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stargirlrchive · 1 year

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all those years ago ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: atwow!jake sully x female!reader, insecurites, lowkey whiney jake (i need him bad), jealousy, fluff, cute stuff <3

word count: 1,113

syulang (n) - flower

comments: y'all i kind ate w/ this one. <3 tbh i think it is my favorite one so far, literally cannot wait to post it so it is going up now. i also posted a neteyam fic a few hours ago, pls check it out baes, it is so cute, okay bye! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Jealousy began to bubble in the center of Jake’s stomach, slowly gnawing and tugging at his patience. His eyes were locked onto your face as you crouched down next to a young Na’vi warrior. Your arms were on his back, applying slight pressure to straighten him out. Your other hand ran down his arm to angle it better, you tapped his back and he pulled back, letting his fingers loosen on the bow and the arrow went flying, straight into the thick trunk of the tree. You both stood quickly, tails swishing with excitement, the young boy had clearly landed the target shot.

“Good job, Ìkom. You are getting better everyday!”

Jake began to slowly approach the two of you, as if he was trying not to get caught. You both knew he was there. “It is all thanks to you Tsahìk, you are an excellent teacher!”

A low growl slipped from Jake’s throat, and he knew you heard it. Your ears twitched and you tilted your head slightly in his direction. Your eyebrows furrowed together and confusion littered your features. “Ma’Jake, is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, Syulang.”

There was a bite to his tone, one you could not easily pinpoint but it put you on edge. You turned to look at your mate but his eyes were locked onto the young man. Ìkom was in his own world, happily sharpening the arrows he had brought with him to your training.

Your tail swished, pupils slightly dilated as you watched Jake approach the two of you. You weren't even sure how it was possible but he looked taller as he towered in front of you, chest pressed against you. He looked as though he was going to pounce on the poor boy and your hand reached out to still him. Your fingers pressed into his stomach and you felt the muscles tense, flexing under the warmth of your hand.

It seemed like he was snapped out of the cloud of jealousy as his eyes dropped down to your face. They visibly softened and his shoulder caved in, almost in defeat. A twinge of discomfort nestled onto your chest to see your mate's ego take a blow. Your hands had reached out to wrap around his waist and you pulled him in, “Ìkom, we are done for the day. Olo'eyktan and I have quite a lot of things to do today. We will resume in a few days.”

You did not even turn to look at him as Jake’s head fell to tuck into your neck. Your breath hitching as he placed feather light open kisses. “Oh-yes of course, Tsahìk. Olo'eyktan Sully.”

You heard his steps get farther and hissed as Jake lightly bit down on your neck, soothing the sting with a gentle swipe of his tongue. You whined his name out and threaded your fingers to his hair, pulling his head from your neck. “You are going to leave a mark.”

“That is what I want to do, Syulang.”

The use of the affectionate name made you flutter, it was sweet unlike earlier. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” His face however was twisted up in a look you were not familiar with, you wanted to sooth the lines on his forehead. “You were practically going to strangle the boy. What’s wrong?”

The bruise to his ego seemed to heal a bit as you referred to Ìkom as a boy. He huffed out in exasperation, embarrassment seeped into him, mumbling a response that you could not make out as his head went to dip back into your neck. As sympathetic as you were with your mate, you were growing agitated as he closed himself off.

Your hands dropped from his back, pulling yourself away from him. He whined lowly and brought you back to him, “I want you close to me.”

Your hands landed again on his stomach and he slightly inched his torso away from you. “You want me close to you yet you inch away. You are confusing me.”

He let out a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes, “I was jealous.”

You felt a jolt run through you, heat spreading all along your body. “You were jealous? Of Ìkom?”

“Do not mention that boy's name to me.”

A small giggled slipped from your throat as your hands landed on his hips, pulling him closer and then you let your hand caress his stomach again. “Skxawng.”

He refrained from tensing in your arms, even though he’d never admitted it he felt an insecurity at how his body had changed after all these years. “Something else is bothering you, Ma’Jake. Tell me how I can help you.”

Your face nuzzled into his gently, peppering small kisses along his jaw as your hand gently ran your fingers down his stomach. Small shapes were rubbed into his stomach and he let out a shaky breath. “I-I feel embarrassed, so much has changed since we first met, I do not look the same, my Syulang. Seeing you so close to him-it upset me.”

His ears twitched downwards, and your hand stilled on his stomach, “You have nothing to worry about.” Your lips pressed a kiss right in between his throat, his tail swished softly at the pressure and he tried to contain the heat spreading all over his body, you were making it very difficult. “I still think you are as beautiful as the first time I saw you.”

His heart fluttered and pulled you in closer, your lips pressed tiny kisses all the way up to his lips, “Besides we are parents now, have been for 15 years, I would expect us to change.”

Your hands lightly dug into his stomach and a low hiss left his mouth at the pressure, “And I think it is quite-what is that you say-sexy?”

His tail thumped wildly against the floor, cheeks burning a dark maroon as he pressed his lips to yours. Mumbling nonsense into your lips as you giggled quietly, pulling away from him as your hands reached out to cup his face. “I like you this whiney.”

He groaned as his head fell back, feeling all his worries melt away as your fingers tangled into his. “Are you okay now, Toruk Makto?”

He nodded and tried to calm the beating of his heart, you felt so drunk off the words that fell from your mouth, a surge of confidence flowing through him again as you tugged him along deeper into the forest. Suddenly he was back in time, feeling like a young Na’vi as he trailed after you helplessly, just like all those years ago.

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charliemwrites · 5 months

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Hi :)

You should not be doing this.

It rings like church bells in the back of your mind. A funeral toll for each damning decision that is killing your divinity.

Finding the ritual. Dong!

Drawing the circle. Dong!

Spilling your own golden essence over a twisting sigil. Dong!

Tongue tripping over unfamiliar vowels and consonants. A language you know but have never spoken. Dong!

“Well,” a low, rough voice drawls, “isn’t this something special.”

You close your eyes, steel your spine. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your nerves. Tilt your head just enough to watch him from the corner of your eye, a dark and hulking shape. You’re almost startled by the size of him. Have never seen a demon like this before.

His horns curve back from his head, rams horns. You jolt a bit. A higher demon than you expected - than you meant to summon.

“Such a pretty thing,” he coos, stalking closer. “I haven’t eaten an angel in millennia….”

You nearly gasp as rough hands brush your wings. It almost burns. You twist, find him suddenly much closer than you thought. A massive hand captures your chin, jerks your head up to look at you this way and that.

“And here you serve yourself to me on a silver platter.”

He smirks, a hint of viciously sharp fang peeking out. You gather your courage, smack his hand away. The bracelets around your wrist chime.

“You are the one who’s here to serve,” you remind.

He moves faster than you can ever hope to match, crushing you to the wall, your wings pinned beneath you. A clawed hand is around your throat, tight enough to threaten oxygen if you needed it. Still you gasp, squirming and struggling, frightened by his strength. Why is he so much stronger than you?

“Mind yourself, dove,” he growls, eyes glowing like hot coals. “You may have summoned me, but that does not entitle you to my power.”

You grunt softly as he flicks at your halo, eyes stinging a bit. You’re unfamiliar with pain; Heaven is soft and kind.

“Please,” you manage.

His eyes narrow, a smirk turn to his lips. “That’s more like it. Now tell me, why would one of the host call upon a demon.”

“T-to make a deal.”

His eyebrows arch, but there’s a flicker of genuine fascination in his eyes now. The grip on your throat loosens a little, but he presses closer just a quickly, one burning line of inhuman muscle along your front.

“A deal…” His voice has dropped even lower somehow, rumbling in his chest. “Oh dove, you have no soul to sell. What did you plan to bargain with?”

“I-I don’t know,” you admit. The desperation that brought you here, made you do all this, yawns open inside you. “You name the price, but please.”

His laughter fills the room, genuine amusement this time. “You’ve no idea what you’re offering.”

You frown. “I do. I know… I know what it means. But what I’m asking for…”

He tilts his head. “And what are you asking for, angel?”

“There’s a man, a human man. When his mother passed I brought her soul to Heaven and she asked - she asked me to watch over her son…”

He arches his eyebrows. “You’re no guardian.”

“No,” you agree. Guardian angels are fierce and beautiful, a balance of warrior strength and guiding patience. They carry swords and shields, iron in their feathers. “But… I couldn’t deny her.”

“Let me guess, he’s slated for death now.”

“Hes a soldier.” Death then damnation. He has made himself a machine of suffering and it has charred his soul.

The demon hums with understanding. “You want me to save him.”

“From death,” you clarify, “the rest.., the rest I will try to do myself.”

The demon makes a little “ah” noise. “And so you’ll offer me anything to defy death. For one mortal?”

You can hear the disdain in his voice and it sparks your ire. The scent of ozone seeps into the room as your feathers ruffle.

“I don’t need to explain myself. Will you take the deal or not?” You demand. “I need to know if I should summon another - ah!”

You flinch as your head is wrenched back, throat exposed. Hot hair brushes the skin as he looms over you, fangs so so close.

“Your Heavenly Father didn’t bend you over his knee enough,” he snarls. “We’ll have to correct that.”

You swallow down a whimper, sense that it’s best you don’t push your luck.

“Very well, dove. You have your deal. I will keep your precious mortal alive.”

“And in exchange?” you ask.

He chuckles. “That is not for you concern yourself with.”

And then white hot pain explodes through your shoulder, fangs sunk deep into your shoulder. He moans at the taste of your blood on his tongue, hips jerking roughly against your stomach. It feels like a small eternity that he bites into you, leaving his mark. The contract of your unholy deal. His tongue laves cruelly over the marks as he pulls away. Gold drips from his chin as he grins at you.

“Fly home now, dove,” he says. “I will see you very soon.”

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #demon!price #angel!reader

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thefrogdalorian · 13 days

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My Pain Fits In The Palm Of Your Freezing Hand

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: When you and your Mandalorian companion are ambushed by a group of bandits, you hope that his stubborn nature will not make the task of treating his wounds any more difficult than it needs to be. But that is not the only obstacle. You also hope that the depth of your unrequited feelings for Din will not impact on your ability to care for him...

Word Count: 2.2k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Canon typical violence briefly described, reader provides first-aid to minor, bloody injuries. ✯ Author's Note: A daydream about holding the stubborn tin can man's hand turned into whatever this is!! I've never written unrequited feelings for Din before but it made my heart ache in the best possible way. Hope you enjoyed!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Once the adrenaline of your latest brush with death subsides, your focus immediately pivots to caring for your Mandalorian companion. Although the heightened emotions leaving your body render you a trembling, shaky mess, your priority is to ensure his well-being. Maker knows he will never take care of himself.

As you approach the Razor Crest, you mentally scan yourself for painful areas. Casting your mind back towards the encounter as you try to recall anywhere you could have been hurt. After all, you will struggle to assist him if you are not healthy.

You recall that you had taken a couple of painful blows to the side during the skirmish, but your clumsy assailants had fortunately missed all of your vital organs. Aside from a pounding heart and dry mouth, you have mercifully made it through the ambush unscathed.

Satisfied that there are no immediate areas of concern to treat, you turn your attention towards Din. You cast your mind back over the altercation, towards any wounds he may have sustained. It is easier said than done, considering how many of them leapt out of nowhere and caught the two of you off-guard as you walked through the thick forest towards the ship.

You remember how many of them Din fought off with his bare hands. Well, through his gloves. Still, you know they will have provided scant protection, so you are keen to check them for injuries.

You momentarily struggle to remember what happened after Din had seen most of them off as you crouched behind a bush, hiding.

Then, you recall how one of your assailants had slashed at Din’s hands when he grabbed the remaining pair of them around the throat. It had been a frenzied attack, which momentarily worked as his grip loosened. Just when you had feared that all hope was lost and they were going to escape, Din brought his boot up to deliver a swift kick in the stomach to the slower of the duo, which sent them careening into each other.

Din had used many parts of his body, as well as all of his wits and expertise as a warrior to see your attackers off. He had done a formidable job, considering how much they had taken you by surprise.

Still, the state of his hands concern you.

You are pretty sure they sustained the most severe damage. Plus, as they are vitally important for everyday function, treating them takes priority.

It is settled... Din’s hands are the first area you will treat.

If he will let you, that is.

Your Mandalorian companion does not possess a reputation for being the easiest man in the galaxy to take care of... a willing patient, Din Djarin is not.

As the two of you ascend the ramp up to his beloved ship, you hope for both of your sakes that he makes this process as painless as possible.

“Din, sit down and let me get the medkit,” you order when you finally enter the familiar old ship's hull.

“Let me initiate the launch sequence first,” Din stubbornly responds.

“No,” you reply, shaking your head as you fold your arms, glaring at him.

“Fine,” Din mutters in annoyance.

It seems your sternness has done the trick.

Din perches atop a crate as you grab the medkit in preparation to treat his wounds. You hope he does not make it harder for you than necessary. Din has never made any secret that he is comfortable being fussed over. You are no stranger to the fact that he hates being taken care of like this, but if you do not tend to his wounds, you know he will never do so himself.

“Your gloves,” you nod towards the two-toned leather which covers his hands, “Take them off, Din.”

Din sighs and lifts his gloves beneath his helmet, seemingly biting at each finger to loosen them before repeating the process with his other hand. You feel like a voyeur and wonder whether you should turn your head and look away, as though his gloved hand disappearing beneath his helmet is somehow sacrilegious. Despite your inner turmoil, you cannot help but watch, unable to tear your gaze away until finally, he slides the gloves off and bares his flesh to you.

It is not the first time Din has removed his gloves in your presence, yet you still feel a thrill travelling across your body at the faintest sight of his skin.

For Din Djarin’s bare hands provide you with the tiniest peek at the man that lies beneath the cold, hard beskar. To catch a glimpse of the human side of the formidable warrior, the side of him you yearn to know entirely.

You remember how stunned you had been the first time he had removed his gloves in your presence while he was repairing a blaster several months ago.

You had been sitting elsewhere in the hull as he worked at the bench, tools spread out as he dutifully performed much-needed maintenance on one of his many beloved weapons.

A grunt of frustration indicated that the parts had been far too intricate to repair with his cumbersome gloves. So, he had pulled on each finger one by one, tugging them off. Seemingly uncaring about baring himself, even ever so slightly, in your presence.

You had tried your best not to look, but you had been unable to resist sneaking a glance at who he was underneath his armour. Although for the most part, you kept to yourselves, there was no lingering frostiness in your dynamic. You and Din were amicable, possibly even friends... if he could even have such a thing.

That day, you watched as his hands meticulously repaired his blaster. You noticed the smattering of dark hairs across the back of his hand, the surprisingly tanned skin and the calluses and scars which littered the back of his hand. It was a fascinating glimpse into the man who hid so much of himself from you, yet you still felt you knew enough about him to believe he was, deep down, a good man.

Your mind ran wild with so many questions. Was his skin a similar colour elsewhere on his body, or was it tanned because his hands were the only parts of him that saw the sun? Did the dark hairs on the back of his hand mean that the hair on his head–if he had any–was a similar colour?

They were questions you knew you would likely never get answers to. Nor did you expect to.

When Din had hired you to care for The Child and attend to maintenance on his ship, he had informed you of the rules regarding his armour and helmet. He would remove neither his helmet nor armour in your presence. You were never to question the reasons why or attempt to subvert this stipulation in any way.

That was why glimpsing a sliver of his skin had thrilled you. It had exposed the man you had been yearning to see in a way that was not a violation of his Creed.

Yet, when you see his hands this time the circumstances could not be more different. Neither could the emotions Din’s bare hands provoke in you.

