#native american reader

[navisakura]

Is anyone else pleasantly surprised at the sheer amount of black, latino and other poc!reader fics that have come out of the ATSV fandom? Like it’s normally so rare to find fanfics with a poc or a dark/brown skinned reader in mind but seeing so many different people integrate their culture and background into their work is genuinely heartwarming

[recreationalfanfics]

Buddha + Loki falling for a Native! Diety s/o

Because as a native American woman who SIMPS for fictional men, it'd be nice to see fanfics of Native readers. Idk all the mythologies of other tribes so I'll try my best to keep it as Pan-Native American as possible! Obviously anyone can read this but just understand to respect the culture and know this is tailored to Native readers!

Buddha:

- The both of you weren't so different in terms of your beliefs and philosophies, in fact, Buddha had admired you and your people's culture from afar and it was mutual on your side as well.

- You were a God for much longer than he was and he swore you were the only one who still retained any love for your people.

- So he wasn't surprised when he saw you sided with the Valkyries, unable to stop himself from smiling everytime he saw the soft and adoring look you'd give the humans as they cheered for their champions.

- Your people called you The Creator, however, you felt as though that title might be a bit to...pretentious to go by when you were around other gods so you simply went by (Y/n), instead.

- But it was a fitting title, in Buddha's eyes. Many times when he allowed you to sit under his tree with him as he napped did he secretly open his eyes and see you sculpt creatures out of clay, breathing life into them and setting them down as you chuckled and petted them.

- You were humble, kind, and ethereal...even by a God's standards in his eyes.

- You'd be surprised with how down bad Buddha is for you tbh, you figured because of his easy going and calm disposition that he simply tolerated your prescence until one day when he offered you one of his snacks.

"For me?" You blinked in surprise, the bobcat you were sculpting now pushed into the back of your mind as you saw the treat being held before you. Buddha smiled and shrugged as he handed the lollipop to you, "I don't see anyone else here other than us."

"Hmm, I always figured you to be stingy with your snacks." You teased slightly but considering how its seen as rude to you and your people to turn down whatever you're offered, you gently set the clay animal in your lap and went to reach for the lollipop until you remembered...ah, yes, clay covered your hands.

Buddha seemed to notice your hesitance and sat up, crossing his legs and unwrapping the lollipop he was meant to give you. You watched carefully before he finally held it up to your lips.

"Let me help with that." He said suavely, a smirk on his lips.

You felt your face heat up at his actions but instead smiled and obligingly opened your mouth and smiled as he pushed the lollipop in, but then, as if nothing happened, he continued to lay down and nap and you continued to sculpt. However, the smiles you both shared were hard to wipe off as you continued to bask in the comfortable silence.

Loki:

- Creator Gods and Loki didn't really mix, but it wasn't hard to see why. Tricksters weren't exactly seen in the best light in most cultures, so a Trickster God didn't have that much better of a reputation. It also probably didn't help how often he liked to mess with them.

- But you, you were different. Trickster stories were quite common in your culture and while they were sometimes punished, they were also portrayed as heroes too sometimes.

- He suspected that you yourself, the esteemed Creator who made creatures from clay, seemed to enjoy tricksters. Unlike the other hoity-toity gods and goddesses who'd shoo or chase him away, you'd smile as you sensed his prescence and would make casual conversation.

- Many other dieties have called Loki many names, mostly behind his back since few would be bold enough to say them to his face, but you called him the names of many renowned trickster characters from your story. From Coyote, to Fox, to Rabbit.

- Whenever he asked what made you call him "Little Fox" one day to "Tricksy Coyote" the next and so on, you simply responded with a shrug and cheeky grin: "Is it really that hard to figure out? Some days, you remind me of a sneaky little fox but other days, you seem to have the appetite of a coyote looking to cause trouble."

- You understood the importance of balance. Yes dieties like you were important but so were God's like Loki, so you treated him with respect like you would any other God and while that respect was a little one sided for a while, it was clear he started to slowly hold you in high regard.

- Did this stop him from messing with you? No, it absolutely did not, and you weren't foolish enough to believe that you were an exception and that didn't upset you, not in the slightest. After all, he kept things interesting.

- It was a shame that you sided with humanity, although he can't say that he was surprised, you held your people in high regard. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't cheer you on during your battles instead of the side he was supposed to be on.

