee pushed further into her.

‘’where..am i?’’ He spoke, his accent strong and evident in his words, although his speaking was that of a babies, slow and unsure. The woman’s ears twitched as she made out what he said, turning her head in the sand of the small island she took them too she shouted, ‘’you are near my home, I have taken you to an island after saving you, now please let me go!’’. Quaritch didn’t know why he bothered to ask, he can’t understand a fucking word, he did however understand she wanted to be let go.

Like hell he’ll do that.

A sharp spike of pain hit his abdomen and he doubled over and was forced to let go of the Na’vi who scrambled out from under his body and kneeled facing him on her feet, glaring with a hand on the knife at her hip just in case he tried to reprimand her again. But was surprised to see his face scrunched up in pain with his own hand against his stomach. Her eyes widened as she finally took notice of his wounds ‘how did I not spot this sooner?!’. Instantly standing up and calling to her tsurak who was nearby she grabbed the guys shoulder and pulled him to try and stand him up ‘’I will take you back to Al’mete, I will get you help, come’’.

But he merely turned around and hissed, mouth wide open and pearly fangs on clear display for her to see as a warning, on instinct she hissed back at the threat display. Not taking no for an answer, she pulled him again and pointed to his bleeding wound when he started to growl ‘’come, you are hurt’’. She tried again with concern in her blue eyes. Quaritch realised that she wanted to take him away to aid him, with her greener hand pointing to his gash and her other one pulling his arm it was becoming obvious. He was too weak to fight properly and had no idea where his stupid ikran went off to, he was lost and alone to fend for himself so he figured he has no choice and got up to follow, hunched over and breath raggedy. ‘I’m gonna regret this’.

The native woman walked into the water and he hesitated figuring she might pull him under when they got deep enough and that this was some sort of trap, she will kill him then feed his body to the rest of her so called clan, ‘it’s what savages do’ and that’s when he saw the huge alligator-like creature in the water, it solidified his choice to stay the hell away. ‘’hell the fuck no’’. Quaritch went to grab his knife at his side but instead found nothing, forgetting that it’s sunk to the bottom of the ocean. He swore, and got into a fighting stance preparing to get attacked, remembering when his banshee almost got his head bit off because of Jake and his skimwing, ___ merely blinked at him, wondering why he wanted to fight her so badly.

‘’come’’ she beckoned him over, making tsaheylu in preparation to leave, ‘’do not be difficult’’ she glared. The blue recoms head started pounding, he’s losing a lot of blood by now. Grabbing his hand she gently pulled him over seeing as he was struggling and sat him down behind where she would be kneeled, ‘’you are very strange you know…hold on to me’’.

‘’get the hell off me!’’ His weak thrashing ceased as the tsurak took of at great speeds above the water so he could breath. Miles’s head started to spin with the bumping of the waves and he fell unconscious quickly, leaning into the woman’s back as she held his thigh, steadying him until they returned to her village.

‘’why did you save this man?! He is of the sky! DEMON LOOK AT THESE HANDS!’’ The Tsahìk was immensely angry as she held up Quaritch’s arm showing off the five fingers, why must her daughter be as kind as she is a good warrior, she swore it would be her own downfall. But whatever feelings she may feel towards the skyperson in the marui is pushed aside as he is heeled by her hands by the desperate pleas of her kin. There must be a reason why he is here, she has seen the stars change that day a year ago and knew the humans have returned, but the Metkayina remain unaffected as they are reef people away from the forest and the dangers of aliens.

So why? why is he here?

‘’I am sorry mother! I did not know!’’ ___ ears where downturned in shame, she brought a skyperson to their home but she held no regret to saving his life. How was she supposed to know what the humans looked like anyhow? She has never came across one before, and the man in the murui looked Na’vi to her.

As the Tsahìk Nätsa finished patching all his wounds she stood from her kneeling position and turned around, tail cutting the air in anger. ‘’you will tell your father of what you have done, I will not defend you’’ her words are sharp.

‘That is fair’ ___ nodded and watched as her mother strolled out to put her things away. She turned towards the man laying on the floor and sighed ‘what have I got myself into’.

#✰ — avatar works — ✰#avatar quaritch x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water x reader #miles quaritch #x reader #fanfiction #first story #metkayina reader #pandora #atwow #fluff #Eventual smut #chapter 1 #mentions Jake sully

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riseofamoonycake · 2 months

Text

I worked on this for a million days, I hope it is something worthy!

@hanaiikiki, come, here is your man!