Rather than feeling a thrill at the sight of his skin, now you cringe when you see the wounds that litter his flesh. His knuckles are split and bloodied, contusions that will surely colour shades of blue and black before eventually healing. There are also angry red gashes in all directions, a result of the bandit’s vibroblade making contact with his hands.

You steady yourself, mentally preparing for the gargantuan task of providing first aid to a stubborn Mandalorian. Din values all you do for him. You are certain of that fact, even if he does not often vocalise it. Still, having someone take care of him is an uncomfortable prospect for a man who has spent so long leading a solitary, nomadic existence.

When you finally take his calloused, yet soft, skin in your hand, Din sucks in a harsh breath at the sensation. The sound is amplified and crackles slightly through the vocoder. A reminder that, although he has bared some of himself, he is still mostly hidden from you. He feels like more machine than man sometimes.

You take a bacta wipe from your medkit, and the antiseptic’s sour smell lingers unpleasantly in the air. You hold Din’s hand still, as you carefully bring the wipe towards his skin, your brow furrowed in concentration.

“This is going to sting,” you murmur apologetically.

Din nods. You hear him inhale deeply as he braces for the first contact with the remedy. You prepare yourself to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to make the process needlessly painful for him.

At the first touch of the bacta wipe against his bronze skin, he jerks away from your touch, groaning slightly in pain at what you are sure is an uncomfortable, stinging sensation against his cuts.

“Hold still,” you sigh, flashing a disapproving glance in what you hope is the direction of Din’s eyes, hidden by his helmet.

“Sorry,” he huffs.

You cannot help how your lips curl upwards at the sight of him sulking. This hulking man, all broad shoulders and gleaming beskar, reduced to a wounded child. You wonder if he is pouting beneath his helmet.

Din flinches again when you resume your task, but this time, you do not chastise him. Instead, you are thankful that he is not making this any more difficult than it needs to be.

At least he has not told you he can look after himself.

Content with his behaviour, you diligently tend to Din’s wounds. You ensure each one is cleaned thoroughly with the bacta patch and then wrapped in a bandage. It will take a few days to heal, but he will have plenty of time as you hurtle through hyperspace towards Nevarro again. Unfortunately, it will mean he likely has to refrain from being the hands-on father you know he loves to be.

When your task is almost complete, you move to sit by his side on the crate. You need to steady your hands by placing your elbows against your thighs as you wrap a particularly nasty wound, which already streaks angry red tendrils across two knuckles.

Din groans again in pain, and you quickly reassure him, “Almost there,” you whisper encouragingly.

With the task finally completed, you cannot resist gently taking his hand in yours. Ostensibly, to check him for any wounds you have missed. In reality, it is borne out of a selfish desire to feel his skin against yours. Precious contact you had been yearning for since you first laid eyes upon his skin all those months ago.

If Din notices the way you subtly lace your fingers with his and hold his hand in your lap for a few moments longer than necessary, he does not say a thing. Only when you disentangle your fingers from his grip does he speak again.

When you move to stand up from the crate, he places his arm across your stomach to stop you. You look at him questioningly, wondering what is going on beneath that bucket of metal.

“Thank you,” Din finally whispers, voice thick with emotion.

You move to open your mouth, to respond. Before you can, Din’s deep voice cuts through the stillness.

“For everything… I…” Din pauses, sighs deeply, then continues, “I appreciate everything you do for me.”

You simply nod, too taken aback to speak. It is unlike Din to be sentimental or emotional, not with anyone other than Grogu. It is part of what makes him such a respected and feared hunter. Yet, here he is, confessing his appreciation for you. It causes hotness to creep up your neck and face, embarrassed by his earnestness. Desperate to respond, but not entirely trusting that you can keep it together.

“You’re worth it, Din,” you smile, daring to believe that this moment will change something for the two of you. You hope he will finally realise the depth of the feelings you hold for him; that you have always held for him.

As you take his hand in yours once again, you sit back on the crate. You take up a more comfortable position and daringly lean your head against his shoulder. The pauldron is bitingly cold beneath your cheek. But with how warm your skin suddenly feels at his words, it is an altogether welcome sensation.

Din noticeably inhales at your gesture, and you momentarily fear you have hurt his tender skin. Until he relaxes once again and squeezes your hand as best as he can considering his injuries, a reassuring gesture that soothes your worries.

As you sit there holding hands in the relative darkness of the hull, you imagine a shooting star passing somewhere far in the skies above.

You wish on it and dare to dream that, one day, Din Djarin will love you, too.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #pedro pascal characters #my fics #pleasE LET ME HOLD HIS HAND AND TAKE CARE OF THIS STUBBORN MAN #JUST ONCE PLEASE I M BEGIGIN YO UU1!!

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comradekatara · 2 months

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apparently suki got sexy lamped (i didn’t watch the show but that’s what i heard) and that is one of the worst things that could ever happen to me. suki is snarky and passionate and excitable and bad at making jokes and she is way too cool for sokka but that’s why they work.

yeah what they did to every single girl in that thing is unconscionable but what they did to suki and yue especially is crazy because we’re meant to believe that they’re both #StrongWomen but also going crazy stupid for white devil sokka even though he has nothing to offer either of them, and is not attractive, charismatic, or intelligent. suki doesn’t like sokka because he’s a hot guy with a six pack (couldn’t even type that without snorting. sorry) she likes him because he displays humility, open-mindedness, intelligence, humor, and bravery. none of which he actually displays in natla, for the record (although i guess you could call him telling suki that “they should put a bell on her” humor???? if you’re stupid??????), certainly not humility or a willingness to expand his worldview. he doesn’t apologize for doubting her skill, he doesn’t admit he was wrong, he doesn’t let her feminize him (WHO is this cis white boy!!!), and he doesn’t change his mind on anything.

in fact, SHE is the one who thanks HIM for “showing her the world,” which is obviously crazy if you spend even a second thinking about it. SUKI is the one who firsts presents sokka with a reason to expand his worldview. SUKI is the one who disrupts SOKKA’s entrenched paradigms. the whole point is that sokka knows NOTHING of the world and SUKI is the first person who teaches him something. suki is the first person to show him that being a warrior is not a biologically determined fact, but rather a state of mind. suki is the first person to actually train him formally. suki is the first person who helps sokka to realize that people beyond his immediate family can value him outside of his role as protector/martyr. that she can like him because he’s open-minded and makes her laugh (and certainly not because she’s entranced by his shiny muscles). suki is, in fact, the one who shows sokka the world. yes, they’re both isolated and sheltered when the show begins, and suki’s decision to leave kyoshi island is in large part influenced by meeting sokka, and she does kind of go crazy stupid over him and is the first one to initiate their romance, but she’s still the one imparting a valuable lesson onto sokka, not the other way around.

suki works so well with sokka, like natla very unsubtly points out, because they do have a lot in common as kids who are also the designated leaders and warriors of their respective villages. they understand each other on this implicit level, and they’re both very smart and share a (quite dark) sense of humor, so they’re able to banter and spar and hang out as equals. but they’re also different enough to balance each other out. sokka plans while suki reacts. sokka is cerebral whereas suki is kinetic. sokka is tightly wound whereas suki helps him relax. suki is confident in her own skin whereas sokka is deeply insecure and neurotic. she helps him loosen up and get out of his own head, and in turn he supports her and admires her unconditionally. sokka demonstrates to suki that he would do anything to help her, and suki demonstrates to sokka that he can accept her help and doesn’t need to shoulder every single burden alone out of some perverse guilt/martyr complex. they protect each other, have each others backs, make jokes together, hype each other up. they’re each other’s right hand arm man silly rabbit.

the reason suki is able to forgive sokka for his sexist comments is because he immediately apologizes when she proves him wrong. he humbles himself and demonstrates that he knows he has a lot to learn from her. he then also, after like, a couple hours at most of receiving any kind of formal hand to hand training for the first time in his life, manages to beat her. the thing about suki is that she’s also very proud. even prouder than sokka, if you consider that her confidence is 100% real and not a feigned defense mechanism like his is. and so the fact that she loses to him, even just in this one moment, does force her to reevaluate him. like, he’s obviously full of shit when he boasts of his skills (he has no formal training to speak of), we all know that, but he is nonetheless incredibly skilled. and suki has to acknowledge that, because i don’t think anyone who has been learning the form she’s spent her entire life mastering for less than a day has ever gotten the better of her like that before. and it’s certainly not because he’s a boy, or biologically superior; it’s because he’s smart enough to know how to adapt. and that intelligence is demonstrated not only in his skill, but also his willingness to completely upend everything he’s been taught within the span of a few hours.

this episode is in fact crucial for sokka, not because he learns how to fight or because he “stops being sexist” (imo, he’s still sexist, but that’s for another post), but because it demonstrates to the audience how sokka’s mind works, and how fucking impressive he is. i know that it may seem like this episode is just an after school special teaching young boys to be nicer to their sisters (and it is very much that), but it’s also illustrative of how sokka is able to process and synthesize new information and immediately change his mind. i’ve called sokka the personification of the scientific method before, and what i mean by that is that he is constantly absorbing new empirical data into his worldview and updating it accordingly. contrast this mindset with zuko’s, or even katara’s. how many times do they have to have the same lesson drilled into their heads over and over and over again before they actually properly internalize it? i’m not saying that zuko and katara are bad or stupid, to be clear, they’re actually incredibly realistic. sokka is the one who is unrealistically open-minded and intelligent. toph is really the only other character in the gaang who matches his sheer level of brilliance, creativity, and ingenuity.

so the reason this episode is valuable for establishing who sokka is, is just. completely negated by the way he’s portrayed in natla, as just some “hot” guy to ogle over. he doesn’t display his scientific mind, he doesn’t expand his worldview, he doesn’t complicate his own gender identity by wearing traditionally feminine garb, he doesn’t give suki or us, the audience, any reason to actually like him. and when he gets to omashu and starts expressing to the mechanist his aptitude for engineering, it feels completely hollow and unearned because at no point prior has he demonstrated that this mind works in a scientific way. we’re just expected to believe that he’s an engineering prodigy despite being given no prior evidence that even thinks logically.

in fact, everything that is unique and subtle about sokka is completely stripped away by this white devil. he isn’t “the only man” left in the village so he seems absolutely stupid insisting that he shoulders a unique burden. he constantly communicates his deepest emotions so he ends up sounding more like zuko or katara than sokka. he isnt funny, although i think he tries to be but simply lacks any charm. he isnt humble, he isnt depressed, he isnt intelligent, he isnt stupidly loyal and self-sacrificing. he acts more like a jock who magically knows engineering than a nerd who kills people. and suki seems like an absolute fool for being so obsessed with this absolutely worthless white boy, instead of the wonderful, confident girl who knows exactly what she wants and gets it.

meanwhile, yue, on the other hand, IS a girlboss who knows exactly what she wants, and it’s CRAZY. they completely reduce everything that makes her character important by turning her into a liberated woman (despite the nwt still being sexist???) who breaks off her own arranged marriage because she just wasn’t feeling it (even though THIS version of hahn is gorgeous and kind and respectful, so like…… huh??) and is a badass waterbender who talks back to her father. she wears euphoria makeup and a party city wig as she tells us (like she may as well be talking into the camera) that sokka is the hottest guy she’s ever seen (which would make more sense if the guy who played sokka played hahn and VICE VERSA, but i digress) and she loves him for…. reasons??? certainly not because he represents a figure beyond her limited paradigm, and certainly not because he’s charming or kind or makes her laugh or treats her like a person. and certainly not because they both feel restricted by their respective patriarchal duties to their fathers and to their people, because yue doesn’t feel restricted at all, and the extent of sokka’s daddy issues are simply “hakoda was mean to him because he sucks at ice dodging” (which is also crazy, for many reasons). they just feel like two people who were forced together because the narrative demanded it, and not because they have any sort of meaningful thematic connection that deepens both their stories. it’s horrendous.

ultimately, the ways in which these characters (and every character) are reduced are reflective of some incredibly dire patterns in these soulless, corporately produced objects of commerce that barely pass as art. “sokka’s sexism is too problematic so instead we’re going to change every single element of the story so that no one has any sort of objectionable flaws — or depth.” i know i talk a lot about sokka here, but they also massacre aang, and (especially!) katara, and even zuko (even though the guy playing zuko was definitely giving it his all). and azula and iroh and everyone else (except for ken leung and danny pudi who are innocent). they don’t want to create anything nuanced or intricate, but they want to make it marketable, so they advertise it as “appealing to a game of thrones audience.” i’ve always hated game of thrones, but it’s still leagues better than this. in fact, i think it might even be better for women than this. i don’t think it’s that hard to understand a Y-7 nickelodeon cartoon (although the takes ive seen on here do make me wonder…) and yet somehow the writers of this monstrosity managed to get every single facet wrong. distressingly wrong. every time i think about it i get mad all over again. smh

#god. i hate it here #asks #sapphikatara #natla #sokka #suki #yue #analysis #sokkaxsuki #sokkaxyue #also they made suki a nepobaby when like the whole point is that she EARNED her leadership as opposed to sokka #UGH. WHATEVER.#this is already uhhhh. nine paragraphs long #ok bye

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yawneneteyam · 1 year

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・゜゜・．mawey, oeyä yawne — ( neteyam )

summary: neteyam returns from his duties and is shocked to find out his young daughter has found her 'mate' [1.2k]

pairings: dad!neteyam x fem!omaticaya!reader

notes: "sorry im obsessed w the idea of baby daddy neteyam😭😭‼️what if,,, he meets his 9 yo daughter's first boyfriend" was the request. translations are at the end of the piece.

Ni'awtu was Neteyam's atan. His littlest love that Eywa had blessed him with. She was perfect and from the moment she was born, she filled Neteyam's heart with more love than he could have ever imagined.

Giving birth to Ni'awtu only made Neteyam fall more and more in love with you. You were strong, a warrior. Neteyam made tsaheylu with you during your labour period, he could only imagine the pain you were in through the small slither he was able to save you from. You were enchanting, his mate, mother of his child.

It seemed that time slipped away quicker than Neteyam ever thought possible. Ni'awtu was eight, she could no longer fit in the palm of his hand. She was strong and mighty, she would make an excellent Olo'ektan when the time was right, but she was still his baby.

"Oeyä txe’lan you need to stop running through the tent with mud!" You shouted, "Your father will not be happy". Ni'awtu ran through your home, filling the canopy with laughter and light, another pair of little feet padding along after her.

Ateyo had become Ni'awtu's closest friend over their years of knowing each other. He was a good boy, clever and funny. You enjoyed seeing the bond that they shared with each other so young. You often found yourself laughing alongside Ateyo's parents at the thought of them growing up together.

Neteyam had only been able to meet Ateyo a handful of times, his duties as Olo'ektan kept him busy. When he found time for his family, it was peaceful and quaint- just the three of you. It wasn't that Neteyam disliked Ateyo, Neteyam disliked any boys who went near his Ni'awtu. She was his baby, too young to belong to another man. 'You are a warrior, oeyä tsawke. No boy will ever change that, so do not let them' he would tell her.

Ni'awtu and Ateyo quickly stumbled over small apologies before running back outside of the tent, their laughter was contagious. You couldn't help yourself but smile.

Eclipse was coming soon, you knew that Neteyam would be home to help you cook dinner for your small family. You tried your best to brush the mud outside that sat on your floor. Neteyam pulled back the curtain of your home, letting himself back into his safe space, ready to finish his day with his two favourite people.