He knew you would win, there would have been no doubt about it. Perhaps the God against you had underestimated your power, maybe that's what made the fight more entertaining, the way you lowered his gaurd by making yourself seem weaker than you actually were...but perhaps you should leave the trickery to him, dear (Y/n), since you may have gotten a bit too cocky and sustained not a fatal injury, but you still had to see a healer.

You walked down the hallways to the healing wing, holding your side and scolding yourself for getting too prideful too early. Perhaps you should revisit the many stories your people made of warriors and creatures and their consequences of becoming too confident too quick. But, at least you managed to rack in another point for humanity. As the healer was treating you, you tilted your head and smiled softly at them.

"I had no idea you were such a skilled healer, rabbit." You remarked with a warm smile. The healer looked at you in shock but soon transformed into the mischievous green haired God, "Rabbit? That's a new one."

You shrugged and tilted your head: "To what do I owe the pleasure, Loki? I'd assume you'd be throwing a temper tantrum with Zeus and the others."

"But how could I be angry when you were the one I was rooting for?" He asked, giving you a close eyed grin. You raised an eyebrow and opened your mouth, only to be cut off when he held an eagle feather in front of your face.

"This fell off during your hobbling down here too, by the way." He informed. Your eyes widened in worry but he only chuckled at your sudden distress, "Don't worry, I grabbed it before it touched the ground. Honestly, you should be more careful in future battles, I'd hate to see the only God who knows how to have fun get hurt."

Ah, so he was following me,You thought to yourself, your amused smile returning.

"May I?" He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You nodded and moved your face closer to him, one hand maneuvered gently under your chin to hold your face still and his other intertwining the eagle feather back into your hair. When he was done, he brought his hand back but still kept the one under your chin where it was.

You looked into his violet eyes with half lidded ones.

Hmm, you were wrong. You assumed he was a rabbit, just in a silly little mood ready to play his typical tricks. But you saw the hunger of a coyote in his eyes instead...but not for mischief or chaos for any of the sort.

It looked like he was hungry for you.

[jasmines-library]

could I request a batman and Damian x daughter/sister reader who has native american heritage from their mom's side and since meeting their paternal family as an adult often gifts them things like traditional handicrafts like beaded lanyards, ribbon shirts, card holders, brooches, beaded moccasins, moose hyde gloves and even a beautiful beaded hyde jacket (that she dyed black🤭) and it gets to the point where they're rooms and even the cave is full of little items made by them. Also, it'd be cute if she teaches Damian how to do traditional crafts and even shows him how to cut up & make dry meat because they never had a younger sibling to teach it too and got excited upon meeting Damian.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: I hope this is okay. I also hope i did my research right, but please correct me if im wrong!

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

"What you got there?" Damian asked as he entered the dining room. You were sat at the table by the window where the lighting was good, craft supplies sprawled out in front of you as your trained hands worked.

You held up the delicate fabric up to him. A handmade ribbon shirt, with neat patchwork sewn in. You had been working on the project all day, trying to perfect it. You liked to make them gifts, and they liked to receive them twice as much. Each thing you made them was intricately crafted by and and with a great sense of love and care. Weather it was a beaded lanyard to hand their bits and bobs from, or a brooch, or something larger like the ribbon shirts you liked to sew, they treasured each and every thing. You also felt a great sense of pride giving your family the things you made; it made them feel included in your culture that you were so proud of. Damian's absolute favourite was the black hyde jacket that you had gifted him.

Your family adored your gifts and culture so much that it had gotten to the point where your trinkets were scattered all over the cave, adding a homely and personal touch to something usually so dark and dindgey.

"It's for Tim." You said, placing the shirt back on the table to examine your work.

"It's beautiful." Damian said, looking it over. "You'll have to teach me someday."

your face lit up. "Really? you want to learn?! I'd love to teach you!"

"If you're willing to teach me, yeah."

you scooted your chair over to the side making room for him to pull up another before reaching over for your craft box, filled with beads and delicate feathers and strings to weave and craft with. "Come sit! i'll show you."

Damian took a seat beside you watching closely as you demonstrated how to craft something. He watched keenly, repeating your movements, though with slightly less expertise, though you were sure that in no time, you would have another set of hands to help you craft.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish @killxz @rosecentury @lara20aral

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[pickledpascal]

Thee Wolverine

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Maya Imik

Warnings: animal tendencies, cat behavior, some sexual themes if you squint, fluff otherwise!