Birch

👑Pairing: Loxi x Human!queen reader

👑Warnings: mention of threat, violence, psychological abuse, forced breeding

👑The figure of this reader was already introduced here

👑Chapter 1 of 3: The Forest

👑

They say the birches follow you everywhere. Their always open and magical eyes can’t let you escape, the spirits who live in the trunks enjoy themselves to know your life and whisper about it to the Greatest Gods… so don’t go into the woods, stay away from their song, or you will be taken captive by them.

Don’t look at the birches, run from their sight, run.

Run.

You love birches and oaks. You just can’t help, the love you feel for them is stronger than any other feeling, even when they stand out in their light against the blackest night or the winter moon, resembling many sleepless, unhappy and hungry ghosts; perhaps because they are the trees that surrounded the house where you grew up, the only place you called home… perhaps because they have always protected you many, countless times.

Before they hid you from your parents’ eyes, when the summers were so long you never saw the end, and you had to find shelter before your father found you and won the game of hide and seek; back then, the hardest part was staying silent, because you were always so cheerful and carefree that you couldn’t help but laugh, and not always covering your mouth with your hands saved you from being discovered…

Now, however, they do it from monsters. The stories all lie: the dangers are not in the forest, they do not live in the birch trees, they are not their eyes; anyone who feels hatred and anger, enjoys pain, causes it or does nothing to stop it cannot live with the trees ― and this is perhaps why the king never managed to discover your hiding place, too cruel, miserable and inept to be accepted in this world. And, judging by the words that the birches sigh in your hair when the darkness is about to give way to the dawn and the sky is suspended between black and deep blue, they understood you well too.

Y/N, still prey to that man? You are his queen, yet you seem like the last of the slaves...

What you find in the forests is a sort of cradle: during the nights when you know that your husband is not present because too busy occupying other women’s beds, you take refuge in their realm and start to breathe again. Far from the crown that cages your head, from the clothes that tighten your chest and take your breath away, from the crying of the child they forced you to give birth to, from bitterness and anger, it seems to you that you have never grown up, that you are still in your village lost among the valleys and fields, running and running. Blessed poverty, how much you regret it now, knowing full well that happiness accompanied it; also for this reason you are despised, you who were born with nothing, but free and joyful… frowned upon by everyone, but not by these branches, leaves and flowers that, more than anything else, know how to appreciate the smell of souls that are too strong and indomitable to be linked to material possession. Because you are capable of bearing anything, even more than you think… if only you were to wake up from this years-long sleep and remember what you are truly made of, of coal, gold and sand that dances at the bottom of the sea, of spring air and wheat, of earthquakes and storms. Nature looks at you, and what it tells you is…

Run.

Behind your gaze there are your running steps, the same as when you were used to crossing the clearings even before the light of the sun and competing with the deers to see who would be the first to reach the springs of water, the sacred circles of the fairies and the ancestors’ mounds that stood out in the morning fog like beacons of death; and the evening never fell on those lands, where you did nothing but run, and run…

Run.

The rivers have never had secrets for you, no matter how frozen and deep, you have always loved them with all of yourself: in their blue water everything is lost, there is no room for noise and worry, and so you let yourself be carried away from their current and lead on their way, almost to the sea. You associate the taste of them with freedom, with the loss of all boundaries, with the rebirth which is no longer possible… now…

Run.

You have never seen the black beaches of the Great North, but the travelers who have arrived on your shores and have come into contact with your village ― travellers, visionaries, wise men, perhaps gods ― have always talked about it and brought with them a few punches of sand, tightly closed in a jar and so dark but brilliant that it seems like a corner of night with the stars entangled in it; who knows why you see it now, in this half-sleep, and dream of sinking your hands into an entire obsidian-colored expanse and into the waves of a sea that roars like an agitated heart, and… and behind you, just when you think you are alone, someone…

Run.

Run!

When you open your (e/c) eyes and fix them on the forest that surrounds you, everything seems calm: dawn is approaching and the trees barely shake in the elusive twilight, caressed by the morning breeze; the flowers are still closed, immersed in sleep, and the calls of the animals are continuous, made suffused and almost unreal by the mist that lingers on the clearings and traps every noise within itself.

The narrow clearing where you spent the night is damp with dew, yet you don’t feel the cold of the ground beneath you: the heavy cloak you wear protects you from anything, be it frost, doubt or fear… furthermore, your senses are totally focused on something else and don’t have time to grasp the shivers.

