#Treetop Trail | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cno-inbminor · 1 year

Text

repertum (pt. 2 - final)

summary: no matter how much you want alhaitham, you don’t think you can ever have him. he may or may not try to prove otherwise. // cameos from lumine and nahida // wc: ~15.1k

a/n: well, here it is! many, many thanks to @allsaiint for being my beta once again, especially for this monster. i love her to the ends of this universe. fair warning though, the smut at the end is un-beta’d so you’ll probably come across many grammatical/syntax errors. sorry, in advance.

cw: afab!reader, fem!reader, more angst (but with comfort), 3.4 spoilers, probably some incorrect game lore and timing/mechanics, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

smut tags: derogatory/degrading terms (slut, cocksleeve, cumslut, cockslut), referring to alhaitham as ‘sir’, size kink, twinges of dacryphilia, one (1) pussy slap, some overstimulation, light bondage (reader’s wrists get tied together), blowjob, cunnilingus, hints of reader entering subspace (dom!alhaitham, sub!reader), will add more if i remember later but i think those are the highlights lol

please read part 1 for context! | AO3 Link for better viewing if the app is being a bitch

As agreed upon you meet Lumine and Paimon on the walkway leading up to the Sanctuary. The traveling duo go inside first, as you’re sure they have much more private and serious matters to discuss. While you wait outside, you gaze over the ledge at the breathtaking view of Sumeru in the direction of the Lokapala Jungle, and its waterfalls still bright even in the darkness of dawn. Taking in everything around you— the breeze and the stars— you feel some peace in your heart knowing you have a place to call home and return to.

The doors swing open with Lumine looking a little less happy than earlier. Paimon mutters – or at least attempts to – under her breath, while a man with a wide-brimmed hat trails out after them. The traveler provides no explanation,and instead informs you that Lord Kusanali wishes to speak with you for a minute. Perhaps the time together will let you know more about this mysterious man – child? – and why he seems to have put Paimon in such a bad mood.

“Y/N,” the Dendro Archon greets you warmly. Her voice is gentle as ever and full of compassion. “Thank you for coming here. I simply wanted to see if you had everything you needed for your travels and research.”

You show her your bag with thinly-veiled enthusiasm. “Thank you for the opportunity and your consideration of my proposal. The fact that you took the time to read through it and ask me about it really means a lot to me. It was luck that the traveler happened to be heading in that direction as well.”

“She will be a good companion. Please watch over her whenever you can.”

“Of course, though I imagine she’s going to watch over me more than her,” you jest and Lord Kusanali shares your amusement. “Is there anything else you needed?”

“No. May you have safe travels, and please visit whenever you return. I look forward to your findings.”

You bow with as much reverence as possible before waving goodbye to the Archon and heading out the doors. The man from earlier is nowhere to be seen, and Lumine appears more relaxed.

“Everything all good?”

“Yes! Should we head out then?”

“Very well.”

Those with Visions have always fascinated you with the way they could make their weapons appear and disappear, and materialize things in midair. Lumine does so with what appears to be a map of Teyvat, humming to herself as she pinpoints a location. She waves it away with dainty fingers and holds out her hand.

Though confused, you trust she means no ill will and Lumine grips your hand tight when you take hers.

“Teleportation is always a little rough for first timers. Just hold on and you’ll be okay.”

“Teleporta–”

You disappear in a flash of blue light. For a split, disorienting second, you see nothing, and in the next you’re greeted with a view of what appears to be part of the Mawtiyima Forest, if the luminescent treetops are any indication. Slight nausea overcomes you and your stomach does a small turn – shit, she wasn’t lying.

“Are you alright?” Lumine asks with concern, searching through her pack for a remedy..

“Do you want a cold towel?” Paimon adds on and flutters around you to search for any signs of injury.

“I think I just need to breathe for a second,” you say, collapsing against the cliffside. “And sit for a minute.”

“Take your time. We’re quite close to the border. I would’ve taken us straight into Fontaine, but since I’ve never been before, none of those teleport waypoints have been activated.”

You point towards one in front of you. “You mean these?”

“Convenient, right?”

“...very.”

Distraught, perhaps, is one way to describe Alhaitham’s current state of mind.

By all means, it makes no sense. Did he get to know you well in an alarmingly short amount of time? Sure. Did he really look forward to those initial 36 hours passing, to the point where he felt time was crawling by at a turtle’s pace? Perhaps. Was he trying to satiate a curiosity that he had never really felt before and attempting to answer a personal unknown? In some way.

The attempting-to-resign Acting Grand Sage has read his fair share of historical texts – especially conflicts driven by love and lust. A force so powerful that it could twist the minds of even the brightest and most logical – what was that like? From a young age, he was only ever introspective in an academic sense, and the scholars touted him to be a genius. But feelings, emotions, felt abstract and out of reach as he grew up. He only ever understood his lust as a byproduct of his development as explained in the textbooks. A branch of psychology mixed with biology described everything from why humans feel attraction and the need to copulate to what is deemed healthy and alluring in a potential partner, all in the name of posterity and evolution.

Alhaitham first concluded his initial draw towards you could be explained away by all of these findings.It didn’t quite fit all the checkboxes, but enough for him to deem it understandable and valid. Those checkboxes had been visited once before when he lost his virginity, but that was all there was to it. He wouldn’t be blind enough to deny that it was a pleasurable experience, but there were other, more pressing matters at hand. Yet, even after drawing his conclusion, nothing academic could help explain why his desire to be near you was so strong. The more carnal desires took a backseat to his need to pick your brain, to make you laugh, or to have you challenge him. He learned as many of your little mannerisms as possible, all the while pretending he was completely unfazed by your presence. Your different smiles, your nervous movements, your stressed looks, your interests and dislikes – he wanted to know all of them, and not so he could store it in his brain for cautionary purposes. It was all for the sake of getting to know you.

And then he became greedy.

Another sin Alhaitham didn’t quite understand before meeting you was the growing, bubbling pit of a constant want want want for you to be by his side. To have the fantasies of coveting your soul, retching on the inside at the mere thought of others seeing you the way he did you – he was starting to see why individuals were so often thrown into a fit of rage over their loved ones and why the law has separate stipulations regarding “crimes of passion.”

And even as he sits at his usual table in his usual seat (especially on days when he really doesn’t want to be in his office during work hours), sending glares to anyone who dared to approach him or even come near your seat (which was very much not your seat by any legal means), he finds himself buried in books of philosophy. Not that they are so far out of his usual reading, for they typically align with his understanding that there are universal questions that will never be answered yet should be stated, but he has never felt the need to dive deeper than the tip of the iceberg on different schools of thought. One line in particular catches his attention, however.

“Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions.”**

Moral philosophy, the area where this statement hails from, was intriguing, yet Alhaitham knew the respected experts could talk in circles for days and do their best to argue their reasoning. This particular philosopher suggests that passion is the cause for reason, for understanding why humans do the things they do. And as the word connotation suggests, there is no room to discuss whether or not this line of thought is rational. Just as passion drives reason, reason can also serve as the breeding ground for the passions.

Abstruse to several, esoteric to many, ambiguous to the masses – Alhaitham wonders if he’s found some sort of solution to his internal dilemmas. To have it all summed up in a single sentence resonates deeply with him. Simple and succinct, yet speaking volumes to the implications; finally with a deep breath.

The next day in his office, he leans and falls back into his seat, gaze focused on the domed ceiling above. He’s always hated this chair; far too grand and impractically large. One thing he doesn’t mind is the proportionate size of the desk, as he’s learned over the years that if you give him the space, he will inadvertently cover every inch of it with his materials. Even with their dwindling number of research applications, he manages to fill the voids with his own research, books laid open and aged parchment collecting dust. For being so far above the ground level of the House of Daena, it makes sense that silence is usually his sole companion, as he tends to ignore the other researchers and matra milling around. But there must have been some memo sent out because no one is there today, and no one has come up in hours.

Surprisingly, he finds the quietude and quiescence unnerving rather than welcoming, so much so he removes his treasured earpieces and places them in his lap. The white noise he’s often found bothersome is… comforting?

A distraction, perhaps, from the absence of you.

A long, heavy sigh leaves his chest as he pulls himself up and ambles over to a locked filing cabinet with all the approved research project applications. Before he became Acting Grand Sage, the remaining applications had been split between him, Lord Kusanali, and a few other individuals. First sorted by subject area and then by last name, he rifles through with an absent mind until he catches your name on a tabbed folder. Alhaitham wastes no time plucking it from the confines of the drawer and opening it, taking care to make sure the stacks of reports and research diagrams don’t spill out onto the floor. Kaveh would have a field day if he knew just how enraptured he was by the mere sight of your handwriting. He may even take him to Lord Kusanali herself for psychological treatment or interrogation because there was no way this Alhaitham was his same sarcastic, scathing, infuriating roommate – and despite the slight amusement the thought gives him, he cannot ignore the painful pull in his chest.

It’s been five weeks since you were last seen in Sumeru, and five weeks since he had knocked on your apartment door only to be greeted by your next-door neighbor, who announced you’d left early in the morning with no definitive time of return and no mention of your destination. You would be back eventually, but would it be in six days or six months? Nobody seemed to be the wiser.

He had had half a mind to reach out to Cyno and call in a special favor to track you down for his own internal peace, but he knew the request would be irrational and unnecessary. So once a week, he stops by your apartment to see if you’ve returned, and with each unsuccessful visit and your doormat collecting more and more dust, his heart sinks just a little bit lower. If he wasn’t in his current position, he’d be halfway across the desert by now (and ultimately in the complete opposite direction) under the guise of searching for ancient ruins. Merely searching for facts and truth; nothing more, nothing less.

All to say, Alhaitham wishes he had looked through this filing drawer earlier because the file on his desk contained all the answers to his questions of your whereabouts.

The relief of knowing you were safe in a nearby nation surges through every vein in his body, tension in his muscles disappearing with the rays of sunlight beating down from the stained-glass window above. He would’ve been much more concerned if you’d gone to Inazuma – even if this Captain Beidou that Lumine spoke highly of was more than adept at crossing the treacherous seas from Liyue, the mere possibility of you falling overboard or being forced to stay in the nation was still unsettling, to say the least.

Leaning his weight onto the desk, Alhaitham drinks in everything your research has to offer. There are a few mistakes and edits that could be rectified here and there, but nevertheless, it is well done. He remembers now seeing some of these papers before, as notes you had been scribbling down on some early afternoons in the cafe. Pleased isn’t enough to describe the hum in his chest when he notices some of his suggestions incorporated into your application, fondly recalling the moments when you had picked each other’s brain regarding the topic at hand. Never once did you mention that any of this had been in preparation for your big research journey, but he would be remiss not to believe recent events had served as the catalyst for your sudden departure.

“Do come back to me,” he murmurs to no one. As he lifts his head, the cosmical, automated orb— reminiscent of an Auspicious Branch— just above the elevator platform seems to mock him. It’s An inaccurate teller of time as it spins and spins in its orbit, and Alhaitham yearns for the day you return home.--

The day you return to him.

Traveling with Lumine is fascinating, to say the least.

Ignoring the fact that feeding Paimon is like feeding three grown adults, watching the Traveler gather and store every fruit and herb and loot in sight makes you wonder what kind of life she had led before all of this. The way she takes down some wayward Treasure Hoarders is a sight to see, like a well-rehearsed dance. It lends to your understanding of why the term is “martial arts” because the way Lumine maneuvers around the enemies and her sword is, very much so, an art.

But more time together means more time into probing the real reason you’ve decided to come to Fontaine with her, and for whatever reason, she is really good at getting you to spill the beans. Lumine’s heard most of your life story at this point.

“Who are you running from?” she asks one night. After checking in with the Adventurer’s Guild in Fontaine’s capital, you’ve joined Lumine in her journey around the nation to activate the rest of the teleport waypoints. You send her your sheepest look, begging with your eyes for her to not ask anymore. But you’ve skirted around this topic the last few weeks and you figure it’s time for her to know.

With a heavy breath, you set down your bowl of biryani on the grass. “Promise you won’t judge?”

“Promise.”

“...it’s Alhaitham.” The crackling of the little campfire Lumine had put together is deafening, even louder than the ripples and waves of the river crashing onto the sand in front of them.

Naturally, Paimon speaks up first, though speaking is an understatement. “Alhaitham?! You mean that– that super mean Acting Grand Sage? The know-it-all? Can’t really care less about others? Condescending?”

“That’s a pretty big word there, Paimon–” Lumine cuts in.

“Hey!”

“See?” you respond, the smile on your face small, awkward, and bittersweet. “Things happened and well… I thought it’d be better if we stopped seeing each other.”

“You were seeing each other?!!”

“Paimon, stop!” Lumine interjects and shoots the floating fairy a disapproving glare.

You really wish you had some alcohol with you right now.

“Well…”

For the next several minutes, you provide a detailed summary of how you came to meet and learn more about Alhaitham, the nature of the budding relationship, how all your insecurities came to a head on that night, and how you ended up here. Lumine remains silent when you finish explaining everything, clearly thinking through all the information and trying to find the right words to say.

“You know,” she begins, “Alhaitham may be one of the most infuriatingly logical men that I’ve ever met. And a really good actor, too. Remind me to tell you the details of what he did when we rescued Nahida.”

“...I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”

“I’m just saying, but I also think you know by now that Alhaitham isn’t someone who does anything that isn’t for his own benefit, in some way.”

“Again, not helping.”

“What I’m trying to say is if he just wanted to get his dick wet, I’m sure there are plenty of other people who would agree to help out in much less time.”

To which, Lumine has a point. A very good point. But still you say, “He’s super picky though, I don’t think he’d just sleep with anyone regardless.”

“Which brings me to my original point: he picked you for a reason.”

“Because I’m easy?”

Lumine flicks your forehead before you can even blink, and with a decent amount of force as well. Your resulting indignant yelp pierces the atmosphere as you rub the sore spot. “What was that for?!”

“For being unreasonable. I’m trying to say that you must be special to him, that’s all.”

“... but what if he didn’t want to see me again after sleeping together? Sure, let’s say that I am ‘special’, heavy emphasis on my air quotes right now, but I want more, an actual relationship. How do I know that’s also what his end goal is?”

“You don’t,” Lumine affirms. “But there’s no use in wading through the what-ifs. You know what you want, and I think you’re allowed to communicate that to him, regardless of what he says.”

It’s hard to come to terms with the underlying implication that you’re being something of a coward, with not a whole lot of reason to be. You’re grateful for the open water before you, its lullaby comforting with the breeze it brings. Years of academic research have made you painfully familiar with the concept of trial and error, but to apply it to human relationships? It leaves much to be undesired. Five weeks, in the grand scheme of things, are certainly nothing more than a miniscule blip of time. But in your limited life with the overhanging unknowns of the world, it was a sizable enough amount of time filled with passive rumination and downward spirals.

“You’ll figure it out when you get there. But I’m warning you, we’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.”

You can’t help but laugh in relief. “That is completely okay, I promise you.”

Running away might as well be your newly developed skill at this point.

A few weeks later

“I mean, I could stay with you there in Fontaine, right? You know, extra set of hands and all?”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

“Lumiiinneee,” you whine, petulant pout making itself known.

“Just talk to him – whatever happens, happens. If it’s not meant to be, then it’s not meant to be. But you owe it to yourself to say your piece, as well as to him for an explanation that he needs to hear. Now go.”

She all but (gently) shoves you into the Akademiya, watching over you with an encouraging wave of her hand. When you’re less than five steps away from the door into the House of Daena, you look over your shoulder once more for any signs of escape. As expected, the Lumine-shaped obstacle stands firm in her spot.

You clutch your final report to your chest, mind racing with a thousand thoughts per second, and don’t even realize you’ve already made it to the elevator platform. And once it gives a mechanical shudder and starts to go up, you want to scream and simultaneously steal a glider to jump off and land safely back on the ground level.

Is it good or bad luck that no one seems to be around? Maybe he won’t be at his desk and you can just leave the report there and fucking bolt. Maybe it’s not even Alhaitham in the Grand Sage’s chair. Maybe the man is gone altogether and is somewhere in the desert looking at ancient runes.

Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore and has forgotten about you. Maybe he told himself to let bygones be bygones, and that you were simply another scholar in the Akademiya. No one special.

Your initial hopes of his coincidental absence are dashed as you walk up the stairs. His silver hair stands out among the sea of azure and viridian, and he doesn’t even bother to look up from the stack of papers in his hand. Not that you were a bull in a china shop by any means, but the man would even notice with his eyes closed if there was a fly on the complete opposite side of the office. Your heart is ready to burst from your chest with each shaky step, and too soon, you stand in front of his sprawling desk.

“My office hours will be ending in a few minutes,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone without looking at you. You risk a sharp inhale at the sound of his voice, an all too familiar mix of gentility and sternness. “If it’s something that requires more than that length of time, come back tomorrow.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck – “I’m just, um, turning in a research report?”

At the sound of your voice, Alhaitham doesn’t even bother to amuse himself. He’d much rather not look and not be disappointed, than to do so and become reacquainted with dashed hopes. “...And the necessary cover sheet is on top? Does it have your name, project number, and corresponding title?”

“Y-Yes.”

Still perusing through the paperwork in his hands, he frees one hand to point it at a basket on his far-right corner. “Leave it there. Your advisors and I will be reviewing it within the next two weeks.”

“Oh, o-okay.”

You do as instructed, but with each second that passes without any eye contact or direct acknowledgement of your presence, you begin to wonder if he’s purposely ignoring you. Or maybe he forgot about you entirely and wrote you off as a failed pursuit. Perhaps that would be the best-case scenario and you could hole up in your apartment for the rest of… eternity. Maybe. Lumine can come and scold you later and you can take it like a champ.

But your heart, ever so fickle and occasionally diabolical, plays one last card and causes you to stop at the top of the stairs. “Have a good night,” you muster out. “Thank you, Alhaitham.”

The rustling of his papers ceases as you turn and hurry down the steps, taking extra care to not trip over your feet. Just before you can activate the elevator, a frazzled “Y/N?” is called from above. With sweaty hands, a sullen heart, and a leadened brain, you nervously orient towards the scholar inhabiting your dreams, who stands on the edge of the platform above and peers down to confirm his suspicion. His stance looks as if he had leapt over his desk and sprinted at top speed towards you.

You’re not sure how to take it all in, how to take him in – the “feeble scholar”, for once, appears as such. If possible, his cheeks seem a little more sunken in, further accentuating the sharp edges of his jawline. His hair looks mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it several times too many. The cloak around his shoulders rests askew from his sudden movements.

But his eyes—

Those seafoam irises and amber pupils pierce through your soul, but not in an inquisitive and calculating manner. In fact, it’s quite the opposite – he looks unsure, disbelieving, and hesitant. To elicit such a reaction from this man should be recorded in the most prominent historical annals, but you do have to admit it’s a bad look on him.

When you open your mouth to say something, anything, the elevator begins its descent. Any words you had are wiped from your mind, and you do everything you can to maintain this staredown. Weeks ago, you couldn’t even begin to guess what this man would be feeling based on his eyes, but now? His heart is on his sleeve, and you can’t help the green envy in your veins at the possibility that others have seen him in such a vulnerable state.The constant battle between an illusional desire to be his everything and knowing that you never could and never should be, rages on.

You’re the first to look away. Sorry, Lumine, you think, as Alhaitham’s figure disappears from view. All you’re left with is the rotating orb above, spinning and spinning until it makes you sick to your stomach. You just want to get back to your apartment and start sweeping the dirt away, to return to some sense of normalcy before all of… this appeared. You never should’ve indulged in your whimsical desires.

Alhaitham hovers in a state of shock as he watches the elevator take you back down – after weeks of catching a glimpse of who he thinks is you at the cafe, hearing your voice in his head as he scribbles away on paperwork, or dreaming of escaping his duties to find you in Fontaine, he’s not sure if he really believes you were here or if it was some effective lucid dreaming. But the sudden pull, the impulsive need to just check the cover sheet when his name left your lips, was far too strong and he had dived right in without a second thought.

And there in your handwriting, in all its glory, was your name printed neatly at the bottom. One second, he was at his desk and the next, he was at the edge of the outer office ring for confirmation.

The last few minutes of his workday have never gone slower as he paces back and forth in front of his desk. He’s doing his best to stay calm and formulate a plan, but even that has become difficult for him. There are too many extraneous factors at play, several he can’t be sure of – did you meet someone new in Fontaine? Were you going to leave again?