A/N: just felt like there was too much feral!logan where he's a fucking machine. what if he just wants to be close to his mate, c'mon now.

Word Count: 1.8k

Hugh Jackman Masterlist

Logan did not go feral. Well, if someone asked, he would say he didn’t.

But there were days, weeks, months when he didn’t act like himself. Where scent, touch, and just about everything seemed to drive him crazy. He’d isolate himself in his room, exiting it with a few more claw marks lodged into the walls or he’d simply leave the mansion. Live in the woods for an indiscriminate amount of time until he felt normal enough to return.

With Maya, that changed.

Similar to their usual routine when they were about to sleep, Maya read a book beside Logan as he got in bed next to her. The whole day, he had felt urges. He knew he was slipping little by little. Around Maya, the fight in him crumbled. His pupils turned to slits as he felt that part of his brain take over.

He pulled her close, causing her to let out a light squeak at how roughly her pulled her. He buried his head into her neck and rubbed his cheek against the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder. His pupils rounded and dilated before he closed his eyes.

Maya looked at Logan curiously, an amused smile on her face. The book was long forgotten as he kept rubbing his face against her until he tucked his head underneath her chin. She carded a hand through his hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

Logan wasn’t a stranger to cuddling. Even less so as the person who wanted the affection, desperate for it at times, too. However, this was a whole new level Maya hadn’t experienced yet. Though, she didn’t mind.

A low purr escaped Logan’s chest as Maya kept her fingers in his hair. Surprise was an understatement. She was downright ecstatic at the discovery. Logan was a goddamn cat. Well, more like a tiger. Large and dangerous with deadly claws and an even deadlier bite but downright cuddly and soft when they wanted to be.

They went to sleep like that. Maya’s arms were around Logan’s shoulders while his arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly to him. Their legs tangled together so he could lock their bodies like puzzle pieces. Maya had never felt so warm in her life. It was like being covered in the world's best heated and weighted blanket.

Waking up was another ordeal.

“Logan, let me go.” Maya huffed as she tried to get away from him but he kept a firm hold around her body.

“No.” He hummed, rubbing his face into her hair with a large, easy smile on his face. It would have been more endearing if she hadn’t had an important briefing with Scott in the morning.

Eventually, he did let her go but he full-on whined at the loss of contact. He even growled lowly when she got dressed properly, eyes turning to slits. Maya didn't notice. He hated that she was covering her skin. Hated that he didn't have as much access as he did earlier.

He stood up and pressed his chest to her back and wrapped his arms around her waist, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as a chuff rumbled in his body.

Maya pecked his cheek. “Don't worry, you'll be okay without me for a little while.” Logan frowned. His pupils seemed to get impossibly rounder.

Maya wondered what that was about. In fact, he hadn't said more than a word to her since yesterday, when they had lunch. She brushed it off as just him having a bad day, he'd talk to her later about it, as he always did.

She left the room and went to the briefing with Scott. It went smoothly. They were brainstorming ways to get better protections for mutants from experimentation in a lawful route with Jean and Ororo. Maya didn't think she was of much help but the others reassured her that she was.

During lunch hours, she sat where she usually did with some of the older students. Yukio, Ellie, and Kitty had become friends she liked even if they were nearly ten years younger than her. After a while, she noticed Logan was not in the dining hall like everyone else. Maya pursed her lips.

“Have any of you seen Logan today?” She asked. They all knew of their relationship, at this point, so she felt no reason to hide her worry or favor for the older mutant.

Kitty chuckled. “You didn't hear? He canceled all of his classes.”

“What?” Maya blinked. To be fair, Logan didn't seem like he wanted to converse with anyone, much less a bunch of children. “Why?”

Ellie stared at Maya flatly. As always. “He didn't tell you?” She raised an eyebrow. Then let out a soft “hm.”

Maya pushed a hand through her hair and screwed her eyes shut for a moment, slightly exasperated. There was a lot she didn't know about Logan, he was nearly two hundred fucking years old, of course, she wouldn't be able to know every goddamn thing he went through.

“What is it?” She pressed.

