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celestemona · 2 months ago

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DEEP WATERS

pairing: alhaitham x mermaid! reader

in the stillness of tides, alhaitham unearths a mystery long believed to be legend—a mermaid ensnared, with eyes as deep as the ocean and secrets buried in every wave. drawn by fate and enchanted by her silent song, he finds himself caught between myth and reality. in his quest to understand her world, he risks losing his own heart to the uncharted depths.

cw: part i of ii. fem reader, pronouns s/her are mentioned tho it was written in 2nd person. fluff, fluff. female body specifications; long hair! reader, nudity, slight language barrier’ struggles, characters may seem ooc. shoutout to alhaitham for name you. 15.5k words sue me. not proof-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Alhaitham’s day began like any other, filled with the structured predictability he deemed essential.

As Akademiya’s scribe, he was used to working methodically on his tasks, knowing exactly what was needed and never exceeding those limits. Efficiency was a virtue he held in high regard, after all.

But today, at the request of Lesser Lord Kusanali herself, he was dispatched to Port Ormos to investigate some potential concerns involving certain texts arriving from the neighboring nation. A diplomatic matter with Chenyu Vale, she had suggested, that required someone well-versed in logic and languages—a task he could accomplish quickly and with minimal interruption to his personal duties.

Now, as he stood on the outskirts of Port Ormos with his task nearly complete, Alhaitham surveyed the bustling dock.

While Port Ormos often seemed chaotic to him, he couldn’t deny the appeal of watching the ebb and flow of commerce, of lives interwoven in casual exchanges and swift negotiations. But just as he prepared to leave, his attention was drawn to a quieter stretch of the coast, an isolated, rarely visited area far from the main docks. This was usually his kind of place: quiet and solitary.

However, today, the silence was broken by something… peculiar. It wasn’t the rhythmic murmur of the waves or the occasional seagulls that caught his attention, but an odd, strained sound. It was faint but persistent—a low occasional growl mixed with something he couldn’t immediately identify.

Curiosity piqued, Alhaitham allowed his gaze to scan the sandy stretch. There was no one else in sight; no sailors, no matras. This area seemed entirely deserted, only adding to the mystery.

He approached cautiously, his trained eyes alert with every movement. Then, amidst the scattered shells and seaweed, he saw it: a glimpse of something familiar yet entirely strange.

A tail. Long, dark, and unmistakably fish-like, though far more mesmerizing in its iridescent palette and certainly larger than any common marine animal. Its dark blue with a touch of gray caught the light and shimmered with shifting hues as the waves lapped gently over it.

Alhaitham’s breath hitched as his gaze traveled from the fish tail to its source, finally landing on the figure trapped in a tangled mess of fishing net.

This was no ordinary sea creature. No. It was a mermaid.

For a man who prided himself on his calm and logical demeanor, Alhaitham felt an undeniable wave of disbelief and fascination wash over him.

Mermaids were, at best, myths—Fontaine tales told in taverns and old children’s books. In his days as a student, he had skimmed the sparse historical mentions of mermaids, intrigued by their academic mystery, though ultimately dismissing them as baseless stories. Historians had little to offer about them—no language to decipher, no artifacts to study. It was all speculative, fantasy stories wrapped in the very mystique of the sea. And now, here you were, a very real mermaid right before him.

Your form was incredibly otherworldly, almost surreal in its beauty. Long hair clung to your shoulders and breasts, darkened by the water and tangled with delicate, glistening pearls, while the scales on your arms and ribs caught the faint light. But it was your face, contorted with a mixture of fear and frustration, that held him in place. Your sharp eyes, almost snake-like, blinked warily as you noticed his approach, and a low growl escaped your throat, an instinctive warning.

Alhaitham took a deep breath, grounding himself in reality. This creature—no, this mermaid—wasn’t just a legend he could dismiss. You were tangible, vulnerable, and caught in a trap you clearly couldn’t escape from.

Kneeling out of your reach, he chose his movements with calculated care. “Easy there,” he murmured, his tone neutral yet soft, more for his own benefit than yours. He doubted you’d understand, but it was instinctive to try and soothe you. He slowly extended a hand, palm open, hoping you could see he meant no harm.

Your sharp gaze tracked his every movement, a soft, cautious hiss slipping from your lips. You moved your tail against the net, trying once again to free yourself, but the more you struggled, the tighter the net seemed to trap you. Alhaitham’s gaze dropped to your bare torso, noticing the faint shimmer of scales marred by bruises, likely from your attempts to break free.

He looked back at you, meeting your wary, defiant gaze. Your intelligence was unmistakable—in your eyes, he could see a spark of recognition and caution. You knew he was a threat, but also, perhaps, your only chance.

“Alright,” he said, as if reasoning with a wild creature, and began to move carefully toward the edge of the net. You tensed, the sharp gleam of your canines visible as you bared your teeth in warning. Alhaitham paused, feeling a mix of danger and a strange empathy.

“Relax,” he said softly, ensuring his gestures were as non-threatening as possible. You continued to watch him, your expression still wary but curious. Up close, he could see your long, sharp nails, the delicate, translucent membranes between your fingers and the subtle rise and fall of your gills as you breathed shallowly and anxiously. Your beauty was undeniable but in a way that felt unreal, beyond anything he had ever encountered.

Alhaitham slowly reached for the knife at his belt, the blade glinting in the faint light. Your eyes narrowed, a low, almost inaudible growl escaping as you observed him. “I’m here to help,” he assured, keeping his tone calm, as if you could understand his intent through his voice alone.

As he brought the blade closer to the tangled net, your body went rigid, muscles tensing as if ready to spring—or strike. Your gaze locked onto his, every line of your body taut, your breathing shallow and rapid. For a brief moment, he paused, meeting your gaze with a nod of understanding, as if to say: Trust me, just for now.

With practiced ease, he cut a few threads, loosening the net just enough to give you some room. You flinched, your tail contracting involuntarily, but you didn’t pull away, allowing him to continue his work. He cut it carefully, each movement deliberate, keeping his own breathing steady as he watched your response.

He couldn’t help but wonder at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, the notorious and logical Scribe of the Akademiya, performing a rescue for something—or someone—he once dismissed as pure fantasy. The tales he had brushed aside as stories seemed to dissolve before this living being. Yet his mind continued to spin with questions he couldn’t suppress: How did you end up here, trapped in this net? And what would become of you now?

As he cut the last thread, he noticed your injured tail more clearly, a long red line seeping through the translucent scales. A frown crossed his face as he sheathed the knife, feeling the faintest pang of concern.

“You’re hurt,” he said quietly, not knowing if you would understand him. You shifted slightly, flexing your tail as if testing your freedom, your expression cautious but no longer as frantic. Your eyes met his again, and for a moment, something like gratitude flashed in your gaze—fleeting, almost imperceptible, but there.

He couldn’t help but smile slightly, feeling a pull of fascination, his mind instinctively cataloging every feature, every movement.

Yet Alhaitham’s thoughts clicked into the details of the situation with calculated precision.

He observed the desolate stretch of beach where he found you, far removed from the main port and any regular fishing route. This area was more of a neglected backwater than a place frequented by locals, let alone fishermen. He was certain you hadn’t been captured here intentionally; instead, you must have ventured here alone, in danger or by mistake, only to be caught by the tangled mess of nets, possibly abandoned by a passing fishing boat.

He looked back at you, his analytical gaze softening slightly. Faced with this new reality, you bore little resemblance to the wild, monstrous figures folklore sometimes suggested. You were undeniably alive, aware, and your beauty, strange and striking, had an almost hypnotic quality.

But despite his attempts at rational analysis, concern rooted itself as he examined your injuries.

The wound on your tail continued bleeding slowly, deep crimson droplets blending into the sea water. He didn’t know how long you had been trapped, but the blood loss, however gradual, could spell trouble if left untreated. There was also the issue of eremites and mercenaries who roamed the outskirts of Port Ormos, not to mention treasure hunters and opportunists. You’d be a prize beyond imagination for many of them if they found you in this weakened state…

The weight of your expectant gaze held him in the moment, your snake-like eyes gleaming with suspicion and interest. You watched him closely, trying to understand him as he studied you. He could see in the slight press of your lips, as if bracing to hiss or growl, ready to flee if needed. But he also noticed that, even in your obvious wariness, there was a glimmer of something more—a reluctant trust, perhaps, that he wasn’t here to harm you.

He took a careful step forward, his voice calm. “Can you understand me?” he asked, each word slow and deliberate.

Silence, save for the rhythmic lap of waves against the shore.

Opting to approach you through another means, Alhaitham raised a hand to his chest, fingertips gently pressing over his heart. He met your eyes, holding your gaze firmly, and said, “Alhaitham,” keeping his voice low, repeating the name once more, “Al-Haitham,” drawing each syllable with deliberate clarity.

You head tilted cutely, eyes blinking expressively. You watched his gesture, your gaze lingering on the hand over his heart, as if trying to decipher the meaning in his movements and tone. He could see your intrigue, the silent intelligence behind your eyes suggesting that, though there was no response, his words had not entirely gone unnoticed.

Satisfied to have given you something to hold onto, Alhaitham took a deep breath to calm himself.

Internally, the scribe wrestled with a series of difficult choices. Returning you to the sea seemed the most logical path, but there was no certainty that you’d survive the injuries. And considering the bystanders lingering in the area, leaving you there could be even more risky. On the other hand, bringing you to his own home was… complicated. The logistics alone were challenging. He lived a fair distance from Port Ormos—nearly half an hour by walking—and carrying you the entire way risked exposure for both you and himself.

As he turned these options over in his mind, you shifted slightly, a barely audible groan revealing you discomfort. The sight stirred an unexpected protectiveness within him. Practicality aside, leaving you in that state wasn’t an option he could consider.

He crouched beside you once again, his expression softening when he met your gaze. “It seems you’ve left me with little choice,” he murmured, half to himself. “I’ll have to find a way to take you with me.”

You blinked, your gaze never leaving him.

When he extended his hand toward you, you immediately stiffened and hissed aggressively, your body tensing as if bracing for what might come next. Alhaitham kept his movements slow and deliberate, waiting until the tension in your shoulders eased enough. When he placed a careful hand beneath you, your damp skin was smooth, cool to the touch, and your scales gleamed slightly even in the last traces of sunlight. Your breathing steadied, though he could still feel your persistent nerves.

He thought for a moment, gauging your weight, and realized it’d be challenging to carry you all the way to his home without attracting attention. He glanced back at the main harbor, then at you, pondering an alternative solution.

Then his eyes landed on an old wooden cart leaning against the weathered side of a nearby storage shed. The cart was small, probably used to transport boxes of fish or bags of supplies from the coast, with thick wheels designed to handle rough paths. Judging by the nets and equipment scattered around it, it likely belonged to a fisherman or trader who had left it unattended for the day.

With a hint of reluctance, Alhaitham assessed the cart and the possible risks of borrowing it. But practicality won out; the cart was discreet and functional, a solution he couldn’t ignore.

Carefully, he carried you toward the cart, moving at a steady, unhurried pace to keep your calm. You were clearly frightened, your body tensing slightly as he approached the cart, but your eyes remained focused on him, not on the unfamiliar contraption.

“It’s the best I can do for now,” he murmured, his tone gentler, as he placed a soft cloth he had found along the cart’s surface, creating a makeshift cushion over the rough wood.

Slowly, he guided you to sit, your injured tail carefully positioned on the padding. Your eyes darted between him and the cart, a flicker of nervousness visible in the way your fingers clenched and relaxed, but you stayed still, watching him intently as he adjusted the cloth around you.

Once he was certain you were settled, he grasped the iron handle of the cart and began to pull, setting a careful yet steady rhythm. The journey ahead was longer than he had anticipated, and he kept his attention on the road, his mind flooded with questions he couldn’t yet answer.

As you both traced the more secluded paths back to his home, Alhaitham found himself glancing over his shoulder at you, curiosity mingling with a cautious sense of awe. The sound of the cart’s wheels rolling over the uneven path filled the silence between you two, a strangely rhythmic backdrop for his swirling thoughts.

This encounter was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had encountered beings as mythical as they were magical during his studies, but mermaids—real mermaids—had always been a subject wrapped in mystery and skepticism. And now here he was, with a living, breathing mystery being carried by him in an old, borrowed cart, with questions he could hardly begin to ask.

As he neared home, Alhaitham’s thoughts began to drift toward Kaveh, his housemate. The scribe knew he had the right to bring anyone he wanted into his own home, yet he couldn’t entirely ignore the small tug of doubt about what the architect might think of this stranger among them—especially given the undeniable peculiarity of the situation.

When they finally arrived, Alhaitham noticed an unusual stillness in the cart.

Looking back, he was startled to find you breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling with visible effort. Your eyelids fluttered, your gaze unfocused and barely registering your surroundings. He had assumed you were silent due to simple exhaustion, but now he could see your strength waning; the wound on your tail was no longer bleeding heavily, but your skin had lost its previous luster, becoming dull and slightly pale.

He realized, with a start, that you had likely been out of the water for too long, your injuries worsening your condition. Without a second thought, he lifted you into his arms, your weight shifting in his hold as he carefully cradled you against his chest. Your skin was colder than he had expected, and you barely reacted, your head drooping slightly to one side as he carried you through the entrance.

The house was quiet, he noticed. Kaveh was probably finishing a project or relaxing at the local tavern. In a way, it was a relief; Alhaitham didn’t want to face questions yet, not when every minute counted. Quickly, he headed to his suite, knowing the bathroom there would be the best place to stabilize you.

Reaching the bathroom, the scribe laid you on the floor, leaning you against the wall while he turned on the bathtub’s faucet. The water splashed and rose in the tub, filling the room with a soft, familiar sound, and he carefully tested the temperature, ensuring it was comfortable for you.

Once the tub was full, he returned to your side, sliding his arms around you to lift you again, and gently submerged you in the water.

The effect was almost immediate. The tension in your shoulders began to ease, your body relaxing as you adjusted to the gentle embrace of the water. Your tail submerged partially, the scales faintly shimmering as your breathing began to steady. You blinked slowly, your eyes finally regaining some clarity, and your gaze turned to him once more.

Alhaitham found himself watching you, captivated. The way you moved in the water was like observing a creature in its natural element; you were graceful, serene, each of your movements fluid and instinctive, even in such a small space. For a moment, you seemed almost at peace, adjusting to your new environment with a slight sense of wonder.

After a while, Alhaitham sat on a stool nearby, examining the wound on your tail with a more clinical gaze. The cut looked deeper up close, irregular and red along the edges, likely worsened by your struggle against the net.

Carefully, he extended his hand toward it, intending to assess the damage — but at the first touch, you recoiled, a soft yet distinct growl rumbling in your throat. Your eyes locked onto his hand, narrowing in a sharp warning.

“Easy,” he said softly, his voice measured and calm. “I just want to help.”

You held his gaze, still defensive, your eyes distrustful and unyielding.

Alhaitham considered his options, realizing he needed to show you his intentions. Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve, exposing a small area of his forearm. Using a small, sterilized knife from the medical kit he kept nearby, he made a small cut. Without breaking eye contact, he took a roll of bandages and tended to the wound, pressing a small cloth to it to stop the bleeding, then securing it with careful precision.

You watched intently, your sharp eyes following every movement as he applied the bandage and finished his demonstration. He extended his hand, showing you the process was harmless, then gestured toward your injured tail with a look of gentle insistence.

Your gaze shifted from the bandaged arm to his face, and then, slowly, you relented, your tail moving toward him in a tentative gesture of trust.

Alhaitham excused and his fingers moved over the surface of your tail, the scales cool and smooth under his touch, a strange blend of softness and strength. He found himself fascinated by the texture, each scale catching faint glimmers of color as he carefully cleaned the wound and applied a thin layer of antiseptic balm.

Your reaction was hesitant, but you didn’t resist, your gaze fixed on him with a mix of attentiveness and intrigue. Alhaitham was silent, focusing on his task, though he couldn’t shake the strange sensation of examining something so mythical, so utterly otherworldly.

When he finished, he moved back a bit, giving you space to adjust and settle into the bathtub.

For a moment, the room fell silent, and Alhaitham realized you were likely hungry. Recalling his pantry, he remembered there were some canned fish—a simple, if humble, option. He rose, nodding apologetically before heading to the kitchen.

There, he grabbed the can and opened it, the salty, familiar scent wafting into the air. When he returned, you watched him with expectant eyes, your curiosity rekindled. He sat beside the tub again and offered the food, waiting to see how you would react. At first, you wrinkled your nose, suspicion shining in your gaze, but after a moment, you carefully took a piece, chewing it timidly.

It was as if a switch had been flipped. You devoured the rest with surprising intensity, your hunger evident as you finished the fish with quick, eager bites. When you looked back at him, pupils dilated and gleaming, your expression softened into something almost sweet. The unguarded look, the silent request in your face, caught him off guard—you wanted more.

A slight smile played on his lips, amused by your sudden change. Without saying a word, he grabbed another can, opened it, and offered it to you. You accepted it with the same voracious energy, and he found himself even more captivated, watching you eat with a fascination that was part analytical, part genuine curiosity, a faint hint of acceptance surfacing.

“So that’s all it takes to earn your trust, huh? Just a bit of food,” he remarked, his voice carrying a tone of entertainment as he straightened on the stool, arms crossed. His eyes gleamed with rare humor, the softened edge that few had ever seen. When he chuckled, you looked up, momentarily intrigued by the sound.

But that lightness faded as his mind returned to the current situation, his brow furrowing in quiet thought.

Alhaitham couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the scene of this creature from myth, an enigma he could barely believe was real, now looking at him from his bathtub. And he, a man usually content with the solitude of his own space, was now bound to share it with you, a mystery he found himself inevitably drawn to.

He took a deep breath and leaned toward you, his fingers interlacing.

“Where did you come from, huh?” he asked, his voice softer this time, as if coaxing an answer. “How did you end up here in Sumeru of all places?”

Each question felt like a whisper, a thread he was following in search of answers he wasn’t sure you even had.

His gaze lingered on your face, his eyes softened as he searched for some hint of recognition, something that would give him insight into the untold story you carried. But you only tilted your head, watching him with those beautiful, sharp, and intrigued eyes, and he sighed, recognizing that these questions might not yield anything for now.

With a contemplative look, he continued, more to himself now, “I don’t know how long you’ll be staying here, but…” His gaze drifted to the edge of the tub. “We’ll need to get past this language barrier,” he said, watching you carefully, noticing how you seemed to respond, if not to his words, then at least to his tone. You might not have spoken yet, but he had a strong suspicion you understood more than he initially thought.

He straightened up again, arms crossed over his chest, already planning his next steps. “Teaching you some basics should be manageable,” he mused. “You seem smart. I’ll start with simple words. Maybe that’ll give us some common ground.”

His thoughts briefly wandered to the Akademiya’s library. The House of Daena held numerous books and journals, fragments of knowledge, notes from scholars who had studied all sorts of myths. Perhaps there was something in those pages that could hold the answers he needed. He’d make a point to return there tomorrow.

Lost in thought, he murmured, “I can’t keep you in the tub forever, either. We’ll have to address that eventually.” His voice trailed off as he considered the situation more practically. For now, the tub would suffice, but it was far from a long-term solution.

You followed his every movement, though it was clear your interest was more in your surroundings than in him.

Occasionally, your gaze would drift from the dim candlelight to the strange objects decorating the bathroom, absorbing each detail of this world that was foreign to you. Alhaitham found himself staring at you, surprised at how naturally you seemed to fit into the space—a strange contrast considering you were a creature of the water, yet here you were, curious and present in the heart of his world.

Moments passed in silence, both lost in separate thoughts—Alhaitham weighing his options.

Some time later, he noticed the way your eyes began to close, your body finally giving in to the day’s exhaustion. You leaned against the edge of the tub, breathing softly, eyelids heavy. A faint, almost affectionate smile crossed his lips as he murmured, “A long day, no doubt.”

With a low chuckle, he straightened, adjusting the dim lighting to give you peace. “Goodnight,” he said softly, letting the silence of the bathroom settle over you as he returned to his suite.

Once in his room, he shed the day’s fatigue along with his usual attire, slipping into more comfortable clothing. Yet even as he tried to shift his focus, his thoughts returned to you. The mystery of who you were, what you were, haunted him in the most unexpected ways. Every answer led to another question, but that wasn’t the unsettling part. No—it was the quiet fascination you stirred within him, a desire to unravel that he never had felt before.

Heading to the kitchen, he prepared a quick meal for himself. He served a simple broth, letting it simmer as he went over the potential tasks for tomorrow.

Pay a visit to the Akademiya’ library was a must, he concluded. Perhaps he could find some records that might offer insights into mermaid lore.

But there was more to consider—how would he navigate the practicalities of living alongside you? How’d Kaveh react to your existence? The solution to the language barrier seemed a smart move, but could you communicate in the same way humans did? The thoughts accumulated, persisting as he carried his food back to his chair.

Settling in with a book about the different cultures of the desert tribes, Alhaitham tried to immerse himself in its pages, though his eyes drifted now and then toward his suite door. There was a strange sense of responsibility he couldn’t ignore.

When he had read as much as his mind would allow for the night, he got up, walking quietly to the bathroom to check on you one last time.

You were there. You were real.

The faintest trace of a smile crossed his face as he saw you sleeping, your body half-submerged in the water, your tail draped over the side of the tub. The room fell into a gentle silence, the soft rhythm of your breathing the only sound.

He lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, his mind reluctantly calming as he absorbed the peace of the moment. Finally, he closed the door and turned, heading back to his room.

After finishing his nightly routines somewhere else, Alhaitham lay in bed, his thoughts wavering between the strange events of the day and the mysteries tomorrow would bring. But tonight, he allowed himself a rare luxury: to set aside the unknown, choosing instead to let the calm of the moment settle over him.

With one last lingering thought of you, he let sleep claim him, already aware that his life had changed, subtly but irrevocably, the moment he found you.

When the first rays of dawn slipped into the room, Alhaitham woke, his mind returning to the surreal events of the previous day.

For a brief moment, he wondered if it had all been a trick of his tired mind, but the memory of your cautious yet inquisitive gaze quickly dismissed the notion. Getting up, he adjusted his clothes and headed to the bathroom, his mind already reflecting on the day’s responsibilities—and the unique situation of having a mermaid as an unexpected guest.

Opening the bathroom door, he was greeted by the sight of you already awake, fingers trailing through the water with a kind of childlike curiosity. As soon as you sensed his presence, you lifted your head, and he was met with what could only be described as a warm, welcoming look. Your sharp, reflective eyes held a glimmer of trust, hesitant but undeniably there, as if his arrival was something to be anticipated rather than feared.

Alhaitham felt a small smile tug at his lips as he observed your response, taking it as a sign that you were becoming accustomed to him.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice softened by the quietness of the early hour.

The words seemed to capture your attention even more closely, though he knew the meaning might be lost on you. Still, he kept his tone gentle, observing the way you seemed to listen, almost as if searching for something familiar in his voice. “I see you’re feeling at home,” there was a hint of amusement in his tone, his eyes flicking to the water you were swirling with your fingers.

Turning to the sink, he splashed water on his face and grabbed his toothbrush, methodically following the movements of his morning routine. He was aware of your gaze, fixed on each motion, following the toothbrush in his hand as he brought it to his mouth. Pausing, he looked at you, the faintest smile curving his lips as he leaned back against the sink.

“Curious now, aren’t we? It’s a toothbrush. We use it to… well, keep our teeth clean,” he explained, though he had no real expectation that you’d understand. Nevertheless, there was something strangely satisfying about sharing these little details with you, as if guiding you through the peculiarities of human life.

You watched him closely, your eyes darting between the toothbrush, the sink, and the running water. The slight confusion on your face was so genuine, so openly curious, that he found himself chuckling quietly. “I suppose none of this makes sense to you. But we humans have our habits.”

When he finished, Alhaitham straightened, casting one last look in your direction before heading to the door. “I’ll bring you some breakfast,” he said, as much out of habit as anything else, already noting the slight inquisitive tilt of your head. He lingered a moment longer than necessary, almost reluctant to leave the room, before finally heading to the kitchen to prepare for the day.

Entering the kitchen, he found Kaveh already there, hunched over a cup of coffee with a look that bordered on pure misery. The dark circles under his eyes and his slow, almost agonizing sips of coffee told Alhaitham everything he needed to know.

“Rough night?” Alhaitham’s tone was clearly teasing, though he made little effort to hide his mild disapproval. Kaveh didn’t even bother looking up, merely muttering something unintelligible as he stared at his mug.

“Don’t start,” the other man grumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion. “It’s too early for your lectures.”

Alhaitham’s lips twitched in mockery, barely hiding an ironic smile. “Lectures? Hardly. Just an observation. Maybe a bit of moderation would do you good.”

Kaveh scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Moderation isn’t exactly your strong suit either, judging by the amount of research papers scattered around.” He drained his coffee, muttering something about Alhaitham’s inability to keep the house organized and stumbled toward his room, the door closing with a weary thud behind him.

Shaking his head, Alhaitham turned his attention to the fridge, rummaging through its contents with a quiet purpose. He picked a selection of food he hoped might appeal to you—some leftover shrimp, dried fish, and a few other options he thought might please a creature of the sea.

Returning to you, he noticed how your gaze instantly brightened at the sight of the food he held. A barely concealed smile crossed his face as he watched your eager expression, the way you leaned forward slightly, anticipation evident in your wide eyes.

“I see I’ve already discovered the key to earning your trust,” he commented with a soft chuckle, placing the food beside the tub. “A little food, and suddenly I’m not so intimidating.”

Sitting on the stool near the tub, he watched you as you picked up the shrimp, a glimmer of wonder followed by the same fervor with which you had devoured last night’s meal. The moment you tasted it, your expression shifted to one of contentment, and he couldn’t help but be amused by how expressive you were.

“Listen,” he began in a conversational tone, though he knew the full implications were likely lost on you, “I’ll need to be away for a while,” he paused, as if weighing his words. “However, in the meantime, I’ll also check if there’s anything that might be useful for understanding your situation.”

You looked up briefly, eyes attentive, and Alhaitham felt a spark of satisfaction at your apparent focus. It was as if, despite the language barrier, some part of you had grasped the importance of his words.

He continued, a thoughtful tone in his voice, “Besides, I can’t leave you in the bathtub indefinitely, so I’ll work on a more appropriate solution. I’d like to have it back, after all,” he paused, almost speaking to himself, “Then, there’s Kaveh too who I should approach the current subject but I can deal with him later. The most important now is figure out how we’re gonna work on building your vocabulary. Just enough so we can understand each other.”

The statement lingered in the air, half a plan and half a promise.

Alhaitham realized he was already thinking about putting his plans in action, wondering if he might start teaching you simple words and phrases as soon as possible. His fingers tapped absently on his knee as he considered the logistics, the potential challenges—and rewards—of bridging that language gap.

From time to time, your gaze fell on him, as if assessing his intentions, though it didn’t take long before your focus shifted again, captivated by something else now that sunlight bright your surroundings. He marveled at your ability to find fascination in the simplest things, and for a brief moment, he felt a strange pang of something he couldn’t quite identify—a bubbling discomfort in his stomach, almost unsettling.

The silence became comfortable, broken only by the occasional soft sound of the water and you eating.

Alhaitham’s gaze drifted to the soft morning light stretching across the bathroom floor, and he suddenly realized he’d lost track of time.

A sigh escaped him as he finally rose from his seat. “Looks like that’s my cue.”

Your gaze followed him, an imperceptible questioning look in your eyes that made him chuckle softly. “What?” he said, his voice gentler. “I may not understand where you came from, but I’ll make sure you’re comfortable here.”

With one last look, he left the room to gather his things and prepare for work.

As he adjusted his attire, his thoughts returned to the moments you’d spent observing him—a feeling that lingered, even as he headed to the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee.

Before leaving, he returned to check on you one last time and considered whether or not to lock the bedroom door. He doubted you’d drag yourself around the house and was sure Kaveh wouldn’t intrude on his privacy. So, he only closed the door and make his way to the exit.

He cast one last look behind him before leaving his home and heading toward the Akademiya.

At his work, Alhaitham went through the day with practiced ease.

The tasks before him were routine; his hands swiftly leafed through documents, marking necessary corrections and assessing reports without losing pace. Occasionally, a colleague would pass by with a nod or a brief greeting, which he returned in his usual, calm manner, though his thoughts kept drifting back to you. He found himself wondering how you were doing, alone and adjusting to the strange, new world of his home.

During lunch, he took a detour to the House of Daena.

The familiar shelves surrounded him, but he was focused, his eyes scanning the spines of books and journals, all marked with references to the ancient legends and myths of Teyvat. Thanks to his access to restricted areas, he pored over some of the oldest and rarest manuscripts, hoping to glean at least a trace of knowledge about mermaids.