"Mmh," Neteyam snaked his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You felt his heart beat against your back. His tail playfully wrapped itself around your leg. "I missed you, yawne" He almost purred in your ear, his chest softly vibrating at the comfort you radiated.

"I missed you too," You turned your head to the side, so Neteyam could kiss your cheek. "You will need to go roundup the children for dinner, I will start cooking soon,"

"Children?" You felt Neteyam's tail loosen its grip in confusion.

"Yes," You chuckled, "Children, we have Ateyo joining us for dinner tonight,"

You felt Neteyam tense in your embrace. "Ateyo? As in Ateyo te Nafyu Ratsay'itan"

"Don't go all serious on me and use his full name, you know who he is, 'Teyam" You rolled your eyes, lightly pulling yourself from his embrace.

"She is too young to be hanging around boys," Neteyam followed you with fire in his step. "Boys are bad influences at this age," He argued, "I should know,"

"You weren't" You turned around to face him with a pointed look.

"Yes but-" He huffed, trying to find the words, "Argh!" He hissed, turning away quickly. "I don't like him, yawne" Neteyam shook his head.

"He's a child, Neteyam!" You tried to find it in yourself to not laugh, but you couldn't help it. "Ni'awtu is allowed to have friends,"

"She has many friends! So why does she need him?" He began to raise his voice in panic. You chuckled at his reaction.

"You are threatened by a child," You rested a hand on his chest, feeling it puffing underneath your touch, "Don't be a baby,"

"I am not a baby," He turned away quickly, a scowl on his face. You heard Neteyam mumble, "I am a mighty warrior".

"Yes, yes you are" You reminded him, "So start acting like one,"

"Daddy!" Ni'awtu's voice broke Neteyam out of his anger, for she was the cure for all impurities in his world.

"Syulang," He crouched down, engulfing her in his warm embrace, "I missed you,"

"I missed you too," Ni'awtu smiled, you watched as Neteyam held her closely. Your eyes shifting to the shy boy slowly trailing behind Ni'awtu.

"Ateyo, how are you?" You smiled at the young boy, reminding Neteyam that you were in the presence of guests. Ateyo looked down, bringing his hand from his forehead downwards.

"Oel ngati kameie," He said softly. You looked to Neteyam with a wide grin on your face, "Thank you for welcoming me into your home for the night Tsahik and Olo'eyktan"

"You are welcome whenever," You told him with a smile. You watched Neteyam's hard exterior soften at the respect he was shown by the young boy. Neteyam was raised to treat people the best that he could, a small part of him saw his younger self in that moment. Maybe he could grow to tolerate Ateyo.

"Mama, today Ateyo asked to be my mate!" Ni'awtu beamed.

"WHAT?!"

..Or maybe he wouldn't.

"What do you mean he is your mate?" Neteyam pulled Ni'awtu away from Ateyo. "You are too young to even think about things like that, do you understand?" He lectured her.

"Ateyo, you do know that Ni'awtu is not your mate right?" You crouched down to his level, bringing his hand into yours. "You both are babies, you are not ready- or old enough to even be talking about that,"

"Well, my Mother said that your mate is someone you like spending all your time with," Ateyo sheepishly looked from you to your husband, nervous by the Olo'eyktan's reaction. You let go of a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Relief filled your chest at the little ones misinterpretation, "And I enjoy spending my time with Ni'awtu, if that is okay with you,"

"No!" Neteyam, hid Ni'awtu behind his legs, " No, it is not-"

"Mawey, oeyä yawne," You glared at Neteyam. "Ateyo, let me tell you something" You looked back at the child with a soft gaze, "A mate is a lot more than someone you enjoy spending time with," You smiled softly, "You will learn that one day, but you and Ni'awtu are not mates," Ateyo began to nod slowly, "But for now, you are great friends- that is what you are and that is what matters,"

"Okay," He smiled softly, shuffling his feet "I am sorry to have made you both upset,"

You let out a breathy laugh from your nose, "You have not upset us, Ateyo. You just didn't know what it meant to be mates, it was a mistake, but you have not upset us," You tried your best to reassure the younger boy, a warm smile on your face.

"Then why does daddy have those big lines on his forehead?" Ni'awtu held her dad's hand, looking up at him confused.

"He's getting old," You whispered with a smirk.

"Excuse me," Neteyam interjected, "I am leader of this clan," He picked Ni'awtu up and threw her over his shoulder, "And I will have respect!" He began to tickle her. Ni'awtu's laughter filled the tent once again, Ateyo's too.

Over the years, the two of them laughing together in your home would become a familiar sound- much to Neteyam's dismay.

translations (atan / light) (oeyä txe’lan / my heart) (oeyä tsawke / my sunshine) (yawne / beloved) (syulang / flower) (oel ngati kameie / i see you) (mawey, oeyä yawne / calm, my beloved)

#•°. 𖥸 celeste’s works #*࿐ neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x y/n #neteyam headcanons #avatar x reader #avatar 2 #avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #avatar fanfiction

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satuguro · 1 year

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✧*ೃ࿐ TONGUES & TEETH

[ ACT I: THE GLOW ]

xavier thorpe x valkyrie! reader

#SYNOPSIS— xavier’s attracted to intimidating women, you and wednesday bond over murder methods, and you really need to stop being attracted to trouble.

#CONTAINS— enemies to fwb to lovers, academic rivals, intimidating and flawed reader, gore, blood, death, aged up characters (everyone is 18 except for eugene), sexual content (later on)

#AUTHORSNOTE— spontaneously writing an xavier thorpe fanfic was honestly not on my mind but oh well here it is ! feel free to send me asks/requests about this series or for other wednesday characters

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, ACT VI

a valkyrie was not a mere label. it was a highly respected role, one that was not granted to simply because you were a child of odin. no, the position of a valkyrie was an important one, because every warrior who died in battle, every fighter’s soul, relied on you to bring them to valhalla — no matter what that was for them. heaven, hell, reincarnation — you and your sisters brought them there.

nevermore was seemingly the only available place in which you could reside. you were the youngest of the ten valkyrie sisters, the only one born into the 21st century (as the rest of them were much too old for you to count). odin tried to put his youngest daughter into every school imaginable; public school, private school, boarding school, juvenile detention.

all brought out the same results. you found the material easy and the lack of competition boring, or you were found beating some kid into the ground, your knuckles bloody as adults pried you off of them.

granted, every person you have ever thrown a punch at was deserving of it. but it’s not like the police care about the kid with a broken leg; they care about the person who carelessly broke it with their bare hands.

that was why you found yourself in nevermore, standing awkwardly next to your nine sisters as you loosened your tie around your neck.

the other students didn’t care to hide their stares, their whispers loud and very audible to you as you looked at every single one of them.

“don’t loosen your tie, y/n,” your eldest sister, brunhilde, said with a small look, her arms crossed as she stood towering above the rest of the passing students. “you must look presentable.”

“since when did you ever care about looking presentable?” you replied with a scoff, using one finger to loosen the black tie incompletely. you heard your second youngest sister, gunnr, snicker at that, her laughter quickly hindered by a glare from another one of your sisters.

“ever since father decided to send us to take you here rather than himself,” brunhilde snapped, bitterness evident in her tone as she clenched her jaw. her emerald green eyes flashed in anger; the fact that her father decided not to show up to something like this yet again wasn’t surprising, but it still annoyed her nonetheless.

“he was busy,” eir, the second eldest valkyrie, murmured, coming in yet again as the peacemaker. “besides— this isn’t exactly father’s scene. too many children.”

their conversation melted into the background as your eyes drifted around the courtyard. there seemed to be little cliques within the school — gorgons, vampires, werewolves, sirens, psychics — how cliche. your eyes however, landed on one boy that was painting a raven on the wall, his eyes already set on you far before you noticed him.

his long hair was tied back, his hazel eyes boring into yours as he stopped painting, his hand falling to his side. he was studying you, observing your purposely loosened tie, the sword necklace that hung around your neck, the dagger strapped to your side, and the nine buff women who stood around you. they looked nothing like you, but their energy was strong. powerful. unwavering.

you didn’t break eye contact with him, your eyes narrowing as you challenged him to look away first.

“y/n odinsdottir." a tall woman who practically screamed elegance interrupted your staring contest, forcing you to look away first. her hair was perfectly pinned up, and her cherry red lips curled into a smile as she looked at you. "welcome to nevermore. i assume these are your sisters?" she questioned, looking at your siblings with a warm smile.

"we won't be here long," brunhilde stated, stepping forward. she seemed to be about the same height as the woman, which seemed to please her greatly. she held out a calloused hand. "brunhilde. you're the principal, correct?"

"yes - larissa weems." principal weems' smile never broke as she shook your sister's hand. wordlessly, she began to lead the ten of you to her office. "i have made living arrangements for y/n - i hope she does well with roommates. one of her other roommates is a new student as well."

this new school was, frankly, a lot fancier than most of the schools you had gone to. it looked old, with too many ghosts and history hidden in its walls, but while the school stood out more than the rest, the people seemed to be all the same. prudes with enough money to have the world in their hands. teenagers who have never been told 'no' in their lives. cockiness and pride seemed to ooze from every crevice.

in a way, you found it amusing.

"it was honestly quite a surprise to find all of you here rather than your father," principal weems commented as she opened the door to her office, "i believe that he had told me that he would arrive." she situated herself into her chair behind her desk, placing her hands on the table and clasping them.

you stood in front of the desk, rolling your eyes at her comment. "he likes to lie," you stated bluntly, ignoring the glare eir sent to you as she offered principal an apologetic smile.

"what y/n means to say is," eir began, absentmindedly toying with one of her long golden braids, "our father is very busy. he has other business to attend to."

"he likes doing business." you continued, "especially on his bed."

one of your older sisters, skuld, hissed a small "y/n," as a warning for your words, making you huff in annoyance.

eir's smile was unwavering and her politeness was undeterred as she laughed lightly, "i apologize for y/n's words. she often.. lacks a filter."

"it's no problem, i assure you." principal weems' smile grew as she looked at you, "she's in very capable hands. later, she will receive a tour from one of her roommates, enid sinclair. she's very approachable; i'm sure they will get along."

that statement made your mask fall for just a second.

friends and lovers were topics that were often unspoken between you and your sisters. to put it frankly, it was hard for valkyries to truly find themselves friends with others or loving another because of something you called 'the glow.' valkyries, being a guide for souls in battle, had the ability to know when someone's death was near. it often appeared as a golden glow around the individual moments before a battle or before a specific moment. to help was to lose your position as a valkyrie. to lose your father's acceptance and appreciation of you. it was the foundation of your position, your one important duty to guide the souls of warriors, but there had been instances where the glow appeared for those you cared for. friends. lovers.

it had happened too many times to your sisters. they had all lost lovers and friends in battle, and had to be the one to guide their souls and leave them for eternity. but there came a moment in time where they all decided to stop caring so much for others. they focused on each other, protecting their own sisters out of fear of caring and losing another.

and when you were born, they warned you of that same fate. they warned you of how hard it was to sense death, to be a symbol of war and death. so to say that you would get along with another and care for them was hard to fathom, because your mind automatically thought of losing them in an instant.

and if you lost them and were not able to guide them, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

"i will say that your record is.. only mildly concerning, y/n," principal weems said as she pulled out your folder. she scanned through the pages, licking her finger as she turned and read every offense and crime that ended with you getting kicked out of a school. "you've sent tons of people to the hospital for horrible injuries," she murmured, and you swallowed, mentally preparing yourself to hear the list. "you've broken the limbs of many, gave concussions to many more, and in one instance dropped a teenage boy from a thousand feet above ground."

"all deserved. i hold no remorse for them," you stated, a proud smirk making its way onto your face.

principal weems' brows furrowed as she reached the last page in the folder, the words 'saving grace orphanage' in large letters at the top of the form. "kicked out of nearly 20 homes in the span of 13 years."

your smirk fell, your eyes turning cold as you glared at the principal. next to you, gunnr shifted uncomfortably, her hands clenching and unclenching in the instance she had to hold you back from landing a hand on your principal. "how did you get those?"

"nevermore requires all documents from students," principal weems read down the paper, her look of discontent and worry seemingly growing with every line, "even those that have been terminated." one line specifically caught her eye.

has been found at one location consistently. the owner of the property has claimed that there is no reason for y/n to be there, but she seems to be connected to it. if not found at her foster home, she is most likely found here.

how was it you were only here for a few hours and you now wanted to strangle your principal?

"they have been terminated for a reason," you seethed, "my sisters had them forgotten."

"for very good reasons," brunhilde added, her voice eerily calm as she rolled her shoulders back, fixing her posture. "that's private information only our family knows."

"of course." principal weems shut the folder abruptly, the warm smile (though it was nothing more than plastic to you) returning to her red lips. "shall we bring you to your room?"

"i didn't know that valkyries could be as young as you."

you raised a brow at one of your roommates, wednesday, her deadpan tone doing little to influence you as you shrugged. "i'm the youngest of the ten," you stated, walking alongside her as you followed your other roommate, enid sinclair, around.

"that sounds like torture. of the worst degree," wednesday said, making enid clear her throat to catch your attention.

truthfully, enid was much more extraverted than you would ever be, but you didn't mind. she talked, you and wednesday listened - it was a good system. and she talked a lot. the fact that she was bringing around nevermore's first valkyrie was something she seemed incredibly happy about.

good for her.

"i already gave wednesday the whole rundown!" enid said with a contagiously bright smile. "this is the courtyard. everyone kind of hang out around here between classes or just.. whenever!" she explained, practically bouncing with every step as she brought you around. "there's a lot of cliques here; vampires, werewolves - like me, gorgons," her eyes landed on a few people around the fountain, her smile faltering for just a moment, "sirens, psychics, the usual."

"did you kill someone in your last school?" wednesday asked, making enid gasp.

"wednesday! i thought we would bring it up later!" enid scolded, frowning as she nudged the dreary girl.

"i was impatient." wednesday's face contorted into one of slight discontent at the nudge, though she (surprisingly) didn't complain.

you however, merely shrugged in response, folding your arms over your chest. "not the one at my last one. i just broke his legs - why?"

"because rumors spread like wildfire at nevermore," enid explained, coming to a stop in the middle of the corridor, much to some students' chagrin "practically everyone's talking about it! i told you that they'd forget about what you did, wednesday," she said pointedly, making wednesday blink, which was frankly a rather large reaction.

you looked at wednesday, eyebrows raising in curiosity. "did you kill someone?"

"two people. not one."

"what was your method?"

"piranhas from my aquarium at home. and you?"

you hummed in appreciation at her method before responding with a curt, "flew up and dropped him from a thousand feet." it made wednesday nod once.

"impressive."

"okay, steering the subject away from death and murder," enid interrupted, awkwardly chuckling as she continued to walk. she came to a stop in front of the boy who had been painting the raven, her smile of relief much too obvious to go unnoticed by you. "xavier! you've made such good progress!"

"thanks, enid." the boy - xavier - turned around, his mouth seemingly going dry when he saw you staring at him. your arms were crossed over your chest, your head tilted up to observe his painting. "you're the one who dropped the guy."

your look of curiosity turned into one of annoyance, your eyebrow raising as your eyes snapped towards him. "what about it?" you challenged, and you heard enid laugh awkwardly yet again.

"nothing. just asking, that's all," a hint of a smirk made its way onto his face, his hand - the one with paint on it - coming out towards you. "xavier thorpe."

"if you think that i'm going to shake your messy hand, you must believe i'm an idiot," you said bluntly, eyes narrowing.