Did you even want to see him?

You could’ve left without another word once your research paper landed in that return basket. He would’ve been none the wiser until he physically picked up the report, which probably wouldn’t have happened for another few days, what with all the cleaning up he’s trying to do before his resignation is official. All that lost time in between would have left him even more distraught.

But the fact that you had stopped and made a point to thank him, to call him out by name, means something. Like him, it seems you are just as unsure of where the two of you stand.

And that’s all he needs to move forward.

Granted, moving forward didn’t initially involve climbing up the fire escape ladder behind your apartment building.

With a takeout bag of your favorite foods from Lambad’s Tavern, he was originally going to knock on your front door like any other individual. But before his knuckles could rap against the Adhigama wood, he thought, why not check to see if you’re even home? That would eliminate the possibility of you seeing him through the peephole and then pretending you’re not home – or worse, you opening it and then slamming it back in his face.

His unparalleled logic led him to skip the ladder and jump onto the first floor. It’s not that he wouldn’t be able to climb it with one free hand – the food would’ve gotten messy with all the jostling around. He ignores the sound of laughing children as he ambles past, but allows the semblance of a grin to dawn his face when he hears, “Whoa, look at that mister!” Alhaitham looks above him as he climbs the next set of stairs, noticing a light peeking through the living room window. That’s one good sign, at least, because it means you’re home, right? He peers past the half-open curtains when he arrives at your floor. He’s just checking. Nothing suspicious or untoward. Yet all of that is scrapped— another deviation from his initial plan— when he sees you sitting on your couch, sorting through a pile of mail on your coffee table. With a mind of their own, his knuckles knock lightly against the glass and he can’t help but let a humorous snort slip out when your body jerked with a visceral startle, head whipping towards the source of your adrenaline spike.

You don’t need to verbally question his sudden appearance when it’s written all over your face. Your eyebrows are knitted and arched, mouth turned down in a slight frown, hands clenched in fists with visible tension and unease. “Alhaitham, what– I mean–”

He holds up the food behind the windowpane for you to see. “I wanted to bring you dinner since you probably don’t have anything prepared on your first night back.”

Without another word, you slide open the window, letting him clamber through as you take the bag from him. He retrieves it as you lock the window and yank the curtains together, setting it on the table away from a mound of what he presumes to be junk mail. You scramble for words and coherency as you search for clean plates and utensils, but the effort is fruitless. There’s a trapped shriek in your chest and you don’t know how to snuff it out.

Dinner is a quiet affair, save for some awkward small talk here and there. He makes it a point to give you extras, whether it be a little more mint cilantro or tamarind chutney for the samosas (despite it being his favorite) or more of the lamb from the biryani. Each little morsel pushes your heart further up your throat, further sending you into a downward spiral. Why is he so kind and caring when you had essentially kicked him out last time? Why is he going out of his way to make up for a wrong he never committed?

Alhaitham basks in your company, taking in every detail of your outward appearance. You seem skinnier than before, hair just a little bit longer. A few fresh, healing cuts on your hand stand out to him and he hopes they were all accidental and not intentionally created by another human being. There’s so much he wants to say and question, but for once he cannot find the right words. Rarely has he ever felt as though he was skating on paper-thin ice with someone – years of not caring or sparing thoughts for how others might perceive him lends nothing to resolve his state of incertitude. So the only way he can currently try to communicate is through actions, hence the extra foods and your favorite parts of them, making sure you have a usable napkin at all times, refilling your cup of water when it starts to look low, and more.

With a full belly, you sigh with satisfaction, a breath that appeases Alhaitham just the slightest bit. “That was good. Thank you for bringing it.”

“You’re welcome. Was the food in Fontaine not to your taste?”

You hum in thought. “A bit bland, honestly. Not as many spices are used in their foods like they are here.”

“Ah.”

The two of you sit silently for a few moments. You’re looking anywhere and at anything but him, your knee bouncing and hands wringing together. Is he trying to let you down easy? Soften the blow? What is his end goal?

His fingers tap the table in a silent rhythm, noticing that despite the small talk, the tension in the air is still viscous. He ignores the gnawing desire to hold your hand and squeeze it tight, to graze his thumb over those scabs and kiss them. He’s not ready to leave yet, which is why he juts his chin towards the only unopened bag on the table and says, “I also brought dessert. Would you care to have some now?”

No. Yes. I don’t know. I can think of something else I want for dessert but that’s not the point right now, is what runs through your head.

“Sure. What is it? I might have something to go with it.”

“It’s baklava.”

For him to remember that baklava from Pupusa Cafe is your preferred dessert when eating your favorite dishes is even more mind-boggling in this whole situation.

You stand on shaky legs and walk towards the pantry. “Does wine sound okay?”

Alhaitham ponders your last mutual experience with alcohol, which had ended in a disaster, even if he knew full well that it wasn’t a cause by any means; an unintended catalyst. As long as neither overindulged, it would be harmless. Right?

So he nods. “That sounds good.”

You return with a corkscrew opener, two stemless wine glasses, and one of your better bottles of aged wine. Alhaitham remains silent as he takes the opener from you and drives it into the cork, hand twisting the top knob with ease. You feel shameless in the way you stare at his arms, watching his muscles flex. The veins in his hand become more visible and you can see the tension in his forearm through his arm guards, all the more when he pushes the levers closed and wiggles the cork out of its confines. He takes good care to tactfully remove the cork and place it on the table, and pours a glass for you first.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you take it from him with both hands, ignoring the way his fingers seem to linger after making contact with yours. You portion out the baklava as he pours a glass for himself and he voices his gratitude in turn.

As you nibble on the delicacy, the silence weighs heavily on your chest, both a burden and a source of comfort. “Did you find everything you needed in Fontaine for your research?” he asks, once again attempting to make some neutral conversation. Alhaitham has never been one for sweets, but he’s willing to eat it for and with you. The cafe’s baklava is one of few desserts he can handle, as it’s not as sickeningly sweet as some other places’ when they’ve added too much syrup.

You chew slowly as you think of your answer. “I think so. I feel pretty good about my report.”

“I’ll be sure to read it soon,” he responds. After all, he is a pretty quick reader, and with the dwindling number of research project applications, he can efficiently get through the other reports to make sure he reviews yours before he goes back to being the Scribe.

“You know, there’s no need to rush on my account,” you say. Honestly, that’s the last thing you need because it would confirm your worst fears and assumptions. Everything discussed with Lumine would’ve been tossed violently out the window, and you so badly don’t want it to manifest.

“...I won’t,” he assures you. Alhaitham understands your research paper needs to be treated like every other one passing through the Akademiya, especially if he is going to be one of the formal reviewers.

You feel your lungs losing air, your heart rate soaring through the roof. With a stroke of luck, your glasses of wine are finished off and the plates hold nothing but crumbs, which provides a perfect excuse for you to get up and get away.

“I’m gonna wash the dishes,” you announce, voice doing little to hide how nervous and shaky you’re feeling. It’s another miracle that you don’t drop anything on the trek from the dining table to the sink as you wonder if you’ve killed any chance of being with Alhaitham. Where was the confidence you possessed when you first met the man?

Even being mere meters away from him becomes painful. His presence alone provides a sense of security, strong and silent. The lack of warmth, the string between you two pulled taut, ignites an obdurate yearning – the very same yearning experienced when you spent days avoiding the man prior to your departure for Fontaine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they all say, and there certainly was some merit to it.

The silence remains suffocating, in some ways, but also comforts you with its deep pressure, distracting you enough that you fail to notice Alhaitham moving around. He removes his cloak and earpieces, draping them neatly over the couch armrest before he comes to stand next to you at the sink. He grabs a towel and is ready to dry when you’re done washing the dishes. Your muscles begin to relax, that earlier frost of loneliness gradually dissipating with his presence nearby. He dries everything with the utmost care and lines them up neatly as you hand them over, and you ignore the little brushes of his fingers against yours with each relinquished plate. You can’t help but wonder if he can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks because honestly, you feel like your face is on fire.

Alhaitham finishes drying off the last item – the second stemless wine glass – and turns to lean his back against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He waits as you rinse down the sink and passes you the towel to dry off your hands. Your timid smile leaves him hopeful that you’re not visibly shying away from him— not visibly, at least. Seconds pass, and now there is nothing left for you to do or keep yourself busy. He waits for you to gather your bearings and settle to show that you’re ready to talk about… whatever this is.

Those haunting irises suddenly meet his with an alarming amount of determination, holding steadfast and searching his for something, anything. He can’t bear to lose and look away, not that he wants to. Yet you remain quiet, and Alhaitham leans into his impulses.

With firm, sure hands, he pulls you toward his original spot and lifts you up just enough so that you’re sitting on the counter. Alhaitham plants them by your waist and bends down to be level with your gaze, which now holds hints of fear and surprise. They’re open wide, your pupils slowly dilating, and he catches a glimpse of your fingers curling around the edges of the counter. He so badly wants to cradle your face in his hands, to feel your physical presence and prove to himself that you’re really here before him. But that is intimacy he hasn’t quite been granted yet and he can’t mess this up. He must’ve done something wrong the last time he was here, and he most certainly doesn’t want to risk the same outcome again.

“I like you,” he proclaims with a resolute tone. Alhaitham has always hated beating around the bush when unnecessary, and at this point he needs it said out loud for you to know. “I have been attracted to you since the moment we met, and I used to believe that it was purely a biological response. But then I wanted to know more about you. I wanted to learn more about who you are and how your mind works. To be quite honest, I can’t stand the thought of anyone else being in my position right now. I will not hide the fact that I am selfish and want you all for myself, if you would have me.”

You are struggling so hard to keep the smile off your face, your mouth pursing while your teeth dig into the inside of your bottom lip. Three months ago, you would never have seen this coming, and you would have laughed in anyone’s face if they had suggested it.

“If you need time, I can wait. I am not always the most patient person, but for you, I am willing to do so. And–”

“I was worried that you wouldn’t want to see me again after having sex,” you interject and confess. The embarrassment of your thoughts and actions quickly becomes a heavy weight in your chest. Your nerves strain to get the better of you and shut you down before saying more, but you force yourself to push past them. Alhaitham provided you with honesty and transparency, and he deserves the same from you. “We had so much tension between us and I was worried that once it was all resolved, you wouldn’t feel the need to see me again.”

Alhaitham takes a moment to process your words, but he can still see the tension in your shoulders. You won’t meet his gaze as you look past him or at other parts of his body. “There’s something else, is there not?”

You look down at your hands in your lap, your fingers intertwined and fingertips applying pressure where they land. With how forthcoming he has been, you owe it to him to extend the same courtesy, despite how silly it feels now.

“I couldn’t understand why you would even like me,” you say, voice soft and barely audible in the silence. You’re unable to mask the melancholy in your tone when you remember how it felt to internally question his affections and assume the worst. A quiet chuckle slips past your lips, but it’s derisive and bittersweet. “I’m just another scholar and you— you were the Scribe and later Acting Grand Sage. I thought maybe people would accuse me of… providing sexual favors, to put it lightly, if you showed me any leniency or favoritism in my academic career.”

The back of your knuckles brush against his cheek as you lift your head up to take him in. “You could have anyone in the world and you deserve nothing but the best. So why me?”

“I would need a few all-nighters and several pieces of paper to pen down every reason why.”

His quick reasoning with all indicators of certainty – his tone, the lack of any dishonesty in his eyes, the way he holds your eye contact – takes you for a loop. You’re only able to let out a soft “oh” as you let the implications of his words swim in your brain, leaving you helpless to find a suitable response. How do you follow up on an answer like that?

When he feels your fingers slipping down his jawline, he stops it with his own to press his cheek into your palm. “If it provides you any comfort, I will no longer be the Acting Grand Sage by next week. You know how long I’ve waited for them to process and approve of my resignation. And as the Scribe… it still does not matter. People who would assume something so salacious are simply capitalizing on their own insecurities, and they do not deserve a second of your time or an ounce of room in your thoughts. I do my best to exercise fairness and reason in all matters for the Akademiya, and even as my partner you would not be safe from that.

“I’ve never shied away from telling you how things are and you know this. I can ensure you would not earn any favoritism or leniency within the boundaries of the Akademiya, should my presence be involved in your research.”

The smirk that creeps up at the corner of his lips ignites a small flame in your belly – thrill and heat and trepidation all melding together. “Now, outside of those boundaries, it’s a different matter. If I may pry once more, what is your answer?”

Liquid fire pumps from your heart and into your veins, further fueling the heat in your core. Just as it dips dangerously lower, so does your hand, and the other joins in lightly scraping your nails down his abdomen. You feel him jump beneath your touch and relish in the sound of his swallow, and how his breath hitches when your fingertips dip into the band of his pants. They tug him forward until he’s standing between your thighs, just centimeters of nothingness between you two. Even as close as he is, Alhaitham can’t help but think there’s still too much space unoccupied.

Your eyes scream, beseeching him to understand your actions and for him to respond in kind. It can only mean one thing, but he wants to hear those words. He wants it engraved in his memories for the rest of time, despite the desperation to give in and give you both what you desire and need. Alhaitham grasps your chin between his thumb and curled index finger, leaning forward closer and closer until his lips barely touch yours.

“Use your words.”

Arousal seeps through your underwear as the subdued tenor of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Wholly unfair, this man is. Devilish, demanding, teasing, controlling – but most of all, he is yours.

“Please let me have you, if you will have me,” you whisper against his lips, eyelashes fluttering closed at the faint touch.

No sooner when you are greeted by darkness does he fully slot his mouth against yours, hands gripping tightly on your hips to pull you against him. A groan slips past and into you because gods, he’s missed this so much. After nights of waking up with the ghost of your kisses, he never wants this to end and longs for a reality where time can stop and he can take his sweet, sweet time to worship every millimeter of your body with his lips, and then some. Excitement electrifies his whole body when you reciprocate his desire ounce for ounce, and even more so when you let out a pretty little whine, just for him.

When he pulls back for a chance to breathe, he doesn’t move far. “Good girl,” he praises so sweetly, the words washing over you in something akin to pride for eliciting his approval and pleasing him. Alhaitham slides the tip of his nose against yours, moving to kiss your forehead, then your cheeks, your jawline, and the pulse point on your neck. Even the slightest pressure has you tilting your head to the side, granting him permission and room to do as he pleases. Alhaitham bides his time to press whispers of kisses onto your skin until he nips a sensitive spot. A sharp inhale pierces through the kitchen when he sucks on the patch of skin caught between his teeth, taking the utmost care to break the little capillaries underneath. He wants you to experience his phantom touches on these spots in the hours when he’s away from you, a constant reminder that you are his and his alone.

Your fingers dig into Alhaitham’s silver locks, torn between pressing him further into your neck and pulling him away. “Haitham,” you plead and tug on his strands, which only prompts an even harsher abrasion from him. “Wanna kiss you.” Your voice is breathy, and you feel as if you’re on the verge of tears. Who is he to deny such a reasonable request?

Though instead, he pulls you off the counter and rushes to your bedroom with you in tow, granting your wish as soon as you enter. The back of his knees hit the foot of your bed and Alhaitham drags you with him when he sits on top of your blankets. Despite your eagerness to clamber over and straddle him, he disapproves when you attempt to exercise a modicum of control over the situation by leveraging some height over him, utilizing gravity to lean into his embrace and kisses. His palms slide up your thighs with reverence until they dig into the crevice of your hips and yank them down. To have you pressed fully against him is most certainly a blessing, and there’s no way you don’t feel his growing arousal against yours.

When he feels his bottom lip stuck between your teeth, Alhaitham smiles. It still seems you’re not fully understanding the position you’re in. Perhaps, he might need to remind you of just who exactly is succumbing to who.

You keen when his hands dip underneath your shirt to draw meaningless patterns into your waist, but also to make his mark as he holds tight enough that you think you would feel some internal bruising tomorrow. They dance higher and higher, until they meet the bottom seam of your bra, and you nearly choke with the arousal suffocating your lungs.

“Can I?” Alhaitham almost begs, but watches for any sign of hesitation.

“Yes,” you breathe back. You lift your arms up, waiting with thinning patience, and he wastes no time in following through, tossing the shirt to the side with one hand as the other busies to unhook the metal clasp of your bra. Soon enough, your upper body is bare for him to see, to touch, to love – and his breath is taken away because you are so, so beautiful; perfect breasts with hardened nipples, an empty canvas all for him. He made a mistake last time for not seeing them properly, having been too focused on the way they felt against his chest instead.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs. His subsequent scoff feels derisive, sardonic, self-destructive, and his thumbs ghost over your areolas. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous – this is unfair.”

“You’re the one who’s unfair,” you retaliate with a shaky breath as you nearly tear off his shirt. One look at his muscular and toned frame, and it takes everything to stop the drool from spilling past your lips. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Be careful,” he warns, his fingers digging into the flesh just underneath your breasts. Alhaitham holds onto you as he scoots further back onto the bed, and once he deems there’s enough room, he rolls over until he’s hovering above you, panting and hair splayed and lips swollen. “I’m just a feeble scholar.”

When you roll your eyes with an excessive amount of sass, he dips down to capture your right nipple in his mouth and gives a harsh suck as punishment, satisfied when all defiance on your face morphs into pleasure. Pretty, responsive, little angel, all for him, so sweet, so delicate, so adorable when your spine arches into his mouth and continues to suspend itself as he pays his respects to your other breast. You feel your conscience become fuzzier and fuzzier, dissolving into mush as the tendrils of overstimulation begin to grow, and once again, you find yourself torn between wanting to let him continue and wanting him to stop.

He decides to grant you some mercy when you can’t help but twitch and shy away. Alhaitham’s primal desires begin to crest and wash away any rationale, desperate to keep the taste and feel of your skin between his lips and on his tongue. He doesn’t quite understand this newfound desire to nip and bite, but all he knows is that when he does, his arousal pulses and nearly threatens to break past the seam of his pants. Alhaitham moves lower, lower, ghosting past your stomach, nudging past the band of your bottoms and underwear to tug them down all the way. Those are thrown out of view and he finally, finally, gets to continue from where he last left off, taking no time to push your legs away towards your chest and give a lascivious lick up the length of your cunt. The tip of his tongue meets your clit at the end of its journey, and he firmly holds you down when your hips buck into his mouth as it circles the nub.

It’s game over when he takes it fully in his mouth.

Your hands twist themselves once more into his silver hair, expletives slipping off your tongue as you chase your high. You feel your pussy clench around nothing the higher you climb, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. He eats you out like a man starved, enthusiasm unveiled and clear. His passion unbridled and sending you further into the clouds, you feel tears in your eyes begin to well up from sheer bliss, so sensitive and so unbelievably unprepared for everything this man was going to give you tonight. “Haitham,” you cry over and over, his name a mantra and prayer.

When he leans back, you catch a glimpse of the sheen on his chin and the way his eyes remain focused on your arousal, pupils blown. “You taste so good,” he compliments, his voice somehow having dropped an octave lower. “Could eat you out for hours. So good for me, fuck.” It’s dangerous how much you love to hear him curse, knowing that you are the reason why. The rational, feeble, well-spoken scholar, his prose extending to situations such as now, is almost reduced to such crude and filthy vocabulary.

Alhaitham would need to be blind to miss your sticky precum practically spilling from your core after what he said. It’d be a shame to let any of it go to waste, he muses, as he drags his tongue up the length of your cunt and pays attention to your clit again. He watches for every reaction, what makes you tug him closer, what makes your body twitch and convulse, what causes the shakiest exhales from your lungs, what contributes to your squeals and cries – he wants you to get a taste of just how unhinged he becomes in your presence.

Each moment of friction, so wet and slick, against your core seems to send you further and further into oblivion. Tears overflow when your heart bursts and Alhaitham doesn’t miss them – the sheen sliding down the sides of your face shines in the moonlight and he knows there is no reason to fear you’re in pain. He drinks in your moans and feels your fingers tangle further in his silver strands, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, your hips with a mind of their own as you grind against his tongue and nose to chase your release. Alhaitham pays no mind to the way his cock twitches once more in his pants or the unmistakable wet spot that’s formed from his own precum.