Most entries were vague at best—poetic reflections, scattered notes from long-dead historians, and tales from Fontaine that seemed like fables. However, he gathered hints that mermaids, if they existed, were mysterious beings known for their enchantments and charm over men, with powers beyond human understanding. Intriguing, though frustratingly incomplete.

As the sun began to set, Alhaitham finally left the office.

On his way home, he stopped by a nearby fishmonger’s stall. Fresh seafood was piled high—crabs, shrimp, mussels. Selecting a variety, he figured you would enjoy the options. Just as he was reaching for his mora pouch, he spotted Kaveh rushing toward him from across the plaza, his usually composed friend looking distinctly out of sorts.

“Alhaitham!” Kaveh’s voice was breathless, incredulous, as he skidded to a halt beside him. “You—you need to go home. Right now!”

The scribe raised an eyebrow. “Good to see you too. But if you notice, I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Kaveh said, nervously running a hand through his hair. “There’s—there’s a naked woman in our kitchen!”

Both Alhaitham and the vendor froze, the scribe’s mind, thouggh, racing a mile a minute. Kaveh looked genuinely shaken, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide with a mix of panic and disbelief.

“A woman…?” Alhaitham repeated, the words slipping out as he tried to process what his friend had said.

“Yes! A very naked woman! In our kitchen!” Kaveh’s voice dropped to a hiss. “She’s just—she’s in there, rummaging through the food like she owns the place!”

The realization hit Alhaitham like a shock, his pulse quickening. He barely acknowledged the merchant’s chocked stare as he turned, leaving his purchases behind as he quickly made his way home. Kaveh struggled to keep up, throwing his hands in the air.

“Alhaitham, what’s going on? Do you know something? I should’ve known I wasn’t imagining things when I heard voices coming from your room this morning. Since when do you bring women home without even giving me a heads-up? And—she’s stunning! But who—what—?”

Alhaitham didn’t respond. His mind was a whirlwind of questions, scenarios, and a strange, unexpected excitement tinged with worry. He’d hoped you’d stay in the bathtub—not creating legs and wandering around defenseless.

Kaveh was still talking, ranting in exasperation, but Alhaitham only caught fragments.

“Just… be quiet for a moment,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the path as his pace quickened.

Upon arriving home, he opened the door cautiously, Kaveh practically breathing down his neck. Heading toward the kitchen, he felt a palpable tension. And then he saw you.

You were in the center of it, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun streaming through the windows. Your human form was… breathtaking. The long, now-dry locks of your hair cascaded over your shoulders, reaching your waist, framing your face with an ethereal quality that somehow amplified your beauty tenfold. Your features—sharp yet soft, and your eyes, still carrying that same hint of mystery and allure—caught the light, leaving him speechless.

Your skin seemed to glow, luminous in a way that appeared almost otherworldly. And you were indeed very, very naked.

His gaze remained, caught between awe and sheer disbelief. You were in his kitchen, the same creature he had found tangled in the fishing net, and yet, looking at you now, he couldn’t help but feel utterly captivated.

Kaveh stammered beside him, his face bright red as he averted his gaze. “Alhaitham, seriously! Are you going to explain this or just keep staring?”

Snapping out of his trance, Alhaitham cleared his throat, masking his surprise with a carefully neutral expression. He stepped forward, catching your attention. “You… You’re human now,” he murmured, almost to himself, the amazement still lingering in his voice.

You looked up, meeting his gaze with a glint of recognition and curiosity. In that moment, Alhaitham felt a faint trace of familiarity in your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.

Then, to his surprise, you opened your mouth, and a single soft word escaped.

“‘Haitham.”

Alhaitham’s eyes widened. His name—or a version of it—spoken in your voice for the first time.

A strange warmth spread through him as he heard it, his own name seeming to carry an unexpected weight, as if imbued with the raw honesty of a first word. He barely had time to process it before you stepped closer and gently pulled his face toward yours, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

Kaveh let out an audible gasp beside him, his face flooding with color as he stumbled back, practically tripping over his own feet. “Archons above! What is happening to the world?” His voice was nearly a squeak as he pressed himself against the far wall, looking like he might faint from the shock.

Alhaitham, though not someone easily perturbed, found himself momentarily frozen, his pulse quickening as he processed your action. He had read about mermaid customs, albeit only briefly in fragmented records, but it occurred to him that this gesture might mean something— perhaps a greeting, a way of recognizing trust and acceptance.

With that realization, his surprise softened into something closer to warmth. The gesture felt innocent, sincere. Alhaitham’s lips curved upward, and his eyes softened as he met yours. “So, that’s how you say ‘hello,’” he murmured, his voice low, as if not wanting to break the moment.

You tilted your head, amusement gleaming in your gaze for the first time, as if you could somehow sense his thoughts. Meanwhile, Kaveh, still pressed against the wall, looked on with equal parts horror and disbelief.

“Oh, I’m going to lose my mind,” he muttered, covering his eyes as if to give the two of you some privacy. “Alhaitham, please tell me you have some kind of explanation for this—this whole situation.”

Ignoring the other man’s confused state, Alhaitham took a step back. “You surprised me,” he said, his voice softened, warmth in his tone. “I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t even sure if you could take on a human form, let alone speak so quickly.” He managed a small smile, the corners of his lips curling as he realized he had far more to learn about you than he initially thought.

Kaveh, still covering his eyes with one hand, muttered, “Unbelievable! You're still talking? Only you'd find yourself in this situation and still stay calm.”

Alhaitham shot him a brief look, though he couldn’t entirely blame him. Turning to you, he gently gestured for you to follow. “Come. Let’s find something for you to wear.”

As you followed him, Alhaitham tried to ignore Kaveh’s incredulous expression. He knew he’d be bombarded with questions later, but for now, all that mattered was getting you settled, dressed, and perhaps—if possible—beginning to understand the mystery you had brought into his life.

Alhaitham’s clothes hung loosely on you, but he found a way to tie them securely, adjusting the sleeves and waistband as comfortably as possible.

While he dressed you, his eyes always averting when they fell on your exposed intimates, you looked down at yourself, wide-eyed and fascinated, tilting your head as if entranced by the strange, soft fabric now covering your skin. He noticed how you examined each new sensation—the way the sleeves brushed against your arms, how the fabric rested on your shoulders, and the feeling of something covering your legs. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you try to make sense of it all.

Once he ensured you were clothed, your wound tended, and provided with food that seemed to delight you, Alhaitham guided you back to the main room, where Kaveh awaited.

The architect’s mouth fell open as he observed your every movement, absorbing how you moved with a blend of grace and wonder, entirely captivated by each new detail around you. Blissfully unaware of their gazes, you seemed utterly fascinated by how your own feet flexed and moved, watching them with open curiosity as if they were little, curious creatures.

Kaveh broke the silence, his eyes still wide with disbelief. “Alright… start explaining, or I might think I’m hallucinating. Or still drunk.”

Ever practical, Alhaitham recounted the events precisely, detailing how he found you entangled in fishing nets, the injury you’d suffered, and his decision to bring you home to heal.

“I didn’t know if she would survive in the wild with her injuries,” he added, his tone practical, though he couldn’t help glancing at you to make sure you were still comfortable. “It seemed the most reasonable option.”

Kaveh nodded slowly, his expression blank as he pieced together the story. “So, you’re saying she’s not just some random woman, but actually a mermaid—a living legend—and you decided to bring her here.” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a low whistle. “I can’t say I blame you. But… what do you plan to do next?”

Alhaitham crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “She’s free to leave whenever she wants. But with her injury”—he gestured subtly to your bandaged leg—“I doubt she’ll go far. Until she heals, she’ll stay here, and I’ll try to learn as much as I can. We still know so little about her species.”

Kaveh raised an eyebrow. “You realize what you’re saying, right? We’re talking about a mermaid, not just some stray animal you can study. People would pay a fortune just to catch a glimpse of her. She could be in real danger if someone else, or even the Akademiya, finds out.”

Alhaitham didn’t waver. “I’m well aware. That’s why, for now, she stays here. I’ll be careful.”

Kaveh, even relunctantly, nodded, his concern gradually shifting to fascination as he watched you stretch your legs, then flex your feet experimentally, giggling with delight.

“Does she understand us? I mean, can she speak our language since she had said your name a while ago?”

A faint smile played at the corner of Alhaitham’s lips. “She’s getting the hang of it.”

Kaveh brightened, leaning forward with a smile. “Ah, well, in that case…” He pointed to himself, speaking slowly and clearly, “Kaveh!”

Your gaze quickly lifted from your feet to study Kaveh, and you seemed to pay considerable attention to his name. With your brows slightly furrowed, you tilted your head, then murmured softly, “Haitham.”

Kaveh’s smile faltered, his face contorting in confusion as he shot Alhaitham an incredulous look, who was suppressing an amused look.

Determined, Kaveh repeated his name, louder this time. “Kaveh,” he insisted, as if pure repetition would yield better results.

You watched him with a mixture of curiosity and slight confusion, though a barely perceptible glimmer of pure mischief crossed your eyes. Confident, you repeated again: “Haitham.”

Alhaitham couldn’t hold back. A low chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head, watching Kaveh’s patience fray as he let out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, I get it,” Kaveh muttered, crossing his arms and pouting. “I’m just the ‘other guy,’ huh?”

“She’s learning,” Alhaitham reassured, a faint but warm smile touching his lips. “It’ll take time, and she seems to have chosen a starting point.” He looked at you, his gaze softened. This didn’t escape the architect’s sharp eyes, who raised an eyebrow subtly.

In the end, Kaveh rolled his eyes but couldn’t fully hide a smile. “Well, I suppose I’m honored to be in her presence anyway,” his gaze lingered on you, his voice softening with a kind of reverence. “It’s still hard to believe. This—this is actually real.”

Alhaitham’s gaze shifted from Kaveh back to you, his eyes calm but observant. “Yes,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, “it is.” The smile in his eyes remained, becoming a bit more serious. “And I think our lives just got a lot more interesting.”

The conversation continued, flowing naturally between Alhaitham and Kaveh, though their attention rarely drifted from you.

Kaveh’s eyes shone with unmistakable fascination every time he looked in your direction, still grappling with the fact that he was in the presence of a mermaid. Alhaitham, meanwhile, was studying you with a different intent, as if weighing the potential for you not only adapt further, or learn and communicate, but perhaps even bridge the gap between your worlds entirely.

And yet, both men couldn’t ignore your beauty—a graceful, ethereal presence that captivated them even in this simple, domestic setting.

After a lull in the conversation, Kaveh cleared his throat, shifting his gaze between Alhaitham and you. “You know, I was thinking… does she have a name?” He looked at Alhaitham expectantly, as if the answer was obvious.

Alhaitham blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment. He hadn’t even considered it until now; you’d only just learned to say his name, so the thought of you having one of your own hadn’t crossed his mind.

Seeing his hesitation, Kaveh continued, “We can’t just keep calling her ‘she,’ ‘mermaid’, ‘woman’ or something vague all the time. She deserves a name.”

Alhaitham nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. She should have a name… something that suits her.” He looked at you, his gaze contemplative, as if searching for some hidden part of your essence to capture in a single word.

Kaveh, always the creative, leaned forward eagerly. “Alright, how about… ‘Sapphire’? She has that ethereal, oceanic vibe, right?”

Alhaitham frowned slightly. “Too obvious.”

Undeterred, Kaveh tried again. “Alright, then… ‘Pearl’? She has this… luminous quality.”

Alhaitham tilted his head. “A bit too delicate. It doesn’t match her strength.”

Kaveh leaned back on the sofa, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Alright, Mr. Critic. What do you suggest?”

A faint spark of memory lit up Alhaitham’s eyes, and he looked at you, seemingly lost in thought.

“There was an ancient text I read some time ago about the mythology of a lost kingdom. In it, there was a name that stood out to me… (Y/N).” The name slipped from his lips with a gentle reverence, as if resurrected from some ancient memory.

You looked up, tilting your head at the sound. Something about the name resonated, as if it called to a part of you that you hadn’t realized was waiting for it. A faint glimmer of recognition seemed to flicker in your gaze, and the smallest, almost imperceptible smile curved your lips. Alhaitham noticed, his eyes widening as he observed your reaction.

Kaveh, noticing your response as well, let out a low whistle. “Well, that settles it. (Y/N). It has a mystique aura, something that feels… timeless.”

Alhaitham nodded, his gaze locked on yours with a hint of satisfaction. “(Y/N),” he repeated softly, as if affirming the choice. You responded by smiling at him, your expression open and serene, as if accepting the name as your own.

In that moment, Alhaitham felt a quiet sense of accomplishment, as if he had bridged another small yet meaningful gap between you and the human world. Kaveh, adjusting himself with a smile, looked at you both in reverence. “Well, it seems we’ve officially welcomed (Y/N) into our lives.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

The days passed quickly, and Alhaitham found himself studying you almost as closely as you seemed to study the world around you.

Teaching you turned out to be a surprisingly smooth process—‘hello’, ‘yes’ and ‘no’ being the words you’ve learned easily and used the most along with his name. You absorbed new words with a quiet curiosity, and even when your attention drifted to things like sunlight gleaming on a glass or the smell of incense from somewhere nearby, you still seemed to remember his words as if you’d stored them in a special place in your mind.

Your palette was another revelation for him. While seafood seemed to be a favorite, you showed great interest in trying every dish he introduced to you, from savory curries to exotic native fruits from Sumeru. Alhaitham watched as your eyes widened in surprise at the first taste of a ripe Zaytun Peach, the juice trickling down your chin as you savored each bite. He found himself smiling at how you looked at the fruit as if it were a gift, a piece of magic in the form of sweetness.

One afternoon, Alhaitham arrived home to the sound of aggressive hisses and faint, curious purrs. Concerned, he quickly entered the house to find you pressed against the wall, wide-eyed as a gray tabby cat—likely a neighbor’s runaway—rubbed itself against your legs. At first, you recoiled, showing claws and sharp canines in an instinctive defense. But as soon as the creature began to purr, you softened. Alhaitham watched, amused, as you knelt down, carefully petting the animal with an almost reverent gentleness, murmuring the word “yes” repeatedly as if you were in mutual agreement with the feline’s own rumbling approving.

Then, there was Kaveh.

The architect’s affection grew towards you—although every time he was determined to make you remember his name, he was met with your unique mischievous smile and the same answer each time: “Haitham.”

You said it with a bit of cadence, as if relishing how it made him frown in exaggerated frustration. Alhaitham, leaning back in his chair one evening, smirked at the interaction, watching Kaveh’s latest attempt dissolve into another sigh of defeat.

“All right, I see what it’s going on” Kaveh grumbled one day, crossing his arms as you observed him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You’ll acknowledge me properly, eventually.”

Once, however, you found Kaveh hunched over his workspace, focused on a miniature architectural model. You approached quietly, observing the delicate structures he had assembled with fascination. Noticing your presence, he looked up and saw the appreciative smile on your face, understanding it as a compliment. “At least someone here likes my work,” he murmured with a chuckle. “If only all my clients were this easy to please…” He paused, ironically melancholic, earning an empathetic hum from you.

Both men had fallen into a rhythm around you, somehow more accommodating than they had expected. They adjusted to your needs perfectly, sharing the responsibility of ensuring your comfort, and found themselves both challenged and charmed by your presence.

For you, on the other hand, their world had become a comfortable place, one where you settled into a rhythm of small delights and quiet discoveries.

One day, as Alhaitham prepared tea for the three of you, he found himself reflecting aloud, speaking as if to himself. “I never imagined a mythical creature would be so adaptable,” he glanced at you sitting on the floor of the living room, distractedly munching half an apple and reading the newspaper, marveling at the images and texts with the adorable little sounds of awe you let out. Alhaitham couldn’t hold back the affectionate smile.

Kaveh, sitting cross-legged as he studied his latest designs, looked up and nodded, laughing. “She’s adapted better than I did when I moved here,” he commented. “It’s nice to finally have a roommate who doesn’t critique my design choices every five minutes.”

Alhaitham shot him a look, but he wasn’t offended. “Maybe she knows that beauty is best observed without unnecessary comments,” he replied coolly, his eyes lingering on you as you immersed yourself in your things.

In your own way, you had made your home with them. And, day by day, both Alhaitham and Kaveh were discovering that perhaps they had made their home with you too.

Alhaitham had also been keeping his promise, carefully ensuring your safety and privacy within the walls of his home.

However, as the days passed, he began to notice that your curiosity was growing restless. Though your injuries were healing well, you seemed all too aware of the world outside, especially whenever you sat by the living room window.

Hours would slip by as you watched the passing crowds, children playing, merchants bartering. He and Kaveh had tried to explain the dangers of going out, cautioning you that it wasn't the best idea until you were fully recovered, but your eagerness to explore was unmistakable.

So, after weighing the pros and cons and discussing the arrangement with Kaveh, Alhaitham made a decision: a small outing, just enough to satisfy your curiosity without risking too much exposure. You needed clothes anyway, something more suitable than his shirts or Kaveh’s oversized tunics. And thus, one sunny afternoon, after a few of your lessons and some necessary safety ensures, Alhaitham guided you through the bustling streets of Sumeru City and towards the Grand Bazaar.

The moment your bare feet touched the warm, sun-dappled street stones, your eyes lit up with childlike wonder. Every detail enchanted you—the intricate architecture, the intoxicating scent of spices in the air, the hum of life around you. Alhaitham noticed the way your gaze darted to every vibrant stall and passing stranger, taking in the chaos with delight.

However, he also noticed something else: the way nearly every man you passed seemed to pause, transfixed, their gazes lingering on you.

It wasn’t just that they were admiring your beauty—they were captivated, their expressions turning almost dreamlike, as if spellbound. Alhaitham’s brows furrowed as he watched one guy receive a swift smack from his wife when she caught him staring a bit too long. He took a step closer to you, shielding you slightly from the attention, and you, caught up in everything around you, hardly noticed.

You gasped softly as you entered the Grand Bazaar, eyes wide with excitement. The stalls were filled with handmade crafts, woven fabrics, jars of colorful spices, and foods you’d never seen before. Alhaitham, trailing just behind you, couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth as he watched you light up at each new discovery, as if the world itself had become a treasure chest, and you were here to explore its wonders.

Before long, something shiny caught your attention—a stall laden with intricate jewelry. Without thinking, you wandered away from his side, drawn to the display like a moth to flame. Alhaitham followed, watching as you reached out to touch a delicate hairpin encrusted with tiny, shimmering green stones.

The vendor, an older woman with a warm smile, caught your fascination and chuckled softly. “A beautiful accessory for a beautiful lady,” she said, her gaze shifting to Alhaitham with a knowing smile.

“Do you like that one?” Alhaitham asked gently. His tone was softened by an affection he didn’t quite manage to conceal.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice almost reverent as you ran your fingers over the hairpin, tracing each glimmering stone as though it held secrets of the ocean within.

He didn’t hesitate, reaching for his pouch and handing the vendor the necessary payment. The woman winked, her smile widening. “Lucky man, I’d say,” she murmured in a voice barely above a whisper, but Alhaitham caught it. He didn’t answer.

With a delighted smile, you thanked the vendor in your own way—a beaming, enchanted expression that lit up the old woman’s face as much as it did Alhaitham’s. You carefully cradled the accessory as if it were the most precious thing you’d ever owned, gazing at it as you walked away. But soon enough, your attention shifted to the scent of roasting fish at a nearby food stall. The vendor there, turning a skewer of freshly spiced fish over an open flame, waved you over with a friendly grin.

As you darted toward the stall, Alhaitham noticed something else in the jewelry display—a pendant with a smooth, iridescent stone that bore a striking resemblance to your tail. Silently, he purchased it, tucking the necklace into his pocket. The vendor gave him a sly look, but he ignored it, focusing instead on you, already entranced by the food stand.

“Oh, to be young again,” the vendor mused as she watched he leaving.

When he caught up with you at the food stall, you were leaning over the counter, staring in awe at the array of delicacies. The stall owner chuckled as you tilted your head curiously, taking in the fish skewers and assorted seafood. “She’s like a little fox in a new den,” he said to Alhaitham, amused by your wide-eyed fascination.

Alhaitham gave a small, knowing smile as he nodded. “You have no idea.”

The scribe exchanged a few coins for one of the skewers, then handed it to you with a small smile. Your fingers barely wrapped around it before you eagerly took a bite—too eager, it turned out, as you winced, the hot fish burning your tongue. Alhaitham sighed softly, his gaze both amused and indulgent.

“Careful,” he murmured, taking the skewer back for a moment and blowing gently on it, cooling it with a practiced patience. Watching him, you imitated his action, blowing on the skewer with the same careful attentiveness, which made his lips tug upward slightly. As he handed it back, you took another bite, this time savoring the flavors more slowly.

As the two of you continued to weave through the market, you marveled at every passing sight—the colors, the sounds of bartering, and the occasional street performer. You paused to watch a dancer swaying gracefully, her movements captivating as her bright clothing fluttered with each spin. Passersby occasionally nodded and greeted Alhaitham, who gave polite nods in return—their eyes going wide open when they saw you standing by his side. His attention, though, often shifted to you, keeping you close as you wandered, enchanted by your enthusiastic wonder.

Eventually, you stopped before a more discreet storefront draped with curtains of deep blue and gold. The sign above bore intricate lettering, and inside, racks and shelves brimmed with garments of all kinds.

Alhaitham led you in, and you finished the skewer just as he did a quick sweep of the store. Taking the skewer stick, he tossed it into a nearby waste bin and approached the owner, an older gentleman with warm, thoughtful eyes.

The store was a treasure trove of fabrics in every shade, from vibrant hues to rich jewel tones, each piece imbued with a hint of Sumeru’s distinct, earthy style. Alhaitham and the owner spoke in low tones, exchanging opinions on a few pieces he was considering for you. But your eyes soon caught on a different rack—dresses and skirts crafted with delicate fabrics and intricate patterns.

Just then, a younger woman stepped out from behind one of the store’s curtain partitions. She looked you over with a friendly smile, her gaze lingering in admiration. “You have an eye for the finest pieces,” she said, her voice warm. “These are all my father’s designs. Here, let’s find one for you to try.”

She sorted through the rack with a discerning eye before settling on a dress. It was a pearly white, form-fitting but flowing at the hem, with soft layers and gentle ruffles. She led you to the dressing room, helping you into it as you fumbled with the ties and delicate fabric.

When you emerged from behind the dressing room curtain, the woman sighed audibly, her expression caught between pride and awe. Her reaction caught Alhaitham’s attention, and as he turned, his eyes settled on you—and stayed.

The dress fit you in a way that was both modest and striking. The neckline formed a gentle "V" between your collarbones, dipping gracefully but tastefully. The silhouette hugged your curves, enhancing your natural beauty, while the flowing fabric below the waist gave the dress an ethereal elegance, rising just above your heels.

Alhaitham was quiet, his gaze intent, his usual unreadable expression amazed, revealing a glimmer of something deeper—an admiration that ran silently but profoundly through him. He couldn’t look away, as though you’d become the center of his world in that moment.

For a brief moment, you met his eyes, and a silent understanding passed between you. You felt his unspoken thoughts, his breath subtly drawn in awe, and his gaze, filled with softness, lingering as though he was seeing you in a new light.

The shop owner’s voice cut through the moment. “I’d say we’ve found the perfect model for this design,” he said with a chuckle, nodding approvingly at you. “It looks as though it was made for her.”

Alhaitham’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he nodded. “Yeah. Indeed,” he agreed, his tone subdued but genuine. The shop owner offered a discount for future purchases, which Alhaitham accepted gratefully.

After purchasing a few more clothes, Alhaitham approached you and, with a hint of a smile, told you, “You look beautiful.” Though the words were simple, the sincerity in his gaze made them feel more profound. You understood his compliment, your expression softening as you smiled back at him with a shyness that made you glance away, if only for a second.

The shop owner mentioned shoes, but Alhaitham shook his head gently. He knew you’d be more comfortable as you were, free of any restricting footwear.

With your new clothes in hand, you left the place, your eyes still brimming with curiosity. Alhaitham stayed close to you as you continued exploring the bazaar, his mood lightened by the unexpected happiness you seemed to bring him. There was a new excitement in your steps, and he watched with subtle amusement, unable to deny the warmth growing within him as he saw the joy in your expression.

Returning home, you felt content, each step still buzzing with excitement from your discoveries, and the dress Alhaitham bought you flowing like water around you.

Entering the house, the warm scent of food drifted from the kitchen. Kaveh was already there, busy at the stove, humming softly to himself as he prepared lunch. When he turned around and caught sight of you, his eyes widened, a slow, dazzled-like smile spreading across his face.

“Well, look at you,” he said warmly, clearly charmed by the sight. “You look wonderful! For the first time, Alhaitham did a good job by buying you this dress,” his tone had a hint of teasing, and you saw Alhaitham’s brow twitch slightly, but he stayed silent, watching the two of you.

Kaveh’s admiration had a certain ease to it, a natural warmth that made you feel instantly welcome. He turned back to the stove, but not without another approving nod at your attire. Alhaitham’s silence prompted him to ask, “So… how was the city?” He threw a teasing glance Alhaitham’s way then at you. “Did our scribe here give you the grand tour all by himself?”

Alhaitham sighed, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “She wasn’t exactly difficult to entertain,” he replied dryly. “Everything was new, so it didn’t take much.”

Kaveh chuckled.

“Of course it didn’t,” he set the food down, his gaze filled with an amused understanding. Alhaitham merely looked away, feigning indifference, though you sensed a certain pride beneath his casual tone.

During lunch, the two of them recounted little moments from the day—Kaveh enjoying the story of you burning your tongue on the fish skewer, and Alhaitham quietly reliving the way your eyes had sparkled at the Grand Bazaar’s colorful sights. But despite their words, their gazes often turned back to you, captivated by your delight in all the new things you’d encountered.

At one point, Kaveh leaned back, shooting Alhaitham a knowing look.

“So, a personal shopping trip, huh? Just the two of you,” he teased, clearly amused by the idea of Alhaitham guiding someone around. “How sweet.”

Alhaitham narrowed his gaze, giving Kaveh a warning look that said more than words could. But there was a subtle softness in his eyes as they drifted back to you, a sense of quiet caring that you caught, even if he tried to hide it.

After lunch, you noticed Alhaitham start to gathering the dishes, starting to cleaning them as Kaveh made his way to the living room. Walking over him, you lingered, staring at him until Kaveh looked back, caught off guard by your gaze, feeling a bit embarrassed. When you pulled out the hairpin Alhaitham had bought you earlier, he seemed to understand, a faint blush of realization coloring his cheeks.

“Oh, you want me to do your hair?” He chuckled, gesturing for you to sit. “Alright, alright, I’ll help.”

You settled in the chair, feeling his gentle hands working through your hair. He gathered it halfway, securing the rest with the pin and letting loose strands fall around your face. When he was done, he guided you to a mirror, smiling proudly as you took in the sight. The style was simple but lovely, suiting you perfectly.

“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, watching your expression over your shoulders as you took in the effect. For a moment, the two of you were lost in the quietness of that shared moment.

From behind you, a soft sound drew your attention. Alhaitham was standing in the doorway, watching, a fond look on his face. He must have finished cleaning the kitchen but had stayed, observing without saying a word.

You turned back to Kaveh, your gaze warm and filled with gratitude.

“Kaveh,” you said softly, the name unfamiliar on your tongue but carrying genuine meaning.

His eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face before he grinned, laughing as he leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Finally saying my name, huh?” He teased, though his voice was warm, “I guess even a mermaid knows when to appreciate the finer things.” Despite his playful words, there was an unmistakable happiness in his gaze, as if your small act of gratitude had touched him.

With the meal finished and the midday light softening, the three of you spread out around the house. You curiously inspected the clothes Alhaitham had bought, marveling at the soft fabrics, while the two men chatted in the adjacent room. Kaveh’s voice floated over, calling to his housemate.

“Hey, listen. Cyno passed by earlier inviting us out to the tavern tonight. Tighnari is also coming. I didn’t give him an immediate answer given our… adorable guest,” his gaze flicked meaningfully to you, a question lingering unspoken between the two men.

They both turned, glancing at you thoughtfully. For a moment, you saw them exchange a silent conversation, considering whether the outing might be risky. But then Alhaitham gave a slight nod, resolute.

“We’ll take her with us,” he said confidently. “With the right precautions, it should be fine.” He glanced at you, his eyes filled with the assurance that they’d watch over you. “Besides,” he added with a hint of a smile, “I feel she’d be upset if we don’t take her to explore a little bit more now that she has seen the outside world.”

Kaveh chuckled, nodding. “Then it’s settled. Tonight, we’ll go to the tavern—all three of us.”

As the sky slowly darkened, anticipation hung in the air, the promise of the evening drawing closer.