There is something around you; there is someone. Somewhere, someone is watching you, getting closer… it is almost here. You turn your head, looking around warily, peering over your shoulder with bated breath; there is a patch of darkness not far from you, a lump of night that resists the advance of the day, but it is not what worries you, it is not there that the danger comes from, which is close, it is always closer,

it is here.

«Booh!»

When you look back, you jump in surprise and can’t hold a scream as you curl up in a ball, scared and amazed, shaking from head to toe. The hooded figure in front of you, however, is doubled over with laughter as he points a finger at you and at your frightened face with a grin ― «Your expression! You should look at yourself in a mirror, you’re so funny, so terrified!» ― and then gets up again, lowers his hood and looks at you with big purple eyes full of everything except pity and sweetness. In a few moments, the entire forest darkens, closes in on itself and trembles for you. «Look… a human in my forest! Did you perhaps think you would go unnoticed this night, and all the others before it? Don’t you know that you are not welcome here unless you bring an offering?»

You continue to stare at the young… man? from the face as attractive as disturbing who appeared in front of you out of nowhere, then you bite your lips and try to speak despite your fear. Your heart beats so hard it hurts, and when you speak you don’t even hear your words: «I… I didn’t know. I beg for forgiveness if I entered your forest without permission, I thought it belonged to my husband, the king…», you only manage to murmur, and at that point your interlocutor smiles frighteningly and bends over you, taking away your space to breathe. Like a lash, you feel the sweet scent of thousands of flowers emanating from his skin, the more intense scent of as many poisons, and danger. Huge, absolute danger. «Better that you, your husband and the whole kingdom know that this is the territory of the gods, silly one…», he almost hisses on your lips, making sure to breathe on them, «no mortal has power here, only us. And you’ve already dirtied the air enough, little bunny.» The stranger raises his head in a disdainful move and retreats, yet continues to observe you. «Hmmm… aren’t you a bit too young to be queen? and these very common clothes, the fact that I often see you here… what’s happening, don’t you like court life? Not that I don’t understand you, eh.»

You don’t reply, and the young man doesn’t add anything else; he stands still, without trying to get closer, and you swallow with difficulty the little saliva you have left. The wisdom you haven’t had these nights suggests you leave as soon as possible and never look back, and never return to the forest regardless. «I… I should return to the castle now», you murmur then, making the act of getting up, «but today I will bring you something to repay for my intrusion. I ask you again to forgive me for my ignorance.»

«What a hurry!», comments the other, holding out a hand towards you. At that same moment, you are petrified as you notice how thin black smoke comes out of his open, gloved palm, and you begin to tremble again when you see it pointing towards you in thin hissing spirals. «… Why don’t you stay here a little longer, with me?»

You press yourself against the ground as soon as the god ― at this point you can no longer be fooled ― leans towards you again, and your eyes widen when his hands close around your skirt and slowly lift it to reveal your legs. You can’t suppress a groan of terror, which makes him smile and almost growl, and tear the fabric of your dress. «You have too toned legs to be a spoiled and indolent noblewoman…», he comments as he caresses your calves and the lower part of your thighs, and then grabs your bare feet and touches every corner of them, «and these toes have old fractures. You were used to running for hours until not long ago… when you didn’t yet have a crown on your head and the belly of a woman who has given birth.»

You blush more for his words than for the way the divinity touches you and grabs your flesh as if he wanted to deprive you of it. «Yes, I was… before the king noticed me and bought me, I was used to running for a long time…» The quick confession comes out spontaneously as you observe your companion’s hands placing your legs on the ground and carefully covering them with the skirt, and an amused grimace paints his face with malice and cruelty.

«Poor little one… evidently, it is your destiny to lose your freedom because of someone more powerful than you.» Again, light smoke emanates from his palm, and a curved blade emerges from his skin, slowly revealing itself and taking the shape of a dagger. Something also appears in the other hand, becoming a vial filled with a liquid so clear it seems unreal. The stranger presents you both objects, making you look at them carefully before smiling, and then hands them to you. «I am very saddened by not being able to accept your belated apologies, young queen, but it is not our way of acting… so let’s do this: since I’m getting a little bored, I’ll leave the choice to you. What do you want your punishment to be for the outrage you have caused me? A quick death, or a slow illness that will take your mind away? Or do you prefer torture?”

You widen your eyes at the crazy look of your tormentor, then watch him burst into laughter with immense joy. «Humans… your fear is never priceless», you hear him murmur, and then see him approaching dangerously. You don’t even have time to react, and the god grabs you by the arms and pushes you to the ground, before climbing onto your lap and pressing you against the earth using all his weight, stretching his face towards yours and licking his lips with studied slowness. «… And that’s why it’s always so much fun to play with you.»