Yukio answered this time, in her usual cheerful tone though it was quieter now as if she was telling a secret. “Sometimes the animal part of Mr. Howlett takes over! He becomes more,” She thought about it for a moment, “Feral. Gives into his animal instincts. He always cancels classes when that happens.”

Maya could not believe what Yukio was telling her. She laughed. She knew it was true. But feral? Describing the cuddle bear that was Logan that morning as feral was silly.

She could still see him in the back of her mind, pupils so dilated they seemed to take over his entire hazel iris. His hair was so fluffy from lying around in bed that it seemed to accentuate the two tufts on either side of his head.

When Maya did come back to his room—their room—she was bombarded by Logan. He pulled her down to the bed with him and nearly shredded off her shirt to expose her skin. He nuzzled his face against her stomach which made her chuckle. He was so goddamn cuddly. She wondered what the students thought he did while he was like this. What urges did they think he had? To kill? Destroy shit? Dare she say fuck?

Logan chuffed again, his entire body rumbled with the noise as he rubbed his cheeks against her. His facial hair made it feel scratchy but Maya didn't mind it much. He was enjoying himself, why would she stop that?

“How've you been?” She asked in a murmur, trying to make some conversation.

“Missed you.” He hummed. His nose traced the soft outline of Maya's abdominal muscles.

Her heart warmed. She glanced around the room. All of the drawers designated to her were slightly ajar. She looked back down at Logan, an amused smirk on her face. He was wearing one of her shirts. A simple black T-shirt with a vintage design on the front.

“Yeah?” Maya tugged a little at the shirt. She raised an eyebrow at him.

Logan pouted softly as he raised his head to look at her. “Smells like you.”

Maya let out a breath, her eyes softening and full of affection as she tugged Logan up her body. “C'mere, sweetheart.” He happily obliged. “I don't mind you taking my clothes if it helps you, okay?” She nodded at him.

He kissed Maya's cheek in response, purring lowly. He wrapped his arms around her again and rubbed his cheek against hers. She laughed. It was his favorite sound in the world. He wanted to hear it all the time. His heart twinged with affection each time he heard even the faintest of chuckles escape her lips.

“Mate makes me happy.” Logan murmured. He rubbed his face against her hair again to feel the softness of it.

He loved her presence, the feeling of her skin against his. More importantly, for his feral mind, he loved having her scent all over him and he loved rubbing his scent all over her. No one else would know besides him and that's what made it so much sweeter.

Maya let Logan mess up her hair, a light smile on her lips. She had never thought of herself as his ‘mate,’ but she was. They were made for each other, it appeared. They fit together like a lock and a key or a pen to paper. They were so similar yet so different. And they embraced those differences without fail. Each flaw seemed to only make them love the other more. Now that they found each other, they were never going to let go. Never could let go.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, earning her another chuff. “You make me happy too, mate.” Maya wrapped an arm around Logan's shoulder. She thought she might as well appeal to his current mental state.

Logan purred happily. He grew even happier when Maya rubbed her cheek against his. His lips parted. A smile that showed his teeth formed on his face.

Maya wanted to take a picture. But she didn't feel like ruining the moment. It was a rare sight to see Logan smile with teeth. She wasn't sure if it was because he intentionally tried not to show his sharp canines in fear of being seen as scary or what but… it was so beautiful when he smiled like that.

She brushed a hand into his hair. Logan let out a contented purr. She scratched at a specific spot in his hair that she knew made him go weak—she wanted to know if something else would happen now that he was giving in to his animal urges.

Almost immediately, his whole body relaxed and went limp. He closed his eyes and purred louder. His entire body rumbled with the noise. Maya was sure that if Logan had a tail then it would be wagging.

“You’re cute.” She smiled, scratching at the hairs on the nape of his neck.

Logan let out a low gruff noise in protest. He didn’t complain otherwise. How could he? Maya had him weak in the knees.

If he was standing, he would have probably collapsed onto the floor with how she was touching him. He liked it like that. The comfort he could feel from a simple touch Maya gave him was more than what he could put into words. He breathed in her scent, letting his body mold into hers.

“Love you, so much.” He hummed against her skin. It was muffled to the point Maya wasn’t sure what he said for a few seconds.

She rubbed her cheek against the side of his head. “Love you too.”