The afternoon had drifted by with Alhaitham trying to teach you new words and phrases, but your attention kept slipping back to the new clothes he’d bought. You ran your fingers over the fabrics, turning them this way and that to catch the light, dazzled with the colors and the softness. Alhaitham eventually gave up, sighing in quiet amusement as he noted just how material and delightfully vain you could be—a discovery he should’ve expected.

Later, you wandered into his suite room to bathe, instinctively drawn to the water. The moment you slipped into the warm tub, your legs transformed back into your shimmering tail, scales glinting under the water’s surface.

It had left Kaveh speechless the first time he’d seen it—his penny dropping at your truly identity. You were truly a mermaid. Nonetheless, he wasn't less captivated by the change and your graceful form. Alhaitham, however, while more composed, could hardly hide his fascination, watching with a quiet intensity every time he witnessed the transition.

After bathing, you found yourself in a familiar routine: sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting as Alhaitham approached with your clothes. This time, though, he brought one of the recent purchase pieces; a beautiful dress in his hand—its fabric being of a rich, jade green; a vibrant hue that reminds of his own eyes-color but that seemed to intensify the shine and warmth of yours only.

As he helped you ease into it, his fingers lingered as he adjusted the zipper, his gaze studying you, perhaps more than he realized. And though you found yourself shivering at the intensity of his eyes, there you were too—looking up at him, meeting his gaze firmly and sensing an admiration that he only allowed you to see.

“It suits you,” he murmured, his voice low, a hint of awe slipping through his usually neutral tone. In that dress, you seemed otherworldly, like a goddess who had emerged from the depths of the sea, carrying its beauty onto dry land with impossible grace.

He knelt down then to inspect your injury, noting the lingering redness. Alhaitham carefully applied an ointment, his touch gentle but focused, and you watched his expressions shift with a subtle concern. Then, with a slight nod of satisfaction, he helped you to your feet.

After that, you made your way to Kaveh, showing him the hairpin again, calling his name with a soft voice.

His smile grew, a touch of pride in his gaze as he admired the way his name sounded from your lips, and he took great care in doing your hair once more, letting strands fall loose to frame your face as he did before.

Finally ready, you three left for Lambad’s Tavern.

The streets were alive with the buzz of evening activity, laughter and music drifting through the air as Alhaitham and Kaveh walked beside you. The city was lit by soft lantern light, and you felt a thrill at being part of it all, the world so different from anything you’d known.

At the tavern, the warm atmosphere enveloped you, the scent of spices and roasted meats filling the air.

Alhaitham spotted Cyno and Tighnari across the room almost immediately as the two of them also turned as you approached. Their greeting smiles fainted when their gazes fell on you, a moment of pure awe passing over their faces afterwards. Cyno blinked, visibly stunned, while Tighnari’s foxy-ears twitched, his sharp eyes widening in surprise.

The General Mahamatra, usually so composed, couldn’t seem to look away, his thoughts racing. He was accustomed to beauty in the world around him, yet something about your presence felt almost magical, like an ethereal vision he couldn’t quite understand.

As for Tighnari, his keen senses took in every detail—the way the green dress brought out the otherworldly depth in your eyes, or the elegance of your form. You were unlike anyone he’d ever encountered, and he was captivated, even if he tried to hide it.

Before any questions could arise, Kaveh, ever the quick-thinker, stepped in with an explanation. “She’s an exchange student. From Fontaine,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “She’s staying with us while she studies…uh, the culture of Sumeru.”

Alhaitham sighed at the obviousness of Kaveh’s excuse, but he didn’t counter it. Cyno and Tighnari shared a skeptical glance, clearly doubting the story, yet they chose not to press further. Instead, Alhaitham formally introduced you, mentioning your name, which you responded to with a slight, graceful nod and a cute ‘hello’ following.

But feeling the need to greet them in the way of your kind, you leaned closer, gently rubbing your nose against theirs.

Kaveh gasped out loud.

Cyno’s eyes widened, a slight flush crept up his cheeks as he froze, uncharacteristically at a loss. Tighnari, caught off guard, felt his ears tensing, the action both charming and bewildering him. Your giggles bubbled up as you noticed their flustered expressions, a soft, musical sound that filled the space between you all.

Kaveh let out a nervous chuckle. “Ah…yeah, that’s—uh, her way of saying hello. Strange, right? These Fontaine’ people…”

Alhaitham, on the other hand, observed it all with a hint of entertainment, his gaze lingering on you fondly. Watching your interactions, he noted how naturally you’d adapted to his world, your curiosity and unique charm drawing everyone in, effortlessly weaving you into their circle. There was warmth in his eyes, a feeling that spoke of his growing fondness, and you caught his gaze, offering him a small, contented smile.

As the group settled in, you sat across from Cyno and Tighnari, studying them both with unabashed curiosity.

Still recovering from your unexpected greeting, the two men seemed unsure of where to look, awkwardly averting their eyes when you met their gaze. Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, a hint of amusement in his expression as he explained, “She’s not much for words, as you can see. Rather, she’s more the observant type.”

Cyno and Tighnari nodded, seeming to understand, though their curiosity was hardly quelled.

The tavern around you started to fill with more patrons, the hum of voices rising, mingling with the occasional laugh, the sounds coming from different instruments and the clinking of glasses. It created a cozy warmth in the dimly lit space, and you felt it settle over you as if you were part of something larger, an integral piece in the lively tapestry of Sumeru’s life.

Kaveh wasted no time flagging down the bartender. “Bring your best wine,” he said with a grand, somewhat theatrical gesture, earning a sigh from Alhaitham.

Meanwhile, Tighnari leaned in toward you, his ears twitching with interest as he tried to engage you in conversation.

“So, do you like Sumeru so far?” he asked, a gentle curiosity in his tone.

You nodded with an enthusiastic “Yes”—the single word clear and confident, though it was accompanied by a slight tilt of your head.

Encouraged, he asked, “Do you enjoy learning about plants and animals?” Tighnari’s eyes sparkled, and you could tell he was ready to launch into an explanation if given the chance.

You paused, then shook your head, “No,” you answered, earning a quiet chuckled from Alhaitham.

“Ah, I see,” Tighnari replied, trying to hide his mild disappointment. “What about... Alhaitham and Kaveh?” His eyes glanced toward Alhaitham, who pretend to ignore his friend’s question.

You didn’t thought twice when you answered “Yes” with an affectionate smile, which made Tighnari smirk.

While you answered, you noticed Cyno observing you intently, his gaze unwavering and sharp. It wasn’t suspicious—it was more as if he were studying a puzzle, his curiosity piqued by your every move. His face softened whenever he noticed the subtle gestures that replaced your lack of words, as though trying to understand this new, unfamiliar way of communicating.

When the food and wine finally arrived, you noticed each man taking their mugs and raising them in a silent toast, exchanging knowing glances.

Intrigued, you pointed at Alhaitham’s drink, brows raised with interest. He looked at you hesitantly. “I’m not sure you’ll like it,” he warned, his tone gentle but unsure. Still, he handed you a mug.

The moment you tasted the wine, your expression twisted as the bitter taste hit your tongue. The others burst out laughing as you grimaced, clearly displeased.

Kaveh, grinning widely, leaned over with an exaggerated shrug. “Not everyone appreciates a fine vintage on the first try,” he teased, eyes sparkling with the warmth of the wine already.

But then, determined, you lifted the mug to your lips and downed the rest in a single go. As you set the mug down, you pointed to it, your eyes sparkling with challenge. The table fell silent for a beat, and then Kaveh broke into a delighted laugh. “Oh, now that’s spirit!” he cheered, filling your mug again with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Alhaitham, a touch surprised but clearly amused, leaned closer and murmured, “Take easy, ok?” His tone was warm, carrying that familiar attentiveness, the kind of care he often tried to mask with practicality. You met his gaze and gave a small nod, though your mischievous smile was enough to tell him you weren’t exactly planning on slowing down.

As the evening went on, the wine kept flowing, and so did the laughter. Kaveh quickly grew tipsy, his cheeks flushed as he leaned into his chair with a self-satisfied grin, occasionally throwing his arm around you, Cyno or Tighnari as he launched into some anecdote about his “architectural genius,” much to Alhaitham’s thinly veiled eye-rolls.

“Oh, and then,” Kaveh slurred, nudging Cyno with a huff, “there was that time Alhaitham here tried to negotiate a ‘reasonable’ discount on my work. Can you believe that?” He snorted, casting a playful, slightly glazed look in Alhaitham’s direction. “I swear, he’d argue the wind into changing direction if it suited him.”

Alhaitham only raised a brow, looking at him with an expression that silently asked for patience. “Kaveh, if I hadn’t ‘negotiated,’ you’d still be working to pay off last month’s tab.”

Tighnari chuckled, watching the exchange. “You two really are quite the pair,” he commented, taking a sip of his drink, his gaze shifting between the two of them with an amused glint.

Cyno, turning his attention to you, said, “Do you always put up with them like this?” His tone was deadpan, yet you sensed a glimmer of humor beneath his serious gaze.

Understanding his question, you nodded, a soft laugh escaping you. They all seemed to lighten up, relaxing in the warmth of your quiet amusement.

As the night deepened, Cyno set his drink down with a look of pure focus. “How about a round of TCG?” he suggested, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Tighnari let out a groan, tilting his head back dramatically.

“Oh no, not this again,” he sighed, but even he knew there was no escape.

Kaveh laughed, rolling his eyes in good-natured defeat.

“Fine, fine. But we’re keeping it short, or we’ll never hear the end of it from you,” he reached for his glass and gave you a playful wink. “Prepare yourself for the most intense game you’ve ever seen,” he said, clearly intending to make a spectacle of Cyno’s enthusiasm.

Curious, you leaned closer, watching as Cyno arranged the cards and dice with meticulous precision. His fingers moved quickly, each card laid down like a sacred ritual. Noticing your interest, he paused to offer a brief explanation of the game’s mechanics.

“It’s all about strategy,” he explained, his tone almost reverent. “You play a character card, use skills, and roll dice to see how much power you have.” His eyes narrowed, smiling as he continued, “And don’t think it’s as simple as it sounds.”

You blinked, absorbing his words, but you barely had time to form a plan before the game was underway.

Somehow, against all odds, you won the first round. The table fell into a mix of laughter and shock, each of them offering half-joking explanations.

“Beginner’s luck,” Tighnari insisted, though there was a glint of amusement in his eye.

Alhaitham chuckled softly. “Maybe (Y/N) is just a natural.”

But as the rounds continued, it became clear that “luck” wasn’t the only thing helping you.

One match after another, you swept the table, your fingers moving with a natural, effortless grace as you outplayed each of them. Cyno’s brow furrowed in concentration, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he tried, unsuccessfully, to decode your moves.

Finally, with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation, Cyno looked at his cards in silence. “How…?” he muttered, half to himself.

Kaveh snorted, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Face it, man, she’s just unbeatable tonight. You, my friend, have been dethroned.”

Tighnari grinned, amused by Cyno’s frustration. “It’s impressive, honestly. Even the Champion of TCG is no match for her.”

You laughed, lifting your glass in a playful toast to your victory, which earned a round of mock cheers from the others.

Alhaitham’s gaze was soft as he watched you—your enthusiasm, the brightness in your eyes as you revel in the thrill of each win. He’d seen you embracing new experiences and adventures of his ordinary day with open arms.

From the quiet enthusiasm when you learned a new word to the happiness back in the bazaar, and now, this lively night at the tavern—he felt an undeniable warmth, a subtle pull that went beyond simple admiration.

Just as another round was about to start, a group of local men, drunk and brimming with energy, pulled Kaveh from his chair and into a circle. “Come on, architect! Show us your moves!” they cheered, clapping their hands and forming a semi-circle for him to lead. With a laugh, Kaveh obliged, seamlessly joining them in the traditional dabke.

You watched in fascination, your attention captivated by the rhythmic stomping and spirited clapping.

Kaveh’s movements were fluid, each step and stomp precise yet brimming with exuberance. His grin was infectious, and you found yourself clapping along, enchanted by the lively beat that seemed to pulse through the entire tavern.

Noticing your joy, Kaveh reached out and took your hand, pulling you into the half-circle. “Come on! You’ll love it!” he encouraged, and you laughed, letting yourself be drawn into the dance.

Standing beside him, you mirrored his movements as best as you could, and although your steps were hesitant at first, his laughter and the others’ encouragement quickly dissolved any nervousness.

You found yourself swept up in the joy of the moment, your laughter ringing out as you stomped and clapped in sync with Kaveh. The tavern patrons cheered, a few even joining in to expand the circle. Each beat of the music seemed to echo in your heart, a vibrant, untamed rhythm that made you feel alive. Your hair swayed with each movement, your dress flowed around you as if it had a life of its own. For a brief moment, you forgot everything else, lost in the pure exhilaration of dance and laughter.

Watching from the sidelines, Alhaitham’s gaze lingered on you.

He didn’t need to say a word; his expression spoke volumes. In his eyes, you were radiant—a vision of grace, strength, and unrestrained joy. He couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you fit into this place, how naturally you became part of it despite its strangeness. His chest tightened, a burning ache settling there, unfamiliar and yet… welcome. He remembered the first time he’d seen you, not too long ago, feeling vulnerable and cautious. Yet here you were, laughter filling the air, eyes alight with joy.

He hadn’t expected this—a mermaid, of all things, to stir something so profoundly human within him. But watching you, he couldn’t deny the feeling. It wasn’t simply admiration or intrigue anymore. It was something real, deeper, something that made his pulse quicken whenever he locked your gazes whenever you shared a fleeting smile or a touch of silent understanding.

A sudden chuckle from Tighnari pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced over to see his friend smirking knowingly. “Not joining them?” He teased, his voice pitched just low enough for Alhaitham to hear.

Alhaitham glanced back at you, his lips curving in a slight smile. “I’m enjoying the view.”

Tighnari hummed, raising a brow. “Seems like you’re enjoying more than just the view.”

Ignoring Tighnari’s comment once again, Alhaitham focused his attention on you once more.

When your eyes met, he felt that sensation again—a quiet acknowledgment of something unspoken but deeply felt. He gave you a subtle nod, his gaze lingering, as if committing this moment to memory.

When the dance ended, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed with happiness as you returned to the table. Kaveh, very tipsy and clearly pleased, clinked his glass against yours. “You were fantastic!” he cheered, his eyes bright with genuine pride.

Laughing, you took a sip of your drink, catching Alhaitham’s eye as you did.

Ever since you started to live with him, sharing his culture, entering in the lonely empty of his heart and connecting with every detail that made of Alhaitham who he is, his intense gaze was something you couldn’t escape from—although neither did you want it when you were so mesmerized by him as he seemed to be with you.

But tonight, something was different—something indescribable, unknown but pleasant, sent a soft thrill through you. This was more than a shared moment—it was a promise, a silent connection that seemed to anchor you both, even amidst the noise surrounding you.

The night had fully settled by the time the three of you left the tavern.

The streets were nearly empty, bathed in the soft silver glow of a full moon overhead. A gentle breeze moved through the quiet city, carrying the faint, earthy scent of Sumeru’s flora. Stars scattered like distant lanterns in the sky, each one casting a pinprick of light over the tranquil world below. You looked up, awestruck by the vastness of the sky here. It was as if the city itself was cradled in the arms of the heavens, each corner brushed with stardust.

Alhaitham glanced at you, noticing the quiet wonder in your eyes as you took in the night’s beauty.

In the soft moonlight, your face was illuminated with an almost ethereal glow, your expression open and unguarded. Something about the way you stood there, gazing upwards as if communing with the stars, pulled invisible strings in his chest. Alhaitham found himself watching you in silence, the affection in his gaze hidden in the shadows, an unspoken tenderness that he wasn’t yet ready to voice.

Beside you, Kaveh swayed unsteadily, mumbling to himself in an incomprehensible mixture of words. You giggled, finding his drunken ramblings endlessly amusing, while Alhaitham sighed, shaking his head in disapproval but unable to suppress a small smile. He’d been prepared to carry Kaveh’s weight on his own, but you easily supported your share, surprising him with your hidden strength as you steadied the unsteady architect. You felt Alhaitham’s curious gaze settle on you, but you kept your eyes on Kaveh, helping guide him as he slurred out half-formed songs and laughter.

When you finally arrived at home, the quiet settled around you like a warm embrace.

Together, you and Alhaitham gently placed Kaveh onto his bed, his face sinking blissfully into the pillows as he drifted into a heavy, blissful sleep. You both lingered for a moment, watching to make sure he was comfortable, before retreating to the living room, leaving Kaveh to his dreams.

Once there, the two of you stood alone, the silence wrapping around you like silk. The dim lamplight cast soft shadows across the room, pooling in the spaces between you. You faced each other, yet no words came—none were needed.

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, something unspoken passed between you, a silent understanding woven with the night’s intimacy. It was a conversation of looks alone, a language more ancient than words. Your heart felt full, as if it were holding a secret too precious to release.

Alhaitham’s gaze held yours, steady and unwavering, as he reached into his pocket and drew out the small chain he’d bought back at the bazaar. The gemstone's shiny and iridescent hues caught the light, reflecting shades that soon reminded you of your tail’s colors—a perfect echo of your hidden self.

He held it out to you, his lips curving into a wise smile that reached his eyes.

Without a word, he gestured for you to turn around. You did so, your heart pounding with anticipation as he draped the chain around your neck, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck as he fastened the clasp. The warmth of his touch lingered even after his hands moved away, and you lifted a hand to the pendant, feeling its weight settle over your heart.

Looking down, you felt a surge of emotions, a mixture of joy and affection as you admired the gift. But it wasn’t just happiness—it was something deeper, something far beyond simple gratitude.

When you lifted your gaze back to him, your expression was serene, eyes glimmering with unspoken emotions.

Slowly, you reached up, placing a hand on his neck and gently pulling his face closer. Without hesitation, you leaned in, touching your forehead against his—a significant and intimate gesture but full of affection.

“Thank you,” you murmured, the words carrying layers of meaning, a depth that went beyond the simple gesture. It was gratitude for more than just the necklace—it was for his kindness, his patience, his caring, for seeing you in a way no one else could. For being a safe harbor in this unfamiliar world.

He was taken aback for a moment, the soft touch of your skin against his both surprising and disarming him. But then, a quiet smile forming as he held your gaze, his hand coming up to gently cradle your cheek.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice a gentle murmur, his thumb tracing a light path along your cheekbone.

Your hands lingered on his neck, feeling the softness of its skin and his hair, his own expression melting into something almost vulnerable.

For a long, endless moment, you stayed there, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, to catch the quiet tenderness in his jade eyes.

Neither of you spoke, letting the silence stretch, filling the room with the weight of implicity emotions. His gaze held yours, steady, and yet within it was a flicker of that deeper, unguarded feeling—a quiet, burgeoning affection that made your heart race.

Time seemed to stand still as you looked into each other’s eyes, a shared warmth weaving between you, a silent promise that neither of you had the words to speak.

And maybe, you didn’t even need it.

[continue...]

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #mermaid #[✦ fantasy beauties!verse ✦]

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play-now-my-lord · 1 year ago

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in the late Usamerican death cult, many offered worship despite other overt religious commitments via a ritual experts call "Grilling". An informal canon is beginning to emerge describing the feast days and seasons of the calendar during which "Grilling" was acceptable. Those prepared to participate in the late Usamerican death cult assembled in small gatherings outdoors in private residences or state-owned land; they would then light contained fires to cook forcemeat and small cuts over an open grill. While some suggest this is a ritualistic reenactment of cooking methods that predominated before the electric range, it remained prominent even in households with gas or other ranges, and evidence has emerged that many households maintained both a gas range and a gas grill. The openness of the grill was of sacredotal importance; drippings of fat and myoglobin would both feed and foul the fire, ritually recreating the subordination of the natural world to the thanatos complex. It was rare, sometimes even actively discouraged, for these grills to be cleaned in spite of obvious food safety concerns.

Despite late Usamerican culture's famous fixation on meaningless choices at the point of consumption of material goods, the master of ceremonies was expected and encouraged to impose "correct" gustatory choices on the ritual participants, and in all cases it was taken as granted that the host would choose and openly express strong opinions on the fuel source, acceptable 'brands' and varieties of forcemeat and small cuts, etc. While this ritual complex was similar to a related tradition in late Usamerican culture, the "Dinner Party", key differences include the anticipation of male leadership (possibly suggesting a late evolution of the patriarchial "Grilling" complex against the backdrop of a more matriarchial/matrilocal society), a relatively standardized bill of fare, and in direct contradistinction to the "Dinner Party" complex, the clear expectation of a radically imbalanced nutritional profile favoring fat and protein. It is debated whether alcoholic libations were ever central to the late Usamericans' understanding of "Grilling"; yet it is certain that even for female participants, where drinking did take place, beer and neat spirits were favored, and wines and mixed beverages were regarded as inappropriate.

"Grilling" is a subject on which voluminous scholarship exists, and this survey is necessarily too brief to contain research done on several aspects and sub-complexes in the late Usamerican death cult, including the predominance of plastic and plastic-coated utensils and servingware regarded as single-use, the loose canon of acceptable and unacceptable forcemeats, the emergence, exoticization, and decline of the "Shish Kebab", and the layers of ironic subtext in "Grilling"-dominated late Usamerican works like King of the Hill or Twitter. Strange as it might seem to us, "Grilling" tied late Usamerican men together in casual yet firm homosocial bonds (while both reflecting and reaffirming existing dominance-submission relationships) almost as efficiently as men throughout history have typically achieved by simply fucking nasty

#frog thoughts #frog writing

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g1rlr0b1n · 6 months ago

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Yet another commission by the amazingly talented @ookamihanta!!! Go check out their page to see more art!!! Their commissions are still open so go check that out as well!!! I highly recommend them!!! 👹

Gods and Demons (Preview)

Damian's preparations for departure were almost complete when Superman hailed him down. For a moment, Damian considered pretending he had not seen him, but ultimately rose to meet the two men who had now landed gracefully beside him and Goliath. He was familiar with the man known as Superman, but the second man was a stranger to him. He was tall with wavy dark locks framing a sharp jawline and piercing steely grey-blue eyes, he bore a resemblance to the other man. He had a pretty good idea now of who he might be. The man's attire was peculiar though, causing Damian to wrinkle his nose slightly in disapproval. He wore a black suit adorned with shimmering silver stars, his deep crimson colored cloak billowing behind him. The most unnerving part of his uniform however, was the obvious missing "S" shield in the center of his chest, leaving the skin underneath exposed for all to see. Damian quickly averted his gaze, focusing back on Superman. “What’s this?” Damian's features contorted in suspicion as Superman extended a piece of paper towards him.

“An olive branch” he replied calmly, then motioned to the tall figure standing next to him, Kal-El cleared his throat, “this is my son, Zod-El. He will be stationed in Tibet with you for the foreseeable future.” There was a moment of tense silence as if to allow for Damian to process the information. Then, Superman spoke again, breaking the stillness. "Consider him an ambassador of good faith," he said firmly.

Damian scoffed, crossing his arms, “Tt. More like a spy to make sure I behave," he retorted with a sharp edge to his voice. The Justice League's true intentions were clear, they had their own agenda, but he intended to manipulate it to his advantage. Despite their lack of trust in Damian's ability to change the League of Assassins, it gave them an excuse to keep him under observation and under their protection. They needed to keep Damian alive regardless of his intentions because the absolute worst case scenario for them would be for him to lose control. It was an obvious choice, he was the only option with ties to the Justice League and a genuine desire to make the world better, even if his methods had not been received well by them. He could only stand to benefit from such a relationship, nonetheless, he’d make them work for it.

Superman let out a weary sigh, his broad shoulders slumping in exhaustion, “you agreed to observation after the attempts on your life," he reminded Damian sternly. The mention of those close calls made Damian flinch slightly, the memories still fresh and painful. Ever since his grandfather’s passing things had not gone as smoothly as anticipated, with everyone with even the slightest of claims coming out of the woodworks, but he survived and he’d continue to do so. Of course, some extra protection would be prudent, even though he had managed to reunite his family giving him the most claim, the attacks still occurred. His mother had even begun to express concern, certain that there was a rat among his inner circle. Damian didn’t want to consider that, the notion that the people he cared for most wanted him dead. Although it was a reality that he hated to admit, he could probably benefit from an impartial set of eyes and ears. Yet, Damian was proud if nothing else and he refused to allow anyone to think him weak.

"That may be," Damian huffed, "but I never agreed to an indefinite placement and certainly not from one of your B-list cast offs." His lip curled teasingly as he surveyed the man clad in black in front of him. He was curious to see how he would react.

The man grit his teeth and extended a hand with a forced smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dam-”

Damian interrupted firmly, his piercing gaze fixed on the man's face. “You may call me The Demon’s Head.”

The man chuckled nervously as he pushed back some unruly curls from his forehead. “No offense but...” he hesitated before continuing, “I’d rather call you anything else.”

Damian's lips curled into a menacing smile, his pearly whites barred behind a mask of feigned politeness. "Then, may I have the pleasure of calling you Jonathan?" The man remained silent, his expression guarded. Damian pressed on. "surprised that I know your other name?"

He cleared his throat, his voice betraying forced calmness as he responded, "Not really...and it's just Jon."

The smile fell from Damian's face, replaced by a look of disdain, "I'd rather call you anything else." The lack of push back from his opponent was slightly off-putting, it was simply no fun if they just stood there and took it. But then again, what did he really expect from the son of the Big Blue Boy Scout, always so righteous and obedient.

The tension between them hung heavy in the air, like a thick fog that refused to dissipate. Goliath finally broke the awkward silence with a restless shift, his large frame causing the ground to tremble beneath him. "I see there's no point in arguing with you," he grumbled, casting a patronizing look at Jon. "If Super Slut is ready to depart, then we shall." With the grace of a seasoned rider, Damian pulled himself up and swung himself onto his fiery red companion, feeling the heat emanating from its powerful body. Beside him, Jon effortlessly lifted himself off the ground and into the air. The bat dragon spread its massive wings and with a few strong flaps they ascended into the sky.

#posting the intro to another one of my current WIPs to act as a motivator to help me finish #this is part of a multiverse series I'm working on #Earth 12 #Damian is the Demon's Head (33)#Jon is Zod-El (31)#ok so does anyone know about Zod-Ur? Well in this fic he get's adopted by Superman and Lois and his name is changed to Zod-El #he's technically the son of Earth 3 Ultraman and Earth 12 Wonder Woman #that's why his outfit is kind of a mix between Power Girl and Donna Troy #I disregard canon lol #damijon #jondami #superdemon #cosmicbird #multiverse series #commissioned art

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pascalispretty · 8 months ago

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hold me down

Miguel Galindo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: somnophilia, implied consent (they've done this before), fingering, prone bone, daddy kink (sue me), reader has a bit of a praise kink, D/s vibes, AU where Emily doesn't exist

Summary: You only moved in a few days ago, but Miguel is already reaping the benefits. (ao3)

A/N: whew, it's been a minute since I wrote for Miguel. That stupid final season totally zapped my desire to write for him for a good while. You can thank @misscharlielulu for sending me the gif that started this whole idea, and @loveletter444-kb for being such a supportive gem. Title is from 'hold me down' by Halsey. Tumblr ruined my gif banner, so alas it's only still images. There is a version of this story that involves anal if anybody wants it 🫣

Miguel still isn’t used to coming home and finding you in his bed.

You’ve only been living with him for a little over a week. When he comes home a little after one in the morning, he’s preoccupied. The contract for the latest land deal is on his mind, all of the tiny details that have to be tended to and carefully managed. He’s somewhere in the middle of planning the ecological survey when he steps into his bedroom and is momentarily surprised by the sight of you asleep in his bed.

Your bed too now, he supposes. He’s given you permission to change what you like in your new home, but you haven’t made any decisions yet beyond asking for a bigger closet. He wants you to feel at home here, wants to satisfy every whim you might have. Making room for a few more racks of dresses feels like a small price to pay for your contentment.

Miguel shoves the thought away from his mind, focusing his attention on you as he gets ready for bed.

You’ve rolled over onto his side of the bed in your sleep. Your face is pressed against his pillow, he notices smugly. Even in your sleep, you can’t get close enough to him. You look so peaceful, not a care showing on your pretty face as you nestle into his pillow. The bedsheets are a mess around your legs, your body not quite acclimated to the desert heat of Santo Padre yet.

Miguel strips off his three-piece suit methodically, his eyes on the rise and fall of your chest as he undresses. His clothes go into the hamper, leaving him naked. He can’t be bothered to find a pair of pyjama pants; he’d much rather feel you pressed against him.

He walks around to his side of the bed to plug his phone in, footsteps silent on the rug. You don’t stir, even as he gets closer, even when he’s standing right beside you.

It’s when he’s stood right beside you that he sees why the sheets are in such a tangle.