«What… what do you want to do to me?», you chirp, stopping as soon as he presses a finger to your mouth and then caresses your cheek, forehead and hair, digging his fingers in and pulling a little to make you throw your head back and expose the neck, then begin to delicately trace the throat with the tip of the dagger. There is no kindness in his movements, only a desire to torment you and see how far you are willing to go.

«You have to choose that for yourself. I am here to punish you, but, as I said, the punishment is your choice: it depends on what you want most. If you’ve always wanted to feel pain or know what it’s like to die a certain way, then all you have to do is ask! I will fulfill your wish⁓» The god’s smile fades a little, and he widens his eyes in an almost sweet expression. «Just don’t make me wait too long, okay? I want to hear some good screams, but quickly, otherwise I’ll have to decide for you!»

You let him press his finger to your forehead, then close your eyes and swallow. The situation is so bad that there are no words to describe it, and what you don’t understand rationally, you do with your heart: with every second that passes, you are more and more in danger and your life is getting shorter. Whatever deity has come to you, he seems intent on getting everything he can from you. His touch is cursed, lascivious and sinuous like that of a serpent; and the fire that burns under his skin traps, bites and crushes.

There is no escape for you.

«I see you are undecided… do you need advice?» The god makes the dagger disappear, then reaches fully over you and begins prodding and scratching your cheek with the tips of his black nails. «Hmmm, how soft and tender you are⁓ what a shame, if you weren’t destined to die so soon, I might even woo you…»

You widen your eyes, then a sudden thought crosses your mind and you express it immediately, before thinking twice. There is trembling in your voice, and a thrill inside your body: «Great Forest God, can I… propose a fourth way? A challenge, perhaps?»

The deity’s face lights up at those words, then he sits up on your belly and claps his hands, excited. «A challenge? It’s okay, I like challenges! What’s on your mind, huh?»

You sit down too, closing the distance between your faces. You stare into his amethyst eyes with apprehension, and a part of you already regrets what you’ll say. «A hunt. I propose that you… hunt me down. Hunt me throughout the entire forest; and if you catch me even just once, you have won and I will have to do everything you want without replying, even if it were the most horrible thing a human being has ever suffered. But if I find the exit and can reach it before you catch me… then I will be free, and you won’t be able to do anything to me. You will lose all power over me… but only if I win.»

The god remains silent for a moment, completely still, then covers his mouth with both hands and begins to tremble. «Oh, dear girl, but this… this is…» His face transforms into a chilling grimace, then an expression of arrogant triumph appears on it. «This is a victory for me! I practically won!»

«I’m afraid so», you reply, smiling sadly and without undermining his confidence, «but this is the wish I ask you to grant. It’s a game that I propose to you… hoping that you will enjoy it.»

«My queen, of course I will like it! My, my, now things are getting interesting⁓» The god’s voice becomes softer as he steps back from you and crouches at your feet, before taking one in his hands and starting to massage the toes. «I really want to see what these beautiful legs are capable of…», he murmurs with a sinister and perverse grimace, and then scratches your sole.

Instinctively you retract your leg and escape his grasp, making the god chuckle, and jump up. He looks at you with the same sly expression as a cat, then nods at you as he sits back down and looks up at you. «Any other requests before we start the hunt?»

«Yes: it will have to be a fair challenge, without tricks. And no jokes.»

The other smiles, then lies down on the grass and nods. «Don’t worry, if I cheated it wouldn’t be so interesting anymore. And you must lose so miserably that you don’t even have the courage to look at my face…» The god chuckles, then looks at your legs. «And don’t be afraid, I won’t play any tricks on you: you have the word of a god. I’ll give you half an hour’s head start: whatever happens, in the end you’ll be mine, and then we’ll pay off the debt forever⁓ do you agree?»

You frown and are about to reply, but the divinity’s eyes narrow and inside them you read a warning and an order so clear that you can only obey: run, they whisper to you, and you step back and start running. «Half an hour passes quickly, flower! Do your best!», you hear him shouting behind you, and you increase your pace on purpose to get away from that terrible place; but you can’t help hearing the loud, terrible laughter that attaches itself to your person and follows it for entire minutes, in the cold, black thicket of a forest that, now, cannot protect you.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #snv #ror loki #snv loki #record of ragnarok loki #shuumatsu no valkyrie loki

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qingxin-dream · 1 year

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“Incarnate (I)”

a/n | this is part i of iv for a little small series of angsty midnight drabbles partially influenced by pinocchio in a world where scaramouche is bound to you by fate. god it’s been such a long time since i’ve written anything, feedback is appreciated! (art credits: @/tong827038 on danbooru)

warnings | panic attack, drowning, implied death

genre | angst, soulmate au

word count | ~1k

pairing | scaramouche/wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was spring when Kabukimono first discovered his heart.