The coil in your abdomen wounds tighter and tighter. There is nothing on your mind but the man between your legs and your impending orgasm, one with an intensity you haven’t experienced in ages. “ ‘m close,” you gasp and meet his burning gaze. “Please, wanna cum – yes – please, sir–”

How he doesn’t cum in his pants at the title is beyond his comprehension, but the stroke to his ego is welcoming, to say the least. Alhaitham never felt any type of way when others addressed him as so, sometimes annoyed even, but from you? It is everything. A verbal indication of relinquishing your power to him, your existence at its highest vulnerability, the underlying respect, the implicit trust hidden between three letters – only has him pushing down harder against your thighs, leaving no room for you to fight. The resolve and determination to have you cum on his tongue only increases and his thoughts plunder further into hell. Cum for me, cum on my tongue, let me taste your release that I give you, so fucking addictive – his silent commands painted on your tight bundle of nerves.

With Alhaitham exercising a dizzyingly sinful strength against you, leaving you helpless and defenseless, you let yourself succumb as your heart rate increases. Your breathy warnings and pleas, the oh fuck!s, the whimpering sir!s, confessions of love on the tip of your tongue – you have one minute, moment of clarity when your body freezes, and the coil snaps.

You don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard before, reality-shattering, nerves on overdrive, your body trembling beneath his palms as you ride out the pleasure for as long as you can. The quiet scream from your lungs is inevitable as it dissolves into sobs and Alhaithm follows you when your hips buck. There’s not enough oxygen for you and you can feel the visceral clenching of your abdomen as you fight for air and some semblance of control again – but that flies out the window when, for the first time tonight, Alhaitham slides his tongue inside your quivering cunt.

Said Scribe cannot help but groan, and he wishes he’d done this earlier. To feel your creamy walls squeeze as his taste buds slide amongst them, your keening ringing in his ears, the shaking of your thighs a prisoner between his fingers, the intoxicating taste of your cum – all of it is more than he could have ever dreamed of. Right where he wants you, and all his, his, his.

The incessant tugging of his hair tells him to stop for now, as much as he doesn’t want to. If it were up to him, he’d have you cumming on his tongue for hours, his hard cock be damned. But your convulsions of overstimulation manage to generate the slightest bit of sympathy and he laments when pulling away. His eyes hone in on the way your pussy contracts around nothing, almost begging for something to fill you again. “Good girl,” he praises, tenor delicate and charming, as he rubs gentle circles on your abdomen in an attempt to ground you. There are stars in your eyes, and he waits for you to come back to him.

You barely register Alhaitham’s hand on your body as you stare up at the ceiling, brain and soul somewhat disconnected due to the high of your orgasm. So good to me, your thoughts coo. Haitham, sir, how can I show my gratitude to him?

“Y/N,” and at last, you make eye contact with him. He preens at the blissed out look on your face and moves forward until he’s lying next to you, his weight supported on one arm while the other brushes away your baby hairs. A dreamy smile graces your lips, and he can’t help but lean forward for a soft kiss. Languid, sensual, pliant – several minutes fly by as you bask in each other’s presence until the need for more begins to bloom again. Alhaitham lets out a chuckle when he feels your hand wandering down his frame until it rests on his crotch. Making out with you has kept him semi-hard, and he’s happy you’re taking the initiative. Not that you’re in control, by any means, but it’s cute that you might think so.

Your mind reels from just how big he feels beneath your palm. You can’t deny the times when you’ve sneaked glances at his crotch, his tight pants outlining a slight bulge from day to day – but you never thought your fingers would be splayed so far apart, and you just know they would struggle to meet when gripping his length. Your whines reach his ears as you fumble with the clasp above the zipper, and Alhaitham is so kind, kind enough to take over and do it for you. Seconds later, his pants and underwear join the pile of forgotten clothes, and you immediately look down at what you’ve been waiting for.

The instant pooling of saliva in your mouth is embarrassing, shame and lust spilling into your chest and through your veins. Alhaitham’s cock is so beautiful, just like the rest of him, and you’ve never wanted something in your mouth so bad. It twitches under your reverent gaze, and the tip glistens with his precum. Even the noticeable veins drawn along his length are beautiful, and his balls seem to be engorged, heavy with cum. You prove your earlier hypothesis when you hold it in your hand, and your fingers truly do not meet around the circumference. A gush of slick leaks and paints your inner thighs, your hand seemingly tiny in comparison as you slowly stroke him.

Alhaitham hisses at your touch, so cold against the heat of his cock. There’s a passing thought of wanting to keep that fawning look on your face at all times, the metaphorical hearts in your eyes with his dick in your hand. In a moment of weakness, the thought begins to spiral into darker fantasies, how to keep you hooked and dependent on him, his cock, his mouth, his touch. A flash of a daydream crosses by of him sitting in his office chair, you on your knees between his legs, his shaft bullied deep in your throat as you keep it warm for him, drool and spit spilling from the corner of your lips, so submissive and desperate for him to fuck your face–

Your thumb glosses over his frenulum and he is ripped from his reverie. At risk of cumming too quickly, he thinks of how to keep your soft hands away for now. What can he use? How can he restrict you?

Ah.

Confused whimpers follow after him when he abruptly stands up from your bed and walks over to the pile of discarded clothes. You miss the warmth of his body next to you, goosebumps from the sudden chill rising on your skin. But before you can begin to chase after him, he returns to sit on the bed and beckons for you to sit up for him.

He loves how willing you are to obey him, your eyes wide and a little awestruck as you follow his gesture – almost as if he were your puppeteer. Alhaitham holds out his hands in front of him, palms facing the ceiling, and you match the posture with intrigue painted across your face. As you wait, clarification comes to you when he reveals the patterned, teal sash that usually encompasses his hips. Slow, deliberate movements as he wraps the cloth around your wrists (in case you don’t want it because he would never force you to do anything you were uncomfortable with), indicate this uncharted territory. And when the tie is made and the knot is pulled tight, you look up at him.

“Is this okay?” He asks. When you give a mute nod, he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Words, Y/N.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Yes, sir, it’s okay.”

Alhaitham watches as you lay back until your head meets the pillow, and your bound wrists lay prettily above your head. Your constrained and exposed body greets him. He sees your eyes strain to catch another glance at his cock, and the smirk on his lips is nothing but smug as he gives it a few quick pumps as a gift to you.

“Can you come here?” You plead because you know there’s no room to make any demands, and it’s his turn to be curious. Nevertheless, he resumes his original position by your side, but you shake your head. You can tell he doesn’t know what’s happening, but you are feeling shameless and powerless, at the mercy of this man, and you want him to really, really, drive that point deeper.

“Can you…straddle me? Like above my chest though?”

If this is going where Alhaitham thinks it’s going, he might just abandon the Akademiya altogether, whisk you away to his house, kick out Kaveh and have him live in your apartment instead, and keep his own doors locked for eternity. He does as you ask as he thrums in excitement, his cock weighty and leaking when you’re satisfied with where he is.

Time slows to a crawl as he watches you lift your head up with your pretty mouth open and take the tip of his cock between your glossy lips.

The tight heat is maddening, a strangled “fuck” falling off his tongue, and you push forward to take more of his length in your mouth. So dutiful and loyal, you have proven yourself, as you suck his cock with your eyes closed and moans vibrating around him. Given certain physical limitations, there’s only so much you can take in, which is where he believes it’s his time to act his part. He places a hand on the back of your skull to provide you some relief, but also to sink deeper down your throat. Naturally, you fall back until it’s just the head between your lips again, but he is right there to drag you back towards him and fill your depraved mouth.

“Look at you,” he hisses, controlling your pace. Such a good little fucktoy, no? “Who knew you would want my cock so badly? For me to sit on top and watch as you struggle to even take half of it in your mouth? I don’t think you have any idea of what you’ve started. Your lips are stretched so wide, but just wide enough for me to fit perfectly in between them, like it was made for me. Maybe that’s what it is.” His perverse thoughts run wild without any composure or filter, and he is unable to hold it in. “You were made for me and my cock, and– oh fuck – it seems like you love the idea of being my personal cocksleeve.”

Your eagerness to please him increases as you strain to take more in, his tip slipping into and catching the back of your throat. The sound of you choking on his cock rings in your ears, sending you further and further into oblivion. Every word from Alhaitham sounds true, and he’s right – right that maybe you were specifically made for him, his own blessing from the Archons, and right that you deeply, painfully, love the idea of letting him use you as he wishes. A garbled cry, followed by more sticky release dripping from your cunt, doesn’t go unnoticed when his voice sounds ragged on the word “cocksleeve.” It’s a lascivious tone of accord and approval, and your tears flow when he pulls you as far down his length as your quenched throat allows, your chained wrists resting atop your skull, and he keeps you there.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice. “I have no objections to fully commit to being yours, your sir. But you must understand I expect the same commitment in return. This cock is yours,” Alhaitham promises, relishing in your muffled whimper of agreement. “And you are mine. My,” – a pause – “personal, depraved, slut.”

At first, he worries he might have gone too far with such a derogatory term, but they are all dashed aside when he watches your eyelids flutter closed and eyes roll into the back of your head. A long whine sends him into overdrive, and even more so when you try to fit more of his cock down your throat. Expletives slip from his tongue as he pulls you away completely, a tendril of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, your mouth still wide open while gasping for air. He sees your own tongue peek out and rest on your bottom lip, pliant and waiting for him to return.

Alhaitham lets go of your skull and watches you fall back to your pillow. He moves your tied hands above and over your head until they settle right above your belly button. The position allows him to trap your arms beneath him and move just a little further up the bed for the bottom half of his length to weigh heavily on your eager mouth. It remains open as he drags his shaft along your tongue, teasing you by slipping the head of his cock in your mouth. Your lips immediately close around it, but they are no match for when he pulls away, and you’re left empty once again.

“Truly a cockslut,” he chides as his hand takes a hold of his length and smacks it against your tongue. “You’ll take everything I give you, won’t you?” And he smirks when you nod, still beckoning, still waiting. “You’ve done well for me so far. Perhaps I should give you a gift.”

There’s little time to regain your senses when he shoves his length in until it hits the back of your throat once more and grabs onto your headboard. Just that angle gives him enough leverage to fuck your face as he pleases.

“If your mouth is this tight, I can only imagine what your cunt will feel like on my cock,” he grits out. Your brain goes numb as you take it all in, content and satisfied to please Alhaitham. You focus on making sure your teeth don’t drag against his skin, tongue swiping patterns and circles around his cock when possible. “I’ll need to take my time stretching out your tiny pussy, won’t I? Fuck, need to make it fit inside you. Isn’t that right?”

Alhaitham pretends to be dissatisfied with your moan, all garbled and thick with drool. “How many times do I need to tell you to use your words?” He teases, knowing full well there’s no way for you to form any right now. But a wicked, joyous laugh rings in your ears when he can tell you’re attempting to do it anyways. It goes straight down his dick and into his balls, and as they tighten further, he knows he’s close.

You don’t know how it’s possible for him to grow any thicker, but somehow it happens when his pace increases, and he tells you, “I’m going to cum, okay? Going to give you all my cum, make you my cumslut. You want to be my cumslut, you’re doing so well, so perfect, letting me fuck your mouth. Shit, cumming, cumming –!”

At the very last second, he pulls out and furiously pumps his cock, shifting back just in time for his cum to paint your breasts. “Fuck!” He growls and rides out the high until there’s nothing left to give you, blinding light beneath his eyelids before he snaps them open so he can watch you become covered by his release. Viscous, white ropes paint over you, some even landing on your cheek and neck. His chest heaves and his eyes remain unfocused from the fog in his brain.

That is, until he watches you swipe his cum from your neck with your fingers before it drips onto the bed, and place them in your mouth. Your sigh screams content as you lick them clean, and as far as he can tell, you’re enjoying the taste of him – as if he was the one to sate your thirst rather than the other way around. In a trance, he joins you in your meal by feeding you more with his own appendages, and his dick returns to half-mast once all the cum is visibly gone and slid down your throat.

“Thank you for your cum,” you say, your voice dreamy and euphoric. Alhaitham pulls you by your bound wrists again until you’re sitting up close enough, and buries his head into your shoulder, embedding his own kisses of gratitude into your skin. It doesn’t matter that there’s dried spit on your chin and your hair is a mess – you’re still so incredibly stunning to him.

To look into your eyes, to cradle your face in his palm, to ghost his thumb over your cheekbone, how lucky he is to be in a position to even ask you, “Was that okay?”

“Very,” you smile, unabashed and clearly happy with everything that had just happened. A small giggle slips out as well.

“Good,” he murmurs after kissing your forehead. “Would you be open to one more round? It seems I haven’t gotten enough of you.”

You see the evidence of his claims, how his cock gradually grows and rises under your watchful stare. His earlier words of needing to stretch you out before he can fuck you play in your head, and they remind you of just how wet you are. Still tied up, you scoot back away from him until you can stretch your legs out, parted to reveal what you so desperately wanted to touch as his dick was lodged in your mouth. Alhaitham’s pupils dilate and zero in on the mess between your thighs, and he chases after you to spread your legs farther.

“You became this wet from me fucking your mouth?” His fingers slide against the folds of your puffy cunt, your clit peeking out and swollen. “Tsk, all this pre gone to waste,” and you whimper when his nails barely graze that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. There’s no resistance when he works his middle finger inside you and your breath hitches. He turns his wrist as he fingers you, creating more and more arousal coursing through your veins. Alhaitham is proud that one finger of his affects you so. You whine and reach for him with grabby hands, managing to latch onto his wrist so he can keep his appendages buried inside you. “My my,” he teases, and his fingers curl, searching and searching until his fingertip taps against the exact spot that makes your back arch.

“You’re so eager to be filled,” Alhaitham taunts as he lubes up his ring finger with your slick. You feel even tighter when it slips in with his middle finger, and he finds that spot again in no time, already having memorized where it is. “You don’t have my permission to cum yet,” he warns, a decision just made when your walls are really beginning to clench around him.

“B-but–”

A third finger joins in, cutting you off from any protesting. “You either cum on my cock or not at all,” he offers and you think it’s beyond cruel. Why can’t you cum on his fingers and his cock?

With every last thread of your existence, you stamp down the growing desire to cum again. It feels like hours have passed, your sanity barely intact, when Alhaitham hums, just loud enough to be heard amongst your moans and whines. “I’m beginning to question whether I truly am too big for you,” he contemplates out loud. “What do you think, Y/N?”

It’s so hard to answer his question when you’re using everything else inside you to not break around his fingers. The depraved squelching of your slick only adds fuel to the fire in your core, and you’re trying to think, you really are–

The friction ceases, and before you can even address it, there’s a light, punishing slap across your clit. “Fuck,” you whimper, throat dry.

“Answer my question. Do you think I might not fit inside you?”

You know what answer he’s looking for. You know he wants you to surrender to his hidden intentions, that, “It doesn’t matter,” and you swallow. “I will…make it fit.”

In turn, he removes his fingers with care, but leaves you horribly empty with the void expanding into your chest. “Do you have a condom?” Alhaitham asks while looking around your bedroom.

“The bottom drawer on the right in the bathroom.”

Your sir leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I will return soon.”

For the seconds that you try to catch your breath, to calm your beating heart, to ignore the vacuity between your legs, you realize just where you are and who you’re with. You haven’t had much of a clear mind since the second he knocked on your window, caught up in the whirlwind of your nerves and paranoia – and then to have it turned on its head where you now lay in your bed, free of any prior anxiety, and drown in your lust.

Alhaitham wanders back into your room, focused on the package in his hand. Shameless and perverse, your eyes drink in his length, bobbing with each step. Even you’re beginning to doubt your ability to take him all in, but the anticipation, the threads of excitement that you may be filled again clouds over everything else.

“Hold your legs for me,” he commands gently, and you obey once he unties the sash around your wrists. Your arms hook beneath your knees so that everything is displayed and exposed to him. He sets the condom to the side when he shuffles closer so his hips meet the bottom of your thighs. Your breath hitches when he presses his cock onto your abdomen, and it pleases both of you so much to see that his tip just about reaches your belly button. “Look at how deep it’ll be inside you,” he coos, your whine following. “But it’s okay if you can’t take it all, you can’t help it that your little cunt is so tight.”

There’s a twinge of faux disappointment in his words. As if on instinct, you shake your head in vehement disagreement. “I’ll make it fit, sir, I promise,” you gasp and pull your legs closer to you. “We have to make it fit.”

“Mmm, my eager cocksleeve,” he responds with mirth, his regales washing away the panic from your system. You wait with bated breath as he grinds the underside of his entire length against your glistening folds, purposely catching onto your clit when possible. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand the torture, becoming wetter and wetter with each glide. “The color system is okay to check in with you?”

“Yes.”

He nods and leans back so the tip of his cock is just outside your entrance. His fingers roll and stretch the condom down his length. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to tear his gaze away from your core so he can obtain your consent to start, and the determined nod he receives sets his heart aflame.

A sinful perversion enters his mind as he watches your messy cunt split open and stretch over the head of his cock. He thinks about the future and wonders when the day will be for you to be in his lap and sink down his cock with no hesitation. His thumbs spread your folds further apart so he can get a better look, his lustful illusions from many lonely nights finally coming into play. Your breathy gasp when the head pops in is alluring, and he craves more of it. That perversion echoes its lack of satisfaction, that this is not enough, and he needs it all. Pride fills his chest as you take the first few inches with no problem, trying to take deep breaths as he continues to bully his way into your pussy.

Though internally, your mind is on the verge of breaking from how thick Alhaitham is. The emptiness from earlier has long been fulfilled, and you take a look to see that he’s barely fit half oh him inside you, and you already feel so full.

You were made for me.

I was made for him, you remind yourself, rationality thrown out the window because serving Alhaitham is all that matters in this moment. He’s giving you his cock, taking his time for you, providing a subtle reminder of just who you will belong to from here on out. Alhaitham has been so kind to you, you think. The least you could do is to be his good little slut, so eager and always yearning for him.

“You’re doing so well,” Alhaitham praises, though his voice chokes. You’re terribly tight around him, so much so that he wonders if he would even be able to pull out once he’s buried all of himself inside you. It wouldn’t be much of a problem, he thinks, to have you stuck on his cock for eternity, fucked dumb with nothing on your mind but him and pleasure. His hand puts the slightest pressure on your abdomen, but it’s enough for you to break with an “oh!”

“Fuck, I can almost feel myself inside you,” he marvels. “Color?”

It takes you a few seconds to process his question. “Green,” falls off your tongue with a whimper. But the bit of hesitation is enough for Alhaitham to stop in his tracks.

“Y/N, look at me.”

A dreamy hum on your lips, your blown out eyes meet his, and he realizes how far gone you are. “We can stop, it’s okay if we do.” But that may have been the wrong thing to say because your face falls, tears prickling your eyes. “I can do it,” you sniffle. “Please, sir.”

There is no way for him to remain unaffected by the way you address him, but he ensures to take extra care for the last few inches.

“You’re doing so well, taking all of me in. You’re keeping your promise, I’m so proud of you,” Alhaitham coos. The bottom of his shaft is just a little bit thicker, and you let out a happy squeal when your cunt stretches as much as it can to accommodate him. His tip barely grazes your cervix, and through your floaty thoughts, you almost wish it was deeper. The groan from Alhaitham as he bottoms out provides you comfort. It can only mean that you’re making him feel good, and that you did manage to have him fit inside you. So pleased with yourself, your pussy clenches around him and coaxes for more, for his cum.

If Alhaitham didn’t have better control of himself, he would’ve cum right then and there. Buried deep inside you, warm velvety walls sucking him in – it’s hard to believe that this is really happening. The person he loves is in his arms, joined with him in the most intimate way known to mankind. He never wants to leave you, leave this, yet his cock begs for friction. Your adorable whine of protest as he slides out a couple inches beckons him to return, and return he does as you let out a sound of pure satisfaction.

“Loveyou,” your words slurred together and fuzzy. “Love, love your cock, please, wan’ more, please?”

Archons, how are you so perfect for him? Alhaitham sets a steady, moderate pace and focuses on you, ensuring that you’re okay and pleased. It seems there’s a permanent grin on your face, even when you gasp or scream, and he’s determined to keep it there. When you seem completely accustomed to his pace, his strokes become longer and more indulgent. “Fuck,” you cry each time he fills you up with more and more of his cock with each stroke. His thumbs rub circles into your clit and drive you closer to your peak – you don’t know if you’re ready to cum yet, or if you want this to end. You don’t, but you’re so close–!