You’ve managed to kick them part of the way off you, but they still cling around your calves. It leaves your ass and thighs sticking out from under the covers. You couldn’t have posed for it better if you’d tried. The silky slip you wore to bed is rucked up around your hips, showing off the lacy panties you’re still wearing. He wonders if you got dressed up for him before falling asleep.

For a long moment, Miguel just looks. He’s enjoyed having you living with him for the past ten days, but it feels like the full potential is finally occurring to him.

He can enjoy you like this whenever he wants.

Nobody has to jet halfway across the country, or traipse up to a hotel room. You’re right here, exactly where he wants you. It’s the perfect remedy to such a long day.

He can only keep his hands to himself for so long. When the two of you were coping with hotel visits and brief stays, you’d often maximise the time together by waking the other up for sex. He’s lost count of the amount of times you’ve woken him up with your mouth around his cock; he’s equally beyond numbering the times he’s woken you with his fingers or his tongue (and once, so memorably, a slap).

Carefully, so you don’t stir, he sits on the end of the bed. He reaches out carefully, brushing the back of his hand so gently against the curve of your ass that he barely feels you. It does make you shift, almost imperceptibly. He does it again, your skin so warm under his fingers that he sighs.

Miguel loves you like this; soft, sleepy, malleable.

Turning his hand over, he lets his fingertips wander over your supple flesh. You make a soft, contented noise that’s half-muffled by the pillow. It makes his cock twitch, makes him hungrier for more. His fingers sweep upward, coming to rest at the juncture of your thighs.

He can’t feel you properly through the lace covering your cunt. For a moment, he lets his fingertips rest against the outline of your slit. One of your legs moves, and he waits to see if this will wake you. Instead, you just seem to be shifting, getting more comfortable. Satisfied that you’re still asleep, he lets his fingertips press a little more firmly, his index finger tracing lightly over your clit.

Miguel swallows thickly, uncomfortably aware of how hard he’s getting. With his free hand, he reaches down to adjust himself. He’s not surprised to find that he’s already half-hard. If anything, he’s surprised he’s not so stiff it hurts; not when he has you tucked up in his bed, waiting to be played with.

He moves slowly, carefully tracing and teasing at the outline of your cunt over your underwear. More soft sounds start to escape you, little hitches in your breath and quiet whimpers. Every noise goes straight to his cock. Other men wind down with alcohol; he has you to get drunk on.

It doesn’t take long before he can feel your slick starting to soak into the lace of your panties. It starts as a tiny wet spot right over your entrance and it takes all his willpower not to yank your underwear down and bury his tongue in you. Instead, he keeps playing with you, tracing firmer circles over your clit until the lace is thoroughly ruined.

Carefully, he hooks a finger around the crotch of your underwear and pulls them to one side. It gives him the barest peek at your pretty cunt. It’s enough to make his mouth water on instinct. You squirm in your sleep, and he wonders if you can feel the cooler air of the room hit your soaking folds. He lets his fingertip touch your bare flesh, shivers licking down his spine as he feels just how wet you are.

Part of him is curious about what will finally wake you up. It’s that part of him that makes him tease your entrance with his fingertip, coating his skin in your slick. You give a shuddering gasp as he slides his finger inside of you, but you still don’t wake. He moves slowly, deliberately avoiding the spot on your walls that makes you quiver when he hits it. You’re more restless with his finger inside of you, squirming at the intrusion and curling your hand in the sheets. Your hips buck a little, the sight of you trying to fuck yourself back onto his finger in your sleep making him feel like a man bewitched.

Miguel knows he’s tempting fate when he adds the second finger. He thrusts slow and deep once, twice, knuckle deep inside you when he finally hears it.

“…Miguel?”

****

It feels like you’re dreaming at first. A blissful wet dream that makes your toes curl. You’re not sure what exactly wakes you, only that you eventually become aware of two long, thick fingers carefully working inside of you.

“…Miguel?” You ask, your voice thick with sleep. It’s disorienting, waking up so agonisingly close to coming.

“Hi, baby.” His fingers don’t stop moving. If anything, he lets his fingers curl a little now he knows you’ve awoken, pressing against that spongy spot inside you. Your brain feels foggy with sleep still, miles behind your body as you abruptly crash into the pleasure of his touch.

“Daddy’s home,” whispers something deep and primal in your mind.

“Oh God, Miguel- ‘s so good,” you manage as he moves his fingers a little faster inside you, sending more heat lancing through your veins. You have no idea how long Miguel has been playing with you for, and that somehow makes it even hotter. Every thrust of his fingers makes you moan, your back arching into his touch.

“Need you to be a good girl and come for me,” he murmurs, his voice low with arousal. You do as you’re told, rocking yourself back on his fingers. It doesn’t take you long at all to tip over the edge into a blinding orgasm, one that hits you like lightning and leaves you clutching the pillow so hard your knuckles go white. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps as Miguel works you through your climax, dragging it out until your legs quiver.

The loss of his fingers leaves you feeling devastatingly empty, and you whine at the feeling.

“Ya lo sé, baby.” His fingers find the waistband of your underwear, tugging them impatiently down your legs and discarding them somewhere in the room. Once they’re off, he moves you towards the middle of the bed, leaving him enough room to climb in beside you.

“Miguel-” you start, trying to turn to face him. He doesn’t let you. One of his large hands curls around your shoulder, pressing you forwards.

“You sound tired, amor,” he says, even as he rolls you onto your stomach. “Do you want me to stop?” His weight settles over you, pinning you down against the mattress. The press of his warm, broad body over yours pulls at that tension in your core, threatening to start building again.

“No! ‘m not too tired.” It’s a lie; you’re exhausted. But your need for him overrides all practicality. “Please, daddy.” If he doesn’t fuck you now, you think you might actually cry yourself back to sleep.

Miguel’s mouth finds your ear, nipping carefully at the lobe. He’s hard against the curve of your backside, and the two of you groan together as his cock presses against your slick folds.

“My good girl,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck. He gives an idle thrust of his hips, the head of his cock brushing against your clit and making you cry out under him. “Perfect, pretty girl,” he continues, one of his hands disappearing between your bodies as he lines himself up.

The blunt head of his cock swipes through your folds again, and you tilt your hips up for a better angle. You barely have time to enjoy the feeling of him notching his cockhead against your entrance before he sinks into your cunt, filling you so exquisitely that you think you might actually black out for a moment. The stretch of it pulls a sob out of your throat. It’s a pathetic little noise that makes him smirk smugly against your neck.

His hands find yours, his palms covering the backs of your hands and lacing your fingers with his. It’s somewhere between pinning you down and holding your hands, and it only adds to the tension coiled tightly in your core.

Miguel starts fucking you slow and deep, every measured roll of his hips making you cry out against the pillow. He lets go of one of your hands just long enough to push your hair out of the way of your neck. His beard prickles the delicate skin as his mouth nips and sucks at your throat. You can feel him everywhere, on every inch of you.

The lines between you begin to blur in your mind, until you’re hard pressed to say where exactly you end and he begins, and it’s still not enough. In this position, he can hit so deeply that you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against the very end of you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans mixing together, and the slap of skin. Miguel’s breath is ragged against your ear, and when he licks a line up the column of your neck, actual tears well in your eyes.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you gasp into the pillow. “You always make me feel so good.” Miguel only groans in response, and you can’t help but feel gratified that, for all his words before, he rarely manages to keep talking once he’s inside of you. It makes you feel powerful. Even when he has you pinned like this beneath his body and the bed, even when he’s woken you up to use you, you have the power to leave him speechless.

It’s utterly intoxicating.

Miguel loses his patience before long. He speeds up his thrusts, hips snapping roughly against you. All you can do is make choked little ‘ah’ sounds, half-muffled by the pillows. You cling to Miguel’s hands as you tip over the edge of another devastating climax, your whole body shuddering in what little space you have beneath him. Tears squeeze out from beneath your lashes as you screw your eyes shut, your body feeling too small to contain the heat tearing through you. It must hurt, the way you’re gripping his hands, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Instead he fucks you harder as you clench down around him. His teeth find your neck again, pulling a feral sound out of you as he tightens his arms around you, holding you closer, surrounding you utterly. His hips grind against you as he comes, pressing himself flush against your body as though he can somehow force himself deeper.

Miguel stays there, his breath ragged in your ear as he starts to come down. His fingers slip from yours and it makes your hands ache as the blood flows back into your fingertips. Slowly, reluctantly, he moves off you. You can’t help the hitch in your breath as his cock, still half-hard, slips out of you. Slick drips between your legs, a mix of his come and yours. Some perverse part of you likes it, gets a thrill out of him making a mess of you. Tired as you are, you don’t bother to clean yourself up.

Instead, you let Miguel pull you into his arms and nestle your head against his shoulder. You move blindly, your eyes still closed.

“You must be so tired, baby. You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice back now he’s no longer inside you. You nod into his shoulder; the adrenaline high of your orgasm quickly gave way to such a drop that it’s a wonder you didn’t fall asleep while he was still fucking you. Miguel wraps an arm around you, his hand resting at the curve of your backside as you get comfortable.

“One last thing,” he says softly, squeezing your ass. “You’re not allowed to wear underwear to bed unless you have a very good excuse.”

“Sorry, daddy,” you mumble into his chest. Your eyelids are too heavy for you to open them again for more than a second. All you see is the briefest glimpse of his chest before they close, and you can’t reopen them. You can only yawn and nuzzle against his warm skin, enjoying the way his thumb is stroking your skin.

“It’s okay, baby. I know you won’t do it again.”

****

You wake up to an empty bed. It’s a little disorienting; the lack of Miguel makes you wonder if the night before hadn’t been a particularly vivid dream. You stretch out, something cracking in your spine as you starfish out on the huge bed. It’s been days since you moved in, but you’re still not used to having quite so much space in bed.

You’re too hungry to linger long.

Instead, you slip out from the tangle of sheets and throw on a pretty, light robe. It was a gift from Miguel, like most of the lingerie and nightwear you currently own, and you can’t help admiring yourself in the mirror for a moment. The colour brings out your eyes; he has such lovely taste.

The house is quiet as you make your way towards the kitchen. There’s faint music coming from somewhere, deep within the house, but you can’t quite pinpoint it. You don’t know everyone’s schedules well enough to know if it’s the maid listening to the radio as she cleans, or the gardener working outside. You’re not even sure if Miguel is home or not. It’s a strange feeling, to feel so detached from what’s happening inside your own home.

You’re so convinced you’re alone that you jump when you see Miguel. He’s sitting at the head of the dining table, a mug of fresh coffee in hand and a leather portfolio spread out in front of him. You’re still not used to seeing him in such a domestic setting; from the bare feet to the robe thrown over his black vest and pyjama pants, it feels a little like seeing a teacher outside of school.

“Good morning, mi amor,” he says with a smile when he notices you. He holds a hand out for you, and you take it eagerly, letting him pull you onto his lap.

“Morning, sweetheart. I didn’t sleep in too late, did I?” You ask, making yourself comfortable on his thighs. Miguel wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as you settle, and kisses your temple.

“No, I’ve not been up long myself. And I thought you could do with the rest after the very warm welcome you gave me last night.”

“Oh. Not a dream then.” You can’t help the flush that spreads across your skin, making your cheeks burn. It’s no different in practice than what you and Miguel would play at in hotel rooms, or on your fleeting visits to Santo Padre, but it feels different now. It’s not out of a desire to maximise his time with you; it was simply because he came home needing you. Your insides twist pleasurably, and you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Not a dream,” he confirms, his lovely dark eyes boring into you. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes you look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. It’s soft, but with an unmistakable demanding edge that makes you squirm.

“Do you know what I realised last night?” He asks, catching your chin gently between his forefinger and thumb and forcing you to look up and meet his eyes. “That my days at work are going to feel a lot less tedious now I know I’ll be coming home to you.” He lets go of your chin and leans closer, his lips brushing the delicate shell of your ear.

“That’s romantic,” you manage with remarkable composure as his lips ghost over the bite-mark he left last night. Your hands grip a little tighter to his shoulders.

“Mm. Coming home to you waiting in my bed. Ready for me to use.” A little less romantic, you suppose, but any comeback vanishes from your head when he traces the line of your throat with the tip of his tongue.

“God, always. Whenever you want.” You mean it too, insane as it might sound to an outsider. Miguel gives you everything you might ever want, makes you feel adored and cherished and desired in a way no other man has even come close to. Why wouldn’t you want to give him the same?

“I always want you.”

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @burningtacozombie @ben-c-group-therapy @90sisthenew80s @beccabarba @christinabae @pear-1206

#miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo #miguel galindo fanfiction #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction

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niteshade925 · 3 months ago

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April 14, Xi'an, China, Shaanxi History Museum, Qin and Han Dynasties Branch (Part 3 – Innovations and Philosophies):

(Edit: sorry this post came out so late, I got hit by the truck named life and had to get some rest, and this post in itself took some effort to research. But anyway it's finally up, please enjoy!)

A little background first, because this naming might lead to some confusions.....when you see location adjectives like "eastern", "western", "northern", "southern" added to the front of Zhou dynasty, Han dynasty, Song dynasty, and Jin/晋 dynasty, it just means the location of the capital city has changed. For example Han dynasty had its capital at Chang'an (Xi'an today) in the beginning, but after the very brief but not officially recognized "Xin dynasty" (9 - 23 AD; not officially recognized in traditional Chinese historiography, it's usually seen as a part of Han dynasty), Luoyang became the new capital. Because Chang'an is geographically to the west of Luoyang, the Han dynasty pre-Xin is called Western Han dynasty (202 BC - 8 AD), and the Han dynasty post-Xin is called Eastern Han dynasty (25 - 220 AD). As you can see here, in these cases this sort of adjective is simply used to indicate different time periods in the same dynasty.

Model of a dragonbone water lift/龙骨水车, Eastern Han dynasty. This is mainly used to push water up to higher elevations for the purpose of irrigation:

Model of a water-powered bellows/冶铁水排, Eastern Han dynasty. Just as the name implies, as flowing water pushes the water wheel around, the parts connected to the axle will pull and push on the bellows alternately, delivering more air to the furnace for the purpose of casting iron.

The Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art/《九章算术》, Fangcheng/方程 chapter. It’s a compilation of the work of many scholars from 10 th century BC until 2 nd century AD, and while the earliest authors are unknown, it has been edited and supplemented by known scholars during Western Han dynasty (also when the final version of this book was compiled), then commented on by scholars during Three Kingdoms period (Kingdom of Wei) and Tang dynasty. The final version contains 246 example problems and solutions that focus on practical applications, for example measuring land, surveying land, construction, trading, and distributing taxes. This focus on practicality is because it has been used as a textbook to train civil servants. Note that during Han dynasty, fangcheng means the method of solving systems of linear equations; today, fangcheng simply means equation. For anyone who wants to know a little more about this book and math in ancient China, here’s an article about it. (link goes to pdf)

Diagram of a circle in a right triangle (called “勾股容圆” in Chinese), from the book Ceyuan Haijing/《测圆海镜》 by Yuan-era mathematician Li Ye/李冶 (his name was originally Li Zhi/李治) in 1248. Note that Pythagorean Theorem was known by the name Gougu Theorem/勾股定理 in ancient China, where gou/勾 and gu/股 mean the shorter and longer legs of the right triangle respectively, and the hypotenuse is named xian/弦 (unlike what the above linked article suggests, this naming has more to do with the ancient Chinese percussion instrument qing/磬, which is shaped similar to a right triangle). Gougu Theorem was recorded in the ancient Chinese mathematical work Zhoubi Suanjing/《周髀算经》, and the name Gougu Theorem is still used in China today.

Diagram of the proof for Gougu Theorem in Zhoubi Suanjing. The sentence on the left translates to "gou (shorter leg) squared and gu (longer leg) squared makes up xian (hypotenuse) squared", which is basically the equation a² + b² = c². Note that the character for "squared" here (mi/幂) means "power" today.

This is a diagram of Zhang Heng’s seismoscope, called houfeng didong yi/候风地动仪 (lit. “instrument that measures the winds and the movements of the earth”). It was invented during Eastern Han dynasty, but no artifact of houfeng didong yi has been discovered yet, this is presumably due to constant wars at the end of Eastern Han dynasty. All models and diagrams that exist right now are what historians and seismologists think it should look like based on descriptions from Eastern Han dynasty. This diagram is based on the most popular model by Wang Zhenduo that has an inverted column at the center, but this model has been widely criticized for its ability to actually detect earthquakes. A newer model that came out in 2005 with a swinging column pendulum in the center has shown the ability to detect earthquakes, but has yet to demonstrate ability to reliably detect the direction where the waves originate, and is also inconsistent with the descriptions recorded in ancient texts. What houfeng didong yi really looks like and how it really works remains a mystery.

Xin dynasty bronze calipers, the earliest sliding caliper found as of now (not the earliest caliper btw). This diagram is the line drawing of the actual artifact (right).

Ancient Chinese "Jacquard" loom (called 提花机 or simply 花机 in Chinese, lit. "raise pattern machine"), which first appeared no later than 1st century BC. The illustration here is from the Ming-era (1368 - 1644) encyclopedia Tiangong Kaiwu/《天工开物》. Basically it's a giant loom operated by two people, the person below is the weaver, and the person sitting atop is the one who controls which warp threads should be lifted at what time (all already determined at the designing stage before any weaving begins), which creates patterns woven into the fabric. Here is a video that briefly shows how this type of loom works (start from around 1:00). For Hanfu lovers, this is how zhuanghua/妆花 fabric used to be woven, and how traditional silk fabrics like yunjin/云锦 continue to be woven. Because it is so labor intensive, real jacquard silk brocade woven this way are extremely expensive, so the vast majority of zhuanghua hanfu on the market are made from machine woven synthetic materials.

Chinese purple is a synthetic pigment with the chemical formula BaCuSi2O6. There's also a Chinese blue pigment. If anyone is interested in the chemistry of these two compounds, here's a paper on the topic. (link goes to pdf)

A list of common colors used in Qin and Han dynasties and the pigments involved. White pigment comes from chalk, lead compounds, and powdered sea shells; green pigment comes from malachite mineral; blue pigment usually comes from azurite mineral; black comes from pine soot and graphite; red comes from cinnabar; ochre comes from hematite; and yellow comes from realgar and orpiment minerals.

Also here are names of different colors and shades during Han dynasty. It's worth noting that qing/青 can mean green (ex: 青草, "green grass"), blue (ex: 青天, "blue sky"), any shade between green and blue, or even black (ex: 青丝, "black hair") in ancient Chinese depending on the context. Today 青 can mean green, blue, and everything in between.

Western Han-era bronze lamp shaped like a goose holding a fish in its beak. This lamp is interesting as the whole thing is hollow, so the smoke from the fire in the lamp (the fish shaped part) will go up into the neck of the goose, then go down into the body of the goose where there's water to catch the smoke, this way the smoke will not be released to the surrounding environment. There are also other lamps from around the same time designed like this, for example the famous gilt bronze lamp that's shaped like a kneeling person holding a lamp.

Part of a Qin-era (?) clay drainage pipe system:

A list of canals that was dug during Warring States period, Qin dynasty, and pre-Emperor Wu of Han Han dynasty (475 - 141 BC). Their purposes vary from transportation to irrigation. The name of the first canal on the list, Hong Gou/鸿沟, has already become a word in Chinese language, a metaphor for a clear separation that cannot be crossed (ex: 不可逾越的鸿沟, meaning "a gulf that cannot be crossed").

Han-era wooden boat. This boat is special in that its construction has clear inspirations from the ancient Romans, another indication of the amount of information exchange that took place along the Silk Road:

A model that shows how the Great Wall was constructed in Qin dynasty. Laborers would use bamboo to construct a scaffold (bamboo scaffolding is still used in construction today btw, though it's being gradually phased out) so people and materials (stone bricks and dirt) can get up onto the wall. Then the dirt in the middle of the wall would be compressed into rammed earth, called hangtu/夯土. A layer of stone bricks may be added to the outside of the hangtu wall to protect it from the elements. This was also the method of construction for many city walls in ancient China.

A list of the schools of thought that existed during Warring States period, their most influential figures, their scholars, and their most famous works. These include Confucianism (called Ru Jia/儒家 in Chinese; usually the suffix "家" at the end denotes a school of thought, not a religion; the suffix "教" is that one that denotes a religion), Daoism/道家, Legalism (Fa Jia/法家), Mohism/墨家, etc.

The "Five Classics" (五经) in the "Four Books and Five Classics" (四书五经) associated with the Confucian tradition, they are Shijing/《诗经》 (Classic of Poetry), Yijing/《易经》 (also known as I Ching), Shangshu/《尚书》 (Classic of History), Liji/《礼记》 (Book of Rites), and Chunqiu/《春秋》 (Spring and Autumn Annals). The "Four Books" (四书) are Daxue/《大学》 (Great Learning), Zhongyong/《中庸》 (Doctrine of the Mean), Lunyu/《论语》 (Analects), and Mengzi/《孟子》 (known as Mencius).

And finally the souvenir shop! Here's a Chinese chess (xiangqi/象棋) set where the pieces are fashioned like Western chess, in that they actually look like the things they are supposed to represent, compared to traditional Chinese chess pieces where each one is just a round wooden piece with the Chinese character for the piece on top:

A blind box set of small figurines that are supposed to mimic Shang and Zhou era animal-shaped bronze vessels. Fun fact, in Shang dynasty people revered owls, and there was a female general named Fu Hao/妇好 who was buried with an owl-shaped bronze vessel, so that's why this set has three different owls (top left, top right, and middle). I got one of these owls (I love birds so yay!)

And that concludes the museums I visited while in Xi'an!

#2024 china #xi'an #china #shaanxi history museum qin and han dynasties branch #chinese history #chinese culture #chinese language #qin dynasty #han dynasty #warring states period #chinese philosophy #ancient technology #math history #history #culture #language

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metamatar · 2 months ago

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Hey, that anon message sent to you. They were "surprised" that you spoke positively about Indigenous/Black methodologies and knowledge production. I just wanted to let them know that these discourses of knowledge production are taken very seriously, even and especially within "the Euro-American academy" or whatever for the past twenty-five years at least (so much so that it's very fashionable and influential, not that "legitimacy granted by the academy" must be the end-all measure of validity). It's not just that these ontologies/methodologies are compatible with US/European science, but they are actually actively now at forefront of US/European journals, universities, discourses, discussing environmental studies, coloniality, space/place, intellectual history, etc. You walk through hallways in a liberal arts building on campus and you'll see "Plantationocene" or "Indigenous pedagogy" printed on lecture fliers on the wall (so there are discussions about academia's consumption, appropriation, recuperation of these concepts). But I wanted to back you up, and also offer to that anon some places that might help them, to see not just the "rigorous intellectual method" of Black methodologies, Indigenous pedagogies, Caribbeanist/archipelagic thinking, etc., but also to show that there are whole "traditional" peer-reviewed journals that have been discussing this stuff for years too (from Small Axe, Antipode, and Journal of Postcolonial Writing to more-classic Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers and Annals of the American Association of Geographers). This stuff has been so prominent in "legitimate" arenas that it's been like almost ten years since Zoe Todd famously critiqued "the ontological turn" in academic anthropology.

But three basic accessible introductory resources:

E-flux (e-flux dot com): Specifically their e-flux Journal and e-flux Architecture section, which have published for years, pretty much daily, on knowledge production, pedagogies, epistemologies of space/place/land, historiography, architecture, environmental sciences, discourses within academy/sciences, etc. They also do many special issues, some which focus specifically on architecture of sickness/health; Anthropocene and Plantationocene; Black methodologies; race in European historiography; etc. you'll see mention of (and sometimes whole issues dedicated to discussion of) Achille Mbembe, Fanon, Indigenous ontologies, Eduoard Glissant, Orientalism, Sylia Wynter, Aime Cesaire, etc. Some of these scholars have also themselves written/published multiple essays/articles at e-flux, including Mbembe (necropolitics), Kathryn Yusoff (A Billion Black Anthropocenes or None), Katherine McKittrick (Black methodologies; plantation logic; carceral geography); Elizabeth Povinelli (geontopower). E-flux's site itself has a good tagging system for subjects (plantations; coloniality; postcoloniality; pedagogy; ecology; etc.).

About four journal issues each year from peer-reviewed Antipode Online (a project of Antipode: A Radical Journal of Geography). They also have various special issues, lecture series, interventions, workshops, roundtables, etc. about knowledge production, and have separate series for "Right to the Discipline grants" and "scholar-activist projects". (This kind of focus is also shared by the online portal of ACME: An International Journal for Critical Geographies, which also does special issues, roundtables, interventions).

Green Dreamer (greendreamer dot com): Transcripts for over 430 interviews/conversations between scholars, scientists, etc. which mostly focus on knowledge production, methodologies, "troubling the academy", pedagogy, intellectual history, historiography, etc. with specific foci in ecology, history, race, humanities, environmental sciences. They go out of their way to survey Black and Indigenous scholars. And by coincidence their latest interviews (2024) are with Nick Estes (Indigenous pedagogies of knowledge) and Sadiah Qureshi (she authored Peoples on Parade: Exhibitions, Empire and Anthropology in Nineteenth-Century Britain). But they've surveyed so much more.

Some scholars on this kind of stuff: Katherine McKittrick; Achille Mbembe; Pratik Chakrabarti; Macarena Gomez-Barris; Sharae Deckard; Kathryn Yusoff; Jonathan Saha.

But this is a tip of an iceberg.

wow!!! its so cool to receive a message from you as your blog has definitely shaped my perspective and even my style on sharing articles here. and yeah its true that black and indigenous knowledge production is very much on the forefront of liberal arts, esp in the sub fields you've pointed out. i personally perceived anon's critique as one to me bc i have spoken previously about the cynical deployment of decolonial studies as insulation from critique wrt fascist and ethnonationalist discourses like hindutva and i personally traffic in engineering depts that view themselves as immune to even studying their own histories. but these occupations of decolonial studies by high culture is only possible if such studies had currency in the academy! to reject this cynical deployment is not to make a return to euro american business as usual though. i think its a matter of grounding and local context to be capable of as ahmad says "the most delicate of dialectics to disaggregate these densities."

and most importantly, thank you for the bibliography. i have a zotero folder for your recs :)

#asks #i love eflux!

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satancopilotsmytardis · 7 months ago

Text

Hunter's Favorite

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @zehei, Tomura has been an intergalactic poacher for a good long while now, and when a potential job comes through that's for a big payout only four hours from where he currently is, he decides to look into it. But red flags start to blanket the wintery forest as he realizes the barely classified creature that he's been sent after seems far too sapient to actually be an animal. For his part, Dabi is just desperately trying to find what he needs to ensure his next heat doesn't kill him.

Contents: Sci-fi bullshit, Alien!Dabi, Hermaphrodite!Dabi*, descriptions of violence and (brief) vomiting, non-human anatomy, mating cycles/heats, size difference, size kink, scent kink, cum inflation (brief), belly bulge, eggpreg, egg laying, infertility, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, wet and messy, courtship rituals, mating bonds.

*Author's note: I am using "Hermaphrodite" rather than intersex because Dabi is not human and his species is able to produce both male and female gametes throughout their entire lifecycles unless they use medicines to stop that process.

Word Count: 22,357

Days camping in the wilderness have never exactly been Tomura's idea of a good time, let alone the wilderness on foreign, barely settled planets looking for a creature that could very well already be captured or dead. But that is what he finds himself doing as he lands his ship and starts to make his way outside. Ipra 309T is a small earth-like planet, which is a stroke of luck for him because the last one he was on had dangerous amounts of sulfuric gas making up the atmosphere, and the one before that had dangerously high spikes of radiation. Ipra 309T is a hospitable planet that in all likelihood will see a settlement brought to its surface within the next few years once the current groups of scientists finish surveying the land.

He makes sure that he has all of the gear he needs for his stay, however long that will end up being, and leaves his ship. The cloaking device only works when it's stationary, but after the past half an hour of scanning the area, it's taken in the environment and is able to mimic it effectively, turning all but invisible to the naked eye, certainly invisible to most animals that may come across it while he's gone. Camping. In a snow covered forest. Great. Tomura is already bundled as tight as he can be and he is already wishing that he hadn't taken on this job as he starts to walk away from his far more comfortable vessel. If he were a lazy poacher he would just send out drones to look for the creature and stay in his ship, but the effectiveness of that kind of behavior is always far below what he feels like he's able to achieve by using more traditional methods. And if he wants to bag this little beast then he is going to have to be as effective as possible.