A shimmering mist surrounded the rural Inazuma island the puppet called home. Each of the dew drops reflected the sunlight in a kaleidoscopic wonder, casting colorful fractals across your features. To say the puppet was enamored with the beauty of the season of new beginnings—and of course with you—was an understatement.

The recent afternoon downpour left behind a rejuvenating scent on the gentle breeze, filling his senses with a newfound feeling of tranquility. Many of the sakura trees dotting the landscape had their blossoms taken on the wind of the spring shower. Soft petals scattered the ground like a mesmerizing pointillist painting.

You cupped your palms together, outstretched to the sky to catch a lone sakura blossom. Your companion watched you with pure fascination, taking note of how your mouth dimpled ever so slightly into a smile. The way your glossy eyes flickered to his, gazing contentedly through your thick lashes… if only you knew how bizarre it made him feel.

Every time you brushed your fingers against his as you both walked together, it was as if he forgot how to breathe. When you reached into to his iridescent veil to tuck a loose tuft of his indigo hair behind his ear, his face bloomed as red as a rose at quite the alarming pace. You made him feel like he couldn’t function without you.

Because in sacred moments just like this one, you were the reason Kabukimono’s heart pounded just a little bit harder—a welcome reminder of his humanity.

“Do you ever wonder what’s beyond the sea?” you ask the blossom in your hand, although it was more so directed to your friend. “I’d like to see it someday.”

Never had you expressed this sentiment before, drawing the puppet’s curiosity to you. He had not truly considered the world beyond the village. It was his home where his friends resided. Why would he ever want to leave when he has everything he could ever want within his grasp?

Kabukimono stepped behind you, looking over your shoulder softly at the sakura blossom. You held the little pink flower as if it carried your hopes and dreams. He could recognize the longing in the way you stared out at the rolling waves of the ocean.

If you so desired that freedom, Kabukimono promised himself that he would give it to you. He would give you everything he had if you so much as parted your lips with a hint of need.

It was difficult to comprehend for someone so new to the world like himself, but with you by his side it never seemed impossible for Kabukimono to reach for the moon, the stars, or the whole damn sky if you wished it to be.

“Then I will find a way,” promised the kind puppet. “For you.”

Your face brightened, turning to face Kabukimono with a soft smile. “Would you accompany me?”

Part of him feared this question. The puppet knew he couldn’t leave his blade smiths behind. Telling you no was more difficult than he anticipated, it tore him in two between his dear comrades and the prospect of fulfilling your dreams. How could he ever make such a decision?

In hindsight, he who formerly was known as Kabukimono would forever curse his worthless emotions for clouding his judgement.

The day you departed, your ship was swallowed whole in the distance, pumping adrenaline in its most raw form through his veins. It utterly ravaged his frail body.

To his surprise, as he rowed furiously to the remnants of the ship, his throat refused to make a sound. Amid the rush of shock, Kabukimono had let a series of unadulterated screams rip from his lungs to the point he could no longer speak.

Once he was close enough, the puppet haphazardly tossed his veil to the side and dove into the cold sea water. The absolute terror pulsing in Kabukimono’s chest clenched down on him like a vice. He couldn’t push enough water past him to reach you.

He was losing his form, once coordinated strokes devolving into frantic, desperate swipes toward your unconscious body that sunk lower and lower away from him. A plethora of air bubbles escaped from his cold lips, drowning out any efforts to call out to you.

It was a miracle that the little puppet managed to envelope his weak arms around your frame. Kabukimono peered through the dark waters to the stormy sky above that was rapidly disappearing. With every remaining ounce of strength left in his body, the puppet pulled you to the surface.

The mere sight of you in such a deathly state, your skin drained of its warmth, was forever engraved in his memory. Swimming to his boat, the erratic ocean waves repeatedly sloshed over you both, forcing water down his throat. Kabukimono winced and violently coughed, struggling to pull you with him to safety.

No, he thought. Not like this. He would never let you perish as long as he drew breath.

Yet, the periphery of the puppet’s vision was beginning to grow hazy. He was losing control of his movements, unable to hold you any tighter to his chest.