“Such a good girl for me – your little cunny was really made for my cock. There’s no one else for me, just you, pretty girl,” he breathes, seeing the hesitation on your face as your walls clench tighter than before. “I know you’re gonna cum soon, I want to see you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me?”

Anything he asks for, you would go to great lengths to give him what he wants. So if he wants you to cum, then you have to. You nod with a pout on your face, but Alhaitham leans forward, pushing your legs back further as he reaches to kiss the pout away. “That’s my good girl, so perfect.”

He pulls out completely, but why?

Alhaithm grabs and maintains eye contact with you for two agonizing seconds, and then commands you to, “Cum for me.”

And you do just that when he slams his entire length inside you as soon as those words leave his lips.

Alhaitham basks in your scream and sobs, your body convulsing and trembling beneath him, your walls an impossible vice around his cock. He grinds against you to go as deep as he can, “fuckfuckfuck”, and a growl buried in your neck as he cums. In your high, you think you can feel the heat and its spasms of it all, passively wondering what it would feel like to have him cum inside you without a condom. Perhaps one day you’ll be granted a nice little breeding session, but that is neither here nor there.

Alhaitham plants pecks and kisses all over your face, neck, and shoulders, smiling when your little giggles reach his heart. If anything, he’s just happy that everything turned out okay and didn’t end up in a disaster like last time. As he observes the serenity gracing your complexion, he cannot contain his affection any longer.

“Thank you…for having me.” I love you.

Another giggle. “I love you, too, Haitham. A lot.”

You’re kindly gifted a most adoring eskimo kiss. “I need to get you cleaned up, so I need to pull out, okay?”

The pout returns despite your agreement, and Alhaitham spends much needed time to pull out without you breaking. The devil on his shoulder protests otherwise, as it attempts to coax him into keeping you speared on his cock for the night, or more. Your whine of loss tugs at his heartstrings and feeds into his greed, and he embraces you once more to keep you grounded. Slowly, but surely, you return to your senses. Alhaitham is heavy and sweaty against you, but it’s more than you could ask for. A few taps on his shoulder are enough to tell him that you’re back on the same plane of reality with him, and he dives in to kiss you again, painting compliments and praises of how amazing you were along your lips.

Alhaitham then sweeps you off the bed, into his arms, and takes hurried steps towards the bathroom. You’re like a delicate flower with the way he places you on the toilet, and he reminds you of the importance of peeing after sex. Your privacy is granted when he leaves to remove and tie off the condom to discard it in the kitchen trash can, and later returns with a warm, wet towel. He waits until you’re back in bed and comfortable before he tenderly wipes away any excess fluids and leaves it on your nightstand before cuddling next to you. You turn towards him and burrow into his chest, content as his arms embrace you with an air of security and protection.

He mumbles something into your hair, but you’re out before you can even think to ask what he said.

When you finally come to, you can’t remember the last time you slept so well. No tiresome dreams, no sporadically waking up in the night – weeks out in the nature with Lumine had turned you into a light sleeper, and you missed this feeling of being so well-rested.

But the soreness in your thighs screams otherwise, and you wince when they refuse to cooperate. A muscular arm rests around you as if it has always belonged there. At first you question why it’s there, but then your brain decides to wake up and remind you just exactly of what transpired last night. Despite the mixture of shock and embarrassment (mainly at just how wanton you acted), you look up from where you are buried into Alhaitham’s chest. Somehow, you’re surprised to see him already awake. Well, surprised may not be the right word. But the clear adoration in his eyes is unmistakable, seizing and pulling on your heartstrings.

Alhaitham quite enjoys watching you think and process, imagining the fine-tuned gears and cogs in your brain working in overdrive. He remains silent as he smooths out some of the tangles in your hair, and he patiently waits to hear from you. You two had already experienced many hours of quietude before, so this was nothing new for him. There are very few moments in his life when he’s felt this serene and content, half-naked and you pressed against him, both drinking in each other and the light of day coming from your window. He could get used to this. He wants to get used to this.

“You’re making me breakfast in bed,” you decide with your first words of the day, grumbling with a pout on your face. “I don’t think I can walk properly.”

The former scribe arches a perfect silver brow, but the shit-eating smirk stretching along his face is anything but confusion. He knows exactly what you’re implying, and he’s quite satisfied with himself for causing such a situation. Perhaps he should do it more often.

“That I can do,” he agrees, his morning voice deep, yet full of mirth. After a quick kiss on your forehead, he rolls out of bed to do just as you command.

The growl from your stomach prevents you from calling him back because you’re cold now. A shiver runs down your spine as you tighten the blanket and sheet around you, tucking some beneath your chin in an attempt to trap whatever warmth you have left. But when you catch a hint of Alhaitham’s lingering scent, you feel yourself immediately calm down and breathe evenly. The gentle cluttering from your kitchen provides another layer of security as well.

Lost in your basking, you’re quite startled when you feel Alhaitham’s lips on your cheek, a tray in his hands with a light, yet nutritious breakfast arranged. But as you continue to lay there, he can’t help but laugh.

“Do you need help sitting up?”

“No.”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

You do, in fact, need his strength to sit up comfortably against some pillows. The embarrassment hasn’t quite worn off by the time he slides back underneath the sheets to sit next to you, an arm slung over your shoulders as you eat. But in seconds, it dissipates, and is replaced with something akin to love. For you both to finally be here, together as if you two have been dating for years, is exactly the outcome you have been wishing for.

“You know,” he starts before being interrupted by a forkful of food shoved into his mouth, courtesy of you. “You’re a perfect reason why I can finally kick Kaveh out of my home.”

You swat his shoulder with your free hand. “That’s so mean!”

“He can just move in here. I’m not that heartless to leave him homeless. Is that what you think of me?”

You answer without hesitation, “Yes.”

With the hand hanging off your shoulder, his nails scrape lightly in retaliation against the skin beneath your collar bone.

“If I recall, I was pretty fair with you last night,” he murmurs into your hair. “Perhaps I need to remind you just how fair when you’re done with breakfast.”

And you’ve never finished a meal so quickly.

fin.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact

1K notes · View notes

ahoycaptainautumn · 10 months

Text

Fated Mates Part 5

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

After your night in a shared tavern room you find yourself tending to a hurt Astarion. Wounded, he finds himself famished.

Legs collapsing under you, you lean against the now closed bathroom door as you slide to the floor. What in the hells just happened? The whole thing felt like a blur. A memory of someone else’s. There’s no way you would lust after someone like him. It’s as if being in his presence makes all the hate and anger you have towards vampires melt to the background. It’s so easy to forget who he is, what he is. It’s so easy to fall into a hysterical rivalry full of jabs and insults. You would dare say it’s even.. enjoyable. You hoist yourself back up and run to the wash basin to splash water in your face. This can’t be happening. Whatever the hell that was was a fluke. It would never, ever, happen again. Somewhere small, in the very back of your mind, you almost caught your own lie.

After getting dressed and preparing mentally you go back out to the room. You are greeted with an empty bedroom. You sign in relief and grab your belongings before heading out. You meet with your party down on the base floor. Heads turn in your direction and nod in greeting. Though Astarion finds it more interesting to chat up the barmaid currently serving him. You bristle at the sight but wipe it from your mind. It never happened for you and it never happened for him, problem solved. You slide into the booth besides Karlach as she pushes a breakfast plate your way.

“Get enough sleep then, beauty queen?” Karlach asks. You greedily wolf down the plate in front of you as you reply.

“Best nights rest I’ve had in a minute!” You respond joyfully in between mouth fulls. Karlach laughs as you attempt to wipe around your mouth.

“Here.” Gale reaches out with his thumb and wipes your chin where a bit of food was left. “Good as new.” He beams. You can’t help the light blush that dusts your cheeks.

“Oh well thank you Gale.” Though unbeknownst to you, Astarion watches with obvious distaste.

“Alright alright, well if you're all down engorging yourself I’d really like to get back on the road. Places to be and all that.” Astarion announces from the top of the table. He slides his chair out from under him and makes way towards the door. You raise an eyebrow towards Shadowheart.

“Before you got down from your room we ended up finding some leads on potential cures on the tadpoles. There’s a goblin priestess who serves the Absolute. She’s alledgedly in the Selunite temples a few towns over near Elturel.” Shadowheart goes on to explain. With that, you finish your breakfast and head out with the rest of your group.

A few hours into your journey your group comes across a darkened path. Signs in a tongue you don’t recognize line the dirt road leading forward. Enormous trees with thick treetops darken the path till near darkness. Not a sound comes from it. No chirping song birds, no rustling of deer. Just the howling wind rushing between the tree limbs. Something about it makes you uneasy. You stop in your tracks at the sight. You nearly want to tell everyone to turn around. To ask a fellow traveler another way ahead. Just as you want to turn and say something, Astarion comes shoulder to shoulder with you. He looks you over and clicks his tongue.

“My my, don’t tell me you're scared little killer?” He mocks. You scoff and cross your arms in defiance.

“I am not! I’m just.. concerned. For everyone’s safety.” You defend. He only gives a laugh as he saunters off further down the trail. Shadowheart offers a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder.

“All will be well.” She says before following Astarion. As much as you want to take stock into what she says, you can’t help the nervous pit in your stomach. You swallow your fear and head forward with the rest of the group.

The inside of the forest is just as haunting as the entrance showed. You keep a hand on the blade you have holstered at your side. Gale begins a tangent on a story about a magical forest or another before a sound stops you. It’s faint, but the snap of twigs up to the left has you on alert. The others hear it too and stop along with you. The sound stops and you wait a moment before continuing.

“Probably a lost fawn, probably just as scared as our little leade-agh!” Astarion’s bantering ceases when an arrow flies and hits him directly in the shoulder. He falls to a crouch while reaching for the intrusion in his arm. The rest of your team also crouches and brandishes their weapon. More arrows fly from the tops of the trees and it sends you all scampering for cover. Astarion, Karlach, Lae-zel and you go for the left side of the trail while the rest of the team goes for the other side. Lae’zel and you go for throwing knives and arrows where Karlach damn near burns the trees surrounding you down. Astarion does some damage as best as he can with one arm down. You see the other members of your party fighting just as hard.

As weapons fly the amount of arrows lessens till it ceases. Out of breath and bloodied you and Lae’zel trot ahead to look at the damage done. A small fleet of goblins lay dead and scattered on the forest floor. You both make quick work in retrieving anything useful from them all before regrouping. Shadowheart does her best to mend Astarions shoulder with what she has at hand.

“It looks like there was a bit of poison on the tip of the arrow. I have most of what I need to purge it from his system, it may take a few hours to fully leave his body.” Shadowheart explains. Astarions face is twisted in pain as he holds onto his wounded shoulder.

“Their camp is close by. I say we finish off whomever is left and take it for the night.” Lae’zel mentions. You nod in agreement and help Shadowheart with getting Astarion up and on his feet. Ever arrogant he brushes off the help and stays determined to act as if nothing wounded him. You roll your eyes but drop it before getting into another “lovers quarrel”. The group follows Lae’zel’s lead as she hunts down the goblin camp. It takes some time to get there, a lot to do with injuries sustained. You keep a watchful eye on Astarion as he pants with each step. You can tell he lost a good bit of blood from the way he seems even more pale than usual. The poison creates a gnarly green color around the wound. He wears a pained scowl that tells he was well and truly hurt.

Finally you all come upon a small ridge overlooking a clearing. Below lies the goblin camp with the slim amount of goblins left. It takes nearly no effort for you and your group to silently clear them out from above. Once the last ones are dead you all slip down into the campsite. To your surprise there was actually quite a bit of supplies at the camp. Scavenging around you find a supply tent full of dried meats, fruits, medicines, soaps, and more. You wave everyone over and you can practically feel the excitement at having so much food at your fingertips. Karlach makes quick work of getting a fire going while you and Gale portion out food for everyone. Everyone settles in around the campfire as they dig into the food you handed out.

Astarion sits on a log with his untouched plate next to him. Shadowheart had done all she could in healing him but the blood loss was getting to Astarions head. The pain was searing into his shoulder. As if reading his mind, you come and sit next to him.

“Wyll mentioned seeing a stream just past the trees over yonder. How about we get that wound cleaned?” You ask. Your face holds no malice, no hint of an ulterior motive. Just genuine concern with your eyebrows scrunched in worry. It makes something in Astarions stomach does flips that he quickly shuts down.

“If you’re looking for a way to see me naked you could just be forthcoming.” Astarion jokes. As much as he wants to maintain a look of cool arrogance you can hear the pain laced in his words. You punch him in his good shoulder lightly. He feigns an overly dramatic wounded look.

“Or I want to make sure you are properly healed. I need you alive, remember?” You tut at him. You stand offering your hand to help him up. He ignores it and stands on his own. You grab a bucket, soaps, and linens from the supply tent and lead Astarion into the tree line. You hear howls and whistles coming from your companions but you both ignore them. It doesn’t take very long for you both to come upon the stream. Astarion plops down against a nearby tree while you fetch water. Sitting in front of him you aid in carefully getting is bloodied shirt off. You can tell he has another snide comment coming but you shut it down with a glare. He tries to chuckle at the face you make but getting his shirt off from around the wound makes him see red with pain. The blood around the wound causes the cloth to stick to his skin like glue. You carefully pick it away with as much tenderness as you can. Astarion watches you as you concentrate on freeing him of his shirt. Even through the pain he can’t help but feel mesmerized by you. The way your eyes sparkle with determination. The way you bit your lip in concentration. It nearly distracts him from the searing pain in his shoulder.

“Alright hold still, it might hurt a little.” You warn. You soak a washcloth in soapy water before beginning to dab at the incision. Astarion hisses in pain but keeps still. To distract himself he asks you.

“Why Cazador?” He finds himself asking. It had been on his mind since you propositioned him days earlier. What on earth would a non-vampire have to do with him?

“Well aren’t you blunt. And rude may I add. Not one for light conversation?” You deflect the question. Your mind already wanting to go to that dark place. To the memories you try so hard to run from.

“And I don’t think that’s an answer.” He retorts. You snort a laugh at him before returning to the seriousness of the question. You had never told anyone before. Not that there has really been anyone who knew Cazador before Astarion. But your trauma, your grief, was yours to bear. And you did so alone. But something breaks your silence and has the words tumbling from your lips.

“He killed my family. A deal gone wrong with my father that costed him our entire family.” You stare at the work at hand, refusing to meet Astarions eyes. Before he has a chance to respond you just give him a silent shake of your head. You weren’t ready to hear the “I’m sorrys” that came with your story. To discuss it any further. Astarion seems to understand and nods his head.

With a bit of determination and care you are able to clean the wound nearly completely. You take the extra bit of linens you brought and wrap it around the wound to allow it to heal. You look to Astarion ready to make some comment to break the tension before you notice how gaunt he looks. His eyes find yours and for the first time they look... vulnerable.

“Astarion, are you okay?” Your hand comes to rest on his cheek to turn his face completely to yours. He sighs and you can see the slight shake in his body.

“I need to feed. But in this state I don’t know how possible that is.” He sighs. He can feel the hunger rattling his canines. The way his stomach howls and his throat aches. He remembers this type of hunger. When he thought he would die at the mercy of Cazador withholding disgusting vermin. You search his eyes and find only the truth. You swallow hard and bring a hand up to brush away your hair from your shoulder. You turn your head to the side and hold your hands in your lap.

“Well then be quick. And don’t think I’ll offer this every time you get hurt.” Your voice shakes. Your mind and body scream at you that this is a horrible idea. A terrible idea. But with the way Astarion looks at you, you know he will only be getting worse without satiating his hunger. Astarions head whips forward and his eyes nearly bug out from his head. Did he hear you right? Were you truly offering yourself to him?

“Dear, are you sure?” He asks, confused. He can see the shake in your body but you still nod your head. He takes your hand in his as he ventures closer to your neck.

“Tell me when to stop and I promise I will.” He whispers against your skin. The slight nod of understanding is all he needs before he bears his fangs. His teeth bury themselves into the nape of your neck and you can’t help the way it takes your breath away. You squeeze Astarions hand for support. It makes all thoughts melt away from you. It blends the two of you into one as if you are two parts of the same soul. It’s painful but also somehow peaceful. As if a wave of comfort and belonging flowed from him. You lean into him and relax.

For Astarion it’s as if he is seeing color for the very first time. As if the earth had cracked open and freed him from centuries of neglect. Rushing feelings of euphoria hit him as he greedily gulps down your delectable blood. That all too familiar feeling of the bond aches to be knotted inside of him. To take and claim you as you are rightfully his. That the universe had graced him with a mate and all he had to do was reach out and take. Astarion feels dizzy with power. With lust. With an all consuming feeling that you would be his destruction and resurrection.

You gently squeeze his hand as you feel yourself getting more and more dizzy. You feel lightheaded as if you're melting into the clouds. He doesn’t register your grip and you squeeze once again.

“Astarion.” You are able to barely whisper. At that he snaps from his trance and retracts from you. He laps up the remaining blood from your neck and you shiver at his tongue's touch. It riles something inside of him that sends electricity right to his core. You look over at him with a near dopey smile. He can’t help but smile back even with your blood glistening off his canines.

“Hey, you didn’t kill me.” You giggle. He can’t help but laugh with you. He can tell the blood loss was making you nearly drunk, a sleepiness taking over.

“Ye of little faith. Now come on, you go on back to camp.” He dusts himself off and helps stand you up alongside him. You give him a confused look.

“And where are you doing?” You ask. His eyes darken with a glint. He looks stronger. Vibrant. Ready to take on anything.

“To hunt, little killer. I’ll be back.” And with that he stalks off into the night. As you make your way back to camp you miss the cracking sounds of feet nearby. Of a hidden sorcerer hidden in the trees following Astarion.

You wake to a screaming match outside your tent. Sunlight streams in through your thin tent and has you blinking away the sleep from your eyes. You rub your eyes with your palms and try to straighten yourself. The screaming only gets louder outside. You nearly throw your pillow over your head and attempt to get more sleep. To ignore whatever juvenile argument was happening between your partners. But the word vampire has you jolting awake and running outside.

You find Gale spearheading the group as they corral Astarion to the edge of the camp. His hands are up in mock defense as he lashes out at them with insults.

“Tell me one good reason I shouldn’t run a stake through your dead heart!” Gale screams. The rest of your party stands behind him, ready to pounce. You run to Astarions side without a thought.

“(y/n)! Careful! He’s a-“ Karlach starts.

“Vampire.” You finish, standing in front of Astarion between him and the witch hunt. Everyone looks shocked at your admission. Even Astarion seems dumbfounded. Why were you defending him?

“You knew? You knew and you let him continue to follow us? To live?” Wyll responds.

“That’s exactly what I did.” You keep your cool as best you can. But your hand twitches just above the blade you keep holstered at your thigh.

“Why in the gods names would you do that? You’re a vampire hunter for gods sake!” Wyll continues. Somehow the answer is easy. Easier than you thought admitting it would be.

“Because I trust him.” A hush falls over you all. Your heart beats wildly as you attempt to think of an escape plan if things are to go bad. Astarion all but forgets the angry mob in front of him. Your words stick in his mind and take up all its space. Trust. You trusted him. Him who has only ever been deceitful. A liar, a con man. Someone who has never been trusted and has never given reason to. And you, a little vampire hunter, trusted him. The mating bond sings in his mind and shines bright.

“Give us one reason to trust him.” Gale counters. You take a second to think of a good reason before your hand reaches up towards your collar. You shrug your jacket off and thrust the collar of your shirt down. You expose the bite marks Astarion left on your body from last night.

“Because he fed on me and stopped. Because I trusted him and he did nothing to disprove it. I gave him a chance at my life and he denied it. Which means you can all do the same.” You loosen your grip on your shirt and watch everyone’s reaction. They all seemed stunned, not expecting your answer. Astarion can barely believe it either. He takes a step forward to stand next to you. His shoulders touch yours as he comes close.

“We are all afflicted with these awful worms in our heads. We are all on the same team. Besides, I mostly have self control.” He tries to calm the group. It takes a moment but the tension of the air dissipates. Shoulders slump and weapons are reholsted. Sighs of relief are heard all around.

“Well as long as you don’t bite I guess that’s that.” Shadowheart says as she turns away. The rest of the group grumbles their shared approval and head back to their respective tents. Your body finally relaxes as you let go a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You look over at Astarion to find him already looking at you. You turn to ask him what’s on his mind before his lips find your forehead. The kiss is swift, barely skin to skin contact. But it blossoms a blush across your whole body all the same. You look up at him to find him smiling.