Tomura starts to hike towards the place where the animal-- if it is an animal at all-- was spotted last. Ipra 309T hasn't been fully surveyed yet, and the first reports that scientists had given were that there weren't any sapient species on the planet. Which would mean settlers would be welcome to come and stake their claim on the land as long as they did so within interplanetary immigration guidelines. And then someone came across a pack of eight small bipedal creatures. The early reports said that the creatures had white skin and hair with long pointed ears with tufts of fur sticking off the ends and thin tails with prominent tufts at the tip as well. Their sharp claws on the hands and feet, and the mouth full of jagged fangs were very effective against the skin of humans and Varquix, because the two scientists who had come across the pack had immediately been set upon with such viciousness the human had all but dragged their companion away while he held his intestines inside after being gutted. Not a particularly good first encounter, but not that unusual. The problem is that no one has been able to get close enough to the intensely violent and territorial creatures to actually determine if they're people or animals. The other problem is that someone from Proximacard, the company that sent the scientists here to study the planet, had also gotten away with an egg from these creatures, clearly classified as BMN-019, which had been broken at some point. The embryo had, of course, not been viable, but regardless of whatever could be discovered from that, the shell itself had been exquisite. The palest blue in color on the outside with irregular rippling patterns across the surface that flashed like mother of pearl and and inside that, as it oxidized, started to glow, making the ripples along the surface cast faint patterns of the shining rainbow that had been compared to the northern lights on Earth. And the shell had 'gone missing' only for new jewelry that was worth a fortune to crop up among the most elite in two star systems, only a few pieces, but enough to have made the theft more than worth it for the person who orchestrated it.

And that person had reached out to see if he could find someone to get more of the eggs, if not the creature themselves, hoping they could induce the laying in a sterile environment. It was a job that no one was particularly eager to take up after the early reports on the viciousness of the creatures, but some leak in Proximacard's system made mention of one of the BMN-019s that was seen roaming alone, smaller than the others and with patches of dark blue fur and skin across its body. It was unclear if it was a juvenile or if it was exiled, but it would be worth finding out. He hadn't known if he would want to bother with this job either, given the cold, but the reward for bringing it in was enough to make him go to this planet to potentially freeze to death, especially since he was only four hours away from the location when the message came through. That would all but guarantee that he would be the first one here to try and capture the creature and he was hoping that would better his chances.

He hikes for the better part of two hours to get to the area where the creature was spotted, the forest not unlike that of a pine forest on Earth, though these trees drop seed leaves year round, the pods pale and mingling with the snow. That only means that he has a better idea of how to survive the natural environment as he finds a place that has a good vantage point and starts to go about setting up his campgrounds. The goal, aside from not freezing to death, is to be as unobtrusive as possible and be able to get the creature to come close enough for him to subdue it and get a translation collar around its throat. If the creature can talk with it on, then he'll know its a person, not an animal, and that means he can warn it that slavers will be after it and that it should probably go with its pack to the surveying crew and try to be registered as a sapient creature and the dominant species on the planet to protect them from being hunted and sold. It's not much of a boundary given the other animals he's captured and sold throughout the years, but it is better than nothing. At least he doesn't trade in people.

Tomura sets up his camp and scatters some sensors in a mile radius around his tent, cloaked just like his ship, so that he'll know if anything enters the area. And then he returns to sit and wait. Even with the best winter gear that he can buy, he is still loathing that he bothered to look into this job and subject himself to this awful cold.

///

Dabi wakes just before dusk and stretches his tail flicking and his ears twitching as he listens to make sure nothing is out of place around his den. There shouldn't be any, not when he's made his home so far away from the village and anything else that might want to make a meal out of him now that he's alone, and he's pleased to not hear anything that might indicate an animal has found its way to his den. He stretches and looks down at the thin bedding that he's been able to gather so far and knows that it won't be nearly enough when his cycle hits in a few weeks time, not only that, but there is a hollow aching in his stomach from not eating the day before. Ten months since his exile and he still can hardly feed himself. If he doesn't manage to make his hunting and gathering pay off soon, he doesn't think he'll survive his next heat.

He slips out of the sparse scattering of leaves that have been serving as his nest and makes his way out of the cave he's been calling home, using his claws to grip onto the sheet of ice that reformed overnight. This section of the mountain doesn't have much in the form of readily available resources, but it is just outside of the place the hunters tend to venture, allowing him to sneak along the border taking whatever he can, as well as ensuring that he is far enough away to not be noticed. Maybe someday he'll have the energy to move further east where food is supposed to be more plentiful, but for now, this is all he can manage.

Dabi moves down the side of the mountain, swapping hopping from boulders and snow mounds, up into the trees and moving through those instead. His coloration makes this marginally safer than just darting over the ground, but the white patches of his skin and fur are certainly not the perfect camouflage. Still, he can't change that, and he has to hunt.

He doesn't like to fish the river. Zerads, reptilian semi-aquatic animals with powerful tails, taloned front legs, and sharp teeth, tend to swim in small packs through it, and being alone means that he's an easier target for them to pick off, especially since his shorter reach means that he can't scare them off with his claws when he needs to. But the fish are the most readily available source of food that he can get as it is, and he needs to eat something today and every day as he works his way towards his cycle. If he doesn't-- Dabi shudders to think of the horror stories he was told killed their layers during times of famine. Eggs not forming correctly, eggs shattering inside of the layer's bodies and piercing them with the sharp fragments of shells leaving them to die slow, agonizing deaths. He has managed to avoid those things so far, but he needs to make certain that he's getting the food he needs if he wants to keep avoiding that. If that means risking fishing the river and forcing himself to eat the fish, then he doesn't really have a choice but to try it.

Dabi is about to climb down from the trees to start his fishing, when he spots tracks in the snow. He frowns and slinks down a bit further to try and get a better look. His fur bristles. The rounded toe and strange regular, intricate patterns that are pressed into the ground are not the same as the other kinds of these prints they started finding around the village a year ago, not the shape of any creature's natural foot and that makes him bristle. His ears twitch, listening all the more carefully to hear anything moving around him, but only the light breeze through the trees and birdsong in the distance. He was already being cast away when the tall creatures came into their neighbor's territory and stole the eggs from their brood layer. But from what he heard along the edges of things were that they had strange flesh, and that they left tracks in the snow with no toes. Great. Just what he needs, another potential predator to deal with. Dabi hisses at the footprints as if that will make the frustration disappear, before he continues along the bank of the stream. He doesn't see any signs of Zerads for the moment and perches on the edge to watch and wait.

It takes the better part of the night, but he manages to spear three large fish on his talons and that take is a relief. He carries them back to his den and tucks himself into the sparse nest. The fish taste foul, he has never liked fish at all, and their bones aren't going to offer as much nutrients as he is likely to need when it comes to being able to form a healthy eggshell, but he needs anything he can get and he forces himself to take large bites and only chew enough not to choke, swallowing the mess down as quickly as he can. The egg he managed to lay last cycle casts the images of his pack along the walls, but it doesn't really make him feel any less lonely as he sits in the thin layer of needles that is nothing like the nest that they used to make for his mother or Shoto.

///

The next evening he wakes again, not ravenous thanks to his meal the night before, but with the knowledge that he has to go on a proper hunt today. He needs to eat real meat, he needs real bones, and he is so small. He slips from his den and goes through the trees again, this time moving away from the river to try and find something he can pounce on from up high. His people can climb, but they usually choose to hunt on foot, fanning out in a semi-circle and closing in on a target when one has been located. Dabi can't hunt like that, not only because he's alone, but because his strange coloration means that he isn't nearly invisible in the snow. He blends in better up in snowy branches and he only has a chance at catching something if he takes his prey by surprise. So he learned how to climb the trees better than any other Salkeh and now he can dart through the branches looking for his prey.

He has to travel far from his den to find what he's looking for and it is a miserable realization when he finds a small herd of Vaak curled up and sleeping. There are three babies being guarded by their mother, the animal quadrupedal with thick gray-brown fur, large sharp antlers, sharp beak, and sensitive large ears. He knows if he moves any closer, if he tries to pounce with her around, she will wake and attempt to gore him. He doesn't know if he's fast enough to kill one of the babies and drag its body back up into the trees to feast on, especially not since the babies are nearly the same size as him and he really has no hope of carrying that corpse above ground all the way back home.

Which means he has to stay until the mother leaves in the morning to go find food for her young. His instincts rebel at the thought of not being in his den for the entire day. But this could be a proper feast for him and the bones will help his egg form so much better. He fights his instincts, resigns himself, and stays where he is, curling up to sleep until the sun rises. Hopefully the mother will leave then and he'll be able to kill the babies before she can return.

///

Tomura camps for two days, learning through his sensors that this quiet forest is teeming with life. There are a variety of small creatures that live in the trees, many more that roam the forest, but so far none of them have been the BMN-019 that he is looking for. He, thankfully, determines this from his tent where he is doing his best to try and convince himself he doesn't hate the cold more than he hates, well, anything else in the entire universe, but still. It's not until the third day that the sensor by the river goes off and as he checks the scan that it made of the creature's body, he finally gets the jolt of electricity that goes through him when he's found his target. The image the sensor is able to project is only of the creature's silhouette but it matches what he was told to expect for the most part, though seeing the creature in three dimensions shows him just how small it really is. It barely would reach his waist if he were standing beside it. He supposes that would put him right at disemboweling height the way the first scouts were. Still, that is good information to have.

The sensor indicates that the creature stays for a few hours, but it is pitch black outside. He is not about to go trekking through the snow in a dark forest, alone, on a foreign planet. That is a recipe for getting himself killed and losing his target forever. If the creature goes to the river to eat, then he can hike closer tomorrow when the sun is high and prepare to keep an eye on the area closely enough to actually act if it comes there again. It is another miserable night to sleep in the cold, but he will certainly need the rest for tomorrow, so Tomura forces himself to settle.

In the morning, he gathers what he needs and then hikes out to where the sensor indicated. He stays down wind of the tracks and near the tree line, trying to ensure that the creature won't spot him as he waits and watches to see if the being will show itself. The day passes without the target showing its face, but as the sky grows dark and he feels the stirrings of his exhaustion starting to pull at his senses, Tomura gets his first glimpse of the creature. Through the night vision goggles, he can't tell the exact coloration of the creature, but it does have darker patches across its body that he was told to expect and it is very small as he watches it climb up into the trees instead of going to fish the river again. He tries to move through the forest beneath it at a safe distance. It is even harder to do when trying to keep from being smelled or spotted, but if the creature leaves the canopy, then he can use his tranquilizer gun to knock it out and restrain it. When it wakes he'll try speaking to it and determining if it's a person or an animal.

The creature moves through the trees gracefully, its long claws catching the bark as it jumps from tree to tree, its tail streaking behind him and lilting this way and that to help him keep his balance as it moves. Tomura watches closely and carefully, taking note of how it moves and how quickly a casual pace is for the nimble creature. He has no doubt that it will be much faster than him if it wanted to run. It searches the forest, hunting, Tomura thinks, as he recognizes the randomness of how it scans the environment.

It finds what it's looking for after a few hours, and Tomura lingers a good way outside of the creature's range of hearing as he sees it settle into a tree above another small group of creatures. He tries to look up the designation of those, but Proximacard's public records for potential settlers are abysmal, and he can't get into the classified ones without his ship's computer. But the animals on the forest floor are sleeping in a tight bundle and his target watches them, pacing along a branch for a moment or two before he decides to settle into the bows of the tree, seemingly to sleep. Tomura can't allow himself that luxury, and he settles to watch the creature through the frigid night.

///

It takes until two hours after sunrise for the mother to leave her babies, and even then, Dabi waits another hour, his stomach hollow and gnawing again, before he thinks it will be safe for him to drop onto the nest. He can't eat all three of the Vaak in one sitting, but he will try to kill as many of them as possible. If he does then he can butcher them for the richest parts of their bodies, gorge himself on what he can eat, and then drag back whatever he can't. He moves along the branch until he is just above their nest bracing himself for the fall. The babies sleep soundly in the snow.

He drops down, his weight, even so slight, from that distance is enough to crack the spine of the one he lands on top of which begins to scream its agony. But it doesn't manage to move, so Dabi ignores that and instead goes for the other two that are starting to thrash and try to gouge his flesh with their beaks. But his soft fur is much tougher than it looks and the attacks slash, but cannot pierce without them putting the force of a true bite behind it. He twists to find the throat of the second baby and sinks his teeth into the flesh, tearing out the throat and pulling away to find the third before it can even gurgle its last breath drowned in blood. He knows it will die, and he needs to ensure he takes the third as well. That one he throws his body on top of as it tries to flee the nest, stabbing his claws through its ribs and rending its insides into shreds. It collapses beneath him and the one that was screaming its pain only screams for a moment longer before he returns to it and snaps its neck completely. Dabi licks at the blood on his mouth, satisfaction humming through him, as he sees the feast he has made for himself. He listens carefully to ensure the mother isn't rushing back to her nest, and when he doesn't hear any movement but the breeze through the trees, he separates the bodies from each other so that he has room to work.

If he were home, if he had a pack to keep him safe, he would be much more meticulous in skinning his kills. but right now he just wants to be certain that he eats his fill and has the best parts to bring home with him. He uses his claws to carve the muscular back legs off, the thick bones inside will be full of marrow and will make the consuming of those more pleasant. He opens the chest cavities to find the liver and takes the bulk of fat and meat from the abdominal section as well, getting many pounds of it that he knows will be very hard for him to take back home with him, so he eats that first. Dabi barely chews, knowing that will make it take longer to fill his stomach, and the meat is so slick with blood anyway that it goes down his throat easily enough. The more he can get inside before his body feels full, the less that he will have to waste or carry back with him.

He is about halfway through the first body before there is a distant click and then a sudden, sharp thud against his thigh. Dabi yelps, startled, whipping around with his teeth bared to try and find whatever hit him. But there isn't anything that he can see. Still. He doesn't like that and quickly checks to ensure that his fur beneath his skin is unharmed before he pulls back and gulps down two more large fistfuls of meat before he grabs a section of one of the baby's intestines. He squeezes out as much filth from them as possible, and then he uses those to lash the legs together so that he will have an easier time of carrying them. He still doesn't hear anything, so he climbs back up into the tree with his spoils, and starts to make his way back home, hoping to get there before the fullness sets in and he's able to sleep for the rest of the day, knowing he won't be hungry for the next several.

///

Tomura sits back in shock as he watches the tranq dart hit the creature's back flank and bounce off into the snow. He ducks lower in his cover as the creature, small and definitely his target with its patches of dark and light fur, whips around to see what hit it, but the dart is lost in the thick red-stained snow. When the target doesn't find an obvious source of the pain, it goes back to its food. From just watching the creature, Tomura can't determine if it is more or less animal than he was expecting. He only knows that it is particular about the sections that it eats. It's not until a few minutes later as he watches it use the innards of one of its kills to tie the limbs it selected to take with it in a bundle, that Tomura starts to lean towards this being a sapient species, and not an animal. Using tools is not always a clear indicator of a species having human-level or greater intelligence, but it certainly lends itself to that interpretation. The target goes back up into the trees and despite his exhaustion, Tomura follows after it again. He wants to know if this creature has a den, or a pack, or anything that could help him understand it better.

They trek back through the forest, back to the river, and then he watches from the denser forest as the creature scales the side of the mountain, moving through snow and rock until it slips away into a little crevice in the stones and Tomura loses sight of it. Well, that is something, he supposes. He knows now, at least generally, where the creature is making its home. He goes back to his campsite so that he can sleep after such a long day and dreads his next steps. He may not be certain, but he is more suspicious of this creature being part of a people, not an animal , and that means that he not only won't get the payout for this job, but he will have to decide if he's going to risk trying to make contact with it, if only to tell the creature what danger it and its species are in if they don't get registered by someone as a sapient species.

He would much rather go back to his tent to sleep, but instead he hikes all the way back to the carcasses that the creature left behind, the mother of them nowhere to be found. He goes to the bodies and carves out as much additional meat as he can, getting a few pounds of it that he knows will keep in the cold. Then he heads back to his campsite and packs that up as well before moving it much closer to the river and where the creature makes its den. It's only once he has all of that re-established that he makes himself sleep, already dreading the next few steps he has to deal with in this situation he's found himself in.

///

Tomura ends up having to wait another day and a half before the creature comes out of its burrow again. It goes off into the trees and he slips out of his tent to leave some of the strips of meat near where it climbs down from the mountain. He also makes sure to leave a strip of cloth that has his scent on it. There's about a fifty-fifty chance that makes the creature start to associate him with food as a provider or as a potential target, but he would rather get the target to start smelling him a bit. Maybe it will make him less likely to tear out his entrails when he does end up having to approach the creature.

After another hour or two, it comes back, hesitating in the canopy as it spots the meat. It watches and waits for forty-five minutes before it carefully moves down the tree and over to the pile, ears rotating as it listens for anything beyond the sound of the rushing water. But it investigates the meat, finds the cloth and gives it a sniff, and then takes that along with the large bundle of seed pods and pine needles back up to its lair. Tomura is starting to wonder what else he could leave there for it that might tempt it to stay longer, but after about five minutes, the creature comes back down the side of the mountain to retrieve the food. It snatches it up quickly and darts back up the side of the mountain and he's glad he has more of it.

This routine continues for three more days. On the first he leaves another bit of the meat and another little piece of cloth for the creature before it leaves its burrow for the night, and when it comes down the side of the mountain it paces around for a long while before it takes a chunk of the meat to the river. It catches a fish with it and Tomura's stomach sinks as he realizes that it was testing it for poison, as it makes the fish eat the chunk and then keeps a hold of it in the water. It hangs on for half an hour before it seems to determine the fish is not going to die unless its claws sink in on accident, and it leaves the fish be before gathering the cloth and the food and going back up into its den. It doesn't come back out for the rest of the night.

On the second he leaves what is left of the meat and a small sensor. He doesn't know if the creature will figure that out or not, but if it takes it into its burrow, then Tomura will be able to see if there is a whole pack waiting inside. He watches and the creature ignores the offerings tonight, instead going to the forest and gathering more plant matter before coming back and picking up the meat. It pauses as it finds the sensor, tapping at it, even biting on part of the edge and Tomura is mildly dismayed to see that corner shatter right off. The creature spits and sputters as it tastes the metal and plastic and lobs the whole thing into the river before it takes the meat and vegetation up to its den.

The third day, though he loathes to do it, he gives up one of his thermal blankets. He has more than one, and he takes the one that he's been sleeping with and that has been saturated with his scent to where he has been leaving his offerings and then sits, just on the edge of the treeline, only hidden enough so that he doesn't think the other will spot him immediately when it comes down the slope. And he waits again.

The creature comes down, investigating the blanket and not treating it as if it's food, thank god. Instead the creature starts to make small soft chirps and purrs as it picks up the fabric and bundles it to its chest. He can see the creature smelling it, its tail swaying softly over the snow as it closes its eyes and presses its face into the fabric. Tomura is struck with how cute the creature looks as it does so after seeing how vicious it was in its hunting before. He hesitates, but he shifts slightly, making himself a little more visible and the creature's head snaps up out of the fabric, its big, bright blue eyes scanning the area and locking onto him quickly.

It bares its teeth and hisses, "Egg thief!" Short, sharp guttural sounds that Tomura can't understand before it drops the fabric like it's burned him before it darts back up the side of the mountain and disappears again.

Well. He can't say that went exactly as planned.

///

Dabi watches from the edge of his burrow as the egg thief waits about an hour before moving over to the bundle of soft, warm hide and begins to fold it. He doesn't know what animal it was made of, but it felt so good under his skin, smelled good and masculine the way the other little hide strips that had been left with the food from before did, and his stomach sinks. He had thought... he had thought, just for a moment, that he was being courted by someone. That some other exiled or lonely person had found him and was trying to give him food and materials to build his nest so he might be more inclined to let them join him when his heat comes. But instead the egg thief, one and a half of him tall and still would be towering at least two heads above even his father, with its thick blotchy skin and reflective insectoid eyes, had been trying to trick him. The thief makes the hide neat again and then goes back to the trees. Dabi watches him until he cannot see anymore, and even then, stays perched in the entryway for the rest of the night, ensuring that the thief does not come back. When the sun does finally rise he goes to his half-formed nest and starts to eat again. He got so much more food, both from his main kill and from the thief bringing everything he couldn't take as offering, but he will still need to go on another big hunt or another few smaller ones before his heat comes. He had been so excited about the hide, it would have easily filled out the rest of his nest, but now he will have to work twice as hard to get everything he needs so that he doesn't die during his heat.

He eats and forces himself into a fitful sleep when the sun rises. Tonight, he decides, he will finish his nest, with or without that hide.

///

When Dabi wakes again he pokes his head out of his burrow. The hide is where it was before and he scans the trees to try and find the thief for a few minutes before he darts back down and snatches it from the snow and brings it back up. He shakes the thing out, trying to find anything in it or on it that may be dangerous, but all that does is kick up the air around him and leave his burrow soaked in the scent of the thief. It's a shame that he smells so good, like crisp water and a musk that speaks of being a hunter that makes Dabi feel the first stirrings of arousal. He pushes that away and tucks the hide all around his nest, so big and soft that it fills it out perfectly and makes it much cozier. He wants nothing more than to get right back in, but if he wants to have his heat be perfect, to make it easy after the last one nearly killed him, he needs to do more.

Dabi goes back out and spends the rest of the night gathering more and more of the seed pods to break, opening them letting piles and piles of white fluff come out that he can stuff under the hide to cushion him from the floor and keep him and his egg as warm as possible even as he will be sweating to cool off desperately. The one thing he will say for being on his own, is that no one seems to be hunting this narrow strip of territory, so finding places where piles and piles of them have gathered isn't very hard.

He brings them back and growls when he sees the thief, a blotchy white and gray dot on the edge of the trees again, and it stays where it is, even lifting an arm to ensure that he has taken notice.

"Leave!" Dabi snarls in the creature's direction, holding his pods tight, debating if he should attempt to kill the creature or if he should continue hiding in his burrow. He doesn't know if that thing can climb with its thick, nubbly fingers and feet with no toes or claws to grip the ice and stones, but the rumor had been they also travel in pairs. He doesn't know if he's seen one or two of the creatures, but the hide only smelled like one.

"I don't mean any harm." The voice that comes out of the creature is even more unsettling because it doesn't have a mouth. It makes sounds that are too regular, that must be speech of some sort, but that Dabi cannot understand, and it does so without a mouth. He doesn't think that it’s an unfair reaction for that to frighten him enough to dart back up to his den as fast as he can possibly go. The thief doesn't chase after him, but he stays in the clearing for hours after Dabi has hidden himself away.

///

The next day the thief is gone. Dabi combs the area, he smells around and finds the place where his scent goes strong enough that he thinks the other may have made its own den, but he doesn't venture too close, afraid of getting trapped on the ground. But the scent smells a little stale, and the day after that it is even fainter. Fine. Maybe he moved on. Dabi certainly has to if he wants to get the food he will need to push him into his heat that he can feel getting closer by the day. He tries to hunt, but he doesn't have the luck he did before, and before the night ends, he's back at the river, doing his best to snag a few disgusting fish to just ensure his stomach stays full.

When he wakes again, it's with him coming sharply out of sleep with panic roaring through his veins as the smell of burning fills his den. Oh stars, oh no, no, no. Dabi keens mournfully as he leaves his nest, his den, his eggs behind as he runs out of the cave, needing to get as far away from the forest fire as--

He bursts out into the sunlight, and there is smoke on the air, but the trees are not burning. Instead, down below, the egg thief has a small fire, contained in a circle of stones, and beside him is the carcass of a full-grown Vaak. The egg thief looks up at him as he bursts out into the sunlight and lifts its hand again.

"Good morning."

Dabi cannot understand the words any more than he can the sight laid out in front of him and he stares down at the egg thief. The creature has removed the outer layer of its face, and he distantly realizes that must have been a hide or something that he was wearing over his head. Because he does have a real face, eyes that remind Dabi of his own though they are smaller and the color of blood, his hair is long and white, but it has been tied back into a bundle at the back of his head, save for a few wavy sections that spill over his face. He has a nose and lips, but his ears are smaller and stuck to the sides of his head instead of the top, and they do not twitch or rotate the way that Dabi's can. He has markings, but they are smaller than Dabi's own, just some texture across his lips and around his eyes, and two short little stripes over the side of his mouth and one eye.

The thief lowers his hand and pulls a stick out of the fire, then sets it to the side. Dabi watches as he moves over to the vaak's body and carves another section of meat from its corpse using a sharpened something that shines brighter than even Dabi's jet claws. He then pulls the chunk from the stick and the bloody piece and looks back up at him, offering both. He stares and after another second the creature speaks again,

"I'm not going to hurt you. Come here and have some food." The words are foreign and confusing, but the tone he uses is low and soft, only just loud enough to carry to where he is perched, and he knows that tone from how his mother spoke to his younger siblings. Does he think that he is a child that he can steal away?

Dabi hisses at him. "Go away!"

The thief tosses the two pieces of meat up the side of the mountain, to on top of one of the boulders that make up the rocky face a few feet below him. "There's plenty for you to eat if you come down to see me."

He's torn between hissing at the other again, possibly leaping from the stones and trying to get his claws and teeth into his throat and watch the blood gurgle there until he chokes on it, and... accepting the... courting presents. That must be what these are. Only a potential mate would bring things for his nest, would bring him food, would talk in that tone of voice? Did the thieves realize they couldn't steal away the eggs, so they decided that they would court a mate for them instead? Dabi hisses at him and stomps his way back into his burrow to go to sleep.

Some thief. He curls up into a tight ball in his nest and tries to go back to sleep, his nose still filled with the scent of the strange creature. He clearly doesn't know that Dabi is alone because he's not worthy of having a mate in the first place.

///

Tomura keeps the fire going and he slowly butchers the animal he caught the previous day into neat sections. He carves away the legs and breaks them down at the knee joint so that the thick flanks are separated from the thin ankles and hooves the way he had watched the target do with the babies. He takes out as much meat as he can and separates the liver as well. It's cold enough that the corpse will keep for days, and the smoke of the fire, rather than attracting any other creatures, seems to have very effectively scared them all off the way that his target had looked so frightened as it came barreling out of its den to the smell.

Tomura has a miserable knot in his gut throughout the day. That creature made different sounds at him when he tried to coax it closer with the food. Not just hisses or growls, it had very clearly waited for him to finish speaking and then deliberately articulated, his ears pinned back and his teeth bared in a snarl. He can't pretend that this isn't a person anymore, but that just makes this all so much worse. Other people won't care, they'll do their very best to hide that fact for as long as possible, they might even try to figure out how to lobotomize the creatures when they get them into captivity so they'll just be egg producers for anyone who wants to indulge in the beautiful shells. He is a criminal on thirty planets for the animals he's hunted, but at least he knew those were animals. He hasn't ever done something so vile to a person, and the thought of leaving the strange, vicious, fluffy little creature to suffer whatever fate the next poacher inflicts on it is not something he can stomach either.

It's a few hours after sundown when the creature reemerges from its den and it pokes its head out, sees him, and actually hisses this time, his ears pinned back and his tail whipping around behind him. Tomura wishes that he could just use the translator himself, but if this is a completely unregistered species, then it won't have the first clue how to translate his language for him, the model not nearly as advanced as others on the market because he hasn't ever needed a more sophisticated one.

"I have more food." He offers calmly. The creature hasn't tried to attack him yet, and he moved into the center of the snowy field, far enough from the mountain and the trees so that he's certain it won't be able to pounce on him from above like he saw it do when it hunted before.

"Go away! I'm not a mate!" The creature pairs the words with a big arm motion, trying to shoo him away. Tomura ignores that and gestures for him to come down, then picks up another piece of meat and offers that. The creature looks at him incredulously, stomps one of its feet and huffs before it moves parallel to him until it can jump from the edge of the stones into the nearest tree, then it disappears again. Tomura leaves the meat behind, puts on his goggles so he can see, and follows after it.

He doesn't bother to sneak this time, just staying a few yards behind and keeping one hand on the hilt of his knife just in case it lunges for him. But otherwise, when the creature carefully descends from the trees to start to gather even more of the seed pods, Tomura starts to do the same. Mirroring is something that many species do to show that they're not threatening, and he hopes that his mirroring will help to make the creature less frightened of him. The small creature spots him doing that and glares at him.

He's much closer than he has been to his target before, and he can see human-like features in the set of its face. Its eyes are larger than a persons and its irises are such a bright blue that Tomura doesn't think he's ever seen that color occur naturally before. It has a small pointed nose and thin well-defined lips that cover the sharp teeth when it isn’t sneering at him, all of them sharp but its incisors are much larger on the tops and bottom of its jaw. The fine, tough fur that covers its body is littered with patches of dark blue under its bright eyes, across its cheeks and down the lower half of its jaw to his collarbone, along its arms, stomach, legs and chest, more dark patches than light and it sticks out fiercely among the snow. It has four fingers on each hand and three toes, long black talons curving off of each like a raptor, the back of its ankle even has a larger dew claw that he has seen the creature use to grip onto branches and stones. Its tail is long and thin, topped with a thicker tuft of longer fur, and its head has hair, not just fur, a shaggy mess of it that looks like it was hacked into the spiky shape around its head and spilling over its forehead and cheeks by the creature's claws. And it really is so small. Maybe four feet tall. Tomura is almost never the tallest human in a room, but he feels like a giant when he looks down at this creature.