You tumbled over into the boat roughly with one last great push, rendering Kabukimono paralyzed beneath the water. He swam, kicked, and struggled to break the surface again until ultimately he succumbed to the drowsiness pulling him under. He became still, so impossibly rigid as his heart slowed.

In what Kabukimono believed to be his final moments, an unknown voice echoed eerily within the chambers of his mind and soul from the beyond. Death began to wrap its tendrils around his throat, ensnaring him against his will.

“Little puppet, bearer of suffering and sacrifice, do you wish to return to the human world? To be reborn anew?”

…

“Then so be it, Kunikuzushi.”

[to be continued… in part ii.]

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist

#[opulent dreams].✿#why am i literally so embarrassed to post anything anymore😵‍💫#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin soulmate au #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer

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hhighkey · 8 months

Text

Decode // PREVIEW!!

Dracule Mihawk (opla) x OC (female)

Rating: generally will be mature

Story Will Contain: age gap, OC is an unspecified religious nun who is on sabbatical (full fic would give detail), trauma, violence, eventual smut, possessive / protective behavior etc etc

notes, hi!!! so there’s a preview of a fic i’m working on! i’m in the middle of deciding between focusing on this story or my shanks fic. let me know if anyone wants to be added to this story’s taglist

Masterlist , vote which fic i should focus on here

…

The azure sky above was fitted with puffy white clouds- the sea calm in contrast to the blood that seeped onto Baratie's front dock. How Nami and Usopp raced behind their captain to Zoro's side. How Luffy's cries for their bloodied crew mate to live, were deafening. And how Sabine stood firm as if stuck in cement, fingers turning white from the grip on her rosary.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Blood rushed to her head blurring her vision with black spots. And an incessant ringing echoed in her ears.

Time felt frozen as she watched him glide to her, his heavy footsteps creaking on the dock. Closer. And closer. She couldn't move, not with the way tears pricked her waterline and bile rose in her throat. Eyes flickering between the two swordsman as a frigid breeze of alarm made her entire body shiver.

"My dear," Mihawk spoke calmly, as if he hadn't just struck down Zoro in a battle he needn't break a sweat. Only inches from her, Mihawk removed his hat, holding it over his heart as his mouth ran dry. His eyes ate her petit figure up and his stomach lurched from how her beauty struck him. Everything from last night came rushing back and if he'd known a simple conversation would be life changing, he'd have not let her walk away.

Sabine opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She craned to look up at him. In daylight she was captivated by him. Last night, at the bar, hadn't done him justice. How the air was robbed from her lungs as all she could do was shake her head, "why.."

Mihawk had no answer as he re-situated his hat back upon his head, then running a hand to brush along her headpiece down to her veil. She flinched in return as his large fingers caressed her shoulder, "Sister Mary Sabine, last night you changed my trajectory for better and for worse. And I'm a man who knows what he wants, then gets it."

"I don't understand," she squeaked out, their surroundings blocking out. Yells of her friends as they carried Zoro to the boat, how she should have been with them tossed to the back of her mind. The panicked looks as they saw how close Mihawk was to Sabine, someone with no ability to fight an enemy off. But trust was left that Mihawk had no business with a nun as they carried the green haired swordsman out of sight. She was alone- with him.

Mihawk showed no change in emotion, only an unsettling and uncommon softness to his gaze, "however I am not cruel. I understand your situation, so I'll tell you this- after your sabbatical I will come find you. And I'll respect either decision you make, but I plan to make you mine if you choose to leave the sisterhood."

An inhuman gasp stifled in her throat, her eyes widened by his wild proclamation, "M-Mihawk."

In a slick motion, Mihawk removed the thick cross branded (Mihawk branded) ring he adorned. Suddenly grasping her dainty wrist he forced the piece of jewelry into her palm, "so a piece of me is with you always. Think of me until we meet again in many months time, little one."

"You can't- you can't just say that! You- Zoro might die because of you!" Anger finally bubbled over. Sabine snapped from her trance as her fist tightened around the ring, she took a step closer to him before he could turn away.

"You felt it last night, no?"

His question took her aback. Just as quick as she found a confidence to get mad, it subsided as her shoulders dropped. Because she felt it. She'd told herself last night as she laid in bed tipsy from the wine, that if that was how true love felt, she'd never want anyone else. She'd want him.