“Thank you, your kindness will not be forgotten.” He says before walking away to his tent. You freeze in position unable to move or think. Your hand reaches up and touches where he had kissed you. You inspect your fingers as if looking for evidence that that had truly happened. Something deep and ancient stirs deep inside you and you're terrified of how much you enjoyed it.

Part four here

Part six here

#smut #reader insert #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bd3 #mates #balders gate 3 #wyll #gale hawthorne #shadowheart #lae’zel #karlach #baldurs gate 3

564 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 10 months

Text

the lake

lilac, chapter five

a/n: this chapter made me scream so much... both for horny reasons AND for emotional reasons...

summary: “oh my god,” you hastily spun around, droplets dancing down your spine as you turned it towards the familiar logger, “how long have you been standing there?”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, swimming in a lake, unintentional flashing, crying

word count: 2688

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

masterlist | join my taglist

There are those comforting places that you go to in your mind when you try to fall asleep. Sometimes it’s a fantasy land from a novel, but for you, it had always been this forest.

It was frankly kind of incredible how well you still remembered everything from the winding paths to the specific swaying trees.

Tilting your chin up, you tried to catch sight of the birds you heard chirping to each other and whistled right back at them, just as you did as a child, the action purely pavlovian, causing you to smile after realising you’d done it.

Glancing back down at the trail ahead of you, your grin only grew as you realised what the towering tree you were now nearing was.

There was this legend around the parts of Dunbrook saying that if you and your sweetheart carved your initials into the thick trunk of this exact tree, whose branches had a wingspan so wide that some came down to kiss the wide lake it grew adjacent to, then you’d stay together forever in perfect happiness.

Now was it true? Probably not. But that fact hadn’t squashed your childish wish of doing it one day.

Pressing your palm against the grand trunk, you traced a few of the scratched letters and hearts scattered about. Exhaling slowly, you felt the warm rays of the sun, streaming through the treetops above, kiss your exposed skin that poked out from the breezy dress you wore.

Giving the bark one last little tap as a goodbye, you then bent down and plucked one of the white flowers that sprang out of the mossy forest floor, rolling it only briefly between your fingers before sliding it into your hair, right over your left ear.

You didn’t get much further before the glistening surface of the lake became too entrancing to resist and the next thing you knew, you’d tossed all of your clothing over a low-hanging branch and jumped in.

Giggles bubbled out of you as you swam through the mild water, swiftly twirling onto your back in order to float, peering up at the clouds as a nostalgic melody tickled your memory, coaxing you to gently hum it to the skies above.

Though suddenly, a clatter found your ears, startling your relaxed form enough to whirl to a stance in order to find the source.

A few logs rolled across the bank, down towards the water, though in following their trail, your hands quickly shot up to cover your chest, as you spotted the person who had dropped them.

“Oh my god,” you hastily spun around, droplets dancing down your spine as you turned it towards the familiar logger, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, fuck, I–…” you heard Pete curse, “I swear I wasn’t looking.”

Utterly mortified, you shrieked, “what are you even doing out here in the middle of the forest?”

“I live here, uhm, right over there,” you briefly glanced over your shoulder to see him stiffly gesturing to the previously undetected log cabin not too far from the water, his eyes firmly averted and boring holes into the leaves looming above.

“Oh, fuck my life…” escaped your lungs like a muffled cry, before you peeked back at his flustered visage to shout, “can you turn around? Please?”

“Uh, yeah,” he obliged instantly, “of course,” turning his broad back to your partly submerged form.

The water sloshed around your legs as you made your way to shore, the branch where your outfit was draped over, as if it was a clothesline, curled much closer to his figure than you’d realised.

“I’m really sorry,” you uttered as you hurried to tug your dress back over your head, “I didn’t know you lived here,” though the linen quickly darkened as it began to cling to the wetness of your skin, “I just used to come up here as a kid and back then no one lived in there,” cheeks aflame, you promptly decided to keep your arms tangled over your chest as you glanced down to discover your pebbly nipples poke clean through the now much sheerer fabric.

“Please do not apologise, ma'am,” he cautiously turned back around, never looking at you directly as he sighed, head hazily shaking atop his shoulders, “I should have–, I’m sorry…” a desperate offer then forced its way out of his lungs, “do you want a towel? Please let me give you a towel.”

“Uhm,” you blinked, toes curling into the damp moss, “a-alright, thank you.”

“It’s just, uh,” gaze ever averted, his broad palm awkwardly tapped the top of his thigh before pointing towards his home, “inside, so…”

“Yeah…” you nodded your burning features, swiftly following his long stride as he marched up to the hut, mastering all the steps in one leap as he hurried up onto the worn porch in order to nearly rip the front door off its hinges.

Frozen just shy past the threshold, you watched as Pete determinedly darted to fetch the offered item from the bathroom, leaving your eyes to explore the interior till he returned.

It was oddly comforting in its haphazard decor. Kinda like a vacation home you nearly never visited, everything was mismatched and simply there for the functionality of it all, yet from the raw log walls to the rays of light streaming in through the small window over the round, steel sink in the kitchenette, it all sent a warm flutter throughout your belly, evening out a bit of the frantic nerves that were jostling around in there.

“Here,” his return managed to startle you slightly, your eyes haven been glued in the opposite direction as he came back holding out a navy towel for you to grasp.

“Thank you,” you finally uncrossed your arms and seized the terrycloth material, offering him a sheepish smile in return.

Leaning back against the humble kitchen counter, Pete’s eyes raked across the woodgrain of the ceiling, surely counting all of the spiral eyes that dotted where branches used to be, while you gently patted the towel over your dripping form.

Stepping further into the quaint cabin, you bashfully found yourself asking, “so, you live here?” earning a low grunt in confirmation as you carefully took a look around, “it’s nice, cosy…” the additional words came out in a tone that made you cringe lightly to yourself.

As you finished squeezing your hair lightly in the towel, the stout bookcase, settled to the right between the sofa and the unlit fireplace, caught your wandering eye. Draping the cloth around your shoulders like a blanket, you crouched down before the hardbacks, a breathy giggle uncontrollably bubbled out of your form as you spotted the unexpected titles that filled up his collection.

“What?”

“Sorry, it’s just–,” you glanced back at Pete’s cocked head and clasped your hand over your lips, “I don’t know what I imagined your bookshelf to look like, but I definitely didn’t peg you as a lover of the classics.”

“Hmm,” he simply hummed, the rumble too neutral for you to decipher the unspoken meaning within it.

Turning your vision back to the novels, you ran a finger over the spine of a tattered copy of Persuasion, “kinda didn’t imagine you being a reader at all…”

Bottom lip captured in between your teeth as you rose back up to your feet, virtually feeling the rugged man’s stare fixed on the back of your head before you heard his low timbre break the silence, “do you want a cup of coffee?” you turned to meet his gaze, “it’s not like the stuff at the inn, but it’s something.”

Taken slightly aback, a faint smile bloomed on your lips, “I’d love some,” and you pulled out one of the wobbly chairs at the small dining table. Your eyes followed his brawny form as he snatched up the thermos that already stood on the counter, hooking his fingers in the handles of two of the mugs that hung on the wall before he sat down opposite you, pouring out the dark beverage into your cup before his own, “thank you,” you wrapped your fingers around the enamel mug, the warmth radiating straight into your bones.

Lowering the cup after taking a sip, you stared down into the murky liquid, the embarrassment still stinging in your belly as you counted the faint coffee suds settled on the surface.

Snapping you out of your trance, Pete’s broad palm suddenly came into view, his fingers swiftly reaching out for the hair dangling by your chin. Bewilderment fogging up your features, you nearly reeled back, before his fleeting touch faltered, briefly presenting to you the forgotten white flower that you’d previously stuck behind your ear in order to soothe your slight panic.

A giggle then bubbled out of you as he placed the small floret down between the two of you in the middle of the table. Blinking up at him only seemed to make it worse, “I’m sorry, I just–,” your hands clasped your face even though you knew you’d never be able to hide your mortified flush no matter how hard you tried, “I was about to say that I feel like you’ve seen me naked, but that’s exactly what happened, so…” a laugh shook throughout your belly, “you know, it wasn’t even really my idea, or well, the swimming part was, but not the spending my day out here, that was my dad’s. He thought I needed a break, so here I am, accidentally flashing you…”

His restless forefinger glided over the smooth surface as he held his steaming mug, “if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t really see anything.”

Your eyes twitched, unsure if you were to believe him, “it does, a bit…” though still appreciating the gesture.

Casting your glance out the window, you watched a moment as the birch branches swayed in the wind, the rigidity porch in plain view as you spotted a forgotten mug on a long wooden bench, surely one that once contained the same beverage you sipped on now.

“Can I ask you something?” you heard Pete enquire after a few moments had passed.

“Of course.”

Carefully, he took a second to gather the courage needed to ask you cautiously, “are you okay?”

Chuckling lightly, you rolled your eyes, “yes, I’m alright. I’m sorry to tell you, Pete, but you’re not the first ever human being to see me naked,” you waited for him to mirror your laugh, but his expression only stayed as gloom as before.

“I wasn’t–…” he exhaled deeply before repeating, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you glanced back at him, your eyes wandering over the hint of age speckled throughout his beard.

“I just, uh,” he uttered warily, “I noticed some things.”

“Things?” the tightness of your furrowed brows dissolved as you watched him vigilantly gesture to your arms, exactly where your bruises had healed not too long before, “oh… o-oh…” your voice shook slightly as the realisation settled in, “uhm… did you tell anyone else?” you heard your paranoid words filled the air, “did you tell my dad?”

“No,” his head gently shook from side to side, eyes gingerly glued to your reaction.

“Can you maybe not tell him?” you felt your bottom lip tremble, “I never told him about it or even him before and I just don’t want him to–…” if you’d been standing up then you might have tumbled over from how your head spun, “since he never knew, it kinda feels like, every once and a while, like it never even happened to begin with. Even if it’s just for a second, I can pretend that I’m just a kid again, with my dad and that I never had to grow up and be with–…”

Tilting his head in an attempt to catch your rattled vision, he promised, “I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you,” like a dam, the tears came flooding out, “fuck, I’m sorry,” every nerve across your skin felt utterly raw, each little hair standing up in alarm, “I don’t know why I’m crying…”

“It’s okay,” you struggled to meet his gentle glance, “have you not talked to anyone about it?”

“No… it always felt weird to tell my dad about the people that I dated and then when it turned into something more, something else, then, I don’t know, I just couldn’t… and I didn’t really have anyone else in the city… or I guess I did once, but Preston,” you sucked in a painful breath as you pushed through, continuing to share, “he didn’t really like them, so at some point, I stopped talking to them all together…”

Tears collided with the wooden tabletop, leaving little sombre stains in its wake, you heard the man sitting across from you offer carefully, “if you want someone, a friend, to talk to, then know that I’m always here.”

“Really?” you blinked up at him, raising a shaking hand to wipe your cheek.

“Yeah,” he exhaled solemnly, looking back at you in a manner that caught you off guard by how, for a lack of better words, safe it made you feel, even amidst all the chaos.

“Thank you,” you sobbed, “you know, he wasn’t like that to begin with, he genuinely wasn’t, I really don’t want you to think that I just have a thing for abusive assholes. He was charming. Did everything a girl could dream of for her first love. I think I genuinely loved him, he was perfect and it happened so slowly, gradually over such a long time that I didn’t even really notice that he had changed, or maybe just dropped the façade, till he was holding me down, cutting off my air supply, just because he had a bad day at the office… I even tried to break up with him a few times, but it never worked… last time I tried I ended up with a ring on my finger…”

“Does he know that you’re here?”

“No, don’t think so. I was so hungry for a fresh start back when I first met him that I barely told him about where I grew up, just that it was in a tiny mountain town and that my dad owned an inn… I mean, not that he ever really cared about that kind of stuff… guess I was a bit embarrassed about where I came from in comparison to him. He grew up on the upper east side, had always been used to having servants and that kind of stuff around him and I very much didn’t… I remember thinking he was like a prince back when I met him. I just couldn’t believe he loved me. But he sure did, does… he was set on me, wanted nothing more than to mould me into his perfect little–…”

Your voice broke as you caught Pete's woeful eye, “I’m really sorry that you had to meet him,” he uttered genuinely.

Tears welling up in your eyes once more, it took you a bit before you managed to say, “yeah, me too,” forcing your eyes up towards the ceiling, you attempted to compose the uncontrollable sobs that rumbled out of your lungs, “I really hate that game of what if this thing didn’t happen or what if I learnt this lesson earlier. It never fixes anything, never makes it better. All it can do is make you even more depressed, you know?”

“Yeah,” he breathed distantly as you wiped the corner of the towel draped over your form across your glistening cheeks, “I know exactly what you mean…”

Bloodshot eyes, though foggy, still managed to notice the shift in his features as Pete stared down his half-empty mug of coffee, “hey,” you reached out to lightly rest your hand over where his lied on the table, “I’m really sorry too.”

Eyes flickering up to meet yours, a light crease formed between his dark brows, “for what?”

“For whatever happened to make you look at me the way that you are right now… whatever it is, I’m really sorry…”

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle series #lumberjack au #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle angst

466 notes · View notes

pandorafairy · 1 year

Text

Fire of Souls

Part 4: Celebration

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

Tsu'tey x Reader (younger sister of Jake Sully, dreamwalker) Enemies to Lovers

Contains: hunting, secrets, return home, and a party

Anything written in italics is spoken in Na'vi

Tsu’tey moves silently through the bushes, his weapons dangling around him. I glide behind him, my feet stepping into his footprints. We’ve been tracking the beast for the entire day. Tsu’tey’s jaw is clenched and his eyes are focused. We are right on it's trail.

There have been no signs of the Na’vi who attacked Tsu’tey but I keep my eyes open, prepared for anything. Tsu’tey crouches further to the ground as an animal chitters above us. I follow his lead, unable to see anything except his braids as he peers through some underbush.

He lifts his hand, his long blue fingers pointing upwards, telling me to stop. I halt instantly, my heart rate rising. Tsu’tey’s ears flicker against the side of his head as he listens. I strain my ears, trying to hear whatever it is he hears.

After a moment, he closes his hand and beckons me to keep moving. I follow after him, my back aching. The only time we’ve spoken is when we made our plan for killing the beast. After that, we fell into a rhythm of silently working together, knowing what the other person meant without them saying a word. It’s much better than our usual arguing.

Tsu’tey leans back and puts something in his loincloth. His eyes meet mine and he gives me a curt nod that means, we’re close. I nod in response.

A crack sounds through the forest. I freeze as Tsu’tey reaches his hand in front of him, telling me to stay calm. Sweat gathers between my knees as a strong burst of air filters through the treetops above us. It smells of raw meat and decay. The beast.

My eyes widen. Tsu’tey’s face goes flat, his lips in a straight line and his hands clasp around his bow. He creeps forward, not making a single sound. He pulls a string of leaves to the side. There, the beast stands in the middle of the clearing. His horns curled around his huge, unnatural head.

My breath catches in my throat. Tsu’tey whips his head around. He cocks his head to the side, are you okay? His eyes ask. I nod, forcing my nerves down. Tsu’tey watches a moment longer, contemplating the nervous look on my face before lifting his three fingers up. It’s our signal. It's time to go.

Tsu’tey breaks through the trees as one of his arrows goes sizzling through the air. The beast rears back in surprise. I climb up a nearby tree, my fingers digging into the bark as I cock my arrow into place. Tsu’tey springs out of the bush, distracting the beast as I shoot an arrow down. It slams right into the beast’s side.

The beast roars an ugly, almost mechanical sound. Even the tree I’ve climbed seems to go still at the sound. I load another arrow and shoot again, this time ramming into the beast on the other side. It roars again, sending leaves down from a nearby tree.

Tsu’tey doesn’t hesitate to jump onto the beast’s back. He grasps its horns and clamps his legs around its throat. He looks up at me, his eyes viscous. I grab the long knife from beside me and throw it to him, angling the blade so it lands perfectly in Tsu’tey’s hands.

Tsu’tey catches it even as the beast thrashes beneath him. He rears back and slams the dagger into the beast's heart. I suck in a breath as Tsu’tey jumps off and takes a few steps back. The beast roars, stumbles, blows out a nasty breath, makes a strange gurgling sound, and then collapses on its side. The beast shudders and goes still.

Tsu’tey doesn’t move as he observes the now dead beast. I climb down slowly, not fully believing our success. I drop my weapon and move closer to Tsu’tey. He begins to inch towards the beast. I hold my breath until Tsu’tey turns around, a huge grin plastered on his face. A real smile, that spreads across his face and lights his eyes. “It’s dead!” He yells.

“Hell yea!” I holler and pump my fist in the air. “We did it!”

Tsu’tey turns back and whoops excitedly. I instinctively offer my hand like a high-five. He instantly grabs it, his fingers wrapping around mine like a handshake. He gives me a firm squeeze.

I squeeze back, feeling the callouses of hands.

“Not bad,” Tsu’tey says before pulling back. “Now, let’s go home.”

Home. I smile at the thought as Tsu’tey walks over and cuts off the beast's horns.

~~~

I wake in my human body feeling weak and hungry. I push open the machine that links me to my Avatar. It takes a moment to fully adjust. It’s dark out but I can still make out the sharp outline of the Floating Mountains. I groan as I stand, my back cracking.

Grace and Jake’s voice float into the room, followed by a clatter of utensils. I sniff the air. It smells like burnt bread…

“Oh shit!” Grace yells from the other room. I chuckle to myself and head towards them. My legs feel weak and foreign. I miss my Avatar body the second I’m not in it. It’s starting to feel like my human body is the fake one.

There’s a banging sound like Grace just plopped the bread down. I can’t wait to tell them about slaying the beast. Jake laughs but it sounds different, almost strained. Nerves bubble in my stomach.

“You have to do something,” Grace says, her voice serious.

I freeze at the entrance to the room and push myself against the wall so they don’t see me.

Jake hangs his head in his hands, his wheelchair pushed all the way against the table. He sighs. “I don’t know what to do.”

Grace pulls out a chair with a loud scraping sound and sits beside him. “You have to tell Neytiri and soon.”

Tell Neytiri what? My hands flutter nervously at my side.

Jake scoffs. “No way. She’ll never forgive me. And my sister…”

My blood runs cold.

“You should’ve told your sister a long time ago.”

I step out from behind the entrance before I even have time to process a thought. I cross my arms as Jake’s face goes from shocked to nervous. “Tell me what?”

Grace lifts her eyebrows. She glances at Jake. “Well,” she heaves a sigh and stands from her chair, “at least you can check one of those boxes now.” She leaves, walking off to her own link station.

“Tell me what, Jake?” My voice is rough, almost panicked. My nerves are growing by the second. Things are starting to go well for me. We just killed the beast. We’re going back to Hometree. I could be one of them. I just pray it isn’t all about to come crashing down. Jake doesn’t respond, he just runs his hands across the armrest on his wheelchair. “Jake.”

He blows out a rough breath. “Okay, look,” he begins nervously, “do you know why we moved up to the Floating Mountains?”

What is he getting at? I nod, clearly irritated. “Yea. Your dumbass was hanging around Quaritch.”

“Do you know what we had talked about?”

I pause, unsure of where this is going and suddenly not sure that I want to know.

Jake exhales slowly. “He wanted me to get the trust of the Omatikaya so I could negotiate terms of their relocation.”

Relocation? I swallow the bile that rises in my throat. I dread the answer but I have to ask, “What do you mean by relocation?”

Jake runs a nervous hand through his hair before meeting my eyes. His face is full of pain. “It was before I knew. Before I saw how amazing the people are and before Neytiri…”

My heart starts pounding in my chest. Jake is always straight forward. Whatever this is– it’s bad. “Jake,” I say harshly, “out with it.”

“Promise you won’t do anything rash,” he says.

“Fine.”

“They’re gonna destroy Hometree.”

The air in my lungs is sucked out. I reach my hand out to steady myself as a wave of nauseous rolls over me. My ears are suddenly ringing. He can’t be serious. There are thousands who live in Hometree. It’s their home. It’s everything. I shake my head, unable to process this.

Jake wheels himself closer, his face peering up at me. “We still have time.”

I suck in a breath, trying to calm myself. Nothing feels real.

“Y/n,” Jake mummers, “please, try and listen.”

“What do you mean by time?” I ask, my voice raw.

Jake sighs. “We have time to gain their trust and convince them to leave.”

It feels like I’ve been kicked in the gut. My hands cradle my stomach as I let out a small moan. Tsu’tey’s trust? I’ve just barely gotten it, just silver. When he finds out… Any hope for friendship will be out the door. It will have been for nothing. “We have to stop them,” I say flatly.

Jake shakes his head, his eyes sad. “We can’t. All we can do is warn them when the time is right.” He pauses as he observes my face. “Will you help me, sister?”

I press my fingers to my eyes, fighting back tears. I wait a moment before nodding. “I’ll help you,” I whisper defeatedly, “what other choice do I have?”