His target hisses at him again and makes a shooing motion and Tomura shakes his head and offers it more of the seed pods. It huffs, takes what it's gathered, and climbs back up into the tree instead. That's fine. For now, Tomura has the time to be patient.

///

It takes another three days. Every evening when the creature emerges from its den, Tomura offers it bits of the frozen carcass, and he can see the creature's resolve starting to waver at the massive feast that is being offered to it. But it tries to tell him to leave anyway. He stays. He brings more of the seed pods too, he digs through his things until he finds another blanket, not a thermal one, just a thin, small scrap of fabric that he hasn't used in years, and he offers that as well.

And it takes three days, but the creature finally huffs, paces around, and eventually descends. It still skirts around the edge of his little area and Tomura tries to seem calm and relaxed, very carefully gesturing for it to come closer as he offers some of the meat. The target stays back, darting in just close enough to grab one of the legs instead. It goes halfway up the mountain again as it starts to eat and Tomura lets it do so. He watches as it sets into the frozen flesh ravenously, crunching through the bone and swallowing the marrow and shards as easily as the meat. It manages to eat the entire thing, looking up at him constantly like it's waiting to be attacked, but Tomura just keeps trying to be calm and unthreatening. The creature eats the leg and then eyes the other butchered pile of meat. Tomura offers it again,

"You can have as much as you want."

The creature looks nervous and tired, but it comes a little closer again and takes the frozen liver. That was the only specific organ he noticed missing in the babies, and Tomura hoped that would be its favorite. It takes that and gobbles it up as well and Tomura waits. It slinks over to the river to drink, keeping one eye on him the entire time and Tomura watches quietly. There are another few minutes of time that pass, but the creature does eventually come a little closer, keeping the fire between their bodies.

He lifts a hand and presses it to his chest. "Tomura."

The creature considers him for a long moment, then mirrors the motion, "Dabi."

And Tomura is finally able to breathe a little easier as he offers the blanket too.

///

He doesn't understand why the thief, Tomura, seems so bound and determined to court him, but after days of him sitting outside of his burrow and the feast he procured a constant offering promising Dabi that his heat will not be one of misery, he finally breaks and goes to actually get closer to the other creature. Tomura moves slowly and carefully, like he is trying very hard not to spook him, like he's a frightened animal, but he wonders if the size of him is what makes that a necessity. He's so large compared to others of his kind and he clearly is a skilled hunter to have taken a Vaak alone and without claws or sharp teeth. They sit together for a few hours and the thief periodically offers him more food. Dabi declines. He would love to gorge himself, but he can't let himself relax that much.

About halfway through the night, Tomura very slowly reaches into a pouch on the side of the hide that he is wearing over his body and Dabi bristles, but he pulls out a strip of cloth that has a darker square of what looks like the same material as the hard puck that had been left with the second offering of the meat. It's not something that he recognizes and Tomura holds it between his strange hands. He lets Dabi examine the cloth from his side of the fire and then brings it up to his neck, miming adding it to what he is already wearing before pulling it away from his neck and pointing to him.

For him. Something to wear. Dabi wonders if this is a courtship item from his culture, if the puck was too. He isn't certain that he should accept it when his eggs will never be fertile. If the creature wants to be his mate, then he should know that. Dabi shakes his head. He doesn't know how to tell the thief that he isn't worth the time and effort that he is putting into this courtship. He puts his hand low on his pelvis, where the pouch of his egg will form as he gets into his heat and he whines softly, shaking his head again.

The thief frowns at him and puts the hide back into the pouch and then offers Dabi more food. It would be sweet if it weren't so sad. Dabi takes that offering and then leaves the fire, going back up to his den, but Tomura calls after him. He half turns to look and sees he's offering another hide, a bigger one like the one he's already added to his nest. Dabi's chest tightens so sharply. This creature is trying so hard to be a good mate. He carefully approaches, still worried that he might lunge for him. But Tomura offers him the hide, letting go of it when it's in Dabi's claws, and he pulls it to his chest. It doesn't smell as good as the other did, it's not as thick, but it's still too much to give someone like him.

"You should leave." He tells the other, putting the hide back on the ground between them, and using his other hand to try and shoo him again. "I can't be your mate."

Tomura very deliberately shakes his head. Dabi churrs, huffs, and goes back up to his den.

But Tomura is still there and waiting for him the next morning.

///

He offers the scrap of hide for the next day and a half, and no matter how often he rejects it, how frequently Dabi tries to tell him to leave, even resorting to throwing handfuls of snow at the other to try and chase him off, the thief doesn't waver. And the longer he lingers, the deeper that a warmth starts to bloom in his body, telling him again and again that he needs something, and that something should be a mate now that he has plenty of food and a warm, safe nest for his egg. It's those instincts he has been trying so hard to ignore that have him reaching for the hide. Tomura confuses him when he withdraws it, trying to get him to come closer.

Dabi is still wary, but he moves so that he's within arm's reach of the other creature, his claws ready to go for his throat if he tries to harm him. Tomura mimes wrapping the hide strip around his own neck again and then gestures at Dabi. Oh. He hesitates, his ears pulling back and his tail flicking wildly, but he forces himself to tilt his head back and bare his throat. Tomura moves very slowly as he leans into his space and Dabi gets a stronger whiff of his scent, the warmth of his skin sending him purring softly even through his nervousness as he prepares himself to attack if this is a trick. The thief brings the hide around his neck, and the bit that was like the puck is heavier than the scratchy hide. He slots it into place and there's a soft whirring sound that comes from the thing that Dabi doesn't understand. Tomura leans back out of his space and smiles.

"There, can you say something for me?" He can't understand the words, but the other mimics speech and Dabi frowns.

"What is this?"

The whirring gets louder and then Dabi startles as there's a little shock against the side of his neck like when there is lightning in the air.

"It's okay--" Tomura says in his language. Dabi's head whips back to him and he snarls. Tomura holds up his hands placatingly. "It's okay, it's not going to do that again. It just had to connect to you so that you will be able to understand me. You can understand me now, can't you?" He lowers one hand very slowly to one of his pouches and extracts a little... shell? Something hard and shiny black that opens. He takes a rigid larva out of it and raises it to one of his strange ears, slipping it inside.

"I--I-- if you could speak all this time, why were you--" he gestures as if that can encapsulate all of the stranger's behaviors up to this point.

"I can't speak your language." The other tells him, "And you can't speak mine. This earpiece," He points at the thing he stuck inside. "And that collar, connect us so we can understand each other now." He waits to see if Dabi has anything to say to that, but he is just stunned and quiet. He has never heard of such a thing. "My name is Tomura Shigaraki, I'm a human from the planet Earth."

There's another long pause, but eventually he makes himself croak, "I don't have a pack name anymore."

Tomura frowns slightly. "Is that different from 'Dabi'?"

He barely manages to nod. "'Dabi' is my name in exile." His chest tightens, "I was expelled from my pack-- I'm broken, my coloration is wrong, I still lay even though my brother was chosen to be the nest barer--" he has to tell him these things, he has to get this... human to understand that he isn't worth all of this trouble, that he can't be a mate. "My eggs aren't--"

"People, other species from places besides this one," Tomura cuts him off, his eyes intense, "Want to steal them from you. They think that your people are animals, and they want to steal you away so that you can lay the eggs for them to sell."

His stomach lurches sharply. "...What?"

Tomura takes a breath and starts to speak for a long time.

///

It takes several hours, the sun rising on the clearing again, by the time Tomura has finished telling Dabi everything that he needs to. He doesn't have the training that planet surveyors do to tell a new native species that they are not alone in the universe, but he does what he can. Dabi listens to him, he only asks a few questions, and he can see the small creature grappling with everything he's been told.

"...I can escort you to the Proximacard settlement where you can get your species registered as sapient and start negotiations with them--"

"They are the ones who told your people," he has never had a qualm about his profession before he hears how Dabi says that, "To steal our eggs." He whines low in his throat, "Would they even listen?" And there's a hopeless fear in his voice that scratches at that bare bit of conscious that has kept him here trying to figure out how to help Dabi and his people, Salkeh, instead of leaving when he realized that they weren't the animals he had thought he should expect.

"I don't know." He admits and then, before he can use his better judgment and stop himself, he goes on, "I can also take you off planet to the nearest hub. I can bring you to a galactic outpost, and you can get registered directly with someone there who isn't associated with them. They'll work out what they can do to help make sure it is a lot harder for anyone to come here and try to hurt your people."

Dabi looks so forlorn and helpless for a long moment. "How long would that take?"

"The nearest planet," that he can go to and that doesn't have an outstanding warrant against him, "Is about a day and a half's flight. I don't know how long getting completely registered will take, but just going and telling them that your species is a people and not animals will make them send non-Proximacard people here to make certain that Proximacard isn't doing anything illegal-- like trying to take your eggs."

"I... okay. They'll have to find someone else-- I'm an outcast. I can't speak for all Salkeh."

"Now that I have a sample of your language, they will be able to reach out in your people's tongue. Hopefully that will be enough to keep anyone else from being disemboweled?"

Dabi shrugs weakly, like he doesn't know and is too caught up in everything else that has already happened to make a decision now.

"You can take some time if you need it," he offers reluctantly. He doesn't know what learning this kind of thing about the world would do to a species that is still in the hunter-gatherer stage of evolution. He's not even certain, as far as legality goes, if Proximacard would be allowed to set foot on this planet if they'd known about this. "But not too long. I'm not the only person who is interested in your species."

"Okay." Dabi reaches for the collar.

"You can leave that on, unless it's causing discomfort. I'll leave in my earpiece. If we are within ten yards of each other then we'll be able to talk."

Dabi's hand drops away and he just nods, barely looking at him.

"You can take as much of the meat as you want too."

"...I'm not giving you my egg."

"I don't want it. I just brought this because I was hoping that you would talk to me if I showed that I wasn't a threat."

Dabi's ears pull back, not into sharp points, but almost flat down into his hair and his tail curls around one of his ankles. "...Right. Of course." He doesn't take anything else as he goes back up to his den. It's too far for him to hear the other's voice through the piece.

///

The next time he sees Dabi is well through half of the night and he is going to have to tell the other man that he is diurnal, not nocturnal, because he is seriously starting to feel the lack of sleep he's been getting over since arriving here. Dabi slinks down the edge of the cliff and comes over to the carcass, picking up another leg before he drags it closer and starts to gnaw on it.

Between bites he asks, "Do you not eat meat?"

"I do, but I don't know what on your planet is safe for humans. We have people who determine that through different methods, but I don't have the equipment for that." He takes the water bottle from his belt, "If I didn't have this, I couldn't even safely drink the water on this planet. There are some planets where I can't even breathe because of the different environments. If you come with me, when we dock, I'll have to call the outpost and they'll send someone to see you to determine if you can leave the ship safely, if not, they'll probably come with us back here to fully register you." The only reason he's bothering to take Dabi instead of just going himself to tell them is because he doesn't want the guy to get captured or killed by any other poachers that may arrive while he's gone. He can't even just try to put a call through to the proper authorities because it will be filtered through to Proximacard because they have settling rights on the planet and they'll just report back that the Salkeh are not conclusively a people. Bringing Dabi somewhere it won't be possible for that information to be buried should help actually keep his people from being rounded up and sold to slavers.

Dabi rolls those things around in his head for a minute and crunches into the bone of the leg again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Do all of your people lay eggs?" The translator has assigned his speech the masculine forms of words, which is how Tomura has been able to guess his gender now, but he has no visible sex organs or any recognizable secondary sex characteristics that he would have expected from another creature.

"...We're not supposed to." Dabi mumbles, hunching in on himself and making his already small body even tinier. "Packs are made of a mated pair and then whatever clutch they are able to raise over the years. The mates pick one of their children to be the one to continue the line and they are allowed to keep laying throughout their life and look for a mate, the other children become the hunters and guardians for the layer. My youngest brother was picked to do that for my family, my sister, second brother, and I were supposed to be hunters, but I kept laying anyway. I tried to stop it, but it only delays it, and it makes me sick." Dabi hesitates, but he keeps eating, and when he swallows again he mumbles, "They sent me away. We can't sustain a pack that has two layers, and my coloration isn't... right. I'm too noticeable when we hunt."

"I had a hard time spotting you at night going through the trees." It's not much of a compliment, but the little creature looks so forlorn that Tomura wants to try to offer something comforting.

"We normally hunt by foot, during the day. I'm... compensating for my shortcomings."

"If you're surviving fine on your own then your differences aren't shortcomings." He says a little more firmly. That, at least, he can be genuine about. "None of the rest of your pack have survived alone, have they?"

Dabi considers the words, considers him, and then shrugs slightly, his tail flicking a bit. "I don't know." He shifts, turning slightly away from him as he focuses on his meal, making it very clear he's finished with this line of conversation.

Tomura doesn't push him on that. He's supposed to be building trust with the other man. He doubts he'll get him onto his ship otherwise.

///

Dabi isn't sure about any of the things that Tomura tells him. He didn't know there were other people out in the sky, he didn't know there were worlds that were like his but not, that the creatures invading their forests and stealing their eggs were looking for something pretty rather than stealing them away to eat. What he knows most sharply from his conversations with Tomura is that... he isn't looking for a mate. He never was. He only gave him the things he did to try and get him close enough to put the collar on him so they could speak. Tomura brought him gifts to tell Dabi what danger he is in, and that is all he did it for. He never intended to do anything else.

And Dabi is aching with his hurt every time he goes and curls into his big, warm, fluffy nest with his stomach full. His mother had never had such a lush nest, his father and all of them had never been able to provide her or Shoto such luxury when their heats came. But Tomura doesn't seem to know or even understand any of that. He only means to try to do right by his whole people. That shouldn't sting so badly, but as the smell of the human fades and fades from the blankets, it's the scent of his sorrow that replaces it. Not even the monster his people feared could want someone as broken as him.

///

"Tomura?" Dabi asks as he comes to the fire. Tomura finishes adding the sections of wood that he gathered earlier in the day and looks up at him. The smaller man looks up at him, his ears pulled down again and his tail flicking by his ankles, like a guilty dog.

"What is it? Did something happen?"

Dabi shakes his head slightly, but his head is still down. "How long will it take?"

"A day and a half to travel there, but they should send someone to the docking bay immediately when I tell them you're with me. I don't know how long they would make me confine you to my ship as they checked you out, but I don't think it would be more than a few days, otherwise they would probably just have me bring you back here so that you wouldn't be off your planet for too long. Maybe a week?" He hopes that it wouldn't be longer than that. He's already spent a lot of time on this job and he's sure the file is properly in circulation now. If they don't sort this out quickly, then the likelihood of other Salkeh getting taken away is absolutely going to go up.

Dabi shifts on his feet. "I can't leave for two weeks," he says and Tomura wants to argue. "I need medicine if I'm going to try."

"Medicine?"

"It's almost time for me to lay my egg. I can hold it off, but I need the fruit from a special tree. If I have enough of the fruit I can push it back for a little while."

Tomura would almost laugh if Dabi didn't sound so dire as he speaks. Every species on every planet has their own versions of birth control, it's just something that is slowly becoming apparent as a universal constant. "Okay, I can help you gather it if you want."

"I need you to go get all of it." Dabi tells him. "We only plant the trees on the edge of a claimed territory, and I'm not allowed near any. If they smell I was by the tree, they may come to... hurt me."

"Okay, where is the tree?"

Over the course of the next few minutes, Dabi gives him directions that Tomura maps out with the sensors that he's placed around the area, and he gets a detailed description of the tree, though it shouldn't be too hard to spot given that it is much smaller than the species that is dominant all throughout this area. The fruits themselves are the size of Dabi's fist, so around the size of an apple, but should be dark purple with a fuzzy white layer of hair along their skin to show they're ripe.

He would rather not travel at night, but with time being so important, and now knowing the other Salkeh are diurnal, he would rather go to the edge of their territory under the cover of night. Just to lower his chances of getting disemboweled, if at all possible. So he gears up and heads out, Dabi staying behind and watching after him as he goes.

///

The trek through the snowy forest is, thankfully, not as difficult as he feared it would be, though the cold and moving carefully through the snow does mean he's going much more slowly than he usually does. Still, it's worth it when he gets to the tree and finds that it is filled with the fruits exactly as described. He pulls a small folding bag out of one of his pockets and starts to pick the ones he can reach, going a bit higher than the ones he imagines will be easier for the Salkeh who live in this territory to get to. Dabi said to bring as many as he could, and he's guessing he'll need to eat them every day that they're gone, so he fills the bag with nearly three dozen and makes his way back to the campsite.

Dabi is waiting for him, inspects the fruits and starts to take them up to his den.

"Dabi, we should leave as soon as we can." He warns.

"Tomorrow?" The creature asks, his shoulders hunching in on himself. "I... might be sick after eating some of these. I need a few hours to adjust."

He doesn't really want to put the other man on his ship, on the first vehicle that he's ever been on, when he already might be at risk of throwing up, so he concedes to that. "Okay, I'm going to go back to my ship and sleep and in the morning I'll gather up my gear and then fly the ship back here. Do you need more food for the trip?" The Vaak that he hunted for the other is still only half eaten, though he supposes that's not really a surprise, the creature was the size of a moose.

"No," Dabi mumbles, and Tomura isn't going to say that the creature has ever been jovial or even all that talkative, but he certainly seems more dower than he has been before. Part of him wants to ask if pausing his laying is painful or dangerous, but the fact of the matter is that him not doing it could be far, far worse. So he just says,

"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yeah." He slinks back up to his den and Tomura extinguishes his fire thoroughly before going back to his ship. It's a lot of hiking on very little sleep, but he can sleep for a few hours in the ship, and the autopilot will be able to cover him on the way to the nearest settled planet.

///

Dabi doesn't dare curl up in his nest as he eats the raca fruit. Tomura brought him plenty and he purged his stomach as much as he could while the other was gone in the hopes of getting their toxins into his system as quickly and thoroughly as possible, but he still will have to eat so many of them to try and stall the heat that he can feel sitting on the edge of his awareness. He waits until he can't hear Tomura crunching through the snow anymore and then he slips out of the den and takes the first fruit from the bag. The plump insides are bitter and sour as he eats it, the taste immediately making his stomach lurch, but he quickly tears the hard pit from the insides and gulps down the soft pulp of the rest of the fruit in a handful. It has barely hit his stomach before he is reaching for the next, and the next, and the next. He eats them until his whole body feels hot, the fur across his chin is sticky and wet, his claws are soaked, and he's sobbing softly as his body tries to revolt.

He only manages to hang on for another two fruits before he can't any longer, shifting away to empty his stomach of the fruit that tastes the same crawling up his throat as it did going down. Dabi means to move back to the bag and continue the miserable feast, but the stress and pain in his body are too much, he was too close, and a cloying, sickly warmth starts to bloom through his veins. He stumbles as he tries to stand, dizzy and even weaker than he usually is as his heat swells through his body, barely managing to drag himself back into the safety of his den before his legs give out beneath him.

///

Tomura lands his ship in the clearing the following afternoon and spends the next twenty minutes boxing up bits of the Vaak to bring along for Dabi to eat. He knows the other doesn't drink as much water as he does, but he also goes about ensuring that he takes several gallons of the water from the river for him. He makes sure that his ship has fully filtered through the air that was inside, runs a decontamination sweep on the thing, and then leaves the bay doors open to take in as much of the pollen, air, and anything else that the planet might have that will hopefully keep Dabi alive. He usually knows how to adjust his ship's environment for his cargo, but he also usually is going after a known species. He doesn't know if Dabi's race is so delicate that a change in humidity or slight fluctuation in pressure could kill him, so he does his best to calibrate all of his systems to keep him safe for the journey. He even lowers the heat so that it will maintain the temperature of the planet, even if that means he's going to be miserable for a few more days.

And by the time he's done all of that, it's well after noon, and there is still no sign of Dabi. He waits another hour and the alien still doesn't appear. At the end of that hour he goes up to the base of the mountain and calls,

"Dabi?" He knows the creature's name, and even if he's out of range for the translator, he should be able to hear him anyway. But he doesn't get a response. Tomura hesitates. He hasn't climbed up to the creature's den. At first it was out of fear that he was hiding a vicious pack inside that would tear him to pieces, but after that, it was entirely because he was worried that doing so would encroach on the other's territory and make him feel unsafe. He needs Dabi to trust him and to be able to trust the other if they're going to be in a confined space together for a few days.

But he also said that the fruits could make him sick. He debates with himself for another twenty minutes, but then he goes back into the ship, gets his climbing gear. The distance from the place where he's seen Dabi disappeared and the ground isn't all that much, but given the icy surface of the stones and mountainside, he would rather be safe than sorry. It takes him another twenty minutes to climb up to the ledge he always sees the other duck into, and even just a cursory look around has him locating the narrow entrance to a cave along with the half-empty bag of fruits, the pits of them, and a pile of what he can only guess is frozen sick. Concern lances through him and he goes over to the mouth of the cave.

"Dabi?" He calls softly.

The earpiece crackles to life and he hears a soft, distinctive whimper from deep within the cave followed by a sound he can only describe as a sob. Tomura's stomach sinks.

"Dabi, are you alright? Can I do anything to help?"

"T-Tomura," He whines again at the end of the word, and he takes a tentative step into the cave, having to crouch down a fair bit to fit inside.

"I'm going to come inside, okay?" The other just lets out another weak sob and Tomura doesn't know if he could feel worse about this situation. He's never thought he was a particularly good person, but the realization that he made a newly discovered species cry before he even found out if they could laugh is a truly miserable thing. The other doesn't protest, just giving a pained moan, and he moves through the narrow channel, his nose slowly starting to pick up on a sweet citrusy smell that vaguely resembles lemongrass. It also gets warmer, much, much warmer as he goes, the sunlight dimming behind him, but not going so dark that he can't see anything, because there is a faint blue-green light emanating from deeper in the cave.

He finds out what that is at the same time as he finds the larger opening. He is on his knees, crouching low, as he sees four eggs, four of the sought-after shining eggs spilling the aurora borealis along the walls and ceiling... in the shape of four figures. They're crudely carved, but they're clearly shaped in a similar away to Dabi. Four Salkeh watching over Dabi who is curled up in what he can only describe as a large, fluffy, makeshift bed built around the blankets he gave the other.

Dabi mewls at him, a sound that is distinctly cat-like, his bleary eyes blinking up at him, shiny and wet with his tears, his thicker fur pasted to his forehead from his sweat. And it is very warm in the den, Tomura realizes distantly as the small alien writhes in the nest, spreading his legs and showing the hard, flushed cock and dripping cunt, the lips nestled around his base like his dick has replaced where he would expect a clit to be. He feels his face heat and starts to move away.

"Tomura," Dabi reaches towards him, milky tears slipping over his cheeks. "'M sorry," his voice is watery and thin and his gut sinks.

"It's alright, I'll wait for you outside--"

Dabi keens at him, trying to sit up, and when his hands can't reach him, his tail wraps around his wrist. He reaches for the appendage gently and even just the lightest touch has Dabi moaning so loudly, putting all of his sharp teeth on display. "N-need to lay--" He whines, his claws clenching around the blanket and twisting to press his face deeper into it.

"Okay, that's fine, Dabi." Embarrassment is a heat tingling down his spine as he sees the alien in such an intimate moment. His first instinct is to extract himself to give the other some privacy, but that wars with what he knows about childbirth in his own species alongside the watchful figures that Dabi has made for himself crudely out of his eggs. "Do you want me here? Should I keep watch at the entrance to make sure no one else comes in?"

Dabi whimpers and his tail pulls on him. "You'll stay?"

His mouth is dry as he croaks, "If you need me." He's not expecting Dabi to start to purr. He's also not expecting the other to force himself to sit up, claws tangling on his sleeves as he tries to pull him weakly into the nest.

"T-thought you weren't--" Dabi loses the words in another loud purr as he tries to get him even closer. "Mate, my mate?"

"Mate?" He doesn't want to push the other away, worried about hurting him, or accidentally getting his gear shredded on those sharp claws, but Dabi is purring and pressing in even closer, shoving his face into his neck and breathing deeply to scent him.

"Please, please, please. Such a good mate." The other tells him desperately, trying to hook a leg around his hips and pull him closer. "Bringing me food, protecting me, helping make my nest--" Dabi lets out a strange mixture of sounds that the translator can't make sense of. "Be good," he promises, "Be a good mate for you."

"Dabi," he says as gently as he can, "I can't be your mate." He hates having to say the words as soon as they're out of his mouth, but, "I don't know if we're compatible." And then he wants to slap himself because that should not be the thing that he said. That shouldn't have even crossed his mind. He should have told the other he didn't know those things were-- oh, oh! Is that why he had been so despondent? He thought he was trying to... court him? Tomura's chest tightens as a few more milky tears slip over Dabi's cheeks, his face stricken.

He's an idiot. He's beyond stupid and this is a terrible idea, but he can't stomach that look on Dabi's face. He can't bear the thought of hurting this creature like this any more than he could leaving him to get captured and abused by some other poacher. He whimpers softly and Tomura... settles more fully into the nest. Dabi's body feels like an inferno, the heat reflected and retained by the blanket he gave him.

"How can I make this better?" Should he be helping to shift him into a different position? He looks down at the other's stomach and it doesn't seem to have any visible swelling, though he feels like it should given the eggs around the cavern are nearly the size of a pineapple.

Dabi, maybe his brain cooked through with the heat of his body or the arousal that is making his pussy gush and his cock drip, pulls on him again, his tail shifting from his wrist to up between Tomura's legs. He nearly yelps at the touch, and Dabi chirps and purrs so loudly when he feels his cock beneath the thick fabric. "Mate, mate, mate," he can't tell if the word is a term of endearment or a demand, but Tomura supposes for a species that doesn't constantly have their genitals on display, his body must seem... eager to him. He doesn't know if it's better or worse that he is. That despite everything else, all of the messy things that are happening, Dabi is cute. He's pretty so flushed and needy, his body desperate to be fucked full, and the purrs and moans, the pleading whimpers and whines, how needily he's pulling on him to get him close-- Tomura hasn't had a partner in ages now, and one so eager puts an ill-gotten heat under his skin.

"Are you sure?" His voice is rough and desperate himself, almost wanting the alien to come to his senses and turn him away.

"Please, Tomura, hurts," he whimpers, pulling again.

"Tell me how to make you stop hurting, beautiful." He murmurs, reaching for his gloves. He's burning up, sweat already prickling at his skin beneath his gear, and as he sheds those, Dabi starts to pull more insistently at his jacket. That joins his gloves, his boots, his pants and the thermals beneath all of it, he strips away layer after layer of clothes, and Dabi watches with some fascination as he does. The heat in the cavern is enough for him to barely feel the chill of the outside air that's coming from the entrance. When he's naked too, his cock starts to harden as Dabi spreads his legs wider, letting go of him to keep his sharp claws away from his skin. The fur around his cock and cunt is matted down with how get he is, and Tomura gives into the urge he's had since he saw his dart bounce harmlessly off of his fur, and lets his fingers trace along the fur over the outside of his thigh.

Dabi purrs again, and the fur, for as tough as it must be, is extremely soft, but dense. It's cloud-like in texture, but there seems to be so much of it, despite how short most of it appears. He tries to gently press his fingers into it, but no matter how warm it is, he doesn't feel the texture of skin beneath, too thick for his touch to sink in. His tail wraps around Tomura's wrist again, grip tight around him, and he brings his hand from the outside of his thigh, to over top of it and then, "Please," he pleads as his cock twitches, the skin there visible and flushed with the heat of his blood. Tomura's breathless as he very gently rubs his fingers along him. Dabi still moans so loudly, back bowing so sharply that he worries he might have hurt him. But he didn't, he's just breathlessly needy as he tries to get more.

The slick along his cock isn't dissimilar to his own pre, to the vaginal fluid that leaks out of an eager cunt, and when Dabi doesn't growl, snarl, or try to twist away, he lets himself wrap his hand around his length. His cock is the right size for his body, but it's still so small compared to him. Everything about Dabi is small, and he is easily able to have his entire length smothered in his palm, feeling little regular bumps and ridges along his underside that he hadn't been able to see well, but that feel almost as solid as bone beneath his burning velvet skin. It could be bone, he considers distantly. Some species have bones there. It's hard to focus on any coherent thought when Dabi's pretty blue eyes are squeezed shut and he's writhing, his little hips fucking up into his fist and his pretty lips open on every gasp and moan that he's letting out.