"both an idiot and impolite," xavier responded, and end immediately grabbed you as you tried to take a step towards him, turning you around and briskly walking you the other way.

you didn't want to see him again after your first encounter with him. you didn't like smug people who had nothing to be smug about - the competitiveness in you wasn't cut out for any of that.

it did come in handy however, for academics.

while it wasn’t as fun as war or training was, it gave you enough competition to feel satisfied in victory. public schools were far too easy in your opinion, private schools equally as easy with more prudish people, but nevermore was more interesting. everyone was smarter, weirder, and more witty than any normie— it kept you entertained.

for the past week, you had been dead set on being the best at every class you had. macabre literature, arithmetic, botany, anatomy - you kept yourself busy trying to make a lasting impact on the professors.

you walked into the art class, eyes widening at its size. huge windows allowed for tons of sunlight to shine in, but since it was a gloomy day (or “a wonderful day” by wednesday’s standards), you could only see the condensation and fog on the windows. on one side of the room was sculpture and pottery supplies, while the other had painting and drawing easels set up in a circle with space in the middle for posing.

principal weems wanted you to do something that didn’t include fighting, weapons, or punching, you were going to join wednesday in fencing, but you found yourself here instead.

the class was small and the teacher was as careless as ever, muttering something about how artists must choose their own paths when creating art. but as you walked in and looked at the few faces, your face soured when you realized who you had to sit next to.

“thorpe.” you stated coldly, sitting stiffly in the easel next to him. it was almost funny how out of place you looked, sitting with straight posture on the stool and staring up at the large canvas in front of you.

xavier however, looked as relaxed as ever. he smiled at you lazily as he looked up from his sketchbook. “y/n. how nice of you to grace me with your presence.”

“it wasn’t my choice — weems wanted me to do something.. nonviolent.” you picked up the piece of charcoal in front of you, lips turning down to a slight frown. you hadn’t drawn in forever.

“i heard you tried for fencing,” xavier hummed, watching you pick up art supplies and weigh them in your hand. “you know that fencing doesn't include actual stabbing, right?”

“i do know that, thorpe,” you grumbled, avoiding eye contact as you removed your blazer, leaving only your white button up and messy tie. you rolled up your sleeves, oblivious to the way xavier’s eyes slowly went to your arms.

you were strong.

he had always guessed it — he had gotten stoned with ajax the night prior and they spent the next hour searching up how strong every outcast really was. valkyries, xavier learned, had superhuman strength, agility, stamina, and fighting abilities, so he wasn’t sure why he was so shocked to see your toned arms.

there was a tattoo of a sword on your inner forearm. it was so intricately drawn that he found himself staring at it for a little too long, simply admiring the style. admiring the way it decorated your skin.

"it's stupid how there's no actual stabbing in it," you continued, absentmindedly rolling up your sleeves. you side-eyed xavier, eyes uninterested as you watched the way he stared at your tattoo. "weirdo," you muttered, standing up abruptly and breaking his trance. “i’m going to do sculpting.”

xavier snorted, covering his gawking with his usual confidence as he fixed himself on his stool, spreading his legs just a bit. "since when did you sculpt?" he asked, half disinterested and half curious as he watched you shrug.

"one of my foster parents had a pottery studio." you stared at him blankly, a pause of awkward silence encompassing you before you said a curt, "bye," and left xavier at his easel.

xavier pulled his attention back to his sketchbook, eyes burning holes into his page of a certain pigtailed girl. for an hour he sat there, drawing in his visions on his sketchbook; many of which were of wednesday.

but one page in particular made him stop and stare. in his trance, much too focused on the feeling of his charcoal pencil on paper to care for what he was truly drawing, he had drawn what seemed to be an angel. it flew in the darkness of the page, her arms outstretched and its wingspan wide as she looked up at the top of the page. her hand was holding an invisible hand, but he saw the detail he put into the bandages that adorned her arms and knuckles.

hesitantly, xavier put his hand over the page, watching as the drawing began to move. the angel's arm moved ever so slightly, and his heart thumped loud in his chest when he saw your tattoo on your forearm.

subtly, he looked up through his eyelashes towards where you had been working, his mouth running dry as he watched you start to center your clay on the pottery wheel. you were surrounded by bowls, mugs, and plates of all kinds, being a rather quick worker with a delicate hand for someone who loved to fight. xavier watched you shape the clay in your hands, the substance molding easily as you moved it.

the sight of your eyes snapping up to meet his made him hide his enamor with a lazy smile and an awkward wave, which made you scoff and return to your pottery. but his eyes lingered on you, focused on the way your elbows were on your legs, how you were hunched over and how your arms were messy with clay. how your hair was much messier than when the class started. how your jaw was clenched in concentration, your eyes like a hawk's as you stared at the mug you were creating.

quickly, xavier looked back at his sketched, eyes set on the drawing he had done of you. it was such a specific image; how odd.

on your first friday in nevermore, enid had dragged you along with her to the harvest festival fair, saying something along the lines of "we have to ride every ride there!" that made you reluctantly agree to go. in any other circumstance, you would have opted to stay home and do anything but go out, but enid was enid, and she had no idea when to quit.

thing - wednesday's little hand friend - also contributed to getting you up and ready for the carnival. he was pretty persuasive.

which was how you found yourself awkwardly standing next to a carnival game after enid ran off with ajax, a boy she very obviously liked. it was confusing how people could be so blind to things like that.

the tight black long sleeve you wore was, in your opinion, enough to keep yourself warm as your body generated more body heat than many others. frankly, you looked pretty grumpy standing next to a carnival game you had already won, one of your hands holding a medium sized teddy bear that you (reluctantly) accepted. if it weren't for the fact that all the games were rigged, then you would have gotten the largest one.

"what happened to enid?"

you groaned as you turned towards the voice, finding xavier standing behind you, his hands in his pockets and his hair down. he was dressed in casual clothing, same as you, but you could recognize that subtle smug attitude anywhere. it was as if the smirk he wore could never get run down.

"went off with ajax. probably on a rollercoaster." you looked him up and down with a discontented look. "why are you alone?"

"i came here with ajax and rowan." xavier shrugged, leaning against the carnival table. a toothy grin crept onto his face, his tone teasing as he continued, "are you willing to keep me company?"

"no."

xavier rolled his eyes at your constant grumpiness, shrugging his shoulders as he quickly changed the subject. "i lost them both a while ago. i've just been walking and looking for.." his eyes left you, landing on some people behind you.

you looked back, immediately connecting the dots as you watched wednesday stand next to a guy near a ride, wednesday (surprisingly) contributing to conversation as they paid you and xavier no mind. an amused smile came on your face, and you held back the laugh you were about to let out. "oh my gods, you like wednesday."

xavier frowned, looking at you incredulously. "i don't," he denied. you watched his body movements with a smirk, observing how he fixed his posture and puffed his chest up ever so slightly out of defense.

"i'm not stupid, thorpe. you just gawked at her like a lovesick fool," you snorted, crossing your arms over your chest again.

xavier found himself staring at your arms, the muscles you had worked hard for easily shown off in your black long sleeve.

"if only you weren't so annoying," he muttered under his breath, sighing. "i don't like her," xavier repeated, following your actions and crossing his arms. he looked at you annoyedly, the amusement that danced in your eyes only pissing him off further. "i think she's interesting, that's all."

"denial is always the first step," you sing songed, your smirk turning into a cheshire like grin. "honestly, you should've seen the look on your face."

xavier scoffed. "what look?"

"the look you always have when wednesday walks by." you were laughing now, your careless teasing and prodding making his presence all the more tolerable in your opinion. "like a lovesick puppy. it's kind of pathetic, honestly - like, haven't you barely talked to her.." your words died out as your eyes caught sight of something you didn't expect to see within your first week in nevermore.

the glow.

you saw the shining gold before you saw who it surrounded. it was blindingly bright particles that floated and emitted a bright light that only you could see. all your senses were honed in on him, far too focused on the soul you had to guide to notice that he was following wednesday, who had trailed off moments prior.

your eyes widened when you saw rowan walk by, the golden glow surrounding him making your eyes cloud over in white. your irises and pupils disappeared into nothing, leaving your eyes a milky white. you felt that familiar tug in your chest, the one that brought nothing but dread and danger, and the immediate pain of loss. the glow that surrounded him was shining horribly bright; his death was really close.

"y/n? hello?" xavier followed your view, a snicker leaving his lips. "oh, i see." he watched as rowan's walk turned into a run into the nearby woods; right after wednesday. "i didn't know your eyes did that when you saw someone you like, y/n -"

"can you shut up, thorpe?" you snapped, shoving the bear towards him before turning around and walking away. your walk turned into a run as you followed rowan, knowing fully well that your agility would make you easily catch up with him. but as with the glow, your mind was only focused on him. nothing else mattered in that moment except for the fact that rowan laslow was going to die.

the sound of a roar made your hold your hand out, your tattoo of a sword glowing and making your sword materialize. on your back, hidden under the confines of your shirt, your tattoo of wings began to glow. that too, began to materialize, your wings writhing and stretching as it ripped through your shirt and spread out around you. pure white feathers flapped a few times, accustoming itself to the space, before you began to lift off the ground.

you flew towards the sound of the roaring, dodging trees and bushes before you saw a large monster over rowan, its claws digging into his chest. wednesday hunched over, catching her breath not too far away, and with no hesitation you flew faster and kicked the monster away from rowan. it let out another screech, one of pain this time, but you couldn't have cared less for its ugly form, for you were too focused on the dying boy on the ground.

the glow never lied. you saw his soul appear next to his body, merely a blue transparent silhouette in your eyes. you swallowed thickly, the pain of such a young soul being lost weighing heavy in your heart as you held your free hand out.

wordlessly, he accepted it. his hand was ice cold against your live one, and with that, you flew. you flew up thousands of feet, moving fast as your wings forced you up higher, higher, higher.

you broke through the clouds, breath heaving as you looked at the silhouette of rowan. the one that used to be alive, with a beating heart and living thoughts.

"there's a light," rowan murmured, his eyes set on the blinding light only he could see. but you saw nothing but the stars and the moon.

you only smiled sadly. "that will take you to where you need to go."

your job was a hard one. you brought them to the entrance of their death and allowed them to go there themselves and be there for eternity. there was no satisfaction from it, other than the fact that they weren't lost. they knew where they had to be.

you felt his silhouette disappear, the hand you were once holding now disappearing into nothing. your eyes reverted back to normal, and you looked around you at the emptiness around you. you were left with only the pain of losing another human.

you let out a sharp exhale, forcing yourself to think of anything but the soul you had just guided to the heavens, before flying back down to the woods. that was one of the hardest parts of your job; you felt the pain of them leaving. you understood that they would be missed, that they had an entire family and friends that would continue to miss them. you felt that pain from the moment you held his hand to fly him to the heavens, to the second he left.

the sound of flapping wings made wednesday look up from where she stood. she had been staring at the drawing rowan had kept in his pocket before your arrival, in which she quickly pocketed it and turned to you. your chest was heaving slightly, your arm bleeding from a twig that had seemingly gotten in your way during your flight between the trees. your wings folded behind you, and you opted to keep them out for as long as possible; it was hard to have them confined for long periods of time.

"did you guide him to valhalla?" wednesday asked, her tone as dead pan as ever, as if the fact that you had huge angel wings was the least of her troubles (which, in that moment, probably was). she was out of breath as well, her once perfect pigtails now a frizzy mess upon her head.

"i guided him to the entrance of whatever he believes in," you replied, looking down at his body and swallowing thickly. to change your focus, you glanced at wednesday, "your lack of response to a near death experience is admirable," you stated, making her nod curtly.

"truthfully, it was the most fun i have had all week," wednesday replied.

ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, ACT VI

#AUTHORSNOTE— that was the first part of my new series! feel free to send me asks about it and ask to be on the taglist! thank you sm for reading :)

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asamiontop · 1 year

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“Bea.”

“Hm?” Beatrice grumbles, too close to sleep to keep from sounding grumpy.

“I’m cold.”

Ava sounds sheepish, unsure of herself in a way that Beatrice immediately aches to soothe. She turns to regard her bedmate.

(The singular bed in their Switzerland apartment had starred in many of their disagreements during their first week. Both of them refused to relegate the other to the narrow futon across the room—Beatrice because self-sacrifice was hammered into her cellular makeup and Ava because she couldn’t abide the idea of a too-tall Beatrice unable to fully lay flat on the lumpy cushion. In the end, stubbornness won and they agreed to share the bed, leaving a tenuous twenty centimeters of empty mattress between them. Twenty centimeters of which Beatrice was constantly and acutely aware.)

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Ava continues after a brief silence, “I know we have training early, I just… I can’t sleep. It’s too cold.”

The nervousness in Ava’s voice is unacceptable. Self-doubt in the Warrior Nun is unacceptable, Beatrice corrects. One of those truths urges her into alertness.

“It’s alright, Ava,” she offers with a yawn, “I understand.”

Working from memory, Beatrice calls up an image of their budget. She projects their next paychecks and expenses, factors in the potential for extra tips during the holiday weekend influx, and concludes they can afford to purchase an extra blanket at the flea market tomorrow. She had watched Ava steal the last available one—the scratchy wool thing thrown over the back of the couch—earlier this evening before bed.

“If we’re careful for the next week, tomorrow we can—”

“Canwemaybecuddle,” Ava blurts, interrupting Beatrice’s half-formed explanation. It’s supposed to be a question, Beatrice thinks, but the words sputter into the quiet midnight air like some sort of manic exclamation.

Sister Beatrice blinks. She breathes through the uncomfortably pleasant fluttering in her chest until she can consider the request rationally. Ava isn’t patient enough to await the deliberation.

“It’s just,” she begins, sounding increasingly panicked, “we don’t have any more blankets and my warm clothes are in the laundry and you’re always so hot—I mean, shit. I mean, that’s a survival tactic right? Huddling together for warmth? I saw it on a penguin documentary once.”

Ava’s logic is sound but Beatrice is too busy stifling a fond smile to say much of anything. Her silence drags on long enough that her bedmate whips her head over, wide-eyed and apologetic. Ava opens her mouth to backtrack, but in the diffuse lamplight her eyes catch on Beatrice’s lips wrapped tight around a swell of affection.

The worry slips away and a knowing grin transforms Ava’s expression. Ava doesn’t smother her fondness the way Beatrice does. No; it shines plain as day in her eyes as she mutters, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Letting me talk in circles?”

Beatrice’s mouth pulls to one side and she allows a small chuckle to slip through her control. “Just a bit. You have quite a talent for it.”

Ava snorts and nudges Bea with her elbow. “Well sometimes I can’t help it. You’re silent brooding can be pretty intimidating, you know.”

“Brooding?” Beatrice frowns, affronted. “I wouldn’t call it—”

Ava’s laugh tinkles in the room and Beatrice’s mouth snaps shut.

“Don’t worry, Bea. It’s cute brooding.”

Beatrice’s cheeks heat and she’s grateful for the dim lighting as her eyes seek neutral territory on the ceiling.

Maybe I only run hot around you.

The thought catches Beatrice entirely by surprise and she’s wrestling madly with it when Ava’s hand brushes hers, a small but meaningful breach of the no-man’s-land between them. It’s immediately comforting.

“Hey, don’t worry about it if it makes you uncomfortable,” Ava entreats, all teasing gone from her voice. “We don’t need to—uh, touch or anything. I’ll be okay.”

“No,” Beatrice latches into Ava’s fingers before she can pull away. Her brain catches up to her and she clears her throat, loosens her unexpectedly urgent grip on Ava’s hand. “I mean. You’re right. Increased proximity is an effective tactic to maintain body temperature.”