~~~

Linking with my Avatar again felt like coming home. I opened my eyes to the streaming morning light. Tsu’tey had already packed the direhorses, the beast's horns curled from around the sides. There was something more relaxed about his demeanor; he’s happy to have killed the beast. Happy to be going home.

His relaxed stance hasn’t gone away as we journey back to Hometree. I try not to think about what Jake told me. I try, with every ounce of willpower, to force it out of my mind. But it still plagues me. Making me feel numb.

I don’t think Tsu’tey has noticed because we’ve hardly spoken any words to each other. We just move in silent agreement, a team that doesn’t need to write a plan; we just know.

We’ve been going for hours and my legs are going numb. “How much further?” I ask, breaking the long silence.

Tsu’tey slows his pace and looks back at me, flicking his braided hair over his shoulder. A small smile grows across his face. “Very soon.”

I raise an eyebrow at the rare smile on his face. He breaks through a line of dense trees, the leaves brush against his calves. My vision is blurred by the greenery for a moment before coming into full focus. An entire crowd of Omatikaya stand before us.

I gasp. Hometree looms right before me, looking mightier than ever. There’s no way Quaritch could destroy it. I force the thought away as Neytiri runs up to me, a brilliant smile across her face. “Welcome!”

I can’t help the grin that makes its way onto my face. All of the people have gathered outside Hometree. They're all cheering, whooping, and pumping their hands in the air. All of them are full of so much pride that it warms my heart.

“Is the beast dead?” The Olo’eyktan, Eytukan, calls above the cries. The crowd goes quiet as he makes his way through in his feathered chest piece. Neytiri backs away, joining Jake in the crowd. He gives me a goofy thumbs up but I look quickly away, not wanting to acknowledge him, not wanting him to think that I’m okay with this.

Tsu’tey dismounts and walks closer to the crowd as he holds his pack, the beast’s horns jutting out. I copy him, immediately hopping off my steed and falling into step beside him. Once, Eyutkan is right in front of us, we bow our heads in respect.

“The People want to know,” Eyutkan says, his face stern but his eyes proud, “is the beast dead?”

Tsu’tey grins. His smile sends chills down my spine, it’s lethal and charming at the same time. He reaches down and yanks the horns of his pack. “The beast has been slayed!”

The entire village erupts into roars of delight. Smiling faces as people hug and praise Tsu’tey the warrior. Then, I hear my own name. They are praising both of us. A small blush creeps onto my cheeks as various clan members look right at me and smile proudly.

“We will have a celebration! Tonight!” Eyuktan yells again before turning and facing the crowd. “A feast in honor of Tsu’tey and Y/n.”

The clan bursts into an array of activity: conversations and giddy excitement, as some run into Hometree and other’s grab hunting gear and head for the forest. A feast in my honor. Neytiri and Jake join us as Eyutkan pats Tsu’tey on the back. Tsu’tey’s eyes brighten at the gesture.

Neytiri grabs my hand and squeezes. Jake smiles at me and I feel my blood run cold like I’m suddenly back in the Floating Mountains, talking to him about Hometree. I feel sick. I don’t deserve this feast. If only they knew…

Neytiri’s face flickers with concern but before she can say anything, Eyuktan asks, “did you have any hardship along the way?”

Tsu’tey tenses beside me. I remember the cut along his chest, the poison seeping into his blood, and how I saved him. He remains silent beside me, waiting for me to speak. I clear my throat. “No, Tsu’tey and I worked well together.” Tsu’tey’s head whips towards me, his eyes light with surprise. I pretend not to notice and continue on, “all went well.”

Eyuktan nods as he pats me on the back. Pride swells in me. Neytiri’s eyes flutter between Jake and me. She looks at her father. “They are ready.”

Eyuktan grunts in agreement. “Tomorrow, take them to the ikran.”

My mouth drops open as excitement pools in my stomach. I look at Neytiri to find her smiling at Jake. I raise an eyebrow. Interesting…

Tomorrow, I’ll get to choose an ikran. I can’t contain my excitement to do something I’ve only ever read about. Tsu’tey catches my eyes and gives me a curt nod. My stomach flutters. He’s proud of me too.

~~~

There is a large fire in the center of Hometree and the clan dance and eat all around it. Loud drums pierce the air as people talk and laugh. The celebration is in full swing. I’ve managed to forget about all my worries and just enjoy this moment.

Earlier in the night, Tsu’tey brought me a plate of my favorite berries to which we shared a knowing look. Neytiri had cocked her head to the side in curiosity but said nothing else. Tsu’tey then tipped his head and stalked off, presumably to enjoy the party on his own. I haven’t seen him since and I pretend that I’m not slightly upset by that.

Besides, I’ve been too busy dancing. Neytiri and I danced and danced. My feet are practically burning. All around me, the clan moves their bodies to the rhythm of the drums, it’s magnetic and alive. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. Then Jake comes and sweeps Neytiri off into a dance off their own. With my aching feet and tired muscles, I begin to push my way off the dance floor when a male blocks my view.

“Congratulations,” he says. It’s a man I’ve never seen before. He’s tall, broad shoulders, and his hips are wider than Tsu’tey’s. Not that, I’m thinking of Tsu’tey… I shake my head feeling suddenly fuzzy from the party. The man tilts his head. “I’m Kiezan, I don’t think we’ve met.”

I swallow, forcing myself to get a grip. His eyes are wide and amber. His hair is loose and tied behind his head with a single braid. He’s handsome. I smile at him. “I’m y/n.”

He smiles back at me. “Pretty name,” he reaches his hand out, “do you want to dance?”

I take his hand without thinking, allowing myself to get swept away once again in the enthrallment of the party. He is a good dancer and he leads me through the crowd with ease. The drums pound loudly and we sway our bodies, matching the rhythm, the heat of his body melting into mine.

I catch Neytiri’s eyes from across the floor. She nudges her head as if to say, oooo. I roll my eyes and shrug. It’s nice dancing with Kiezan but it isn’t amazing. I don’t feel that warmth in my stomach or flutter in my heart. It’s just nice.

My eyes move from Neytiri, across the crowd and up to the stairwell where a familiar frame leans against the wall. I jolt. Kiezan’s hands trail down my side as I watch the figure lean forward. There is something familiar about their stature…

“You like dancing?” Kiezan’s whispers in my ear, his hot breath hitting my neck, making me feel suddenly sick. The figure on the wall immediately straightens before whipping around and disappearing up the stairs. I freeze as I watch their braided hair swing behind them. It’s Tsu’tey.

I shove Kiezan’s hands off me. He grunts in surprise. “I’ll be back,” I muster as I run into the crowd. He calls after me but I can’t make out what he said.

There was something about Tsu’tey’s posture, the way he was watching; it sparked a feeling in me, one I can’t discern. I’m following after him and I’m not even sure why. I guess I’m curious about him. Maybe he’s upset? He should be enjoying the celebration… After all, it is for him.

I make it through the crowd and up the stairs. The air feels cool as it hits my skin. It’s darker here as I walk deeper into Hometree, searching for any sign of him. I keep going, my heart thudding in my chest. Why am I nervous? It’s just Tsu’tey.

After a while, I’m nearly at the top of Hometree and I haven’t seen him. This was stupid. What was I thinking just going after him? He doesn’t need me. I shake my head, silently scolding myself before turning around.

“Y/n?” Tsu’tey’s voice stops me right in my tracks. I slowly turn to find him standing between an archway that leads outside onto a branch. He peers curiously at me. He’s wearing a yellow and red beaded chest piece that brings out the gold in his eyes. I swallow.

“I, uh,” I mumble, struggling to find words, “I was wondering where you went.”

His eyes grow. “I just needed some space.”

“Oh, right, I’ll leave you to it,” I say awkwardly.

“Would you like to join me?” Tsu’tey asks before slamming his lips shut like he hadn’t expected to ask me that. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. A breeze floats in from the archway, blowing his loincloth softly. My heart begins to pound again as I nod my head.

He turns and walks through the arch. I follow him to find myself on a branch, far above the ground. The night sky is clear and the moons illuminate the forest beneath us. I gasp in delight as I take in the sight.

Tsu’tey hums under his breath, “I love it up here.”

He sits down, letting his long legs dangle over the edge of the branch. I sit down next to him, making sure to leave a bit of space between us. I take a deep breath, tasting the sweetness of the air. “I can see why,” I reply.

“I wanted to thank you,” He says as he looks out at the view.

I tilt my head, my lips turning to the side. “For what?”

“You didn't tell the Olo’eyktan about my injury,” he continues as the moonlight hits his high cheekbones, “you could have gotten much praise but you chose not to tell.” He looks at me, his eyes containing a feeling that I can’t quite place. “You are unexpected.”

My ears perk at his words. I’m not sure how to respond. I clear my throat and shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

“Hm,” he hums as he returns his gaze to the forest. Pandora is gorgeous at night. I’m constantly awestruck by the forest and the Omatikaya. Tsu’tey, despite living here his whole life, seems to still appreciate the beauty of it all. All the way up here, away from any noise.

“You don’t like celebrations, do you?” I ask him.

He lifts his head at this and lets out a little laugh. “You are observant.”

“I am a scientist,” I remind him, “and not a useless one.”

He looks at me, his eyes gleaming with remembrance. “No,” he agrees, “certainly not a useless one.”

My cheeks heat and I quickly look away. “So, why don’t you like parties?”

He shrugs. “Too many people in one space.” I can’t argue with that. There were so many bodies, all of them dancing, it could easily become overwhelming. I drag my fingers along the bark of the branch.

Tsu’tey inhales. “Kiezan seemed to like dancing with you.”

I whip my head towards him, my eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open. “What?”

Tsu’tey reaches up and scratches his forehead. “Oh, I just saw you guys. Nice that you have made friends but…”

“But what?” I scrunch my eyebrows together.

“You could do better than Kiezan,” he says like it’s a fact as his tail flicks behind him.

A laugh escapes, full of disbelief and bewilderment. Why is Tsu’tey talking to me about this? His ears flatten against his skull for a moment before returning to normal.

“What friends would you recommend?” I ask playfully.

“Neytiri,” he begins as he counts on his fingers, “any of the hunters, not Jake but I suppose he is your brother, so...”

I laugh again, the sound rumbling from my stomach. Tsu’tey’s eyes soften. I shake my head. “Okay, good recommendations,” I say lightly, “so who are your friends then?”

He freezes. His entire body goes rigid. My heart sinks into my stomach. Did I say something wrong? I bite my lip as Tsu’tey rubs his hands together as if he is contemplating what to say next.

An ikran crows in the distance, piercing the silence between us as I wait for Tsu’tey to say something. I scratch the bark beneath my fingers anxiously.

Tsu’tey blows out a breath. “I had a best friend, a finance, I loved her so very much,” he says and the deepness of his voice pains me, “her name was Sylwanin.” My heart sinks lower into my body as I recognize the name of Neytiri’s sister. I hold my breath, waiting for him to say more. His lips turn downward as he stares at his hands. He looks beaten down, vulnerable. I’ve never seen him look like this.

“She must have been pretty amazing,” I say softly.

He nods. “She was killed by skypeople.”

I gasp. I didn’t know that part. My brain searches for something to say, anything, but no words form as I watch the grief stricken man before me.

“That is why I hated you so much,” Tsu’tey says, his voice barely above a whisper, “every time I saw you, I saw the enemy.” He turns to me, his face open, his eyes full of pain and something else– something hopeful. “But I was wrong.”

My heart springs back into my chest and flutters. I blink a few times, processing his words. “I understand,” I reply, “when my brother died… I felt so lost. So lost that I came to a whole other planet.”

Tsu’tey’s face is somber as he nods. A shared sense of understanding floats between us. The same kind of understanding as when we hunted silently. We allow our pain to mingle quietly between us, not needing to speak to know it is there. The only sound is the chitters of animals beneath us.

After a while, I decide to lighten the mood. It is our celebration after all.

“I guess I should go back,” I say as Tsu’tey turns to me, “since I need to go find some better friends.”

“Ah,” Tsu’tey replies, “I’ll be your friend.”

My mouth falls slightly open. Warmth spreads through my whole body, starting at my toes and into my fingers. My lips split a part into a wide grin. He spoke to me in Na’vi. Friends.

I nudge his shoulder as my grin turns into a smirk. “Who said I want to be your friend?”

~~~

Hi! Thank you so much for reading <3

I'm sorry I took so long to post, I've been having bad writers block lol

Let me know what you think of this part and if you have any feedback :)

Taglist: (i will be adding new people for next part!) (thank you all sm))

@qu33n0fth3n3rds @star-dusst @smol-book-nerd @elegantkidfansoul @h0n3y-sug4r @aonungs-tsahik @kpopslur @perseny @myheartfollower @perilous-pasta @zilena9 @galaxyfruits @tanchosanke @eternallyvenus @glitterandgoldfinds @willow-sages

#avatar 2 #avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar 2009 x reader #tsu'tey x you #tsu'tey #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake and neytiri #neytiri #neytiri x you

2K notes · View notes

venerablemonk27 · 2 months

Text

I logged my 200th bird species for Wisconsin! I got a great tip from a close friend, who knows about these things, that a Hooded Warbler had appeared in a park near my house.

[ID: A male Hooded Warbler perches on a mossy branch in the forest. His body is just a couple inches long, with green feathers on back, wings, and tail, and dull yellow for the underparts. His "hood" is a black cowl that covers almost his entire head save for a bright yellow mask that extends in an oval from the middle of his face to surround the eye and ear on each side. He has a pointy dark gray bill shaped for picking insects off of trees, and his eye is a reflective jet black that stands out against the yellow mask. End ID]

The next morning, I packed up my camera along with my work bag and took a break from my commute to check out the park. I arrived to find several people wandering the trails, here to do the exact same thing as me. None of them had seen the Hoodie yet, but they had a wealth of information from other birders on the movements and general behavior of the bird from the past couple days. I spent at least 45 minutes wandering the trails, squishing through the damp and the mud in my work slacks and sneakers. I logged five firsts for 2024, but no sign of the elusive Hooded Warbler.

[ID: The Hooded Warbler perches on the same mossy branch, this time facing away from the camera and looking up into the treetops. His wings are neatly folded behind his back, making a pleasing pattern with the tips of the primary flight feathers. End ID]

So I left the park for work, but decided I should come back in the evening. I knew from the sighting reports in eBird that this guy is active all day. When I got back to the park, it was cloudy and drizzling. I met a pair of nice young women with binoculars and a camera lens as long as mine. I asked, "Are you here looking for the Hooded Warbler too?"

One of them said very casually, "Oh yeah, it's right over there across the creek. Just flittering around." So of course I had to get eyes on him and try to get a photo. It was only a couple minutes before he came out again and started working the far bank of the creek.

[ID: The same Hooded Warbler, this time perched deeper in the brush and looking toward the camera. This angle provides a better view of the black hood and bright yellow mask, looking delicately fringed around the edges. End ID]

I probably followed the Hoodie down the creek for like 10 minutes before he decided to cross over to our side to do some more foraging. I froze. He was almost completely hidden in the brush, but I could see bits of movement and kept him in the frame the whole time. I knew I couldn't make any sudden moves without scaring him away. For a brief moment, he came out to take a closer look at me, which is where all the photos in this post came from. I only managed to shoot three bursts while he was completely out in the open before he took off for the far side of the creek again.

[ID: The Hooded Warbler looks directly at the camera, only partially obscured by a twig. His posture suggests being ready to leap forward and continue the hunt for insects. End ID]

I was left feeling incredibly amped. The other photographer and I had to share back-of-the-camera shots and gush over how cute he was and how close he came to us. It seems it's always a special event when a rare or unusual species shows up in town. I love these brief moments of connection with birds and the people that care about them.

#bird photography #birding #photography #birds #bird #birdblr #birdlife #birdwatching #original photography #original photography on tumblr #warbler #hooded warbler #close encounter #migration #spring

118 notes · View notes

shebunie · 7 months

Note

Hello!! Can you do mizu x mixed trans fem reader which reader been traveling with them for a while now and they both find out about each other gender stuff by at a river when mizu is naked/bathing and reader doesn't know that mizu is their and is half naked to also sorry this is my first time requesting 😭😭

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗺𝗶𝘅𝗲𝗱! 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁, 𝗺𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗶𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗿𝘆, 𝗺𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟭.𝟭𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗜 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝘅 𝗴𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗽𝘆 𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽𝗲, 𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗱𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿.

Sandals crunched beneath your feet as you and Mizu traversed the vast expanse of the snow-covered path. The ethereal silence was occasionally interrupted by the soft whispers of the freezing winter breeze. A pristine white carpet enveloped the landscape, kissed by the gentle rays of the sun that filtered through the treetops, creating a mesmerizing play of light and shadow. Enchanted by the beauty, you mumbled to Mizu, the sword-wielder trailing behind.

"It's so beautiful," you sighed, casting your gaze ahead at the winter wonderland that stretched out before you.

Mizu's response came as a whisper, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head to obscure her vision. "Indeed it is," she agreed, her eyes already locked onto yours.

You slowed your pace to match Mizu's, the two of you now walking side by side. "I heard some orchids bloom at this time of the month. Do you think we might encounter some on our way?" you asked, leaning down to catch the gaze of the dark-haired swordsman who had allowed you to join her on this quest for revenge.

"Rarely," Mizu replied with a hint of melancholy. "They're suited neither for frost nor fry."

Undeterred, you faced forward, a hopeful glint still evident in your eyes. "There is still a chance then, slim but evident."

Mizu peered at you from the corner of her eye, playfully rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She let out a small, contented sigh as you both continued your journey.

Throughout the trek, you occupied Mizu with your lively chatter, and she didn't mind. Your cheery and bright demeanour made the otherwise solemn journey more bearable.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon took its place in the night sky, the duo decided to set up camp in a desolate area of the forest. A crackling fire was kindled to stave off the biting winter chill.

"Stay here while I look for more firewood," Mizu instructed, rising from her seated position. You noticed a subtle grimace as she reached for her shoulder, a lingering reminder of the battles she had fought.

"Let me help—" you began.

"No, you do not have to," she cut you off, her voice firm yet soft. With a nod, she ventured off into the darkened woods.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, you turned your attention to a boiling pot of water. "I guess I'm on soup duty."

As you rummaged through the meager supplies in your small travel bag, you realized the ingredients were lacking. Setting the pot aside, you decided to forage for plants in the nearby vicinity.

Meanwhile, Mizu settled by the river's shore, wincing at the friction caused by her clothes. With a hiss, she slipped off her shoulder armor, exposing a bloody wound. Sighing, she removed the clothing entirely and immersed herself in the warm waters of the river, seeking solace from the pain.

For the first time, she felt a sense of relaxation, the soothing sounds of the river diverting her thoughts from the persistent ache of the gash she had acquired in her battle with Taigen.

Her mind, however, drifted to you. She questioned why.

Was it because you both shared the same defect? Did she pity you? Was it your annoyingly talkative nature?

Both of you were made with mixed metal, marked as demons, outcasts in a world where being a woman was challenging enough. Mizu loathed the stares and derogatory remarks that accompanied your presence. She detested the morbid offers from flesh traders who saw you as a commodity, a means to make coin.

She had never wondered why.

Why her gaze linger a bit longer when you patched her up. Why there were accidental hand touches that felt like more than mere accidents. Why she felt an unexplainable need to see, hear, or hold you close.

A sudden snap broke her reverie. Mizu swiftly picked up and unsheathed her sword, forgetting her clothes in the process. Danger lurked; you were in danger. The sharp end of her blade was now pointed at the intruder.

At you.