[xblackreader]

✨Cute lil something of Attuma x Okoye to feed y’all ❤️⚔️💙✨

[recreationalfanfics]

First Heartbreak

A Rensuke Kunigami x Fem! Native! Reader drabble, not really a full on detailed fic. Based off of this post and an angst of Kuni and the reader. Might make a yandere vers. follow up or something. Non Natives can interact, just be respectful of the culture!

Your jaw is tight as you string three more of the same colored beads into the fabric, the thread tightening and securing it into your piece. It feels too quiet for you and you hate it. You hate not hearing the sound of a soccer ball being kicked, the little grunts of him giving it his all and pushing himself to be better, you hate when you pierce your finger with your needle because you miss him kissing it better, but you just mostly hate the fact you miss him at all.

You don't realize you're crying until you feel a tear fall on your thumb and you sigh. You loved this park but you have to get up now, because memories of you and him still lingered there. Moving to Japan in middle school was hard for you, the way everyone stared at your hair. The way you heard them whisper about your jewlery and earrings. The way they made fun of your dialect when you spoke, mocking your accent because they hadn't heard it from any other tourist from other countries. You were alienated for a while until you met Kunigami.

He asked you about your jewelry first. You tried your best to explain to him about the significance it had to your culture, how you used it as a creative outlet and how you felt more in touch with your people with it. Then he asked another question and then another, not trying to be annoying but out of sheer curiosity and intruige. It was the beginning of your beautiful relationship and now you were beginning to experience your first heartbreak.

"Fuck does it even matter now?" You think, your anger consuming your sadness, "Bet he's gotten over it already."

He wasn't the same now. He wasn't the kind and loving Kunigami you knew before, the person who came back from Wildcard was a completely different person. You wished so hard that you could be numb to him, care about him a little less and focus on anything else but you couldn't. Being with Kunigami had been such a dream but it was time to wake up now. You wiped your tears away and tried to keep a straight face. One that had no tears and would get past your family without any prying or teasing, one that you could take off behind the safety of your door and hide under a blanket for a while.

Kunigami laid down on his side, the pillow on his head and the necklace you made for him in his hand. It reminded him of the historical beaded jewelry he'd seen in many displays, yet it was still so different. You had beaded a soccer ball emblem on it, which you apologized since you knew it was basic but he had disagreed. He had never seen anything like it before, no one had ever even made him anything like it before. It was meant for him but it was just so...so you. He still loved the texture, his thumb caressing the beads gently as he imagined what it must've been like for you to get them all arranged into the picture you wanted it. The exposed synthetic buckskin comforted him and broke his heart at the same time. The beading details you had done one the lace that went around his neck was orange, like his hair, combined with colors patterns from your tribe and clan. He put it under his pillow as he felt his eyes get tired...or maybe it was because the tears starting at the corners of his eyes began to bother him a little.

He remembers when things went downhill.

When he became colder to you, he hadn't meant too but you were just such a distraction. After his failure in the Blue Lock and being given a second chance, he couldn't afford another distraction, but he also didn't want to let you go. He didn't want to live with that regret...maybe that's why he acted like that, so you'd push him away instead and he wouldn't feel so bad. He was wrong. It only made him feel worse.

At least he still had a piece of you. Slipping his hand under his pillow, he closes his eyes and lets his thoughts go. He remembers your hand running through his hair and the way you sang to him, your voice moving and shifting in a melodic yet soothing way as you sang vocables. Sometimes you'd sing round songs from pow-wows your people had, other times you'd just sing what you wanted too until you messed up, laughing at yourself when your voice cracked awkwardly and him laughing with you. He'll miss those moments but they'll be back soon.

He promises.

When he becomes the World's Greatest Striker, the first thing he'll do is make it up to you. Try to make you see that he had to act the way he did to accomplish his dream and how he'd be better, not just reverting back to being your old Kunigami but someone better; someone not so niave and easily shaken. He'd be stronger and he'd be better.

And you'd take him back.

Right?

[pickledpascal]

Be My James Bond?

Pairing: Patch!Logan x Native American OC!Maya Imik

Warnings: sexual tension, violence, claws are OUT, smoking.

A/N: i love you patch logan and your .5 seconds of screen time in d&w. for context, maya is a mutant who can manipulate water/liquids.