…

side note— there’d be a background and chapter 1 prior to this (this would be in ch 2) so if there’s some confusion that’s why lol this is like from the middle of the chapter

#opla #one piece #one piece live action #opla mihawk #mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk headcanons #mihawk x reader #mihawk x oc #fanfic #preview #hhighkey decode

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lostinhisworld · 1 year

Text

what happened to summer? - JJ Maybank

warnings: underage drinking and smoking mentioned. some angst. fluffy ending. she/her pronouns. highly unedited and very rushed. i was sad while writing this lol

word count: 2k

hope you enjoy xx

“summer’s over, jj, and so are we.” the words dripped from her lips like poison. a murderous ending to something so sweet.

cruelly perfect.

he watched the salty droplets that fell from her hair, marking the sand with their existence— a small reminder that they, JJ and Y/n, were there— as his head nodded in agreement.

he hadn’t meant for this, planning for weeks how he’d refuse her farewell with a declaration of his love, how he’d fight her for just one shot. and yet, his head still nod and the words “i know, we’re done.” slipped from his mouth.

she smiled at him, tears clouding her vision as the bittersweet ending replaced the memories they’d made. “okay.”

“okay.”

///

eyes focused on where the sky meets the sea, the girl zoned out her friends conversation in favour for the lulling melody playing beside her.

she watched as gulls sawed overhead and gentle splashes in the water marked the presence of hidden marine life, all whilst ignoring the ever-present memory of last year sitting just across from her.

she could feel his eyes burning into her skin, just as they always would— a long 12 months of avoiding his looks and ensuring she would never be left alone in his company for any longer than a few minutes.

she’d done well thus far, quickly escaping any unwanted encounter and purposefully gluing herself to the others’ sides. there was no room for error, no chance to mess up and catch his eye.

unfortunately, this lesson was learnt the hard way, just a week after the situation.

the small group of five had made they’re weekly trip out into the marsh— “a well deserved break from being back at school” in the wise words of John B Routledge— with the usual supplies of one-too-many stolen beers and JJ’s special mix.

senses were heightened and everything was exceptionally funny.

Y/n found herself sat upon the bow of the HMS Pogue, her feet dangling from the side, just missing the water lapping against the boat. her hair blew behind her, curtesy of summer’s final blows of wind and her eyes closed as she allowed the toxic chemicals to run through her veins.

she could feel someone starring at her— the notion causing goosebumps to run across her skin— and with a small fragment of confidence, majorly due to the burnt out joint laying tired beside her, she twisted her body hoping to find the culprit.

if she’d known any better, as she does now, the girl would’ve kept her head forward and protected herself from a wave of emotions she wasn’t quite ready for.

but of course, she hadn’t learnt her lesson just yet, meeting the eyes of her lost lover.

the two blinked in unison for a moment, zoning into one another while blocking the rest of the world out. their friends conversation faded into the background, a simple static overtaking their loud words and forcing all attention onto the heartbroken teens.

Y/n was the first to break away, a line of tears creeping into her eyes. she turned before they had a chance to fall, hoping and praying the boy wouldn’t notice.

though, by her luck, he had. fortunately enough for the young girl, she’d slipped into the cold embrace of the moving water around them before he’d had the chance to make any moves to comfort— or question— her.

and since then, she’d known smarter than to meet his eyes.

she’d done everything in her power to keep her heart safe— from leaving the boy at the end of last year’s summer before he had the chance to leave her, to forcefully laughing at Pope’s countless attempts on making dad jokes. she proved time and time again that she was stronger than her urges, that she could resit the boy’s familiarity and comfort.

she would watch from afar as girls chased him around at parties before finding her own warm body to hold her— just as she would tonight.

boneyard parties were usually the easiest— a large enough space that she could admire him from a distance without being noticed— yet, tonight seemed to be proving difficult.

if she were keeping record— which she obviously wasn’t, as long as you didn’t look through her journal— tonight would mark exactly 365 days since their beginning.

the Earth had fully rotated the sun since their first night shared together as more than just friends.

and it seemed JJ wasn’t oblivious to the fact either.

he’d avoided attention from each and every girl around him, keeping himself focused of the teenage girl lost in her own world.

he admired her small mannerisms— the way her lips twitched up each time a fish appeared in the water behind him, how her fingers drummed softly on her thigh to the beat of whatever song played on the speaker and how whenever someone stepped just a little to close to where she sat, she moved shuffled further away— usually left unnoticed by those around her, all while hoping to finally catch a moment with her alone.

he’d spent 12 months chasing her from room to room, praying for a chance to speak, stealing glances from time to time just to catch her smile, and listening extra hard for her laugh whenever a joke was made near by, all to be ignored at every encounter.

it seemed no matter how much he tried, she tried harder to be unapproachable.

but that would change tonight.