Half-naked, you stood there with wide eyes. Immediately, you turned your bare back toward her, attempting to shield yourself. "I saw no— nothing," you stammered, your hands hugging your half-exposed body for warmth. A sigh escaped from behind.

"I thought I told you to stay?"

"Well, you see, after you left, I was about to cook food for us, but then we were lacking ingredients. So, I assumed the forest might have some plants or herbs lying around and got carried away—"

"You talk too much," Mizu remarked, her eyes burning into the back of your head.

A frown creased your face, and your gaze dropped to the ground. "Sorry," you muttered loud enough for Mizu to hear.

A faint splash of water behind you prompted you to look. The blue-eyed woman sat under the warm waters of the river, staining its clear stream with red. "You're bleeding." Without much thought, you undressed and submerged yourself in the water.

Mizu never once looked your way as she felt the soft touch of your fingers tracing her wound, biting back a wince. "You should have told me; I could've stitched this up." The revelation of her being a woman had temporarily left your mind as you ripped a piece of cloth from your garments to make a makeshift towel to clean her wound.

With a gentle touch, you took care of her once more.

Silence lingered in the atmosphere until you spoke. "Do you trust me, Mizu?" The question had her turn her gaze to you, eyes reflecting the subtle glow of the moon, cheeks tinted a faint red from the warmth of the water.

Lips hovered over yours, not quite kissing but close enough that any small distance could do so. Their breaths blended, warm and wanting. It felt wrong, Mizu thought. She dared not close that distance; she was afraid to do so. Yet, you had her in a trance.

"Can I kiss you?" The way her eyes lingered on your lips, she raised a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You leaned in, closing the final distance. Your fingers tread carefully in her dark tresses, one hand caressing her face with a gentle touch.

It made Mizu feel safe. She felt seen and loved by your touches. She loved you.

A hand slid from the side of your thigh to your waist, guiding you forward to straddle her lap. Parting from one another, Mizu leaned her forehead against yours with a ragged breath and a faint smile. Tracing circles on your bare hips with her thumb, she whispered, "You've stolen my heart, and I want it to continue being yours."

156 notes · View notes

meowzfordayz · 11 months

Text

a hug (or, a thousand words too painful to say, but too precious to be left unspoken)

Author’s Note: this is a highly self indulgent fanfic, and is significantly coded to myself irl. 😅 Still enjoyable and readable for most anyone, but features a much more specific Reader than my usual writing. 🤗

a hug (or, a thousand words too painful to say, but too precious to be left unspoken)

Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~4,100

CW: alcohol, death content, Fem!Reader, implied canonical violence, mild sexual content

~faqs~

Another day, another lonely night. Glimmering in moonlight, Giyuu lies tired and still in bed. His mattress dips familiar and gentle in the center; a quiet reminder of his lack of a partner. Usually, he falls asleep this way, with a faint clenching in his sternum as he trades longing for unconsciousness, but tonight, he reaches for his second pillow — a worn and tactile belonging, saved for an elusive heart. The pillow squishes cool and small into his ribcage, and when he closes his eyes, he swears he can feel the tendrils of another’s touch; the breath of a lingering lover, smooth and warm against his skin — an embrace as secure as it is fleeting. A willowy breeze makes its way through his window, swirling around his room as though to compensate for the lack of company, and he finds himself wishing for the scent of closeness. Wishing for the press of a cheek against his chest, lips curving into a smile, arms clinging tightly—greedy, even, as though they truly desire him—around his waist, a hand rubbing slow circles into his back, the other gripping his bare skin. Exhaustion weighs more insistent on his eyelids now, goosebumps raising on his forearms as sleep conquers his melancholy, pillow happy and unmoving in its nook beneath his shoulder.

“Tomioka-san,” she says quietly, steps light as she walks beside him, “Are you going to be alone tonight?”

“I suppose so,” he shrugs, not sparing her a glance, “I intend to eat and then sleep.”

With a soft chuckle, she murmurs, “How straightforward,” expression kind as she remarks, “Would you like any company?”

“Whose company?” Giyuu deadpans, pulse quickening as his pace falters, still resisting the gravity of her stare, “Nobody likes me.”

“Now that isn’t true,” she retorts, “Kocho-san addressed you at least once during the meeting, and Shinazugawa-san was as behaved as he can be.”

“Formality is a given,” he mutters Meetings don’t count.

“And where exactly are we going?” she asks politely, a hint of amusement brightening her tone.

We? he pauses mid stride, realization settling in as the shift in greenery registers, well pruned bushes and watered flower beds trailing off to ancient trees and shadowy forest aromas, maintained cobblestones soon to give way to dirt trodden paths, spindly and senseless in their form and direction Why is she following me? Does she believe me incapable of protecting myself?

“I’m going to eat,” he states plainly, hesitating when she offers no response, “Are you…” swallowing nervously, eyes fixated on the ends of his sleeves, “Going to join me?”

“Tomioka-san, was that an official invitation?!” she exclaims cheerfully, birds scattering as she claps cheerfully, “I humbly accept!”

“I-” he begins to say, finally daring to look at her I didn’t invite you caught in his throat at the sight of bronzed sunlight glistening warm and tender through her hair, her uniform—in the style of Shinobu’s—perfectly fitted, additional haori a deep maroon not unlike half of his own, “Alright then.”

He leads her in silence, sun lazily sinking from the treetops to their branches to their trunks to their roots, a hazy darkness clinging to their silhouettes with the onset of night, hunger hastening his footsteps, an unfamiliar heat filling his chest with every peek behind him, her determined smile anchoring itself further and further into his memory.

—

“Tomioka-san.”

Grunting, Giyuu tilts his head, refilling their sake cups with a soft, “Huh?”

“Hashira don’t do this often, do they?”

Part of him wants to play dumb, wary of her openness and honesty, wondering if he should perhaps, not share his sake with her, her cheeks far redder than when they first entered the tiny restaurant, but a larger part of him revels in her earnesty. She hasn’t experienced enough loss is his guilt laden impression, sorrow spiking through his veins as he watches her down her cup. This has to stop he decides, lead in his gut as he braces himself to push her joy from his proximity.

“We’re usually too busy training to stay alive, trying to stay alive, or mourning those who couldn’t stay alive.”

“I understand,” she replies simply, taking his bluntness in stride, “Rengoku-san makes similar statements, albeit with a bit more enthusiasm.”

“Would you like to finish the sake? I’m tired, and will be leaving shortly.”

She blinks once, twice, and he nearly grimaces at the underlying disappointment in her eyes, voice steady as ever when she answers, “I’ll finish it for you,” for us, “Would you like me to accompany you to your next stop?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Of course, have a good night, Tomioka-san.”

A chokehold of regret grips him as her demeanor changes, heady comfortability dissipating between them faster than it thickened, the clang and clatter of other patrons suddenly louder than he recalled, facade of intimacy popping.

“Will I see you again?” he ponders aloud, alcohol speaking life into his treacherous thoughts.

“Do you want to?” she counters, raising an eyebrow, “I was under the impression that I bothered you.”

Standing slowly, he reaches out to pour the rest of the sake into her cup, tremor in his elbow noticeable only to her keen eyes, “I am alone, and it would be selfish of me to live otherwise. I don’t do this often,” ever, “Because it toes the line between duty and survival. You want to survive, don’t you?”

“I want to live,” she responds gently, a light fingertip resting atop his elbow, her other hand raising the full cup to her mouth, “I want to make the world a place where everyone can live.”

“That is admirable,” he murmurs evenly, back already turned to her, anxious to disappear into the ache of the dark, “May I see you at the next meeting,” may you continue living till then.

Where is she? Giyuu wonders, taking in the profiles of his fellow Hashira Surely…

“Tomioka-san, whatever is on your mind?” Shinobu coos loudly, “Never have I known you to actually daydream about someone!”

How unfair he thinks petulantly, haori feeling tight around his shoulders as he breathes in deeply, “Kocho-san.”

“That is indeed my name! Good of you to remember, we’ve been colleagues for so long anyhow.”

Eyes flashing with irritation, his nostrils flare, noting the distinct lack of a scent—her scent, swirling of amber and lavender, of dusky woodland and sundrenched wildflowers—drowning instead in the strength of Tengen’s perfume. The line up of Hashira feels incomplete, her petite figure typically squished somewhere near Mitsuri, her hurriedly tied hair missing from his peripheral, palette of stares otherworldly without the grounding brownness of her eyes.

“Kocho-san,” he repeats, certainty in his tone now, “Someone cares about me.”

“Oh?” she gasps, delighted at his sudden bite, “How wonderful, Tomioka-san! I would be honored to meet whoever’s oblivious enough to befriend you!”

Teeth gritting, his expression blankens, shame prickling at his skin Using her as leverage when she isn’t even present… how low of you…

“Would you like to dine together?” Shinobu chimes, “After this meeting? Do you have any old haunts worth revisiting?”

“I would not like that.”

“I suppose nothing could shine brightly enough to keep your focus,” Shinobu laughs lightly, good natured glint in her eyes as she quips, “That’s Tomioka-san, as sullen and single minded as always.”

“Does it shock you?” he ventures, “That someone could care about me?”

Head tilting at his question, Shinobu eventually smiles, silently mouthing as Kagaya comes into view Not at all, but I’m shocked you could notice in the first place.

“You weren’t at the meeting,” a frustrated voice mutters, cool body slipping into the seat beside you, “Oyakata-sama didn’t mention you either.”

“I was recovering from a mission,” she explains, not bothering to greet him, enraptured by condensation sliding down her glass of water, “Congratulations on your success.”

“The loss of the living is never a success,” Giyuu snaps, muscles still fatigued, his heart even more threadbare, “Slaying demons is just the physical aspect of being a Hashira.”

“And existing in the shadows and shrugging off praise is the other aspect?” she snorts wryly, unperturbed by his harshness, “Certainly, you are my senior, Tomioka-san, but you seem to be missing out on the true nature of your position.”

“I do not care for material treasures,” he says sharply.

Laughing at his assumption, she rolls her eyes, carelessly nudging his bicep with her own, “I’m not a Hashira for the sake of a salary. You believe me to be so shallow and stupid?”

“I don’t know you.”

“And yet, this is the second time we find ourselves in the same place at the same time.”

“You followed me the first time,” he grumbles, “This is my spot.”

“You didn’t leave when you saw me here,” she hums, gesturing at the bartender for more sake, “In fact, you willingly sat beside me.”

“I will not be bullied away from my few comforts.”

She lapses into silence at his indignation, mouth twitching as she considers his subtle confession — the extent of his self inflicted punishment.

“Of course not, we’re both Hashira, we couldn’t bully each other if we tried,” she jokes lightly, warming her palms on the newly arrived bottle of sake.

I wonder how they would feel, if I could offer her the heat of my own skin Giyuu frowns, “I’m stronger than you.”

“Not in the heart.”

Immediately, her attention focuses on pouring the sake, tiny clay cups reflecting her embarrassment back at her, chest nearly bursting at the pressure of waiting for his reply — of waiting for him to simply up and leave, again.

“If I was any stronger in the heart, then I would be dead.”

Pinching one of the cups between his thumb and index finger, he sips slowly, then all at once, head pitching backward, messy hair blurring the redness of his face, the outline of his feelings.

“Our line of work is tragic, isn’t it?” she remarks, following suit as she drinks from her cup, tongue tingling at the bittersweet flow of sake, “There are the silver linings of gratitude and the sunrise, but it’s grueling on the soul.”

“Your soul radiates ease,” he admits.

“And you envy me for that?” she asks gently.

“No. I don’t understand.”

“Tomioka-san, I-”

“-Giyuu. Call me Giyuu,” he interrupts Before the chance to do so escapes us both.

“Giyuu,” she tests the word delicately, unaware of the pricking along his spine, the flimsy defense of his clenched fists, eyes distant and guarded as ever, “So you cared about my absence.”

“And you revisited my restaurant.”

“Your restaurant?” she grins teasingly, “I didn’t pin you as a business owner.”

“Kanroji-san missed you,” he ignores her banter, reaching across her vision to pour the next round, “Should I be concerned about your love for sake?”

“Should I be concerned that you seem incapable of conversation without the tactical distraction of sake?” she retorts, neglecting to inform him that I only drink with you.

Mustering his courage, Giyuu breathes in the flickering glow of late night stupor and lowered inhibitions, surrounding patrons oblivious to the gnawing turmoil in his toes, working its way up his calves, his knees, the bend in his hips as he leans over the countertop, granting her a sideways glance, “I’m afraid I’m beginning to enjoy these moments of normalcy.”

Eyes widening, she sits upright, voice tinged with gruff amusement, “Normal? There isn’t a normal bone in your body, Tomioka Giyuu.”

“And is that okay?” he dares to venture Or is that why everybody hates me?

“It’s wonderful,” she declares, meeting his solemn stare with an overwhelming smile, “I’m positive there’s more to you than you’re willing to entrust with me, but perhaps someday, gradually, I can earn your honesty.”

“Would you accompany me to my estate tonight?”

“Feeling more scared than usual?” she chuckles, tentative hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, unable to hear the I should’ve done that struggling through the din to the forefront of Giyuu’s thoughts, “What’s different?”

He can’t bring himself to tell her I’m terrified, can’t bring himself to tell her This tightness in my lungs, how could I survive if a demon hunted me now?, can’t bring himself to tell her I’ve been too engrossed in yearning for my ghosts to get closer to the living, too buried in self contempt to feel the heat of anyone’s patience.

“Nothing’s different,” he lies, “I’m striving to be a better mentor.”

“Mentor?” she giggles, rolling her eyes, “How old are you, Giyuu?”

“Twenty one,” he stifles a sigh, relieved she let his omission go — disappointed she didn’t press further.

“And I’m twenty two.”

“Your kills?” he pries carefully.

“Fewer than yours,” she murmurs, “But my rank isn’t simply a pretty gesture.”

“My estate isn’t far,” nor is it much to see he tacks on silently.

“We’re all lonely, you know? I wouldn’t abandon you, even if you demanded me to.”

Her determination stirs a fierce emotion in his chest, maroon of her haori bleeding into his veins as he allows her promise to curl into the hollow of his throat, tone steely and splintered as he holds out his hand.

“Don’t utter such nonsense. Everyone departs eventually,” but maybe, just maybe, we could depart together.

She’s quiet as she reaches for his fingers, her callouses somehow familiar yet unexpected, warmth licking from her body toward his own coolness, unable to coax him any closer. I wonder how we appear to others Giyuu muses, an odd sensation spreading from the base of his spine up to his nape How her hand looks grasped in mine heart filling with nostalgia as he turns toward his estate Could we be…

—

“Oh…” her nose crinkles, eyes having long adjusted to the stillness of the night, “This is you.”

“This is me,” he affirms, grip still intertwined with hers, forgotten in the easy rhythm of their companionship, “Are you…”

“Willing to come inside? Judging your lodgings? Going to let go of your hand anytime soon?”

Blushing faintly—too faintly for even a Hashira to see under the foliage of midnight—Giyuu swallows thickly, no longer able to conceal his discomfort behind a sip of sake, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh?! And I didn’t even think to bring a housewarming gift,” she jokes softly, instinctively squeezing his hand, the flustered uptick of his pulse audible, “We can say goodbye here,” eyes closing against the dizzying rush of longing Sake, I’m sure it’s just the sake, “Until the next meeting.”

“What if I asked you to stay?” he whispers, unmoving, tired, sapphire eyes stuck, for once, on her face.

“Are you?” she smiles knowingly, releasing his hand with a gentle rub to his knuckles.

I wish I knew how to embrace you, how to ask… how to feel closeness without… “No, I guess not.”

“May I hug you, Giyuu?”

Her abrupt request cuts through the wayward spiral of their unvoiced desires, boldness propelled less by any sake, and more by the sorrowful gleam in his eyes, bodies drawn together by a shared craving to soothe each other’s listlessness, a haven of sweet, languid energy cocooning itself around his dampened, stoic posture. Barely able to nod, he swears he’s floating, slipping through her fingers as she melts into him, her head tucked precious and snug beneath his chin, mouth curving fondly at the scratch of his haori against her cheek. Her arms wrap slow and shy around his waist, forearms resting hesitant above his hips, light pressure of her sweaty palm touching the small of his back. Is this okay? she seems to say as her movements pause, waiting for the tension to seep from his shoulder blades. Are we alright? as she holds her breath, practiced and steady, allowing herself to gradually exhale as his eyes close, trembling fingertips grazing the hem of her haori, curling as if to tug her nearer, tighter, into the sloppily stitched patches of his heart.

“Tomioka-san!” she shouts excitedly, spotting his lithe figure slinking through the lower gardens, pointedly ignoring the amused snorts around her, “We’re going out for dinner, join us,” waving exasperatedly at Tengen’s dramatic groan, Kyojuro’s curious Oh?, Shinobu’s giddy laughter.

A slight shake of his head disappoints her, the sting of his rejection sharper than she anticipated, albeit the dimmest trace of a smile tells her where he’ll be instead.

“I don’t know why you bothered to invite him,” Tengen huffs, arms crossing, “He declines everyone and everything.”

“He is not the merriest individual,” Kyojuro nods thoughtfully, “Difficult to read.”

“I beg to differ,” Shinobu chimes in, “Tomioka-san isn’t difficult at all to read,” sly glint narrowing her eyes, “But why would anyone care to read him?”

“You’re all dear to me,” she murmurs softly, not striving to be heard, “Tomioka-san too.”

Brow furrowing with disapproval, Tengen chooses to disregard her remark in favor of questioning Kyojuro about his latest mission, Shinobu grabbing your arm to pull you along, the tug of Giyuu’s long gone presence halfheartedly resisting the Insect Hashira’s efforts for a fleeting second.

“Kocho-san…”

“Hm?” she hums quickly — too quickly to successfully feign oblivion.

“Never mind.”

“He’ll accept you, if you offer yourself,” she winks, dainty elbow jabbing at her side, “Few people accept him, he’s so aloof. You might even smile together.”

“I smile plenty!” she protests, face warming at the memory of Giyuu’s fingertips brushing feather light against the wrinkles of her uniform, “I always stop and smell the roses!”

And he needs someone as vibrant and upfront as you Shinobu titters, pinching her pink cheek with a smug grin, “Seems to me you’re quite enjoying the scent of a particular rose.”

“Kocho-san…”

“Hm?”

“I regret telling you anything!”

—

“How did you escape Kocho-san?” he asks, tall glass of juice nearly empty beside him.

“I simply explained I had someone important to see.”

Important? a dent forms between his brows, eyes shinier than she remembers.

“No sake tonight?” she smiles shyly, gesturing at his drink, “Saved a little for me?”

“If you’d like,” he offers smoothly, committed to unraveling his feelings—the odd sensation still nestled in his nape—after a much needed pep talk with himself (which would have continued through the entire night, had she not shown up).

“I think we should talk,” she says, not quite avoiding his display of intimacy, but anxious to unfurl the storm behind his gaze.

“You could sit?”

“Or we could walk,” she counters, “It’s a lovely temperature outside,” and I might run if I try to do this in here.

“You’re welcome to stay,” he declares softly, a warning haze of heat cupping his jaw, reddening his cheeks, not even sparing the tip of his nose, “At my estate. There isn’t much,” ... “But I’d feel…” I’d feel happy, “I’d feel better, knowing you’re somewhere…” dry? Safe? Within reach? “Somewhere less lonely.”

“You would share yourself with me, like that?”

“I have been, haven’t I?”

He moves swiftly, before she can respond, paying his tab, hand deftly finding hers as they head out the door, the feeling of her pulse in her wrist distinctly different—unbearably clearer—without the demanding buzz of alcohol in his bloodstream.

—

I have been, haven’t I? the sentence tumbles over and over in her head as they travel to his estate, its location vaguely familiar to her after only one visit, the plush of his hand so delicate yet firm as he guides her, almost too aware of every breath, every glance, every jump of his heartbeat, as though she might change her mind — as though she might forget their embrace, too painful and complicated to cherish.

“Giyuu-Oof,” she yelps as he suddenly stops, the front entrance shrouded from her view.

“I apologize,” he sounds so close, turning as she blinks, gripping both her forearms, “I fear I know what you seek from me, and I,” mouth shutting, his grip tightening, “I cannot be so selfish to indulge you.”

“Feelings are not an indulgence,” she whispers roughly, breast aching at his avoidance of her stare, unable to caress his jaw, unable to ask him to Look at me.