Stupidly, she adds, “And yes, Emperor Penguins do it.”

She can practically hear Ava’s smirk. “Oh my god, Bea.” The smirk grows into a laugh and Beatrice lets the small blasphemy slide.

“Did you just tell me that I’m right?” Ava’s delight practically glows as Beatrice rolls her eyes. Maybe the Halo is enjoying this too. “I can’t believe it. Wow, that’s like—”

“Shut up and turn over so I can spoon you.”

Ava goes absolutely still at the interruption.

“Uh—wh—” Ava chokes a bit, clears her throat of it eventually. “What?” She finally manages, barely above a whisper.

Calmly, which is an effort all on its own, Beatrice explains.

“The most efficient way to exchange body heat between two people is to maximize physical contact.” Her face burns at the words, which Beatrice will dismiss as productive, all things considered. “Therefore, spooning is the optimal, ahem, position.”

Beatrice makes no mention of the other ways to enhance the exchange of body heat that decide to flash across her pure, untainted mind.

“Oh, okay. Yeah.” Ava agrees and quickly does as she’s told, turning away from Bea and onto her side.

Beatrice follows, muttering a thoughtless “good, just like that” before it occurs to her not to. Ava makes a muffled squeak that Beatrice furiously ignores.

Faced with the planes of Ava’s shoulders, a commonplace sight made extraordinary by the offer hanging between them, Beatrice pauses to take a breath.

There’s no denying the acute eagerness with which her body prepares to scoot closer. The pull towards Ava is magnetic and steady—stronger the closer Beatrice gets. But it’s also honest and peaceful—right in a way that threatens to drag Beatrice’s entire value system into the blinding harshness of questioning light.

Beatrice struggles against the ease with which she slides forward. She finds her soul and her faith with no foes to fight. It’s jarring to spend a lifetime steeling oneself for resistance only to encounter nothing to oppose. Nothing but love, pure and unassuming, seeping through every crevice in the weakening constructs of Beatrice’s life.

(Love is the twist that Sister Beatrice never expected, undeniably holy and propelling her towards Ava, centimeter by broken centimeter.)

Her hand hovers above Ava’s waist, hesitant to initiate a contact that seems liable to shatter everything. She sucks in a fortifying breath and begins to count backwards from ten.

“Bea?” Ava’s gentle concern slices through her at seven and something settles in her chest.

“I’m here,” Beatrice murmurs and drops her palm over the dip of Ava’s side with a decisive exhale. Ava breathes along with her and somehow that small synchronicity is what erases all remaining doubt. “I’m going to move closer now. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ava confirms.

Beatrice smiles and shuffles forward, aligning her front to Ava’s back before settling into the mattress behind her. She stops breathing completely as Ava shifts to accommodate their closeness. Not because of friction or anything so untoward, but because the perfection with which Ava’s body slots against hers has the power to break her.

There’s a debilitating effortlessness in the way Ava fits, backside nestled benignly in the cradle of Beatrice’s hips and shoulder blades pressed evenly to the expanse of her chest. Beatrice’s legs jerk forward and settle completely against the length of Ava’s.

Ava sinks languidly into the curve of Beatrice’s body. Her smaller frame makes it so Beatrice is wrapped around her in every way but one.

Beatrice’s hand still hovers, debating whether it can go where it wants and maintain plausible deniability. Ava decides for her, reaching swiftly for Beatrice’s wrist and bringing it to her chest before either of them can question it.

Her arm falls around Ava’s middle, snaking up through the Halo Bearer’s and into a tangle of their hands. In the spaces between her fingers, Beatrice feels the faint thump of Ava’s heart.

Ava twitches once and tucks her frigid toes between Beatrice’s feet with a huff. The sting of cold draws Beatrice’s attention to the gooseflesh prickling the skin of Ava’s arms.

“You are cold,” she breathes, unsure why she’s surprised. It’s absolutely involuntary how her hold on Ava tightens at the observation.

“Mm,” Ava answers. She wriggles, making herself small, and settles deeper in Beatrice’s arms. “Better now, though.”

Beatrice finds herself beaming, haloed in a warmth that’s a different kind of divine than the ring burning in Ava’s back. She takes stock of the moment, each sound and each breath, and discovers nothing at all out of place. She reaches for every point of contact between them, extending her awareness into her body, and finds it balanced, utterly relaxed.

Here with Ava, there is peace. Peace for every unsettled part of her. And that… that is something new indeed.

Beatrice lets herself tip forward, rests her forehead against the crown of Ava’s head.

“Glad I could help,” she whispers, tugging Ava closer as her heart lurches with the piercing truth of that statement.

“You always help, Bea,” Ava mumbles sleepily. “You’re the best. ‘S why I love you.”

Beatrice inhales sharply, inadvertently fills her lungs with the simple cleanliness of Ava’s shampoo. It calms her unsettlingly fast.

Her shaky exhale ruffles the ends of Ava’s hair.

“Goodnight Ava,” Beatrice says in place of the emotion that’s taking hold of her windpipe.

“Night,” comes the barely intelligible response.

In one more breath, Ava’s asleep.

Slowly, Beatrice lifts her chin. Carefully, carefully, her lips make contact with the softness of Ava’s hair. Beatrice sighs, pressing the slightest of kisses where she rests.

“I love you, too,” she mouths inaudibly in the safety of her hiding place. “More than you know.”

Ava shifts, sighs, and sinks into Beatrice once more.

#Avatrice #warrior nun #ficlet #cuddling in Switzerland #many exist but add it to the list #couldn’t get this out of my head

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archerlullaby · 4 months

Text

Hello friends! It’s been a long while since I posted, but here’s a piece based off of @kikker-oma ‘s incredible whumptober art! Go check it out!

Sky is tired. So tired. Tired of walking, tired of how his lungs burn when the forest grows thick, tired of how his callouses tore after the fifth time he raised it in battle today. Tired of—

“Pick up your feet Sky. By what Wild says, we won’t make it to Necluda if we keep going at this pace.”

Warriors pats him on the back and moves ahead of him without even so much as a glance. Sky closes his eyes in agitation but sighs his annoyance away. You’re the peacemaker. The peacemaker is calm. The peacemaker smiles. You don’t get upset with your brothers, especially when they’re just trying to help. “Sky! What’d I tell you? Hurry it up!” Warriors’s voice breaks through his calming mantra and Sky grits his teeth.

“Yes! Coming!” He picks up his feet, catching up with the group with a wheeze he hides in his sleeve.

The sun grows hot, and though the surface world of Wild’s land is beautiful, it seems to have a personal vendetta against Sky’s lungs. Having spent most of his life up in the Skyloft where the airborne irritants are few, this forest full of different flowers, trees, and grasses is a far throw from what his lungs are used to. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long until he feels that oh-so familiar band tightening around his chest. He focuses his breaths, trying to ignore the urge to cough, to yawn, to do anything to get more air in his chest so that the group doesn’t catch on.

“If you’re having trouble breathing, Sky, you should loosen your sailcloth. It likely doesn’t help being tied around your neck like that,” Warriors says, shooting him a backwards glance as if to say “I can hear you choking on the very air you breathe, dumbass.” Sky smiles thinly and tugs at the knot, loosening it slightly. Obviously that wasn’t what he meant. Warriors is just trying to help, as always, Sky chides himself.

“Right as always, Captain. Thank you.”

“Hmmm,” Warriors replies, giving Sky a quick once-over with a raised brow before turning forward again. Sky grits his teeth, hanging back away from the group to gather his thoughts and squash the buzz of annoyance that has once again invaded his headspace.

Master, I detect a rise in blood pressure and slight emotional instability. I suggest you take a break.

Fi’s voice echoes in his head and, unlike the usual calming affect her voice has, it only serves to muddle his thoughts.

“Now’s not the time, Fi,” Sky mutters.

On the contrary, master. There is a high probability of both your physical and mental health deteriorating further if you do not rest soon.

Sky merely groans inwardly and puts his focus into making one foot go in front of the other, which would be a relatively easy task had Warriors not fallen back to walk astride him.

“Sky, I think we need to work a little on proper hand care. A warrior is only as effective with a blade as his hands are capable of holding it, and I can tell that yours are hurting,” Warriors chides gently. The buzzing in Sky’s head gets louder.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” he replies stiffly. Warriors huffs.

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“Now is not a good time, Wars.”

“Well, forgive me for trying to help you!” Warriors throws his hands in the air dramatically. “Listen. I’m just worried about you. I can tell you’re in pain, and I have a lot of experience with—”

Sky stops in his tracks, allowing the group to move ahead, leaving him alone with the other man. The annoyance that has been simmering all day suddenly ignites into something hotter. “Oh, and I don’t have experience?” He says, his voice low. Warriors looks at him with surprise, then rolls his eyes.

“Goddesses, Sky, don’t be ridiculous, you know that’s not what I meant. What’s with you?”

“What’s with me? What’s with you?”

Warriors opens his mouth to retort but Time’s voice rings out from ahead.

“It’s a dangerous place to fall behind!” Time says, the warning clear. Warriors gives one last look at Sky before turning on his heel and stalking back towards the group. Sky knew it was foolish to get in a fight over something so meaningless, but he was just so damn exhausted. He put a shaky hand to his chest and took a too-shallow breath. Can’t think straight. Can’t breathe right. Apparently I can't even take care of myself, according to Mr. High and Mighty, Sky thinks bitterly.

When he finally gathers himself enough to continue walking, the group is far enough ahead to where he can’t discern who is talking. Unease shoots through him and he begins to jog to catch up, but doubles over in a fit of coughing in just a few measly steps. When it finally subsides, he wipes the spittle from the edges of his mouth with one hand, his other supporting himself on his knee. With a groan of exasperation, he tries to blink away the spots in his vision

Master, behind—

“SKY!”

Sky looks up blearily to see Wild sprinting at him with a familiar glint in his eye just in time for a spear to imbed itself into the ground less than six inches from his boot. He has the right sense to throw himself to the side just as a Lizalfos’s tail sweeps the air right where his legs were a moment ago. Still recovering from his coughing fit, he wheezes as his hand reaches for the Master Sword, easily pulling the blade from the sheathe but not without throwing him off balance as he backpeddles away from the long reach of the monster’s spear. He lands on his back on the forest floor, bringing the sword up to defend himself best he could as the Lizalfos jumps on top of him.

Before it could complete its attack, a blur of royal blue body slams the creature off of him, both figures tumbling to ground with a thud. Twilight is not far behind, pulling Wild up with a single hand as the duo faces off with the creature. A hand tugs Sky up to his feet.

“Are you injured?” Time’s steady voice cuts through the air. Sky merely shakes his head, turning to help Twilight and Wild, but finds that the two have already dealt the final blow. Wild flicks his sword expertly to clean his blade, a grin on his face as Twilight glowers at him.

“Seriously? You have almost every weapon in the books and yet you still choose to tackle it?” Twilight baps Wild upside the head before chuckling. “Black-blooded too? You’re a maniac.”

Sky shoots Wild a shaky smile.

“Thanks, champ. I was in a bad way,” he says quietly. Wild merely shrugs.

“Sure thing. Also, we should keep moving. Where there’s one, there’s more,” he replies, before pointing and walking back to the path. “We’re only about an hour out. We can get to a safe part of the woods before the sun sets.”

The group follows Wild and Sky falls into line, acutely aware of how Warriors has not said a single word through the entire ordeal. The adrenaline wears off, leaving Sky feeling worse than he was before.

Just as Wild promised, they reach a clearing just as the sun touches the horizon. With a groan, Wind drops his pack and flops onto the ground.

“Ughh! My feet are falling off!” Wind exclaims, voice muffled by the grass. Sky watches as Warriors approaches the youngest and laughs, squatting beside the boy and ruffling his hair.

“Oh, come on, sailor! You could’ve asked me to carry you! Or we could have slowed it down a bit!” Warriors grins down at Wind.

Outrage. Slowed down a bit? Anger shoots through Sky as he hears Warriors continue to talk to Wind. Where was that sympathy when I couldn’t breathe? When he knew I was struggling?

Master, your heart rate has jumped to 115 beats per minute, an increase of 64.23 percent from two minutes ago. Sitting down would be a logical course of action.

“Yes. Yep. Sitting down, thanks Fi,” Sky makes out through gritted teeth. Taking off his armor and setting the Master Sword aside, he does his best to breathe. Rolling up his sleeves, he basks in the cooling air. He sits with eyes closed, face towards the darkening forest, listening to the sounds of the coming night, the crickets chirping, the frogs croaking. All is well. All is well and you are calm. You are the peacemaker…

“—Do not believe he should take watch tonight. I am not confident in his line of thinking right now,” Warriors’s voice cut through Sky’s meditation. Sky’s eyes snap open as he tunes in to what was clearly supposed to be a private conversation. Not confident?

“Can you check on him?”

“Time, I don’t think that’s a good idea. He clearly wants to be alone, and to be honest, I don’t feel like holding a conversation with him right now.”

“Warriors—”

“Don’t, Time. He’s been off all day, and there are already tensions between us. And with that stunt he pulled earlier? I already told him once to catch up. His lackadaisical actions could’ve gotten people hurt, or worse. Something has to change. I’m trying to figure out what to do with him.”

Sky heard Time say something in return, but the anger that had clouded his mind blocked it out. He rose slowly, turning towards the two with rage written across his face. Time notices him first and places a hand on Warriors’s shoulder.

“What to do with me?” He hisses, stalking towards Warriors.

“Sky—” Warriors starts, tugging out of Time’s grasp.

“What to do with me?” Sky stops nearly chest-to-chest with the other man. “What am I? A child?”

“No, Sky, that’s not—”

“Or maybe I’m one of your soldiers that you can command? Is that it, Captain?”

Warriors’s gaze darkens. “Well then, maybe, if it would help you get your head out of the clouds, perhaps it would be best to start thinking like the knight you are, Skyloftian,” he replies.

Sky was breathing hard, his wheezing starting to come back. Fi chimes from where he left her, but he ignores her warning. “You have been on my ass all day! There is no doing anything right with you is there? Because you’re always so perfect!”

“I’ve been helping you all day, because you clearly need it! Maybe you should use that head of yours to listen!”

“I don’t need your help!” Sky’s voice has risen, drawing attention from the others. Time merely stands aside with crossed arms, electing to let the two men settle their differences. “I don’t need you to tell me how fast to walk, I don’t need you to tell me how to take care of myself, I don’t need your two-sense on if I am capable of standing watch or not!”

“Is that so? Then explain to me how you got yourself trapped under the spear of a Lizalfos if not for you and your lack of ability to think for yourself?” Warriors spits.

Rage makes Sky’s mind go blank. He shoves the other man before gathering his tunic in his fist, pulling Warriors towards him, their faces mere inches apart. Sky could feel angry tears burning his eyes, and he was angry, so angry, and so, so tired.

“I’m getting real tired of you treating me like the village idiot, Captain!” Sky snarls.

Warriors’s hand wraps easily around Sky’s wrists, pressing bruises into the skin as he leans forward, his face red with anger. “You are way out of line, Chosen,” he snarls and yanks on Sky’s arm, which doesn’t budge. “You need to step back before I make you.”

Chosen? I’ll show you chosen, is Sky’s last conscious thought before he raises his lips in a snarl.

“Make me.”

M-STR…N-ED…TO…CA-M…DOWN!