Y/n stood from the fallen branch she’d been resting on the past hour, quickly whispering into Kiara’s ear that she would be back in a few minutes, just wishing for a break away from everyone— from JJ’s piercing stare.

she knew she was safer with people around her— knew he wouldn’t be able to get her alone if she had remained by her best friend’s side—, however, with the emotions of the anniversary and he’s never ending look, she needed a moment to herself to collect her thoughts and feelings.

that was mistake two of the night.

her first mistake was made hours beforehand, when she had informed her friends of her vow of sobriety for the night, claiming she wanted to be able to look after them but meaning she couldn’t trust herself not to repeat the same actions of last year.

wandering away from the pumping music and aimless conversations, Y/n walked just close enough to the ocean’s front for her feet to get wet but not so far the freshly inked tattoo on her calf could be touched.

her eyes looked out at the water once again, though the anxiety from before refused to subdue as she felt his presence— a type of warmth she could never forget, no matter how hard she tried to force herself to.

“thought you said you’d wait for me.” he spoke softly, hoping not to spook her with his arrival— not quite realising she’d known he’d follow her. “to get a tattoo, i mean.”

shrugging her shoulders, the girl took a deep breath hoping to calm her voice before speaking. “figured it was easier to just go alone.”

he knew what she had really meant— she had gone alone to avoid going with him not for the sake of simplicity— though he chose to keep things light for the time being. “fair enough.” he whispered, keeping himself small in fear of her running.

watching as the girl sat down, he joined her, ensuring the gap between the two was wide enough for at least two other’s to join.

“did it hurt?” he wondered aloud, filling the empty space.

“way more than you know.” her response didn’t truly answer his question, at least not in the context he’d asked it.

his curiously about her new tattoo, as kind as it was, wasn’t what she knew this conversation was about and she’d rather he would just say what he needed than hide behind pointless words.

she forced herself to look at him, to truly take him in from up close— she hadn’t been able to recently, and missed it greatly. the way his dimple was always present even without his cheeky grin and how his teeth locked his soft lips between themselves when he thought just a little bit too hard about something.

“say it.” she told the boy, watching as his head snap to hers. “whatever it is you’re thinking, just say it.”

“what happened to summer?” his face screwed up, crinkling the sweet features Y/n had grown to love and she had to forcibly restrain herself from smoothening out the wrinkles with her thumb.

she, instead, began to open her mouth in response, before interrupted from JJ’s words. “i mean, i know what happened. summer ended and we promised we’d end with it, but- i just mean, we had something.” he seemed defensive, as if he had to prove to her it was true, as if she, herself, didn’t think the same already. “like, something real. and i can’t just keep pretending that you’re my friend, when you’re not. not after everything we’ve been through, not with the feelings i have for you.”

her eyes softened at his words and the visible struggle to hold back his emotions. she wanted to reach out and hold him, to tell him he wasn’t alone in this situation and that she felt the same, but she couldn’t. she could only stare as the boy she loved ripped his heart out for her.

“and i get it if you don’t wanna do this, believe me i do because i am so fucking scared. i know that if i have you for real it means i can lose you for real but i’m willing to take the risk. i’d rather have you for a little time than live the rest of my life not knowing what’s it like to be yours.” a singular tear fell from his left eye before her roughly wiped it away. “just, please, Y/n, tell me how you actually feel. not what we promised each other, not what you think you have to say to protect yourself. be honest with me.”

his hands gently cupped the girl’s face, thumbs brushing over her cheeks to dry the fallen emotion she’d tried to keep secret. “either break my heart or let me love you, just be honest with us both, for once.”

“i can’t.” her voice was broken, causing him to physically flinch at her pain. “i can’t let you love me knowing one day it’ll end.” she took in shaky breaths watching as he shook his head in defiance.

the two stared deep into each other. and as she felt his hands begin to fall from her face, accepting the hard truth that this was it, she pushed them back to her warmth, embracing them with her own. “but i refuse to break the heart of the man who taught me what love is.”

his head fell forward, forehead resting against forehead as the girl closed her eyes.

with their lips just inches apart, Y/n whispered the words she’d been thinking all year and the words JJ had been hoping to hear. “i love you, JJ, and as long as it’s you, i’m willing to watch my heart shatter.”

he surged forward, his lips smashing against hers as the feelings she had tried so hard to forget came crashing over them.

with her hands tangling themselves in his hair and his own refuses to leave her soft skin, the two began again— this time with the promise of summer and after that.

#netflix #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x reader fluff #jj maybank x fem!reader

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