"Tomura, Tomura, Tomura," the alien keens and he has to stroke him, has to twist his wrist and pump him, slowly increasing the pressure until he finds the things that make him feel good. He thinks he knows when a fresh pulse of slick streams out of his cunt, soaking the blanket beneath them and filling the air with more of that lemongrass scent. "Inside, please, please, need you, please--"

It's perhaps the only time any human man has ever said, "I don't know if I'll fit, baby," and actually meant it, actually been uncertain. He doesn't know if Dabi can take his cock, certainly not without stretching him for it. But he does take his other hand and drag his fingers through the thick puddle of his slick. He makes sure his fingers are coated thoroughly before he brings them to the puffy lips of his cunt and starts to rub at that soft skin gently, watching with fascination as his anatomy opens for him. The lips spread wider, his cock gets a little longer as it pushes even further out of his body, and he can see the little hole between his legs more clearly. Tomura keeps his touch gentle as he circles him with a finger, and more slick rushes to meet him as Dabi moans and he hears his claws pierce through the blanket. Tomura circles and rubs, but the muscles are soft, giving, and just as eager as the rest of Dabi's body.

His pussy squeezes around his digit deliciously as he pushes it inside. It's probably a miracle his slick isn't burning off his skin and that his vagina doesn't have teeth or spikes or something inside. It's just hot, wet, and tight, sucking at his finger as he presses it in all the way to the base as Dabi sobs his pleasure. He tries to go slowly, feeling half-crazed as he feels Dabi's body trying to suck at him to get more. He strokes along the soft muscles and feels them give and press back as they undulate against him and he is achingly hard himself as he imagines how tight they'll squeeze him if he can actually give Dabi his cock safely.

Tomura can't help it, he doesn't know what the other man would want, he's not even certain how the Salkeh normally mate, but he is only human. He leans over the creature's much smaller body and he catches his panting mouth in a kiss. A mouth that is full of sharp teeth that are strong enough to rend bone, that he should be terrified of despite how small and sweet the other feels beneath his lips, but Dabi knows this. His people have a concept of kissing, because his mouth is messy and eager against him, kissing back as his arms wrap around his neck to keep him there and his legs try to wrap around his hips to bring those closer as well. He manages to hook his thighs around his hips, but he can't pull him all the way in, and Dabi lets out a frustrated chitter as he uses his tail to wrap around one of Tomura's thighs and try to pull him even closer. He can't help the breathless laugh he lets out against the other's mouth, and he starts to press in a second finger to try and quell some of his need, stroking his cock in time with the movements along his walls.

That doesn't calm the creature at all, and he uses his sharp teeth to nip at Tomura's chin, the points dangerous, but not breaking his skin as he does. "Mate me, correctly." He demands, digging his dew claws into Tomura's back just hard enough to put a tantalizing sting of pain under his skin.

"I'm opening you up, Dabi." He murmurs, drawing his fingers back and pumping them in more deliberately. Dabi keens, his back arching as his cunt gushes around him. "You're so small, little one," his own voice getting rougher as he feels the deceptively delicate body against him. "I don't want to break you."

"Break me if it means I'll be full," he demands, pounding a fist weakly against the back of his neck.

"Such a demanding little size queen." He can't keep the warmth out of his voice.

Dabi curses. The translator knows it's a curse, but it doesn't know how to translate the saying, not having enough of a sample of things on Dabi's world to pull from as he does so. "You are a bad mate!" He snarls, but he's not pulling away, he's just whining and it should not be as endearing as it is, making Tomura's insides warmer as he presses a kiss to Dabi's cheek,

"Let me give you one more and then you can try my cock, alright?"

It seems to be enough for the other man because he angles his hips up into his touches again and Tomura presses in a third finger. It already feels like a tight squeeze, but even then the Salkeh doesn't seem satisfied, his cock dripping and such an angry red at his tip, his hips constantly rutting up to fuck himself harder on his digits. He presses more kisses to his cheek, down along his slender neck, chancing licking at his fur which is such a strange textural experience against his tongue, but the other's fur tastes the way it smells, with a strangely herbal tang coming through as well. He doesn't know if he should stop, if he's accidentally going to poison himself by licking at the other's flesh, but Dabi starts to purr even louder as he gets impossibly wetter and Tomura quickly dismisses any hang-ups about the texture. He'll hack up a hairball if it means that he can keep making Dabi feel good.

He takes the third finger easily enough, and Tomura hopes that means that whatever this state is as he prepares to lay his egg means that his insides are as elastic as they must be for that task. He doesn't want to tear the other open around his cock that he guesses must be much larger than any that Dabi has had before just based on the size of his species. He withdraws his fingers and Dabi starts to purr even more loudly, the sound rumbling out of his chest like a warp engine switching gears, and sending vibrations across both of their skin. Tomura smears the fluid all over his hand along his cock, the touch there making his own need more than insistent as just the cursory strokes make him desperate for the release he was trying to ignore his body craving.

When he lines up, Dabi pulls on him again. His head looks too big for him and as he does start to slowly press inside, the stretch of Dabi's cunt is deliciously obscene as it spreads so wide for him. The pressure and heat is blinding as he pops his head inside, Dabi's body convulsing around the intrusion and then tightening so much Tomura nearly sees stars as Dabi's cock twitches in his hand, his cunt gushing, his seed spilling thickly all over his hand and stomach as the other comes from that first stretch of him. A heady rush goes through his body as those muscles start to loosen again as Dabi writhes and moans against the nest, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed tight as pleasure seems to wrack his body. He pushes in a little harder, a little deeper, and the other keens, but his body opens for him. He sinks all the way inside and Tomura thinks he's going to lose his mind. He's so tight, so hot, so wet. Dabi's body clings to him, texture along his walls that isn't like any human or alien he's ever fucked before.

And he's breathless when he sinks all the way inside and he can see the press of himself as a faint shadow along Dabi's stomach. He tries to roll his hips just a bit, and he can see the muscles in his abdomen flutter, can feel them, and he can see how the movement shifts inside. Fucking hell. He's not certain he's ever felt his arousal burn this hot beneath his skin and it's only made all the stronger when Dabi opens his eyes just a sliver so he can see that shining blue and his breath trembles as he demands,

"More."

He can't really stop himself from giving the other everything that he can. Tomura fucks into Dabi's body, starting slowly, but as the alien moans and squeezes around him, his cock still hard even after his orgasm, and makes it so abundantly clear that he wants every inch of him that his body can take, he can't hold back. Soon their movements are rough, shifting the blankets beneath them, his mouth dragging over wherever he can reach as he looks for places to make both of their pleasure burn hotter. Dabi doesn't have nipples or a belly button under his fur, but he does have a place on the side of his neck just under his jaw, where a sweeter scent is mingling with that of his slick, and his eyes roll back when he sinks his teeth in there at the same time as he thrusts as deeply as he can go into the other's body. He makes such a wonderful symphony of sounds as Tomura tries to write pleasure into both of their bodies, switching between moans, chitters, and purrs constantly.

His breaths are growing heavier, the heat between their bodies nearly unbearable as they move, and his pleasure starts to go so hot, tightening the muscles in his thighs and through his pelvis. His balls are drawing closer to his base as his orgasm pushes on his nerves. He doesn't know how Dabi knows that he's getting close, but he starts chirping, making short bright sounds as he tries to pull him closer, his tail wrapping tight around one of his thighs to try and drag him in deeper. He's not expecting his cock to hit something deep inside of the alien's body, something that twitches and flutters against his head before it latches on like there's a tiny mouth sucking at his tip deep inside of Dabi. The surprise, the sensation of that is what sends him over the edge. He lets out a rough groan as he is held deep in the other's body, cumming hard and shaking as his orgasm lasts much longer than it ever does normally. And he just keeps cumming. He's certain that it should be painful, that his body shouldn't be able to give the other so much, but there is a little bulge forming on his stomach where his tip sits, where he's filling the other's body. Tomura can't help the thin whine he lets out as Dabi purrs and purrs as that place inside of him pulls out every drop of cum that he thinks he's ever been able to produce in his life in, god, it must take at least a minute or two, and when he's finally finished, those internal muscles finally let go of him and Dabi slumps bonelessly to the nest, his cock softening and his body letting Tomura pull his out. There's an aching oversensitivity there and he ends up shifting so that he doesn't crush the other beneath him, laying back on the blanket and just trying to catch his fucking breath.

And then Dabi shifts, half crawling on top of him, his face pressing tightly up into his neck, his tail tangled around one of his legs, and his arms back around him, clinging to his body, and he starts to purr and purr. And Tomura decides he doesn't give a single fuck, he's too busy petting at the soft fur all along the alien's body.

///

Tomura, for as much as he seemed confused about the mating process at the start, is a good mate for him as his heat swells through his body. His cock is so much bigger than any Dabi has ever seen before, but he supposes that shouldn't be a surprise when he is a much bigger creature in general, and he feels so good inside of his body. Dabi doesn't know how he ever could have pretended to be satisfied with his own tail before when he fills every space of him and gives him so much seed that it leaves his breeding pouch distended with the fluid as his egg forms. And Tomura's body is different underneath his hides. His skin is warmer and more of one even color save for when he's flushed, and he isn't covered in fur elsewhere, which he supposes is why he needs all of the hides that he wears to stay warm. And he's... good. He's sweet. He brings him water, both warmed by a fire outside to help clean up the stickiness from his fur and cold from the river to drink. He brings him food when he's hungry, and he gives him his cock again and again whenever he craves that impossible, delicious fullness.

And being so full, getting so much from the other in such a short period of time means that it is barely three days before he feels that hardness forming low in his abdomen. It doesn't hurt, it's just a different kind of pressure and he is purring and purring as he feels the egg becoming more and more solid. He's never been able to form his egg so quickly and he immediately knows that this will be the shortest heat he's ever had. he's not certain if that's because Tomura was able to fill him so thoroughly, or if it's because he made sure he was so well-fed throughout his entire preparation period, but he doesn't care either way. Even if the egg won't be fertile, and none of his eggs ever are, it still puts something deep and satisfying in his body as he realizes that he will be able to lay so easily for once in his life.

When his body finally starts to feel as though the pressure is getting too great he starts to nose at Tomura's neck, chittering and chirping to try and get him to wake from his sleep. The human pulls him closer, into his side and presses his face between his ears, nuzzling sweetly into his hair and making Dabi's whole body even warmer and softer. He's a good mate. He's warm and soft, and more affectionate than his father ever was with his mother during her heats. He hopes Shoto finds a mate this sweet someday.

"What is it, little one? Do you need it again?" He murmurs, his other hand moving down Dabi's body, he touches his lower stomach, feeling the harder press of the egg beneath his skin and Dabi moans softly. His cock is starting to harden again, the pressure inside of him putting good pressure everywhere, just like the other's cock.

He chitters, rolling onto his back and pulling at the human, being careful of his claws. For as strong as Tomura was to be able to hunt a Vaak so easily, without his hides on, his skin is soft and easy to break. He doesn't want to hurt the other. So he is careful as he gently pulls at him and gets him between his legs. He needs the other to fill him again, to make sure that his walls are already soft and gushing to make room for the press of the egg as it comes.

Tomura doesn't hesitate to help him get out the egg. He presses inside as he kisses along his neck, licking at his mating gland. He's nibbled on it a few times throughout his heat and each time he does, Dabi only grows more and more desperate for him to bite at his properly. But Tomura doesn't have the same kind of bump on his neck and he worries that he won't be able to give him that. Maybe humans do something else to show that they have taken a mate. He doesn't know. He doesn't have the focus in him to bother to ask. All he cares about is how good it feels when Tomura rubs their cocks together, when he presses his length between his folds and moves against him to stimulate his nerves until his lips are puffy and his cunt is wet and dripping, making sure he coats himself in Dabi's fluids like he wants to soak his scent into his skin before he's even gotten inside. But then he does start to push in and he goes absolutely breathless. Stars dance behind his eyes as his body is made to stretch, and stretch, and stretch open as the other creature makes his insides part around his length.

He can't be blamed for how good that feels, can't be shamed for how quickly just that entrance and the first few gentle rolling thrusts make him tremble through the heights of his pleasure as they come crashing through him. He certainly does not think he can be blamed for that feeling so perfect that Dabi feels his egg loosen itself from the walls of his breeding sack, and before his mate has even cum to slick his walls further, it is starting to shift slightly lower. Dabi keens, not having words for the feeling of that pressing against the inner muscles that are usually so tight to hold in his mate's seed inside, being stimulated at the same time as they press on his outsides as well on each deep, languid thrust from the human. Dabi can hardly breathe. Normally laying, even when he was allowed to do so, was painful. It was so much pressure and such sharp discomfort as the egg pressed out of his body, but now he is dizzy from how good it feels, the movement on each side of that ring coaxing it open more and more. He feels delirious as he realizes that he's opening up for it without the agonizing cramping that usually comes with this part of the process.

Tomura mates him slow and deep, one hand, his hands are soft, his claws thin and trimmed back to the beds of his fingertips so that he can't rend flesh, moves to Dabi's cock. He's still hard from how his body is forcing more and more blood there to make laying easier, and that further spike of pleasure opens him enough for the muscles inside to latch onto Tomura's cock again. He's never been able to mount another, but it must feel as good for the human as that suction does for him, because each time his body is ready to receive his release and attaches to him, it hardly takes long for him to shudder through his own orgasm, the first pulse of his fluids sending Dabi into another of his own.

And as soon as his insides tighten, his egg starts to move. he unlatches from Tomura's cock, and he lets out a soft sound of surprise before he pulls out, seeing the bulge in his stomach beginning to shift.

"Oh," he breathes, bringing a hand to Dabi's stomach and pressing lightly. Dabi moans as his pelvis tingles with fresh pleasure as the egg moves. It feels heavier than it normally does, though he supposed that's because he hasn't been starving for two weeks before pressing out an egg with a shell barely thick enough to hold. He can feel the ridges and patterns of his shell moving along his walls this time, the sign of a well-formed egg that makes his whole body hum with pride. "Already?" Tomura asks, sounding awed as the bump disappears from the surface of his stomach, as the egg presses into his vaginal canal, and his hand moves lower too. He spreads Dabi's lips wider without even needing to be told, the mixture of his cum and Dabi's slick easing the way so that he can press out the egg. It's not an hours-long struggle that leaves him completely drained this time. It's an easy, gentle slide, his insides already so stretched and used to the delicious feeling of Tomura's cock pushing in so deep. Dabi purrs and purrs as the egg slips free of his body and settles gently into the soft nest beneath him.

Tomura's hands leave his body and he reaches for the egg, and a flicker of fear goes through him. He said he wasn't a thief, that he didn't want his egg, but it could have been a lie. He could take it now, and Dabi isn't sure that he would have the strength to stand and chase after him to get it back. Even if it is empty, he doesn't want to give it up. Panic surges through his chest--

And Tomura lifts it and offers it to him. The egg has the shiny iridescent color that a strong shell should, the bones he'd eaten throughout the past few weeks imparting it with what it needed to form so well. And the swirls, they're more distinct, better formed than any other that he's ever seen, creating deep ridges and grooves that make it look like something truly unique and lovely. He's never seen another egg like this one, and he thinks that must be because no one else of his kind has ever had a mate like Tomura. He can't help it when he starts to purr and purr as he gently takes the egg from his hands, intending to lick it clean, but Tomura takes some of the cloth he first gave him, unsoiled from their mating, and begins to help him clean it off. He doesn't steal it, he doesn't take it to be crushed the way his father used to take his other eggs. He watches over Dabi, his expression warm, as he holds it.

There isn't anything inside. He hadn't let himself even pretend that it would be different because he had Tomura. It's his body that is incapable of creating a viable seed, be it in his womb or otherwise, and he can't feel the pulse of warmth that would be inside if it were alive. He can't hear the shifting inside that would indicate that there was something inside. But it's easier not to care about that now. If there is no baby then he can hollow this egg like he has his others, he can keep it close forever, a little part of him and Tomura even if the human tells him he still never intended to take him as a proper mate.

///

Tomura isn't expecting to get to see Dabi lay his egg, and he's a little stunned and dreading the eventual conversation about the egg itself. About... the child that they may have now after he made himself at home in Dabi's bed. He doesn't know what to think, what to do. He certainly wouldn't be the first human to go off-planet, meet a new species, and immediately copulate, potentially spawning hybrid children, but he didn't think he would actually be the type to do so. He also didn't think he would be the hind to see Dabi holding the egg, the shining, swirling shell nearly eight inches tall and six wide, and wonder how that could have not only gotten out of the little creature, but also to keep finding himself feeling a warmth in his chest as he sees Dabi curling around it, pressing his cheek to it to check its temperature, his ear to it to listen for whatever he expects to hear inside. He doesn't know how he's supposed to ask what this means going forward, but he has to know as the next day he finds Dabi without his genitals visible again, blinking and looking at his surroundings much more carefully, his blue eyes brighter and more aware than they have been for the past few days.

Tomura has to ask-- and Dabi stands, egg in his arms, and goes outside.

He immediately scrambles to put all of his clothes back on, having been in only his thermals from how hot the den was, but he knows that he can't let the other just wander around, not when it's been two days and he has no idea if there are other poachers that have already arrived in the area. The other man has been practically non-verbal for days, so he gets into his clothes as quickly as possible and stumbles out into the snow,

"Dabi, wait--!"

The other creature is already down by the river and only glances up at him before he crouches into the snow by the bank, waiting. Tomura does his best to get down onto the ground, though he doubts he is anywhere near as graceful or quick as the other man. Still, Dabi waits for him to get down and move up to the edge of the river with him.

"What are you doing?"

"Emptying the egg. It'll rot if I leave the stuff inside." His voice is a little scratchy from how much he's been purring and moaning, and he doesn't sound particularly happy about the prospect either.

"...Rot?"

Dabi doesn't look at him as he nods, turning the egg onto its tip so that he can use one of his sharp claws to scrape away gently at the surface until he scrapes through enough of the shell to pierce his claw inside. He tips it onto is side and lets the liquid drain out, a milky mixture that looks startlingly similar to their fluids as they gushed out of Dabi with the egg as it was laid, but no clear part, no yolk as he was taught to expect from an egg laid to carry a living creature of any kind.

"I can't lay healthy eggs," his ears droop low and he won't look up at Tomura as he says that. "I'm sorry." He drains the rest of the fluid and rinses it out in the water until it passes his test, and even after just a minute or two open and not in the water, the inner shell begins to oxidize and it starts to glow a gentle blue.

"You don't have to apologize, Dabi. I'm not sure I would have been ready to be any kind of parent to a child." He doesn't bother to say it's a relief the egg was infertile. "I don't know if I'm... a suitable mate either." He says more carefully.

Dabi's shoulders hunch in on themselves. "Okay." He hugs his egg close to his chest, "We need to leave, don't we? I'm sorry for the delay. I should have had you get the fruit as soon as you told me it would be important for us to leave soon."

Tomura wants to protest, wants to... he doesn't know, give the other some time? A minute alone, maybe, but Dabi is pushing up from the snow and starting towards his ship, still holding the egg carefully, but straightening his spine. Maybe the other doesn't want that though. He doesn't know, he just knows that they do need to make up for lost time.

He gets the other situated into the ship, having someone in the seat beside his own for the first time, and he makes certain that everything is ready. Dabi still holds onto the hollowed egg, as his ears pitch forward with his interest as he starts up the engines. He keeps finding himself glancing over at Dabi as he starts the final checks, starts the take off procedures, the moment that the engines start and they begin to rise. He brings the ship up past the trees, ascending carefully, and Dabi's nose is all but pressed to the glass as he sees the forest from above. His pupils have blown wide, his tongue peeking out from between his lips like a cat excited to be given a new toy and Tomura feels helpless to the warmth in his chest.

Space travel was something old and commonplace when he was born. He had been to Earth's moon for a field trip when he was only five. He knows he was impressed then, but since that point, he's spent most of his life in space ships or on other planets. He hasn't even been back to Earth in six years. But seeing the look of wonder on the other's face is... something else.

"You're going to want to sit back," he instructs, not entirely sure why his throat feels tight. "We're going to go fast to get out of your atmosphere."

Dabi sits back and wraps his tail around his egg for added security.

He wonders what it says about him that he still can't help but feel a deep endearment for the creature when they enter hyperspace and the lurch of movement has Dabi throwing up on his floor.

///

The trip to Coth E1 is uneventful as far as the flight goes. The autopilot functions as it's supposed to, they don't get into any skirmishes or fly into an asteroid field, they just go from point A to point B. But the journey itself, having Dabi in the ship for a day and a half is different. About three hours after they left his planet, Dabi hadn't been so clingy and protective of his egg anymore, asking if there was somewhere he could put it where it wouldn't be broken, and Tomura had carefully shown him the smugglers hatch, using his coat to wrap it up in an extra layer of padding even before he put it in a secure box with a spare tarp.

"My instincts are normalizing again." Is all Dabi had bothered to say when he'd asked if that would really be alright for the rest of the trip.

He let it go then, and over the next hour he'd shown him around the rest of his small ship. But when that had been finished, Dabi had wanted to sit back at the front of the ship to look out the window. And Tomura had done his best to answer any and every question the Salkeh had about space and the things they passed as they flew. When Dabi had run out of questions, he had just looked out the window until his eyes grew too heavy and he let out a soft defeated coo before he had slumped low in the seat and fallen asleep. Tomura picked him up then, easily lifting the small creature, and carried him back to his cot. Dabi hadn't woken as he was moved, but he had immediately clutched onto his pillow and blanket, tucking his face in tight to the fabric and purring the same way he had when he had been tucked against his chest in their nest.

He sat on the edge of the bed watching the other sleep for an agonizingly long time.

///

Flying in the ship is fascinating. It's amazing to be able to travel through the night and see bursts of stars that are the suns of worlds so far away that even in a ship like Tomura's they wouldn't ever be able to reach them. Coming off of his cycle, out of the haze of desperation and longing he'd felt to be claimed by the other, his wonderment at being able to be in the sky is amazing. However, landing is horrible.

He loses the little he managed to eat when he woke up again as the ship lurches as it comes down in the docking bay with many more ships, some much, much bigger that Tomura's, but the human anticipated his sickness this time and gave him a receptacle to be sick into, the mess being sealed away in seconds rather than spilling anywhere that will have to be cleaned. He also brings him a cup of water to drink to help clean out his mouth.

"...Sorry."

"It's fine, Dabi. Lots of species get motion sickness." He then turns his attention back to the panel of buttons in front of him. He hits a few and then a new thing opens across the window, partially blocking the view of the place they've landed in. "Shigaraki Tomura, docked in ship XR0U280. I'm calling to report I have an unregistered sapient species with me who would like to register with the Foundry."

There's a slight pause and then more talking that Dabi can't understand despite the collar.

"I'm a wildlife photographer," Tomura tells the other voice. "I came across him while visiting a nearby planet, I don't have access to that kind of equipment."

There's another burst of speech from the other side, and it sounds calm. Tomura doesn't seem upset either.

"Thank you, I'll have him put on a helmet before opening the doors." The little square goes away and Tomura turns to him. "Okay, they're going to send someone to check you over, alright? They're going to make sure you're healthy and that none of the things on this planet will make you sick."

"Okay."

Tomura brings him a dome to wear around his head and he hooks up a thing to it so that he can breathe, and in just a few minutes, he is opening the door to what looks like another human, and what looks like a reptile that walks on two legs. Tomura blinks when he sees the lizard-person.

"Spinner? I didn't know you were out here."

The lizard says something in turn, but Tomura is still calm and the other human, who is shorter than Tomura and that has lumps on their chest that Tomura doesn't produce something from inside of one of the pockets of the hide that they are wearing. They pass it off to Tomura and he turns back to him.

"This is a universal translator, if you put it on, it will let you understand everyone who talks to you, not just me. It will also start to log your language so that anyone else who meets a Salkeh while wearing this, will be able to understand their speech and talk back to them."

"Okay."

"It's going to sting like the collar did." He warns and Dabi is not thrilled about that, but he allows the collar to be swapped for the new one. The sharp jolt that goes through him is easier to stomach this time because he was prepared for it, but Dabi can't say he enjoys it as it happens.

"Hello," the other human says, "My name is Lilea Sylas, I work for the Foundry and am going to help you to register your species. This is my colleague Dr. Shuichi Iguchi. He's going to give you a check-up."

"Okay."

"If you have any questions or need anything explained, all you have to do is ask, we'll do our best to make sure that everything is as comfortable as possible."

He turns back to Tomura, guilt twisting his stomach, "You'll stay, right?" He doesn't know if he can ask for that. They're not mates, after all.

"Of course I will." He reassures without blinking.

And he doesn't move an inch as the other two begin to ask him questions and check him over.

///

It takes four days for them to do the full gamut of tests to make certain that Dabi isn't carrying any pathogens that he might give to others, and to determine that he isn't going to die to any of the natural ones here. He shouldn't go into weather exceeding twenty-one degrees Celsius for more than one hour without lots of fluids and even then he will have a risk of overheating if he stays in direct sunlight, he should limit his intake of grains to a maximum of five percent of his daily food, and he is deathly allergic to guava of all things. They also determine the dark spots and infertility are due to an autoimmune disease, not one that's transmittable, but that is hereditary, and likely something the rest of his former pack were also carriers of.

He's not sure if finding out that information makes Dabi feel better or worse, but Tomura feels a hell of a lot better when the Foundry finds the file Proximacard made available for settlers going to Ipra 309T on the Salkeh and immediately send a cease and desist along with an order for immediate closure of the planet. The Foundry, or likely one of the exploration companies that work more closely with them like Exovin, is dispatched six hours after they arrived on day one to put a stop to it and make sure they all left. He's certain that when they find out, and he's sure they will, about Dabi's people being hunted for their eggs, they will put a blockade around the planet as well until they speak to the Salkeh. He doubts Dabi's people will trade away their young, but it will be up to them if they want any shell pieces after they've hatched to be illegal to be sold as well, if the rest of his people even want anything to do with the outside world.

But at the end of the four days, Dabi is free to wander the planet, he is given a list of all the ones that he will also be able to travel to without having any adverse side-effects, or he can go home. The Foundry will offer transportation if Tomura has his own business to get back to.

"Okay." Aside from answering questions, Dabi has been quiet for the past few days and it sinks his stomach to see him so despondent. Sylas leaves the ship, and Tomura promises to go out for drinks and to catch up with Spinner when he can, but he gets them out of the ship so it's just he and Dabi alone. When the others are gone Dabi turns to him, "Can I have my egg?"

"Of course," he makes sure the bay windows are shuttered and then he goes down into the smuggler's hatch and retrieves the bundle. The full shell inside must have oxidized over the past few days of the trip, and he can see the lights dancing across the patterns that swirl over the shell. It feels much less fragile than a chicken egg, but he's still extremely careful with it as he brings it back up to Dabi.

He takes it and holds it to his chest, "I can go back with the other ship."

"You don't have to," he says immediately. It's stupid, he should really be distancing himself as much as possible from this situation before someone finds out what he normally does when he's going for wildlife 'shoots'. "I don't mind taking you home."

Dabi's ears droop and he doesn't look up at him. "No. You've wasted enough time on me. You must have more important things to do."

Tomura isn't certain how he can tell Dabi that nothing he's ever done feels as important as this. Not when he can't really find words for it himself. "I really don't. If you want to go home, I'll be happy to take you." But he can't stop himself from adding, "but if you want to stay and explore, here or some of the other places you can visit, I'll go with you there too."

That finally gets Dabi looking at him again. "...Why?"

Why indeed. "Can't I just want to spend more time with you?"

"No one else ever has."

"I'll let you in on a universal secret," he tells the other. "Shitty families come from every planet. But they're not here now. You are the first of your kind to ever leave your planet, and you can go wherever you want and we can travel for as long as you want." He needs to stop his mouth from saying these things. He's not a child with some grand view of the galaxy who believes that every new world is an endless possibility. He's a criminal, traveling with him will be dangerous, Dabi will always be in danger until the fascination with the eggs dies. He has to be clear about that. "I would love to have you as a companion for as long as you'd like to stay."

Dabi's bright blue eyes search his face for a long minute, and then he lets out a shaky breath. "I want to stay."

Good. There's no other name for the lightness that fills his chest than relief as he realizes that he won't have to leave Dabi behind. "I need to tell you some other things about me. If you want to change your mind afterward, I'll still take you home if you want me to."

///

Six Years Later

"Two of whatever you have with the domed ice, but absolutely no guava." The little bar that he's wandered into is off of the main thoroughfare, wide bay doors and a large u-shaped counter with several people sitting and sipping at drinks packed full of ice, waiting out the Vebbore heatwave that lasts about two hours as the planet's axis tilts them a little closer to the sun in this region. He sees a few Earth fruits on the counter and being mixed into drinks alcoholic and not, but no immediate signs of guava, still. Better safe than sorry.

"Tomura Shigaraki."