Fi’s voice rings and reverberates in his head, but he chooses to ignore it as the hair on his neck and arm rise, the buzzing in his head deafening. He fails to see how Warriors’s eyes change from anger to fear, or how he tries to pry Sky’s fist from his tunic. He is aware of yelling, and then Warriors is ripped from his grip and a strong pair of arms is encompassing his chest. A sharp pop fills the air, then silence, and the next thing he knows he’s gazing up at a sky full of stars, something hard at his back. There is an odd energy in the air, and it smells of ozone. Ozone? Oh…oh no. Oh no, no, no, what have I done?

“Ow.”

A voice in his ear snaps Sky out of his panic. “Time?”

“That’s me,” Time’s voice replies.

Sky scrambles off of him and turns, his hands ghosting over the other man.

“Did…did I burn you anywhere? Does your head feel okay? Oh, I’m so, so sorry!” Sky exclaims, tears springing to his eyes. Time merely chuckles from where he lays on the ground.

“I’m fine Sky. But maybe I won’t wear my armor next time you call electricity forth from your person,” he says with a wince as he sits up.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I really—”

“Sky.” Time stands and grabs him by the shoulders. “Don’t apologize to me. Gather yourself, and when you’re ready, go to Warriors. I believe a calm conversation would do you good. As adults.” Sky nods. Time looks at him skeptically. “And I reiterate, as adults,” he says again, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I understand,” Sky murmurs, “Thank you.” Times nods and moves away, gesturing at the others to go about their business. Warriors is nowhere to be seen.

Sky makes his way over to his space, laying out his sleeping roll, gently refusing the food Wild brings to him (until Wild shoves it in his face with an unsettling glare), and apologizes to Fi for not heeding her warning. She chimes quietly in response, never one to hold a grudge. After several hours into the night, Sky still can’t sleep despite Fi’s gentle plea to get some rest, so he stands and searches the camp for Warriors. Legend, who is on watch, glances at Sky then simply juts his chin towards the edge of the camp, towards a large stump at the woodline. Sky smiles his thanks.

Gathering his courage, Sky walks towards the stump. On the other side, he can see the top of a blond head and a familiar blue scarf. Sky pauses just before reaching the stump.

“May I…join you?” Sky asks softly. Warriors merely gestures a spot next to him on the grass. Sky settles next to him, and they sit in silence for a while until Wars breaks it.

“So. Lightning,” he says. Sky winces inwardly.

“Oh…yeah. It’s a long story,” he replies, “And not a very happy one, unfortunately,” he adds quietly. Warriors nods understandingly. Silence again.

“Warriors—”

“It’s okay Sky.”

“No—”

“I should be the one apologizing to you,” Wars finally turns and faces him, regret in his eyes. “I was insensitive. Uncaring. I knew that you were being hurt by my words and I didn’t stop.”

Sky shook his head. “I was too lost in my own emotions to see that I was losing control. I almost hurt you out of anger. I hurt Time,” he sighs, resting his head in his hands. “You’re right. Sometimes I am too undisciplined to call myself a knight.”

Warriors shoves his shoulder. “None of that. We all have our moments. Yours wouldn’t have happened had I not been such a moblin-headed idiot,” he declares. “But truly. I am so very sorry, Sky. I was on edge already from traveling in Wild’s world and I took it out on you.”

Sky nods. “Thank you. And I’m sorry as well. For almost, you know…”

“Electrocuting me?”

Sky nods again.

“Eh. I deserved it,” Warriors chuckles. A smile pulls at the edges of Sky’s mouth and they fall into a comfortable silence. Warrior’s arm falls across Sky’s shoulders and he pulls him into a hug.

“You’re still my brother. You know that?” Wars mumbles into Sky’s hair.

“And you’re mine,” Sky replies softly, melting into the embrace as tears prick at his eyes for the third time that day. “I love all of you to death,” he adds.

“Yeah, we’re pretty great, huh?” The other laughs quietly, Sky chuckling in return.

They stay like that for a long while. The night grows colder and the moon is high in the cloudless sky, the stars dancing far above the canopy of trees below. Sky feels his eyelids grow heavy, the warm embrace lulling him into sleep until Warriors nudges him to sit up.

“You should go back to your bedroll and get some real sleep. I know you’re exhausted,” he tells Sky.

“Dn wnna mve,” Sky mumbles in response.

“Huh?”

“Try to move me again and I will strike you with lightning,” He says, cracking an eye open and glaring halfheartedly at Warriors, who laughs in response.

“Alright, alright! Sleep well, Sky,” he whispers. A beat. “And for what it’s worth, I love you too. You lot are the best family I could ever ask for.”

Sky smiles, pulling the soft fabric of the scarf over his shoulder, and falling into a dreamless sleep.

#sky linked universe #warriors linked universe #angst?#angst with a happy ending #they’re brothers your honor #all of them #Sky can call forth lightning #i don’t make the rules #wars has ptsd #give him a break #fanfic #lu warriors #lu sky

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sophswritingthings · 5 months

Note

listen… seen a lot of the trope where mizu pushes away / distances off from the reader to avoid attachment. yeah that trope…. except eventually mizu falls HARD for the reader but the reader thinks that she hates them so they avoid her and just hangs out with ringo instead cooking food and preparing medicine. 👀

pairing: mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing, angst for all you weak sapphics..... like myself

a/n: yo I read this and I swear I grabbed my chest IN PAIN

summary: you were so convinced that mizu hated you. she hated you with a passion to her heart; but you learn that is the farthest thing from the truth.

word count: 1,410 words / 7,420 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

mizu was sure from the day that she met you; that she felt something for you. it was deep inside her heart. it weighed her down like the weights on her body.

she couldn't get too close though. she spoke to you rarely, only doing it when she needed to. she kept her distance. she couldn't be attached to you; she had a purpose to fulfill. a purpose she couldn't have people getting in the way of; especially not you.

but she definitely noticed you. oh, god, did she notice you. those beautiful eyes, the way your hair fell on your shoulders. the flower you wore in your hair. she had no clue what it meant; but it meant something. she wanted to know, dear god, did she want to know.

she had fallen for you, and at this point, it wasn't something she could deny. she wanted to deny it--damn it, did she want to deny it! but she couldn't. it was a love so close to her heart that it had a grip on her. a grip that wouldn't loosen.

but it still couldn't distract her from her mission--so she pushed you away. she pushed you so far away, it had convinced you that she hated you. hated you with the same fiery flame that she hated the man who made her. the men she was sworn to kill.

so you opted to spend your time with ringo; mizu's sweet and kind hearted "apprentice" not that mizu would ever admit she did have him as her apprentice, and that she did enjoy his company.

why'd you have to fall for this hard ass of a samurai and not a sweet soul like ringo?

you sighed, sorting through herbs and spices with the young man. you glanced at him. he had known mizu longer, if only for a little longer. maybe he would know something of the woman.

"ringo, i have a question," you brush your fingers across his arm, catching his attention. "what do you know of mizu?"

"what do I know of her? well, I feel we know the same amount," he chuckled, turning back to his bowl of herbs and spices as he mixed and mixed. "a skilled samurai and a fierce warrior."

"well.. yes, I know that," you murmur, handing him another bottle of spice. "but... emotionally. what do you know of her.. emotionally?"

he hummed in a gentle "hmmm", "she doesn't open up very much, (y/n)."

"hence why I thought maybe you'd know," you sigh. "I think she hates me, ringo. I really think she hates me."

"hates you? why, I--"

he stopped himself. god, why did he stop himself?

"ringo..." you whisper, "what--do you know? all I need to know is she doesn't want me dead."

"of course she does not want you dead," he chuckles.

you take in a sharp inhale, "well, that much is good," you laugh with him. "has she... she hasn't said anything else, has she?"

"she does say how annoying you are. how annoying your pretty face is, your pretty eyes and your distracting smile--"

ringo pauses again. seems he realizes he's said too much.

you scoff, "you're fucking with me," you hiss. "she--she couldn't of said that. no, not mizu. she'd never say that."

"I would never lie to you, (y/n)," ringo raises an eyebrow at you. "you are my best friend."

fuck.

fuck. fuck!

ringo was maybe the most honest person in the entire world. you knew he wasn't lying to you. not that you didn't want to hear it, but...

"I, um, thank you, ringo."

frankly; you didn't know what to make of the information. could you just approach mizu and tell her? no, that'd never work. she'd deny everything in a damn heartbeat.

"you.. wouldn't mind me telling you something, would you, ringo?"

"of course not!" he smiles that bright smile.

"i.. really like mizu. like.. in a love, kind of way," you blushed brightly. "I always thought she hated me."

"can I tell you a secret?" he giggles, leaning into your ear. "I think she likes you in a love way, too."

the words were music to your ears.

you were going to talk to her, and you were gonna do it now. you gently patted ringo's head as you stood up.

"thank you ringo," you smile. "im... gonna go talk to her."

"yes!" ringo chirps, smiling, "(y/n) must tell master how she feels."

you giggle, "and I will. I'll be back!"

you slip out of the room, finding mizu getting ready to soak in the bathroom in the house they had been staying at. the two of you lock eyes, for a moment, before she disappears into the room fully.

you follow. god, you followed her. were you actually looking to make her hate you?

"um, mizu," you clear your throat, catching her attention. she was half dressed, now, her binded chest now exposed to you fully. she looked to be reaching for her hair.

she nods her head to acknowledge your presence. "(y/n)," the way your name rolled off her tongue made your heart race.

"I had just been speaking to ringo, and--ive.. decided you speak yo you about something," that was when you began undressing. you removed the flower in your hair, slipping out of your kimono and wading into the water. you might as well do this somewhere she didn't have access to her sword.

she looks at you with a puzzled expression, her eyes following the curves of your body as you get into the water. she does the same, dropping the rest of her clothes and getting in the water. she keeps her distance from you, though. half way across the bath.

"and what is so important that you have decided to bathe with me?"

you chuckle nervously, your eyes trailing her body. she looked so damn good soaking wet.

"you see.. i.."

you just needed to go for it.

"I am.. I find you attractive, mizu, and I believe it like you in a.. romantic, sense, im not going to hold that in anymore." you inhale sharply.

she looks at you with wide eyes. she had spent so long pushing you away, and yet here you were, confessing to her--

it hit her.

--ringo.

"what did ringo say to you?" she narrowed her eyes.

she had accidentally said so much stupid shit to her apprentice. what of it had he repeated back to you, and how deep of a hole was she in?

"tell me exactly what he told you."

you nod a little.

"h-he said you said that said I had an annoyingly pretty face.. a-and eyes, and a distracting smile--"

fuck. she did say that.. didn't she?

"he is dead to me," she grumbles under her breath. she sighed, gazing back at you. "but I digress."

surprisingly, she slid closer to you.

"I happened to say those things," one of her hands climb under your chin, titling you head up to meet her eyes. "is that.. a problem?"

you're face turns beat red when she touches you. you were so used to her staying so distanced it caught you off guard.

"it.. isn't a problem, no," you whisper. "I was only wondering.." your gaze slowly drifts away from hers.

she jerks your head to gaze at her again, "wondering what?"

"if you felt as I did," you murmur, gazing at her. "you.. made me feel as if you hated me."

those words stung. they really stung. that was never her intention.

"I apologize," she shifts a bit closer. "that was never what I meant to do, (y/n), it is only that... I cannot get close to people out here, for fear that they will be injured. or get me hurt. or that they will leave me."

you nod. understandable.

"I understand," you whisper. "but I have no intention of letting any of that happen."

her words light a fire inside her heart. a confidence, a passion.

she pulls you close, her hands cradling either side of your face. she presses her lips against yours, the kiss gentle yet filled with an unspoken desire. one she had carried for months...

you hummed, you hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind the samurai's ear.

she pulls back a little, a rare smile crossing her lips.

"will you do me the honor of being mine, then?"

"I certainly will."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: crying screaming throwing up

#mizu x reader #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eyed samurai #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #new fic #fic request #request #ask #asked and answered

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thelov3lybookworm · 6 months

Note

AZ x yn where reader is a Serial Killer and az takes her to the dungeons to introgate her only to find out that she only kills the pedophiles and abusers and let's her go but now helps her in these murders😈🔪

Sloppy Killer

@azrielappreciationweek

Day 7: free day

Summary: Y/n gets an unexpected trainer.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: anon thank you so much for this idea ♥ I had so much fun writing it 😏

•○🌑○•

Y/n hurried through the alleyways in the camp, hoping to slip back into her house before her brother and father noticed her absence.

The spaces between the houses couldn't really be called alleys, but that was not really the point.

She had just discarded her bloody clothes and gloves in her cave before rushing out of there. It was not near the camp, and it was hidden fairly well, so she didn't have to worry about someone finding her things.

She was just worried about getting caught by the higher ranking officials of the camp.

Not that there were many left. Thanks to no one but herself.

The night was silent, dawn not too far away if the changing colour of the skies near the horizon were any indication.

It was that little slip of time where it was guaranteed that no one would be awake. Hence the lack of noise. All that could be heard was the quiet chirps of the birds, the croaks of frogs in the distance, the sounds of animals in the nearby forest and her own breathing.

Y/n was so busy in thinking about how she needed to hurry her steps before her family woke up that she didn't notice the change in the air. Or maybe she was so used to being the only one awake around this time and her experience in navigating the place all alone in the dark that she had dropped her guard.

Whatever the reason was, she didn't notice the uncanny quiet that fell around her until it was too late. When she did, the hair on the back of her neck stood, and she froze in her steps.

Something was not right. She knew it.

Someone was stalking her.

She decided that stopping and facing whatever or whoever she thought was watching her would not be the best choice, so she began walking again.

She pretended she didn't feel the change, pretended she was not preparing to defend herself if the need arose as she tugged on the hood of her cloak nervously, making sure that her face was covered. Because someone or something was definitely following her.

She didn't have fae hearing by any means, but her hearing was still better than that of mortals.

But again, she was no trained warrior, and everything she knew, she was taught by herself or her brother.

She couldn't hear any footsteps, but she knew the creature was still following her.

That was not at all a good thing, because she didn't know how close her follower was.

Fucking inconvenient, honestly.

A light breeze brushed against the skin of Y/n's neck half a moment before an arm went around her waist, trapping her favoured hand between her body and the strong arm banded around her, and, panicked, she swung up her hand, the one holding a small but sharp knife towards where she estimated her captors shoulder or face was.

Of course, she missed spectacularly, and, her captor then caught her wrist, his hand encircling her wrist tightly. She squirmed against his hold, trying to dislodge his hold on her to no avail.

He was a male, bigger than her in size. He probably had years or even centuries of training, while all she knew was how to chop vegetables. He also had a lot of strength, more than she had. It was obvious he would overpower her.

She tried to stomp on his foot, and was rewarded with a grunted dammit.

His hold on her wrist loosened the slightest bit, and she tugged it out of his grasp completely. She was about to drive her elbow into his abdomen when she felt a hand on her neck, and before she could panic about it, everything went dark.

•○🌑○•

Azriel's pov.

The cloaked and hooded male went limp in his arms, and Azriel sighed.

Finally, after weeks of planning the ambush, Azriel had found the serial killer who had been on a killing spree recently. And, being the spymaster of night court, he was assigned to look into these murders.

Immediately, Azriel had noticed a pattern in these killings.

The attacker always attacked in the dead of the night, he always left before dawn. As far as the people in the camp and the lord knew, it was no one from the camp, because, according to them, no one from the camp would murder someone so sloppily. Apparently, they'd either make it a whole bloodbath, or be clean in these murders.

Azriel always wanted to roll his eyes whenever he recalled the way the camp lord had bragged, as if it was something to be proud of.

But, no matter how sloppy these kills were, they piqued Azriel's interest immensely. All he had been thinking about the past few weeks was this male and his sloppy kills.