Knowing he might shatter if she did.

“My sister died. My best friend died. To protect me. Countless below me have died, those above me will die too. I will die. I can’t have it on my conscience, your faith in me, your… your pursuit, of me. I am as dedicated to the living as I am destined for an early death, and you-” speaking harshly now as she listens in silence, his body pleading for her to interrupt him, his heart clinging to the solace of her presence, “-You will die.”

Don’t ask me to mourn you, to trace the scars upon your skin as you leave me behind, to wallow in the numbness that used to be your scent, your laughter, your life against my chest.

“And what can I have?” she finally interjects, voice brittle with soured anger, “If I am marked for death, then why can’t I at least live? Why can’t I feel to the furthest extent of my limbs? Give to the deepest void of my soul? Hold you as close as you deserve to be held?”

“I don’t deserve to be held,” Giyuu hisses, still gripping her forearms, still teetering, “I deserve to kill for those who died in my place, to wander for those who couldn’t see the world, to die for those who deserve, much more than I do, to live.”

“Just shut up,” she snarls, shoving in closer to his glassy eyes, not wanting to shrug him off, but wanting him to, “Look at me, Tomioka Giyuu. Look at me. Tell me, Giyuu, what is living to me?”

“Certainly,” he seethes, “It isn’t me.”

“But it could be,” she persists, desperation clawing through her words, leaves crunching as she presses closer, closer, closer, the most tender of glares illuminated by the indefinite guard of the moon, haori sleeves falling slightly as her forearms lift upright, forehead nearly touching his collarbones, “I’m this close already, so what’s stopping us?”

“You said so yourself, I’m weak in the heart,” he mutters, releasing her arms, flinching when she promptly wraps them around him, frozen at the crossroads, “I’m stopping us.”

“Are you?” she whispers, gaze searching for his, stubborn brown burrowing into choppy seas, a wooden boat sinking, sinking, floating.

“Am I what?” he retorts, malice all but lost as a warm heaviness seeps through his cracks, “I am weak.”

“Are you going to stop us?” as she rises onto her toes, fingers tangled in the memories, the despair, the love, of his haori, “Are you going to live?” as her eyes close, that little wooden boat still floating, still slicing through the grief and deep of his vast blue, “Will you live with me?”

His lips part. A breath to say a thousand words. A breath to say nothing. A gentle snaking of his arms around her waist, palms cold and decided, cupping the back of her head, supporting the weight of her trust as she falls into his touch, throat bared for the barest graze of his teeth, the low groan of his broken desire caressing her skin, making its way to her jaw, nipping light and unsure at her earlobe, sucking soft and wet across warmth of her cheek, hesitating at her mouth.

“Giyuu,” she says, and he kisses her.

He kisses her smile, tasting of salt and relief, his eyelashes fluttering when she tugs on his haori, that odd sensation finally dissolving, devoured by the pressure of her closeness, body jolting as her eyes open, a life worth learning glowing before him, like molten starlight cradled against his heart.

“I will share all of myself with you, if you can tolerate my pace,” he rasps, feeling as though he’s gasping for breath, hurting at the emotional transaction of truth, “I am far from ready to live,” a poised, fateful edge lingering, even as he grasps her hands, guiding them to his neck, his jaw, his face, tracing the outline of his devotion, “But I…” a low sob erupting, posture crumpling, “I want to learn,” her haori dampening, his tears dripping one by one onto its stiff collar, “I want you to know how I feel, for how I feel to grow,” a sliver of his trust as clear as his pain etching itself into the walls of her heart.

“Giyuu,” she murmurs, “Giyuu, Giyuu, Giyuu,” hoping he understands.

As they walk the ten steps to his estate, hand in hand, he tells her, with a shaky, silent pause to tuck her hair behind her ear, that Someday, I swear I will.

#giyuu tomioka #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #tomioka x reader #water hashira #one shot #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

253 notes · View notes

ozai-the-bonsai · 2 months

Text

Cry for the Moon

Pairing: Zuko x firebender!reader

Warnings: some strong language here and there

A/N: I am sorry for the long wait, the inspiration was failing and I didn't want to write something half-heartedly just for the sake of posting something. This is a long chapter and I loved writing it! Hope you enjoy this one as well, let me know what you think about it in the comments!

Taglist: @annonymatic @yoongiesstar @lost-inthe-v0id @lokigodofmyheart @4l3x1s @potato87123 @asciendo @angelruinz @unamused-boss @junieshohoho @yourlivewire @itszzmoon @coolgirl458 @vyliie @6000-fandoms @aerikim246 @feitansrisingsun @xenop0p @saikikusouswife @marsbars09

Using a tank train to chase the Avatar and his friends could have been the best idea you had come up with so far.

With the giant flying bison shedding its white fur all over the place while it flew, it had been quite easy to keep track of them – actually, it had been rather too easy. The whole night, the tank train didn’t let the Avatar and his friends get the slightest bit of sleep.

You had been on their necks all the time, just like a shadow following.

Azula put her hand into the water to grab a hold of some patches of fur, she lifted to examine them. They had chased the Avatar and his friends to a river side surrounded by a forest. Given that they were sleep deprived and too tired, they weren’t going to last longer.

“Wads of wet fur.” Mai spoke dryly. “How delightful.”

Some birds were singing under the warm sun – it was a nice, warm sunny day which reminded you of the upcoming summer.

“They are not wads, they are more like bundles, or bunches?” Ty Lee seemed thoughtful as she tried to find the right word to describe the fur swimming in the river. She scratched her head. “It’s got an ‘uh’ sound.”

You giggled. “I know this feeling – you will keep think about that word until you finally find it.” You grimaced. “It is super annoying.”

“I know!” Ty Lee agreed with you as she swung her arms in an exaggerated manner, her long braid swinging in the process.

“Clumps?” Mai suggested with the same, dry tone.

Ty Lee’s grey eyes shone with happiness as she clasped her hands together. “Clumps! They are clumps!” She hugged Mai, who didn’t even bother returning the embrace. You rolled your eyes at her dullness – it drove you insane sometimes, which made you wonder how you had managed to be best friends with her for all those years in the first place.

You were a passionate individual and you expected your friends, or the important people in your life in general, to share your passion and enthusiasm from time to time. However, you didn’t recall experiencing such an occasion with Mai.

Turning your attention to Azula, who was standing by the river, you raised an eyebrow at her. “All the fur in the river makes you wonder whether that thing simply flew over or instead dived into the water.”

Mai pointed in the direction of the trail, which lead into the forest. “The trail goes this way.”

For a moment, Azula looked in the direction of the trail as she carefully considered her options, then she looked upwards. Following her gaze, you too spotted the broken treetops. A frown appeared on your face. “Well, I don’t know many creatures that can cause something like this.”

Upon hearing your remark, Mai and Ty Lee looked into the direction you were pointing at. Perhaps they finally realised that the bison was causing them all the trouble by shedding its fur, you thought as you crossed your hands over your chest. They could have washed it, which would explain all the fur in the river.

“The Avatar is trying to give us the slip.” Azula said, you felt like you two had the same or at least similar chain of thoughts. The Princess pointed to the broken treetops. “You three head in that direction and keep your eye out for the bison.” Then, she turned her gaze to the fur trail. “I will follow this trail.”

You placed your right hand on her shoulder. “Do you believe that the Avatar awaits you alone, on his own?”

Azula nodded. “It would make sense for the other three to take the bison, the Avatar can move more easily when he is alone.”

“Oh, yeah – flying, you are right.” You said, you tended the forget the fact that he was the last airbender. “In that case, you will be perfectly fine on your own. I would rather accompany you; however, with the new earthbender girl in their group, I believe the girls need a firebender on their side.”

After a while you all mounted your mongoose lizards and started riding towards the different paths, a specific pair of traces caught your attention. They were the traces of an ostrich horse. You raised an eyebrow as you turned back to look at the trace. I though he had lost us along the way some time.

During the early hours of the morning, you had noticed someone following the tank train from afar. Even though the distance was simply too much for you to make out who the person was, there had been one very prominent feature on their face that gave out their identity almost immediately.

The scar.

However, after a few hours, you had lost sight of him; hence, you didn’t bother letting Azula know that Zuko had been using your trail to hunt down the Avatar. As it turned out, he wasn’t really gone – he had probably taken a short cut. And considering the traces, he was headed the same way as Azula.

You stopped your mongoose lizard abruptly, causing Mai and Ty Lee to stop as well. Mai sent you an annoyed look. “What is it?”

“I think I saw some earthbending traces back there, inside the forest.” You lied without even thinking twice. “The earthbender girl must have taken a separate way – you two go after the bison and the Watertribe people, I will hunt down the earthbender.”

Mai shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

Ty Lee waved at you before going back on track. “Good luck – be careful with the flying rocks!”

You smiled softly at her words. “And you watch out for the waterbender!”

After making sure the girls were both out of sight, you turned your mongoose lizard back and started following the track Zuko’s ostrich horse left. This time, I am going to face you instead of going back home in tears. You thought with a determined expression on your face, your amber eyes lacked the slightest bit of warmth inside them. And you are going to answer for what you have done to me.

[Time Skip]

Zuko shouted in a mixture of surprise and fear as you jumped in front of his ostrich horse with your mongoose lizard.

He was wearing a brown, sleeveless robe with a dark green, long-sleeved shirt and dark green pants underneath. You couldn’t help yourself but raise an eyebrow upon seeing how different his hair looked – it wasn’t in a top not anymore. Apparently, after your last encounter with him, he had cut off his hair and let it grow longer.

Bringing yourself back to the present moment and to the task at hand, you got off the mongoose lizard and crossed your hands over your chest. The long sleeves of your crimson, wrap shirt dangled with the wind. “Wipe that shocked expression off from your face, Zuko – we both knew this day would come.”

Your words had been enough to push the shock away from his features, which left its place to something that resembled mostly fury. The Banished Prince dismounted his ostrich horse with a frown. “What do you want?”

“Answers,” you spoke with a voice as cold as ice, your amber eyes were dark. “You are going to answer for what you have done to me that very day.”

At first, Zuko’s eyes widened with you mentioning the day he left the Fire Nation; however, he quickly gained control over his emotions and put back the frown. “I don’t have any time to waste,” he muttered with an annoyed tone as he tried to walk past you. Without even thinking, you punched forward, sending a wave of flames towards him.

Once again, Zuko was taken aback by your cold-heartedness. When he came back to his senses, it was almost too late – the Banished Prince rolled backwards to escape the flames in time.

“I didn’t ask whether you wanted to go through with this or not,” you said coolly as you broke your stance to stand straight. “After all, why should I show the slightest bit of concern to someone who didn’t even flinch while shattering my whole soul to a million pieces?!”

Towards the end, your voice became louder and louder, until the point you ended up screaming at his face.

Zuko spoke your name softly, which had your heart melting almost immediately as if he hadn’t been the cause of all that had hurt you over the last years. “Let this go, please – it has been three years and…”

Not even letting him finish, you interrupted him – the fury was raising within you, blinding your sight, and blurring your mind. At that moment, all you wanted to do was to scream out every buried thought, every silenced cry at him until you couldn’t speak anymore.

“So, is time supposed to magically make me forget everything you did, everything you said?” You asked scornfully as you pointed at him with your index finger in an accusing manner. “You… You said I was a burden, a baggage, a fucking deadweight!”

Zuko said your name once again. “Please… I am…”

You were shaking your head almost hysterically, you could feel the tears running down your cheeks. This was the mental breakdown you had been trying to avoid having for weeks now. “How can you expect me to forget that?!”

[Flashback]

“Please, let me come with you.” You whispered as you tried to turn your face away – you kind of felt ashamed for you were crying in front of Zuko’s whole crew. He cupped your face and made you look at him as he gently wiped away the tears leaving you amber eyes. “Zuko, I… I don’t know how to live here without you. I have… I have had you with me ever since I could remember…”

Even though his left eye was bandaged as a result of his father’s unthinkable cruelty, you could still see the tears forming in his right eye. But he managed to control his emotions not to show any weaknesses in front of his crew. “Love, we have talked about this,” he whispered towards your lips before leaving a small kiss. “I will be back before you know it. I promise.”

You shook your head – you didn’t want to stay in the Fire Nation while he went on this impossible journey to find the Avatar, who had been presumably already dead for centuries! A part of you knew that his journey was probably never going to end.

The simplest thought of not getting to see Zuko ever again made you want to throw out. You couldn’t imagine your life without him for you hadn’t known it otherwise. He had always been there, with you, and all your life, you grew up with the belief that you were going to become his wife someday.

The arranged marriage, which had been decided when you were born, was the main reason for you to grow up with Zuko – yes, but it also allowed this purest love of all to bloom between you two. From childhood best friends to childhood crushes and to young lovers.

He carried a piece of your heart and whether he wanted it or not, a part of you was going with him.

“Why?” You asked with a low voice. “Why won’t you take me with you?”

Zuko placed his lips on your forehead to leave a small kiss before speaking. “Your place is here, in the Fire Nation, where you can continue your studies and your training to pursue your dreams.” Slowly, he turned his look away from your eyes. “I would never forgive myself if I took that away from you.”

You pressed your lips against each other to silence a sob that dared to escape. “My place is with you…”

“My decision is final,” Zuko spoke with a soft voice, which carried still enough authority to put an end to your continuous attempts to change his mind. “But I am going to miss you more than anything...”

It felt impossible to form words, let alone talk. Hence, you placed your lips on top of Zuko’s instead of wasting time talking.

After the long farewell, you went home quickly to get the small gift you wanted to give to Zuko before he set sail in a few hours. You wanted to give him something that would bring him good luck on his mission and also make him remember you every time he looked at it.

It was the small replica of a red dragon made of metal, which hung at the end of a black chain. You thought Zuko could hang it by his desk or by his bed, keeping it in his personal space where he didn’t need to wear his façade anymore.

As you approached the ship, you could hear some voices coming from up on board. Upon hearing someone from the crew mentioning your name, you stopped in your tracks to listen to what was being said. You could already see Zuko standing with his back facing you, talking to that crewmate.

“My Prince, please forgive me for asking but,” the crewmate spoke with a respectful tone. “Why didn’t you allow her to join us?”

You heard Zuko heave a sigh before speaking. “I am afraid she would only be a burden to us – like baggage, she would just slow us down.” The gift of good luck you held slowly slipped between your fingers and fell onto the ground. Zuko shook his head. “I cannot allow any deadweight on board – and if any of you should become one, I will not hesitate to send them back!”

Biting your lower lip to silence your sobs, you turned back and ran away without even saying anything to Zuko, without facing him and without wishing him one last goodbye. You wanted to believe he was lying but the way he talked as he uttered those venomous words had been just too real, too true.

After that day, nothing was going to be the same for you.

[Flashback ends]

Wiping the tears away, you asked with a weak voice. “Why?”

Zuko turned his eyes away, his shame radiated off his body. “Does it matter?” He muttered. “After what I made you go through, does it really matter why I said what I said?”

You shook your head as a hysterical laughter left your lips. “Still, you are incapable of looking me in the eye and say it – say that you thought I was weak.” You didn’t realise it as the flames started to form around your clenched fists. “Say that you have lied to me every single day!” Control slowly slipped away from your fingertips. “You have never even loved me!”

What came next had been a shock to both of you.

As you screamed your sorrows away, you shot the flames – which had been growing around your fists – directly at Zuko. This was probably the very first time that you attacked him the same way you would attack any of your enemies. The reflection of the flames was visible in Zuko’s amber eyes and he seemed to be paralyzed – he had never met this side of you, he had never really been on the other side.

If he had dodged the flames with his firebending a second too late… Well, let’s say it would have been really unpleasant.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Zuko screamed at you, still not returning your attack as you circled each other. “Why would you attack me like that? And… and why would you say that I have never loved you?”

“If you had loved me, even just a little,” you told him as you stopped moving in a circle to point at him with an accusing manner. “You would have never hurt me the way you did.” Raising an eyebrow at his direction, you asked sarcastically. “Do you like the person you have turned me into?”

Zuko shook his head. “No, I didn’t do this to you,” he said with a low voice. “This is you under Azula’s influence.”

His words made you throw your head back and let out a laughter that had the hints of condescending, amusement, and little bit… craziness?

“Oh, you do believe that Azula is manipulating me into being one of her puppets?” You asked with genuine curiosity in your voice as you realised the seriousness surrounding Zuko’s features. “My dear Zuko, you have never been more wrong in your life – I am with Azula because I want to, because I deeply care about her. And no, this,” you pointed at yourself, “is not her doing. I should thank you for giving me the push to become more invincible than ever.”

It was hard to understand what was going on inside Zuko’s mind for his amber eyes didn’t give it all away; however, you could feel the hints of longing, disappointment, and jealousy circling around him all at once. It felt like an emotional turmoil.

His voice almost cracked when he spoke. “So, you… replaced me with her?”

At first, you wanted to say that you had replaced him with Shuzi, but you quickly realised that it wasn’t true. Shuzi had a different spot, and it was under no circumstances close to that of Zuko – his place wasn’t completely occupied. However, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that Azula was the only person closest to that very place in your heart.

You pursed your lips. “Well, you can say that – to a certain extent. Speaking of Azula,” you moved away from Zuko’s way as you walked towards your mongoose lizard. “Despite how much I do want to fight you, it is Azula’s destiny to be the one who faces you. Thus, I am going to let you be on your way.” Upon seeing the shocked expression on Zuko’s face, you shrugged. “I have already given her a head start.”

Remembering what his main goal was – he had completely forgot about the Avatar – Zuko quickly mounted his ostrich horse. “You were wrong though,” he said as he rode past you, his voice was low but still, you could hear him. “I did love you. Every single day.”

With that, Zuko disappeared from your sight, leaving you with more questions than you initially had before finally facing him.

[Time Skip]

After Zuko was gone, you returned to join Mai and Ty Lee, only to find both of them soaking wet, sitting by the river. Using your firebending to dry them both, you told that the earthbender girl had escaped from you by going underground like a badgermole. Not long after, Azula joined you three as well, she seemed quite tired.

As you all rode back to the tank train on your mongoose lizards, the Princess told you what had happened: how the enemies and the traitors had worked together to corner her and how she had shot Uncle Iroh with fire to create enough diversion to escape. You couldn’t help yourself but feel terrible for Iroh – you didn’t think he deserved to be Azula’s victim – but you kept your thoughts to yourself.

“Mai told me you didn’t go with her and Ty Lee,” Azula said as you two walked towards the tank train. Mai and Ty Lee were already inside. “Did you really chase the eartbender girl?”

You shook your head, you weren’t going to lie to Azula. “I actually chased Zuko, I just needed a valid excuse to go on my own way without… you know, letting Mai involve herself as well.”

A small frown formed on Azula’s face as she stopped walking. “Zuko? How did you know he was following us?”

“I saw him earlier today from a distance, then he disappeared so I didn’t really think he could keep up with our pace.” You explained as you crossed your arms over your chest. After everything you had gone through, you felt exhausted – not physically, but rather emotionally. “But I saw him in the woods once again after you went your own way. I wanted to finally face him and be free of everything weighing me down.”

Azula nodded at your words, the firm expression slowly disappeared, leaving itself to curiosity. “I understand – in that case, I forgive you for not following my orders.” The edge of your lips curled upwards. “Did it work? Are you finally free of all that weight now?”

You nodded with a big smile forming on your face, almost reaching your amber eyes. Almost.

“I screamed at him everything I have been wanting to say to him ever since… you know, that day.” You spoke with a lower voice, not wanting to be heard by anyone. Shaking your head, you continued. “He is not even capable of owning up to his actions – he couldn’t tell me why he had… said all those things about me.”

Azula shrugged with an unamazed manner. “Well, what did you expect from Zuzu in the first place?” She said as she rested her left hand on the small of your back, leading you two into the tank train. “Still, I am glad that you are now lighter than ever.”

You forced the fake smile back onto your lips.

The problem was that you felt you carried more weight now that you had faced Zuko.

Over the years, you had made yourself deeply believe that he had never really loved you – this had been the only explanation you could find for his actions, your coping mechanism. However, now that you knew he had loved you all along, you felt more lost than ever.

More lost, more confused, more vulnerable.

#prince zuko #atla zuko #zuko x reader #the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #princess azula #zuko #zuko x oc

92 notes · View notes