He tenses slightly and turns, hating that he has to look up at the middle-aged red-haired human that's speaking to him. He is even less thrilled to see a Constellation's Collective badge pinned to his chest. "Can I help you, officer?"

"You have two outstanding--"

"My outstanding warrants in this system were quashed two months ago." He says immediately, flicking open his wallet to pay for the two drinks that have been set in front of him. "Thank you," he acknowledges the bartender. He then lifts his ID for scanning, as is procedure in this system for any arrests. The officer grits his teeth as he does so, his device only taking a second to match his profile to the one in the system and confirm his statement.

"You're under arrest."

That... actually does surprise him. "You just saw my warrants--"

"For the possession of illegal goods."

"I can assure you I am of age to purchase a slushy, even an alcoholic one." He says flatly.

The officer glares at him. "That," he says, gesturing to his neck, "Is Salkeh shell. Possession of which is illegal unless you can verify it was obtained ethically."

Tomura nearly rolls his eyes. One of these kinds of cops. "It was obtained ethically--" he hears a distinctive chitter and braces himself. Sure enough, not three seconds later, a solid weight connects with his shoulders, Dabi's legs hooking quickly around his waist and his tail steadying them both as he reaches over his shoulder to take one of the cups.

"You were supposed to wait in the ship, it's too warm out here for you."

"You were taking too long." Dabi says in turn, taking a big bite out of the snow cone dome of ice over the cup. He purrs happily at the coolness and only then seems to take notice of the man still glaring at him. "Who's this?"

"Pig." The cop's lip curls up into a sneer, and Dabi's tail flicks.

"Oink. What's he want? I took care of your warrants."

"He wants to know if my necklace was sourced ethically."

Dabi snickers, shifting to press a kiss to the shell piece that he'd etched carefully and attached to his translator. The larger piece of the shell sits just under his jaw on the right side of his neck, a ring of Dabi's teeth casting little nebulas through where he thinned the sections for him, since he couldn't have survived taking a proper bite there. "Of course it was, you helped make it." He purrs, rubbing their necks together. His blunt human teeth couldn't have pierced his fur in turn, and instead they had found someone who could embroider with hair, and Tomura had given up a few locks so that he could have his teeth marks in his collar as well. "My mate is welcome to as much of our eggs as he wants." He turns his attention back to the cop, "If that's all?"

The man clearly wants to argue, but they haven't broken any laws yet, and there are far too many people around who would likely take umbrage with him attempting to arrest Dabi at the very least. Afterall, when he's clinging to him like this, his dark talons disappear against Tomura's black clothes, making him look far smaller and more helpless than he would otherwise. The officer sneers at them one more time, pushing Tomura's wallet back into his hands before he turns and leaves the shop. He watches him go, making sure he actually leaves and isn't waiting outside to grab them as soon as they go, but Dabi is busy gobbling up the rest of the ice from the top of his drink and then quickly slurping down the contents, immediately reaching for Tomura's as well.

He presses a kiss to the tip of his nose before he relinquishes it, knowing his mate is just not built for this kind of heat. "Did you decide what you want to do tonight?"

"Yeah! I was talking to a Koquro woman at the bay and she said that there's a boat race after dark along the river, it's really dangerous because it's all in the dark except for the algae that glows as they stir it up." He nuzzles back against his cheek to whisper, "And I heard there's a lot of people trading things."

"Hmm, we should probably make sure to refuel before we go then." Because Dabi has been having a very good time lately hunting down anyone who breaks the rules of going to his home planet and stealing their eggs. If he's planning on committing a few murders tonight, then they should be ready to leave as soon as possible. His mate starts to purr immediately at not being told no, as if Tomura can ever tell Dabi no over anything. But it does also earn him a kiss from his mate, so he's certainly not complaining.

#my writing #shigadabi #mha fanfiction #fanfiction

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kristisbookland · 11 months ago

Text

ACOSF

Ch 19

"Because of the shit with Elain?"

Azriel stilled. "What happened to Elain?"

Cassian waved a hand. "A fight with Nesta. Don't bring it up," he warned when Azriel's eyes darkened.

...

Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. "You all right?" His brother nodded. "Fine." But shadows still swarmed him.

Ch21

Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preapering to strike.

Ch22

"She's volatile right now. The last time she did a scrying, it ended badly. The Cauldron looked at her. And then took Elain."

...

Azriel stiffened. "I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all."

...

Cassian looked over at Az. "You think you'll ever be ready for one?" Ever be ready to confess to Mor what's in you heart?"

"I don't know," Azriel said.

"Do you want a child?"

"It doesn't matter what I want." Distant words-ones that prevented Cassian from prying further. He was still happy to be Mor's buffer with Azriel, but there'd been a change lately. In both of them. Mor no longer sat beside Cassian, draped herself over him, and Azriel...those longing glances toward her had become few and far between. As if he'd given up.

Ch29

Amren said, " We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. Better to have both of them working on it."

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, "There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to."

....

Amren drained her wine and said to Cassian, "Nesta has a week. One more week to find the Trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes." She threw a nod toward Azriel. "Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don't underestimate her."

Ch 31

Nesta said, "The Trove. And what happened the last time I scried."

Feyre said, "We won't allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times."

"Eyes can be blinded," Nesta said.

"Not the ones under my command," Azriel said with soft menace. Nesta met his stare, knowing, he was the only one aside from Feyre who could truly understand her hesitation. He'd gone with Feyre into the heart of Hybern's camp to save Elain - he know the risk. "We won't make the same mistake twice."

Ch 44

"She made ballroms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two," she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel.

Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from.

Ch 58

Nesta shook her head slowly, not understanding. Elain just linked her arm throught Nesta's and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he'd heard Elain's sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

"I was just checking on dessert," Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met shadowsinger's stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and thought it was utterly neutral, something charged went throught it. Between them. Elain's breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into room.

...

Azriel lingered near the door, quiet enough that when Feyre and Mor began talking about some of her paintings, Nesta went over to him.

"Why don't you sit?" She leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger.

"My shadows don't like the flames so much." A pretty lie. She'd seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and know the answer.

"Why did you come if it torments you so much?"

"Because Rhys wants me here. It'd hurt him if I didn't come."

"Well I think holidays are stupid."

"I don't."

She arched a brow. He explained, "They pull people together. And bring them joy. They are a time to pause and reflect and gather, and those are never bad things." Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn't stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn't go near the fire.

His secret to tell, never hers.

Ch 59

(After Soltice/Bonus Ch.)

Three days passed with no word from Cassian. He'd been replaced on training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn't even give her a smile.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #pro elain #elriel supremacy #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #sjmaas #elain archeron #it's all there

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icarusignite · 5 months ago

Text

An Eye for an Eye Ch.5

MASTERLIST / ao3 / wattpad

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC

"An eye for an eye. A brother for a brother."

Summary: In return for his terrible crime, the kinslayer's wife gives him an equally terrible gift. A gift with a vow; an eye for an eye, a brother for a brother, a debt to be repaid in full with blood.

Word Count: 4.9k

The room was still cloaked in the deep embrace of midnight, the silence broken only by the occasional whisper of a breeze outside, when Daenys stirred in her sleep, a low rasp escaping her parched lips as she slowly emerged from the clutches of a restless dream she could not recall. The air in the chamber felt thick, suffused with an unspoken tension that seemed to mirror the turmoil within her.

As her heavy eyelids fluttered open, she winced at the stabbing pain in her temples, a relentless throbbing that pulsed in rhythm with the beating of her heart. The room swayed gently around her, and she felt a strange stickiness on her cheeks as she blinked away the remnants of tears that had painted trails down her face. Her vision was blurred, as if the world had decided to don a hazy veil, and it took her a few moments to gather her bearings.

Then the sensation of a weight across her waist caught her attention, and when she turned her gaze downward to the source, there he lay, Aemond Targaryen, clinging to her as if she were a lifeline. His eyepatch had been carelessly discarded, revealing the vulnerability of the one who usually bore the mantle of strength. Moonlight spilled through the jagged maw of the window, casting an ethereal glow upon his tousled hair and smooth features, and even in slumber, his face was etched with lines of worry, a reflection of the troubles that plagued him past his waking hours.

His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and Daenys resisted the urge to trace the soft glow that highlighted the shadows beneath his eyes. The arm that wasn't wrapped protectively around her waist rested gently on her neck, his fingers entwining with the tendrils of her hair, while his head nestled into the crook of her throat, finding comfort in the curve of her shoulder.

It made Daenys feel sick. His touch burned in a way that made her want to peel off her skin and leave it out to shrivel and crackle in the sun until she was a version of herself he had never laid hands on.

Determined not to disturb her husband's peaceful slumber, she began the delicate task of extricating herself from his hold. With the utmost care, she shifted her body ever so slightly, attempting to loosen the grip of his arms. However, as she maneuvered, Aemond unconsciously tightened his hold, responding with a reflexive sigh that hinted at the reluctance to release his grasp on her.

For a moment, Daenys paused, her heart pounding with trepidation. The moonlight continued to weave its silver tapestry around them, the room shrouded in the stillness of the night. She took a deep breath, determined to continue her discreet escape.

Undeterred by Aemond's unconscious resistance, Daenys resumed her slow, methodical movement. She carefully peeled his arm from around her waist, feeling the tension in his muscles as he unwittingly clung to her. The sigh that escaped him seemed almost like a lament, the complaint of a man reluctant to let go of an anchor during a storm.

Step by step, she managed to slide away from him, the silk sheets whispering softly in response to her cautious retreat until she finally slipped out, her feet landing on the broken glass that littered the room. She held in the pained whine that threatened to escape her lips and surveyed her surroundings carefully. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for until her gaze settled on the dagger strapped to Aemond's belt. The weapon seemed to beckon to her, and without thinking Daenys found herself reaching for it.

With a deft hand, she unsheathed the dagger, its metallic rasp muffled. The cold touch of the blade sent a shiver down her spine and she held it tightly, the weight of the weapon grounding her as she considered her next move.

She wondered if this was the same dagger Aemond had offered up to her brother. The very same dagger that would have rid Luke of his eye.

Daenys glanced back at her sleeping husband, her hands moving unconsciously again and she didn't even know she had moved until the wicked blade was below Aemond's chin. It would be so easy. One smooth movement, one whispered hush with no one but the moon as her witness and then it'd be over. She could leave him bleeding into his own sheets, in the same bed where he had whispered all the lies to her. She could be rid of him.

Something hungry inside her begged for that crimson fountain to bubble forth and she hazarded pressing the weapon closer, its razor-sharp edge hovering just above his throat. She could almost feel the warmth of his skin beneath the cold steel, a stark contrast to the iciness that gripped her heart. The blade traced an invisible line, too close and too far apart all at once, the distance between two lovers, the distance between a promise and a lie.

Then he said her name.

Not in the coherent syllables of a fully conscious man, but a whispered invocation of her name as a desperate reach from the recesses of his slumber.

Daenys placed a hand over his seeing eye, and the furrow in his brow seemed to melt away at her touch. She could carry out the deed now, in the quiet of the night, and he would not even see it coming. His eyes would fly open, only to be met with an abyss of darkness, a void that would swallow both sight and consciousness.

Darkness and then nothing.

It would be a mercy.

Then she pulled back with a sigh. He did not deserve such a mercy. He did not deserve such a painless death of confusion and darkness. No, he deserved the spectre of fear that must have haunted Luke. She refused to hand Aemond over to the Stranger so easily. She would make him beg for it when the time came.

But now was not that time, and she could not risk awakening the entirety of the Red Keep for the sake of the sadistic desire that unfurled beneath her ribs.

For now, she had to go home and pledge her allegiance to the one true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Still clutching the dagger tightly, she tiptoed across the chamber, her feet seeking refuge in the spaces between scattered belongings, avoiding the treacherous shards of the shattered debris. Despite her meticulous efforts, the floor betrayed her intentions, and a faint trail of deformed carmine footsteps marked her silent journey across the room.

Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the door handle, and to her surprise, it yielded effortlessly beneath her touch. Turning one last time to ensure her husband's continued slumber, Daenys cast a glance over her shoulder.

Then she scowled and stepped outside, flinching when her bruised soles made contact with the cold marble outside.

"Princess?"

The knight from earlier stood sentinel near the doorway, an unexpected obstacle in her path. Ser Percival, if she recalled correctly, the very same man who had shown her some semblance of kindness when she had been ordered to the Queen's chambers to be a part of Aegon's cruel joke, and if she tried hard enough she could remember him asking Aemond to let her return home. She could not say how much of the latter was true though, as much of the events that followed were a blur in her memory, clouded over by her own consciousness.

"Is everything all right, princess?" Ser Percival inquired, his voice gentle.

Daenys nodded hastily, panic tightened her chest as she let her eyes silently plead with her captor to let her continue her escape undetected. Before she could slip away, however, the knight's gauntleted hand closed firmly around her wrist.

"Forgive me, my lady, but you cannot leave. It would be against my orders, and I'd find myself in grave trouble."

Daenys, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes flickering nervously toward the open door of Aemond's chambers, praying that he remained undisturbed in his slumber. Ser Percival, following her gaze, frowned in understanding but maintained his grip on her wrist.

"Pleas—please, I must go," she implored, her voice a quiet plea laced with desperation. Her fingers, concealed around the hilt of the dagger behind her back, tightened instinctively. She wished not to resort to violence, but she would do it if pushed any further.

The knight's gaze softened, a fleeting expression of pity in his eyes. "I understand, princess, but I cannot allow it. I am sworn to keep watch, and letting you go would betray...the king."

Daenys's eyes hardened and she wrenched her hand away from him aggressively, "I would cut your tongue out for being a traitor. Be grateful I do not have more time."

When she turned around to depart, he did not stop her a second time, only watching apologetically as he heard the young prince stir awake in his chambers behind him.

Aemond Targaryen was immediately aware of the absence of the familiar weight beside him, and panic surged through him, a cold realization that his wife was no longer in the bed where he had last seen her before drifting off to sleep. When his hand strayed to his waist where his scabbard was empty of his dagger his heart dropped.

In an instant, he bolted upright, disoriented by the abrupt awakening. His seeing eye darted around the chamber, searching for any sign of her, hoping to see her pacing agitated form. When the truth sank in, a surge of urgency propelled him to the door, and the knight stationed outside looked up with a start as he burst through.

"Where is she?" the prince demanded, his voice edged with a mix of fear and anger. The knight's eyes widened, and he struggled to find the words to convey what had just transpired.

"The princess... she just..."

There was a stammer in the knight's voice, and he was unable to meet Aemond's intense gaze. It was not often that the one-eyed prince walked about without his eyepatch on, and his singular gaze was strikingly unsettling, making it difficult to look at him for too long.

"I will not ask again. Where. Is. My. Wife?" he enunciated the words slowly, as if speaking to a fool, his hands coming up to grab the trembling man in front of him by the shoulders.

"She...she left, my prince."

"Left? Left where? What do you mean? It was your job to watch over her! Where is she?"

Ser Percival, caught between duty and the fury in Aemond's eyes, gestured vaguely in the direction opposite to where Daenys had gone. Still, the prince's sharp gaze scrutinized both sides of the hallway and, to his horror, he noticed the faint bloody footprints that marked her departure. The realization hit him like a physical blow.

"What happened to her?" Aemond growled, his fingers digging into the knight's armour. "Why is there blood? Answer me!"

Now pinned against the wall, Ser Percival struggled to maintain composure, "I don't know, my prince. She just left. I tried to stop her, but she insisted on going. I... I don't know anything about the blood."

"You tried to stop her? And you couldn't have tried harder? You, a knight of the realm, could not stop that wraith of a girl? Seven hells, and you're expected to protect my brother the king?"

If fear hadn't laid siege to his mind, Percival might have scoffed. Wraith of a girl? The princess was a little more than that. Something in her voice reminded him of another who once roamed these halls. He never thought he'd hear that voice again, the dominating tone of the Commander of the City Watch coming from the mouth of the silver-haired princess, and for a moment it was as if Percival's old mentor had returned to life, if only to scorn him for being a traitor. Perhaps that is why he had let her go in the first place, as some sort of penance.

Aemond's eyes flared with anger, his mind racing with the possibilities of what could have transpired in his absence. Without another word, he released the knight and stormed down the corridor, following the bloody trail left by his fleeing wife. His mind threw his way an onslaught of worst-case scenarios. Was she still sick in the head from her fever? Had she thrown herself off some balcony or slit her throat? Or was the dagger meant for someone else? Would he find her standing above Aegon's bed, or worse, his mother's or Helaena's, her hands and his dagger drenched with their blood? He would not put it past her.

He wondered what state he'd find her in. The version of her who dug craters into her arms as if they were graves, whose eyes contained a glint of mania that spoke of impossible actions. Or the version who would plead and cry and allow him to hold her once he finally reached her.

He knew which version he preferred. He knew which one of them was easier to subdue.

Aemond pursued Daenys's trail to a painting on the wall, and he immediately knew where she was headed, even as the footsteps ended with a faint smattering of red in the darkness. It was a path well traversed by both of them, for late-night escapades in Flea Bottom, and he quickened his step.

Eventually, he arrived at a secluded courtyard, where in the dim light, he discerned a figure—limping, dragging one foot behind, and cloaked in the shadows.

Approaching cautiously, Aemond's heart ached at the sight of his wife. She really was a wraith of a girl here, her unbound hair a spill of starlight down her back, and her silhouette, fragile and ghostly. Before he could take another step, she whirled around, a dagger clutched in her hands, poised as a barrier between them.

"Daenys," Aemond called out, his voice gentle and laced with concern. "What are you doing out here? The hour is late and it's freezing. Let me take you back to bed."

Daenys, her eyes hollow and distant, stared at him through the dim light. The dagger remained a silent sentinel between them, the one-eyed prince watched it cautiously, not knowing who she'd use it against.

"You're hurt, Daenys. Let me help you. I'll carry you back if I have to. Just please...let us return."

She backed away, her movements cautious and guarded. The moonlight danced on the blade in her hand, casting glimmers of silver across her face. A fleeting smile crossed her lips, but her eyes remained distant, as if she were standing at the edge of a precipice. The fever that had gripped her earlier seemed to have subsided, yet an unnatural flush lingered on her skin. Aemond, sensing the fragility of her mind, extended a hand toward her.

"Daenys give me the weapon. You'll hurt yourself."

Daenys's gaze, still clouded and enigmatic, flickered between the dagger and Aemond's outstretched hand.

"You know I wondered if you'd come after me," she finally spoke, her voice low and contemplative. "I even hoped for it."

"You wanted me to come for you? Well, you wanted me, so here I am. Let us go back then."

"No that's not why I wanted you here."

"Then...why?" Aemond's brow furrowed, not understanding the game she played.

"I'm not entirely sure."

Daenys paused. She was leaving here tonight, that much was certain. She had made up her mind about it and there was nothing that could keep her from it. She had hoped to slip away unnoticed, but she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her bloodstream to see her husband's cautious form trailing after her like a shadow. He was asking for it at this point. If he laid a hand on her, she would end him, but if he didn't...then well, it remained to be seen. The night hungered for bloodshed, and perhaps she'd oblige, although she hadn't yet decided who would make the sacrifice.

She raised the dagger, her smile mirroring the sharp edge of the blade, and her husband instinctively raised his hands placatingly.

"Daenys, put the knife down," he implored, his voice a gentle but urgent plea.

"Do not worry, lord husband," she murmured. "It's not for you."

Aemond's heart pounded in his chest, the dread of the unknown tightening its grip. What did she mean? Was she planning to end her own life; did she wish to hurt him by making him watch?

"Who is it for, then?"

"Would you like for it to be for you?"

"I-No, that's not..."

Daenys placed the dagger against her collarbone, and Aemond blanched. Amused by his reaction she cocked her head to the side, as if contemplating a profound question.

"What would you do if I said it was for me?"

Aemond's seeing eye widened, the realization sinking in like a heavy stone in his stomach. He took another step closer and the courtyard seemed to narrow around them.

"Why would you even think of doing something like that?"

"I don't know. Why would you think of doing something like what you did?"

She trailed the dagger up the column of her throat, and then further up until it rested just above her left eye. The one-eyed prince's breath hitched, and something inside of him knew where this was going. He should have surged forward, he should have wrestled the weapon away from her, he should have slammed her head against the stone wall behind her, if only to stop her next actions.

All he was capable of doing at that moment though, was standing still, waiting with baited breath.

"You know I thought about it. I thought about ending myself right here in front of you. Letting you watch as I bled to death here. I wondered if that would hurt you half as much as you have hurt me. But that would be no fun at all, would it? And it would make no difference to you."

She took a deep breath, the slight waver in her lungs being the first sign of real emotion she had shown all evening.

"And besides...why should I die? Why should I be the one to," — another shudder— "why should I be the one to die for your crimes? I have so much left to do, so why should I do you the favour of ending myself, when you don't give the slightest damn about me?"

"That's not true. You know that that's not true. You are the one person I care about most," Aemond was pleading now. In fact, he might have sunk to his knees in front of her, the way she had for him, but there was still too much pride left in him.

"Liar. You are nothing but a fucking liar."

"Daenys pleas-you aren't well...let us..."

"An eye for an eye was it?" her words burned with fury but they remained calm, nonchalant as if she was merely discussing the weather. "Well then, did you get the eye you so desired? Did you pluck out my dead brother's eye? Did that bring you peace husband?"

Aemond was taken aback. Is that what she thought of him then? Someone who would desecrate a corpse like that —not that there was a corpse to begin with. Someone that heartless and cruel? But he supposed he had given her all the reasons to believe him so.

"No! Of course not. Why would I...you have to know it was an accident. I would never..."

"Pity. If you had taken what you were owed, then perhaps you might have given the rest of him to me. Perhaps then there'd be something of him to burn."

"You know I would never do such a thing. To violate a corpse-"

"Says the man who has no trouble at all violating the living. Tell me, is there a greater violation than murder?"

The one-eyed prince was rendered speechless, so his wife continued with a long-suffering sigh.

"The fact of the matter remains then. Your debt has not been paid. We shall have to remedy that. If it is an eye you want, it's an eye you shall get."

Daenys's subsequent grin had an unhinged quality to it and for the first time in his life, Aemond Targaryen found himself afraid of his wife. Perhaps equal parts afraid of her and afraid for her.

"I don't want anything," he whispered, shaking his head. "I don't want anyone's eyes. Daenys please you're scaring me."

"Ah, that's a shame. The debt must be paid after all. Unpaid debts lead to deadly grudges, as you probably already know."

Before Aemond could respond, before he could move a single muscle, she had already lifted the dagger to press deeper into her skin. In the brief second before her skin split, she thought of Luke. She thought of his pale lifeless body floating in the sea, his empty fingers reaching out but never holding. She imagined he'd look something like Lord Caswell, whose bloated swaying form hung from the stone arch behind Aemond.

The dead were all the same, in that they were dead.

Some things were worth spilling blood for. Some people were worth bleeding for.

The blade left a neat, horrifying slash across her left eye, tracing a line from brow to cheekbone. Daenys bit her lip, stifling the instinctive shriek that begged to escape her throat. Aemond, recoiled with horror, feeling the spectre of pain that unfolded before him almost viscerally.

A thin line of crimson welled from the fresh wound, staining her pale skin, but she was resolute, determined to bear her suffering silently, just as Lucerys had. She would carry her silence to her grave, just as her brother had. Still, the twitch in her lips belied her. The dagger dropped from her trembling fingers, echoing against the courtyard stones, and without hesitation, she drove her hands into the bloody aftermath.

Blood gushed over her face, a torrent of red that reminded Aemond so much of his injury. He watched in numb shock as Daenys pried apart the torn skin and drew out her eye, the macabre appendage trailing a bloody root. She cradled it for a moment in her hands as if one might cradle a newborn babe, and though her other eye leaked a steady stream of tears, her face remained expressionless.

Aemond was jolted from his initial paralysis when she walked forward to press the disembodied thing into his shaking hands.

"I always did say I would have given you one of my own, you only had to ask," Daenys's whispered voice was strained as if it took all her remaining strength to keep it steady. "I would have given it to you with my blessing and a kiss."

She grabbed his jaw, her fingers leaving red smears on the prince's chin. Then she pressed a kiss to his frozen lips, staining them too. She tasted of blood, and although her actions were smooth, precise, her hatred felt unfamiliar and hard. Something within her had torn loose. She wanted to devour him. She wanted to chew him up and spit him out so he resembled the mass he cradled so protectively in his hands.

There was no time for that now. She could feel her consciousness slipping, feel her resolve crumbling as more of her flowed out of the gaping wound in her face. If she passed out here, then everything would be for nought, and she'd never make it back home.

"I-I never asked for it."

"You never asked for it, but now you have it."

With a curse and a kiss.

"Here's your debt repaid in full Aemond. An eye for an eye."

"I'm sorry, gods I'm so sorry," Aemond's eye filled with tears, the one that could shed tears anyway.

He had lost his right eye, and she had given him her left. Standing side by side, they might have made a whole person even. He could still feel it, when she had sliced into herself, he had felt the sharpness of his nephew's blade and for a few short moments, he was ten again, except this time there was no thrill of riding Vhagar for the first time humming in his blood. Only guilt and horror.

"Oh, Aemond. Valzȳrys."

The prince's heart clenched at the sound of the words that spilled from his wife's lips. A remnant of another time when they were full of love, but there was no affection in her eyes—eye, for only one of them was capable of emotion— now. There was only emptiness.

"I have paid the debt my brother owed you. But rest assured, the blood of Lucerys will be repaid tenfold. A debt your entire family will pay. A brother for a brother if you will."

Aemond's blood ran cold.

"What are you insinuating?"

"I don't have to insinuate anything. I will kill your brother. A fair trade don't you think, a brother for a brother, especially now that you have my eye."

"I did not ask for your eye!" Aemond raised his voice in frustration.

"And I did not ask for you to kill Lucerys... yet here we are."

"That was an-"

"Do not say accident, you fucking coward. At least own up to it. At least admit to your crime."

She turned around to leave, her tongue heavy and her eyelids heavier. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay on her feet.

"You're leaving?"

Daenys scoffed, her voice barely audible now, "You expect me to stay in this prison then? Play house with the man who murdered my brother, pay my respects to his traitor brother and conniving mother? The family who stole my mother's birthright?"

Something in Aemond snarled at her insult toward his mother, or perhaps it was the panic that reared its head because she was leaving. She was finally leaving, just as his grandsire had warned him. She was going to abandon him.

"You cannot leave. I am your lord husband. If I demanded it, you would have to stay," Aemond snapped.

She could not leave him, she would not. Not her. Not the only thing in the world that he had for himself, the only good thing that had ever happened to him. The only thing his brother hadn't spoiled for him, although he supposed he had ruined it all by himself without any help.

"You really think you can make me stay, because what? The gods say that I must? Abide by your pathetic rules that bind wives to their husbands, slave to their every whim. I did not make vows of obedience to you. I do not have to listen to a word you say."

"No, please. Don't go. Don't leave me here," Aemond's tone shifted immediately.

He inched forward faster now. Beseeching her to let him hold her. To let him keep her. He reached out to snag her forearm but she shook him off just as swiftly. Her skin was burning. She was burning. He could have held on harder, could have forced her but she had picked up his dagger again and he could not imagine where she'd embed it next.

"Would you come then? If I asked you to abandon your family and support my mother's true claim, would you come with me," she meant to mock him, but something in her eyes implored him.

It was a chance. It would not absolve him of his sin, but she shared in his Kinslaying and if he bent the knee to her mother, then perhaps one day she might be able to forgive him, and forgive herself too.

Aemond stayed silent, his jaw clenched, his outstretched hand retreating. That was the one thing he could not do.

"I do not hold a candle to the flame you harbour for your family. Who was I to think that you would choose me."

The one-eyed prince frowned, a tear trickling down his face.

Or I to think that you would choose me.

He watched her limp away, her hand coming up to cup her face only when she had turned around, her back toward him.

He let her go, and when she finally disappeared from view, his attention returned to the carnage he still clutched tightly in his hands. His anger, his panic, had made him ball his fists, and when he separated his fingers, he was relieved to find the bloody sphere still whole, the violet iris wide and unseeing.

He finally sank to his knees, unable to keep down the surge of bile that rose in his throat, and burned his way out of his mouth, depositing the meagre contents of his stomach on the stone floor.

The moon continued its silent vigil, casting a luminous embrace over the troubled prince as he heaved, still clutching the final remnant of what he had lost.

He had always been a better knife than a person and now he had turned the girl he loved into a gaping wound. She hated him, but he knew he'd see her again. It was the law of the world, for a knife and a wound to seek each other out, because they spoke in a language of damage no one else did.

A/N: likes/reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, would love to hear your thoughts <3 Comment to be added to the taglist

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #icarusignite writes #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #jacaerys velaryon #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #game of thrones #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon aemond #daemon targeryan #helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon x reader

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