Azriel decided staying in the camp longer than necessary would be a waste of time, and so, he bent down to lift the male into his arms.

He damn near lost his balance when the male turned out to be lighter than Azriel thought. That's when the doubt started creeping in. Was this really a male?

Before he could ponder much about this mysterious figure in his arms, Azriel felt a scratch on his mental shields, and he lowered a part of those majestic walls to speak to his brother.

Any leads on that killer, brother?

Yes. I'm holding him right now.

A surprised laugh came from the other side of the mental bridge between Azriel and his brother. Woah, that is amazing. Bring him to Velaris so we can interrogate him.

Azriel sent back a word of affirmation, then pulled the walls back up as he readied to fly.

Once in the air, Azriel realised that the figure in his arms had gone extremely stiff, and that could only mean one thing.

He was awake.

Just a moment after Azriel realised that, the body in his arms started squirming, kicking their tiny feet and pushing against Azriel's body. Azriel grunted, trying his best not to drop the male, but it seemed like he wanted to be dropped.

Azriel tightened his hold, his fingers digging into soft thighs instead of hard muscle.

In the struggle for dominance, the hood over the person in Azriel's hold slipped, and Azriel's wings stopped flying of their own accord.

This... this killer, was not a male.

The killer was a female.

Cauldron burn me.

Azriel stared at her for a long long time, watching as she struggled to rid his hold on her. When she damn near slipped out of his arms because he was so busy fucking ogling her-his own words- he tightened his hold on her.

She stopped squirming for a moment, looking up at him, her eyes widening as she realised her hood had slipped off.

She stared at him, and he stared at her.

Azriel knew the both of them had very different reasons for staring.

She was definitely trying to gauge his motives, what with the frantic way her eyes moved.

All his mind was thinking about was how beautiful she was.

How could someone like her murder someone? Surely, Azriel thought, I'm mistaken.

But he soon realised he was not, in fact, mistaken.

Her fist came hurtling towards his face, and his head snapped back from the unexpected force of the punch.

That was when he decided that this female was not interested in cooperating, and he couldn't take her to Velaris if she was trying her best to fall to her death.

Azriel grunted, diving and gliding towards an abandoned house he had found before this mission specifically for this purpose.

Found it so he could use it as a makeshift torture chamber to gain information from the killer in case he couldn't take them to Velaris or Hewn City.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

"So... you are telling me... you have been killing abusive males?"

"And males who prey on little children, yes." She didn't look up from her lap, where her fingers twisted around each other. But she knew he watched her as he sat in a chair opposite her.

He sighed, leaning back, and Y/n dared to look up.

He was staring at her in a way she couldn't decipher. All she knew was that it was certainly not the way males looked at females when they were about to take advantage of them. That gave her some relief.

Still, she prayed he would not take advantage of her. That he was not like other males.

He dragged a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes and his jaw as he seemed to contemplate something.

"How many have you killed by now?" He finally asked.

Y/n gave him a look. "I am pretty sure you know. Are you not the spymaster?"

A small, exasperated smile bloomed on those inviting lips, and Y/n had to force herself to meet his eyes and not stare at his lips.

As soon as he'd sat her down on a rickety chair, he'd asked her if she would throw a tantrum here too. When she had scowled at him, he'd simply stated that he would have to tie her down if she was uncooperative, and grumbling, she had agreed to talk.

After he'd situated himself in front of her, he had told her he was the high lord's spymaster and shadowsinger, and that had prompted Y/n into submitting to his questions.

"So basically what you are doing is killing assholes to keep women and children safe?"

Y/n nodded as worry started creeping in at the glint in the spymaster's eyes.

Was he going to punish Y/n? Was he going to kill her? Torture her?

Before Y/n's mind could come up with worse scenarios, Azriel stood.

Y/n held her breath, watching as Azriel stalked to her, then bent down at the waist to get to her eye level.

"You're doing good work, but you've been quite sloppy." A smirk curled those sensuous lips, and Y/n's lips parted as what he'd said settled in.

"Yeah well, I was not allowed proper training. That is why it is sloppy. But atleast I was doing something, instead of sitting on my ass all day and attending parties under the guise of ruling the court." Y/n all but snarled.

His smirk faded a little, his eyes hardening. "Do not talk about my high lord like that."

"Or what? Are you going to kill me if I don't kiss the ground he walks on? Then do it." She lifted her chin, hoping she looked braver than she felt.

The spymaster studied her for a moment. "When are you free?"

Y/n blinked. "What?"

"You do chores all day. When do you get free?"

"Why?"

He sighed. "Can you not answer a simple question?"

"Can you not be such a pain in my ass?"

Now it was his turn to blink. He stared at her for a moment, then threw his head back in laughter, his whole body shaking as he straigtened. After laughing for a moment, he wiped a stray tear in the corner of his eyes and grinned at her scowling face.

"I want to know so I can train you." At the look of shock on her face, he continued. "I have been thinking about teaching illyrian females to fight by myself because the bastards in the camp simply won't. I have to start somewhere. So tell me, lovely Y/n. When do you get free so I can sneak you out to train you?"

Y/n was very proud of herself for not paying attention to the word lovely. "Most of the females, including me, get done with our chores by dusk."

Azriel smiled. "And you set out on your murderous journey when the camp goes to sleep?"

That made Y/n blush. She simply nodded, and his smile grew.

"Be ready by dusk then. We are going to have a long night. Also, come prepared with your little murdering toys." He turned his back to her, and cauldron damn her, but she couldn't help but stop him.

"Why?"

He turned to her halfway, a half smile on his face as he regarded her.

"So I can teach you how to not be sloppy."

•○🌑○•

Azriel taglist: @darthdumbass @foreverrandomwritings

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

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eatmangoesnekkid · 2 months

Text

Like Suki beautifully and confidently said in one of her ratchet interviews “I come from a long line of whores.” I grew up in a family system where most of the women were incredibly sassy and sexual. Later in life I found out that at least 2 were even a bit whorish—which would have been fine if they weren’t so riddled in shame and guilt about their secret lives. The inheritance of sass and a high sexual nature were the reasons my mum fell pregnant with me as a middle-aged woman. It was odd (and still is) for a woman to give birth to a child when she was (is) in her mid-40s. For the first few weeks after her period stopped, she thought that she was going into menopause, Finally. Little did she know that it was just her plump root and sacral energies activated. And now she was pregnant with me. It took me years for me to learn to move this energy throughout my body so that I could stop attracting lovers who just wanted to fuck, but didn't want to adore and love me. Venusian woman, learning to convert your abundance of sacral energy up into your heart, throat, and 3rd eye will probably be your biggest work in this lifetime. I utilized deep diaphragmic breathing. Connection to nature. Lots of forgiveness work —forgiveness makes your heart softer and belly more relaxed and even smaller because toxins are released and your energy starts to flow freely again. You are not holding onto anything or needing anything from anyone. The key with forgiveness is that you must eventually elevate into a spaciousness where there is really nothing to forgive. You have no desire or need to hold grievances or blame or shame yourself or another human soul. When you need nothing, energy blocks dissolve. The debt clears and resistance and tension are lifted. Your heart frees and new narratives sow. Forgiveness that eventually evolves into the spaciousness where there is nothing to forgive sets your body, energy, and memories free. Back in the day when my lover was male, I would suck his dick often by candlelight or in the bright natural light with my heart full of joy and an ocean of tears in my eyes. Time ceased to exist and I would be sucking him like a God with an abundance of water streaming down my legs and face. Open-hearted lingam worship is primally nourishing, expansive, relaxing, and energizing to the female body. Any kind of heartfelt, vulnerable oral sex is an act love and worship—divine energy, especially when you consciously draw the slippery honey and heat sensations up from your sacral into your spine, heart, throat, and 3rd eye/forehead area. I unconsciously started threading my dances with some neck, shoulder, and throat playfulness, similar to the Ethiopian dance "Eskriska" to loosen the tension around shoulders and heart so that energy could flow into my 3rd eye without being blocked. Tight or painful shoulders express for a variety of reasons: pushing yourself too hard, poor posture, experiencing anxiety,worry or fear of heartache therefore you walk around bracing yourself for a blow or impact, or attempting to control life. Learning to give relief to your shoulder relaxes your body and quiet worries and concerns and permits higher consciousness to circulate. Lots of belly work--everything from belly massages to speaking life into my belly, giving it commands and decrees, playing jazz songs to my belly to stimulate the energy to flow upwards towards my heart. Lots of spinal flexion like the “cat cow." Professional pelvic care for 6 months. Too much concentrated sexual energy will always express in shadowy ways. It also makes you too watery and overly-empathic, easily taken advantage of, resulting in tremendous heartaches and heartbreaks. I ascended from a long line of strong medicine people: healers, herbalists, dancers, mystics, housekeepers, educators, lovers, and warriors. One day Aunt Verna had a little bit too much to drink and blurted out in the kitchen that 2 women in the family line were also whores. I pretended not to hear. --India Ame'ye, Author, Venus Energy and Its Management

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hermitscratch · 2 months

Note

ETHUBS + 8, you know what to do with this

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

8. A kiss in grief, Bdubs/Etho, 936 words

Among the sound of breaking blocks, running water, and falling gravel, the survivors' communicators pinged in tandem. Etho dared to hope that his partner had earned his keep. Lizzie was gone, a glaring red smear in chat announcing her demise the result of fall damage, and from where Etho was, trapped in a cave system far underground, he had no way of knowing if Bdubs contributed.

He waited a moment. There'd be a sign, Etho was sure, a message, a bold confirmation that the deed was done, maybe even an echo of boisterous, proud, manic laughter. It was what Etho wanted, however impossible; Bdubs, head held high as he mined the survivors out of their cavern and proclaimed that he was one of them once more.

The communicator pinged again.

BdoubleO100 was slain by Grian

And that was that.

Ren had him by the hand as they dug their way out of the cave, Cleo at his back with fleeting, encouraging touches whenever he drifted a bit too far. They kept him moving. They kept him talking, offering condolences and advice, plans and promises. They got him above ground, cheering at the sight of the sun and heaving lungfuls of fresh air, but Etho found it no easier to breathe.

The grounding hand was back, turning him gently, stopping him before he could get any closer to where he last recalled the reds congregating.

"Where are you off to?" Cleo asked, but something in her voice sounded like she was already well aware, "The session isn't over for another hour."

Etho's mouth dried. "I, uh. I don't think this is something that can wait, Cleo." "Sure it can," Cleo said, not unkindly, but straightforward in a way that had Etho's guts in knots, "What're you going to do if you walk straight into the reds?"

"I won't," Etho reasoned, "I won't, they- there's no reason for them to double back, right?"

"Depends on where he- where the fight happened. I'm not letting you join them," The hand on Etho's shoulder squeezed, "We can't lose another, is all I'm saying. I can't."

Cleo stared, and Etho stared back until he couldn't stand the mirror he found there any longer. Her loyalties never truly faded, and if it wasn't for the need to press forward, to carry the memory of allies long since fallen and survive, she'd be as stricken as Etho.

Etho took her hand off of his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, "I'll be back," He promised, "It's only for an hour." Outside of the session, the reds couldn't touch him.

Cleo looked him up and down, as if appraising whether his word could be trusted, until finally, "I'll hold you to it." She pulled on his hand, and when he leaned in, she kissed his cheek over his mask. "Give him that for me, then?"

It was the least he could do for her.

For Bdubs, when Etho finally found him, Etho would do much more.

"Of course you had to go and die somewhere this inconvenient," He said, short of breath from scaling the mountain Bdubs had been climbing when he died, an attempt at levity that fell short.

Bdubs was curled up on his side, the jut of two fatal shots piercing the gaps in his armor. Etho eased the arrows out of Bdubs' back so his body could be laid flat, and a shuddering breath tightened his stomach as he covered Bdubs' eyes with a softly-placed hand, sliding them shut.

It didn't suit him, the image of a warrior fallen on a battlefield. "You don't wear anything this heavy back home," Etho said as he loosened buckles and untied straps until the diamond plate could be set aside. Etho paused, and after staring for a moment, he shrugged off his coat and laid it over Bdubs' chest like a blanket. "Yeah. Yeah, you look more comfortable already."

Nothing answered. The sun was setting, and with dusk would come fresh dangers, but Etho laid down beside Bdubs and watched the sky darken.

"You know," Etho mumbled into the empty air, "I meant everything I said this morning." He turned his head. Like this, it was easy to imagine Bdubs was just sleeping, that any moment he'd crack a smile and agree, be proud of himself for winning Etho's admiration, "You were the best teammate I could have asked for. And when I-" He swallowed, cleared his throat, "When I said we wouldn't be friends, I- man, I hoped- I wanted so badly for it not to be you."

Etho rolled onto his side and ignored the way it made the suspiciously warm streaks on his face change course, "And now it's my fault you're not here. Heh, can you believe that? I'm gonna be kicking myself for ages. You earned that life and I didn't pull the trigger fast enough."

Etho closed his eyes and breathed, deep and chilly, pulling his mask down on the exhale. The snow fort was always cold. Bdubs wasn't, though, the brief immersion of being home gone the moment Etho reached a shaky hand to rest across Bdubs' waist. "It's still your life, I think, I'll keep it safe. Get a win maybe, give you something to really be excited about."

Without his coat, the snow seeped into Etho's clothes, leaving him cold and wet as he sat up. The sun had set. Session hours were over.

Etho leaned down, and kissed Bdubs' cheek. Then, his lips, and if a few tears dripped onto his face in the process, at least he wasn't awake to notice.

"Goodnight... partner."

#Ethubs #Ethoslab #BdoubleO100 #ZombieCleo #Angst #Hermitshipping #Trafficshipping #Last Life #MCYT #Hermitfic #Asks #randomly-reblogs #Bdubs #Etho #Astral Library #My Writing #I'm not sure I like how this came out but!#It sure did come out and that's better than nothing!

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breannasfluff · 8 months

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What if... through time/portal shenanigans, Eldritch!Chain met Wing!Wild for a shift

Traveling through time? Check. Meeting alternate versions of a hero? Also check. Legend sits up in his bedroll and stares at Wild. Or…not-Wild. Not their creepy vibes Wild. No, this one is crouched by the fire, cooking what looks like bugs. Oh, and he’s got wings. Because yeah, that’s how this day is going to go.

Legend points, which is rude, but so is dealing with this so early in the morning. “Who are you?”

Not-Wild looks up and honest-to-Hylia chirps at him. Yeah. No. He’s not dealing with this alone. The vet leans across and whacks at Twilight’s bed roll. “Fix this!”

The rancher blinks slowly, entirely too comfortable. “Mornin’. Cub cookin?”

“He’s weird now. What did you do?”

“Me?” Twilight blinks again and sits up, turning to the fire. “Whadja–oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

They both stare at the not-Wild. The person? Bird? Avian? Ruffles feathers and fluffs his wings up around his ears at their stare.

Twilight cheats and slaps Time awake. “Somthin’s goin on.”

By the time the old man extracts himself from the bedding, everyone else is awake and staring as well. Time manages an impassive face pretty well, but his tells give him away. The vein next to his eye is twitching.

“Good morning.”

Bird boy whistles again and looks at his pan. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Er, right.” Time shares a helpless glance with Twilight. Goddesses, they really make the vet do all the work, don’t they?

“Hey, kid. Where did you come from? Where’s our Wild?”

He cocks his head and flutters his wings. “I’m with you for now, I guess.”

“Who said?”

“Hylia.”

Well, shit. She would inflict some kind of dimensional weirdness on them.

Wild gives the pan a shake and waves Four over. “Here. You can have half,” he stresses.

Four sidles closer, the wariness growing to confusion as, likely, he doesn’t feel the need to run for the hills. Then he glances in the pan. “Are those bugs?”

“Yeah. Got some nice crunchy bees.” The avian pops one in his mouth and crunches and oh–Legend would like his weird Wild back. Sure he eats animals whole but they aren’t…bugs. “I’ve got a nice big spider we can split, want some of the legs?”

Four blanches and skitters away to the other side of the clearing. Insane-Wild turns his attention on Warriors. “Catch!” Then he chucks something that smacks the captain in the face. Warriors shrieks and flails. The thing falls to the ground. Wild chatters in what must be disappointment. “That was good quality meat!”

“You threw it in my face!”

“Yeah?”

“I have meat juice. On my face.”

“...why didn’t you catch it?”

The captain joins Four on the other side of the clearing. Most of the others back up as well.

Twilight makes the next move, coming to stand by Wing Boy. Wild sidles away. Twilight shuffles closer. The champion sidles away again. They continue the weird shuffle all the way around the fire as Wild’s wings get higher and higher. Finally, he gives a strange tsksksks and bites the rancher on the arm.

Now Twilight is yelping and hopping away. “What was that for!”

Wild eyes him, wings ruffled. “Too close. You know better.”

“Nah, I don’t!” He rubs his arm with a truly wounded like. Like a kicked puppy. Fitting, considering his transformation.

Sky steps into the fray, but his eyes are glued to the wings. “Is your nickname still Wild?” he asks, only he’s addressing the wingbone rather than the boy attached to it.

“...yeah.”

“Your wings are beautiful! They remind me of my loftwing.”

Wild loosens slightly, wings drooping. “Yeah, your loftwings are cool.”

The chosen hero, because he has rocks for brains, reaches out and pats some feathers. Wild shrieks and explodes off the ground. His wings kick up clouds of dust and he launches straight up, then flaps into a tree and balances on a branch, hissing down at them. Sky is left blinking in confusion, hand still outstretched.

It takes a good ten minutes for Wild to flutter back down, during which the bugs have been moved out of sight and eggs and potatoes set to cooking in a new pan.

Legend watches from the corner of his eye as Wild paces around the edge of the group, then zeroes in on where he sits with Hyrule. He gives a funny bird call and trots over, shoving his way between them.

“Hey!” Hyrule moves entirely, annoyed at being ousted from his seat. Legend gets a face full of feathers which he doesn’t dare push away.

The avian trills again, wings pulling in tighter.

“Wild,” Legend says, or tries, muffled by feathers. “We don’t know what you want.”

He chatters at them both. “Force of habit.”

“To steal seats?” Hyrule’s prickly, both because he hasn’t had his morning tea, and because his fae sensibilities have been offended.

“Not stealing.” Wild’s attention is caught by the bag at his feet and he dives for it.

“Hands off!” Time jumps for it as well and a wrestling match begins before Wild lets go of the bag. The old man falls back on his butt and masks spill everywhere.

Everyone tenses as the fierce Deity mask lands in the dirt, but the avian ignores it to grab for a cow mask. He holds it up with a grin. “This is my favorite.”

Time is still sputtering and Hyrule grabs some of the masks, passing them over. “You can’t just–take things!”

Bird boy blinks back, the picture of innocence. On the other side of the clearing, Twilight sulks. Warriors considers his scarf with misery; must have gotten meat juice on it. Sky’s wariness fades into resignation and he sits next to Four, who’s still a little peaky.

This Wild inspires no strange feelings, but the absence of them is…disconcerting. It’s like a small piece of Legend’s awareness is missing; like he grew an inch without realizing.

Wind, who was out collecting wood after his watch enters the clearing with a cheery smile. “Good morning! What did I miss?”

The champion perks up and taps his slate, pulling out a crab and tossing it at the sailor. The crab is, unfortunately, still alive. And angry at being thrown before breakfast–or to be breakfast. The crab attaches itself to Wind with vengeance.

Wind starts screaming.

Legend closes his eyes to the chaos. Hylia, please give them their old Wild back. Nothing is worth this much chaos in the morning.

#what if breverse #absolute chaos #lu wing bois #eldritch wild #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu wild #lu time #lu sky #lu legend #lu twilight #lu hyrule #lu four #lu wind #my writing #breannasfluff #so much for drabble length #i'll probably pop this on ao3 at some point too in Downy Feathers #asks

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professional-yapper · 3 months

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just a 3am thought for a request that i really want to read, but agedup!lo’ak with avatar!reader. spider has an avatar, reader an spider are close. the Omatikaya clan was having a celebration for (anything you want) spider and reader got up to do a traditional clan dance and Lo’ak got jealous (you can do anything you want whether it be a fluff, smut, etc💙

Why Not Me?

Lo'ak x Avatar! Reader

Warnings: reader is an oblivious queen, Lo'ak is insecure asf, spider and Lo'ak aren't super close in this, alcohol consumption

Here you go! Thought this idea was so cute but I don't think I've been able to do it justice 😭

Lo'ak walked alongside you, lost in his own thoughts as you kept up a steady stream of chatter. It was nice background noise, your voice as familiar to him as Neteyam's or Kiri's. Not that he was purposefully zoning out. Just that you weren't really talking for him to listen. He'd learned that from years of friendship. Sometimes you just needed to let that pretty mouth run itself ragged.

"Oh, and Mo'at asked me and Spider to do one of the traditional dances for the spring hunt ceremony. She wants us to show what we've learned," you said airily, glancing sideways at Lo'ak to gauge his reaction.

The young warrior had stiffened, golden eyes flicking to you, then away when he noticed you were already looking at him.

You laughed a little, confused. "What? What's up?"

Lo'ak shook his head and kept walking, but didn't get far. You caught him by the arm and backed him up against a tree, forearm pressed against his lean chest, which rose and fell a little raggedly beneath your arm, eyes blown wide as he looked down at you.

"Come on, Lo. What's so bad about me doing the dance? Or is it something else? You've been quiet all morning," you prompted, smiling a little, bracing yourself to keep him pinned there.

"It's nothing," he managed finally. Great Mother, how could you not see what you did to him?!

"Sure," you teased, tilting your head, but you stepped back and released him. And back into your sweet, mindless river of babble you went.

But this time Lo'ak listened, heart thudding painfully in his chest. It was dumb to be jealous. So dumb. He didn't even know if you and Spider were dancing together, or were just a part of a bigger dance. But his stomach still shrivelled into a hard little ball at the idea of Spider dancing with you, putting his hands all over you, making you laugh, making you breathless...

How could Lo'ak compare? Spider was built like a fucking tank, almost 10", like Kiri's biological mum Grace. Lo'ak was leaner, only 9"4, 9"5. Taller than his dad, at least, but he still couldn't help feeling totally inferior when standing next to Spider.

When it came to winning your affections, Spider was the obvious superior candidate. Funny, brave, a good hunter, liked by everyone...

It made Lo'ak sick.

"So I asked Spider to help me make a new outfit for the dance, and-" you were saying.

Lo'ak cut you off. "I can help you."

You squinted at him, eyes creasing at the corners in that irresistible way of yours. "You hate weaving and all that stuff. That's why I asked him."

"I want to help," he said stubbornly.

"You're always whining to me when your mum makes you fix something you've torn or worn a hole in. You say it's boring."

"It's not boring. Not to me," he insisted. "Not if it's you."

You blinked. "Okay. I'll tell Spider I don't need him to help anymore. Even if I know you're gonna bail after the first half hour." You punctuated that last bit with a laugh, but all Lo'ak could feel was something in his gut loosening with relief.

Even if Spider did the dance with you, he wouldn't have your attention, attention that was rightfully Lo'ak's, for more than an hour, anyway.

That was the thought that comforted Lo'ak through all the weeks leading up to the ceremony.

When he was helping you make your outfit.

When he insisted on helping you practice the steps, assuring you he knew them better than Spider anyway, even though he'd run away from any of his mother's attempts to teach him traditional dances as a child.

You didn't seem to mind.

And finally, when he was sitting with you mere minutes before you both would have to go to the ceremony and was helping you put on your ceremonial paint.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Lo'ak asked quietly, turning your face towards him as he dabbed paint on your forehead and cheeks gently, golden eyes meeting yours a little hesitantly.

You chuckled. "Course I do. Why? Do you think I'll mess up, after all the practice we've done?"

Lo'ak just shook his head and sank back into silence, not wanting to ruin your good mood with his feelings.

Not that anything really could ruin your mood at this point, it seemed. You were so excited, and as you tugged Lo'ak along behind you to go join the others, he would've smiled if he hadn't been steadily growing more upset.

Only made worse by Spider pushing through the crowd and catching you up in a hug, swinging you in a circle while you shrieked and slapped at his broad chest and shoulders. "You excited?" Spider asked cheerfully, setting you back on your feet and ruffling your braids.

You nodded, grinning back at him while Lo'ak glowered at the side of Spider's head, unable to contain his resentment. "Yeah. Should we go join the other dancers? I think Mo'at wants to see us before we start, anyway."

Spider hummed in confirmation. "Yeah, sure."

"Okay! Bye, Lo. I'll come find you after," you said, turning to Lo'ak and squeezing his elbow warmly.

His expression softened momentarily as he looked down at your happy face. He couldn't ruin this for you. "Yeah, I'll see you after," he murmured, wanting to pull you into a tight hug but not daring to smudge your paint.

You disappeared into the crowd, Spider's arm slung casually around your shoulders, both of you chatting happily.

Lo'ak stood there for a moment, then turned and went in the opposite direction. Preferably in the direction of the nearest alcohol.

Thankfully, one of the other warriors was passing around bottles. It was frowned upon by the elders, but Jake had said it was okay, and so it was okay.

Lo'ak plucked a bottle out of the warrior's hand and tilted his head back, wrapping his lips around the mouth of the bottle and gulping it back. He'd have to be at least a little tipsy to deal with the sight of seeing you with Spider.

Speaking of, Mo'at was calling for everyone to gather around, to create a circle around the fire that had been lit an hour or so earlier and fed steadily until it was a blaze.

Among the dancers, he found your face, glowing with excitement still. He smiled. You noticed him looking and smiled back, giving him a thumbs up before Spider caught you by the elbows and stepped into the dance with you, surrounded by a swirling crowd of equally decorated dancers.

You were radiant.

Twirling, twisting, stepping through the movements like you were walking on air...

And all the while, smiling, smiling, smiling. But at Spider. Not Lo'ak.

His stomach clenched again at the sight of you, whirling around with Spider's hands all over your precious body, without a care in the fucking world.

He had to look away.

"Little bro!" Neteyam's low voice said happily, and familiar hands clasped Lo'ak's shoulders from behind. A kiss was planted atop his head, even if Lo'ak knew instinctively to tip his head back so Neteyam could reach.

Much to Lo'ak's delight and Neteyam's exasperation, Lo'ak had grown to be taller by a good few inches.

"Teyam," Lo'ak grumbled, turning to face his older brother, feeling remarkably like a sulky little kid again.

"Woah, what's with the face?" Neteyam grinned, giving Lo'ak's cheek a light smack, eyes glittering.

Then he found your form in the swarm of dancers and seemed to make the connection. "Ah. Jealous, Lo?" he teased.

"Shut up, bro," Lo'ak grunted, shoving Neteyam's head away while the older man laughed. "S'easy for you to laugh. How would you feel if your mate was out there with Spider?"

"Mo'at asked them to," Neteyam said surprisingly. "They just said no."

Lo'ak admitted begrudgingly that they were brave for that. Mo'at nearly always got her way, on account of being too scary to refuse.

"So you still haven't fessed up?" Neteyam prompted. "It's been years, bro. I'm not saying you're wasting time, but you are wasting time."

"I can't tell them. They'll reject me," Lo'ak said desolately, sitting down on a treestump with a bump, bottle held limply between his knees.

"Come on. Don't be a wuss," Neteyam encouraged, rubbing his knuckles against Lo'ak's head. "They like you. It's obvious. And it was cute when you two were teens, but you're a grown-ass man now, Lo. They're not gonna wait for you forever."

Lo'ak remained silent, not wanting to admit that Neteyam was right.

Neteyam shrugged and sighed. "Ah, whatever. I was just coming over to check on you. My mate thought you looked lonely, sitting here with your bottle all by yourself. Don't get too drunk."

And with that Neteyam left, back to his own mate.

Lo'ak sat there for what felt like forever, sipping slowly from his bottle, seeking out to comfortable buzz of being drunk and not finding it. It just heightened his sick feeling and made him all twitchy, like bugs were crawling up his legs while he sat there waiting for you, watching you enjoy your life without him.

It wasn't that he wanted your whole life to revolve around him. He just wanted to be a part of it. But Lo'ak, you are a part of it, a small voice murmured.

Not in the way he wanted. He wanted to be able to kiss you and hold you and bury his face in your hair, and dedicate his hunts and wins to you without earning pitying looks from the rest of the tribe.

He wanted to be able to see you around other guys and not get jealous because you were all his.

He wanted-

"Lo!" you called, jogging out of the group of dancers, face and body covered in a sheen of sweat, grinning from ear to ear, tail waving happily behind you. Spider followed closely behind, also grinning and sweaty, but bid you goodbye and walked off before you reached Lo'ak.

You crashed into his arms without hesitation, throwing your arms around his neck, trusting him to catch you like always. "Did you watch me, Lo? Did I look okay? Spider thought-"

Lo'ak took a deep breath and tightened his grip on you, locking his arms around your middle and praying this wouldn't be the last time you ever let him near you after what he had to say. "Why is it always Spider?" he interrupted, the words coming out more plaintive than he meant.

You blinked, arms loosening around his neck. "What?"

"I mean-" Lo'ak paused, blushing to the tips of his ears, trying to find the words that would make you understand. "I feel- I feel like you like Spider more than me. And it hurts. We're best friends."

He didn't dare say that he wanted to be more.

Your ears drooped, as did your tail. But, for which he was grateful, you didn't try to free yourself from his embrace. "Spider's like a brother to me. You never used to have a problem with him. Lo, I'm serious. What's going on with you? You've been acting so weird lately."

Lo'ak looked upwards, asking Eywa for courage. "I just- I like you. More than friends. You mean the world to me. I know I shouldn't be jealous of Spider, but it kills me inside every time you ditch me for him anyway, because he's so much bigger and better-looking and better at stuff than me-"

"Hey. Hey," you said firmly, taking his face in your hands, looking serious for the first time in your life. "Lo'ak. Spider's not any of that stuff. I mean, yeah, he's bigger, but that's his avatar. They're genetically modified to have all the advantages.

"You can't help that. And as for better looking, I couldn't even tell you if he's good-looking or not. You're my idea of handsome. He doesn't even come into this. And he's not better at anything. He tries hard. If you tried hard, you'd be better. You know that.

"It's you for me, Lo. Don't be jealous. It always has been." You smile, a dopey little thing that makes him want to kiss you.

And he does, pressing his mouth to yours, burying his hands in your braids and angling your face upwards, kissing you till he feels properly drunk, just on the taste of you.

"You're mine," he breathed against your mouth, chest heaving, heart feeling like it was about to burst with relief. "Say it. I need to hear you say it."

"I'm all yours, Lo. Always have been," you say, pressing up against him like you want your body to melt into his. "All yours."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

#avatar #atwow #avatar 2 #neteyam #avatar x reader #avatar fanfiction #loak #loak x reader #loak x you #loak avatar #lo'ak x reader #avatar lo’ak

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