Word Count: 1.8k

Hugh Jackman Masterlist

It was another one of those missions, the kind where Maya and Logan had to go undercover in some fancy casino that seemed way too good to be true. Which it was. These kinds of missions were somewhat trivial, at least in Maya’s eyes, but they always impacted mutant lives somehow. So of course she went on them.

Seeing Logan dressed up didn’t hurt either. And she knew Logan didn’t mind seeing her in a dress.

This time, she wore a strapless dress in a deep blue color that pooled onto the floor, a slit that went all the way to her mid-thigh. Her light sepia skin was on display for everyone to see. The scars never threw anyone off, they seemed to draw them in. She found it was a conversation starter which is what she needed on a mission like this. It also helped that she was usually the only Native in any room she walked into and people could tell.

She walked around the casino, keeping an eye on Logan as he played at a poker table. He wore a white blazer with a nicely fitting waistcoat and black bowtie. Classy. In all the right ways. And his eyepatch, which he wore no matter what seemed to tie the whole look together.

She went up to the bar to order a drink and get some information. This part of the casino was exclusive, meant for the high-rollers only.

Her presence had men flocking to the bar so she plastered a smile on her red-painted lips, sipping at a martini as she chatted with the men, pulling out bits and pieces of information from them as she lightly and expertly flirted with them.

Soon, Maya could feel a familiar presence make his way to the bar. She excused herself from the man she was talking with and moved further down the bar.

“Having any luck, River?” Logan asked, a hand around a crystal glass filled with whiskey. The color was similar to her left eye. He had also lit up a cigar which he had currently hanging from his lips.

Maya smirked, their shoulders brushing up against each other. She breathed in the smoke of his cigar as it swirled around them. “The best. How ‘bout you, Patch?”

Logan huffed under his breath, plucking the cigar from his lips between two fingers. “I’m working on that.” Maya was about to say something else when a man she previously talked to went up to her.

He was a little shorter, younger, and handsome man who was certainly way in over his head. “Hey, pretty girl.” He crooned as he stood between her and Logan. He slid a hand up her arm. “You wanna get out of here? This old guy must be bothering you.”

Mistake number one when talking to Maya in front of Logan: Never assume she is yours. She’s not. And Logan will make you not so nicely understand.

A light laugh escaped her lips while Logan seethed as he looked at the man. He was resisting the urge to slam his face into the bar top. It would be a shame to stain it with his blood.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” She tried to let him down gently, as a mercy. She hoped he would be smart and turn the other way. “I’m not the kind of girl who goes back to a hotel room with someone after a few drinks. I’m sure you understand.” She smiled politely.

The man huffed and turned around. “Bitch.” He mumbled under his breath.

Mistake number two: Never insult Maya.

Logan pulled the other man by his hair and slammed his head against the bar top, hard enough for his nose to break and bleed. His other hand extended his claws slowly. “Wanna try that again, bub? That’s my wife you’re talking to.” He ground out, eyes narrowed like he wanted to kill him.

All the activity around them seemed to stop, but no one made any move to try and help the man who was unfortunately at the mercy of an angry Wolverine.

The man tried to shake his head but it was hard to since he was held against the counter. Logan roughly let him go, pushing him away. “Get the fuck outta here.” His claws retracted back into his knuckles.

Maya couldn’t contain the sly smile on her face as she watched the young man fall into a heap on the floor before he got up and scrambled away.

“Was that really needed, Patch?” She asked, tilting her head as the smile on her lips widened.

Logan went back to smoking his cigar, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. “Wasn’t it, River?” His lips quirked up into a lop-sided smirk. “Can’t have someone thinking they can have you, can I?”

Maya was glad they got the information they needed so they didn’t have to stay in the casino any longer. With the way Logan’s eyes roamed over her body and how he broke someone’s face, it was best they got out of there.

She pushed their hotel room open, toeing off her heels so she sat at her normal height. With them on, she was taller than Logan rather than being almost exactly his height. Logan pushed the door closed behind him and locked it before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed soft kisses to her neck.

“Always so goddamn tempting when you dress like this.” He murmured against her skin. “Almost like you want to torture me.”

Maya turned in his arms and cupped his face, kissing him softly. It wasn’t her fault the revealing dresses made more men want to talk to her. And it wasn’t her fault she could be easy to talk to when she wanted to be.

Logan’s shoulders slumped as she kissed him. She relaxed him like no other person could, rendering him limp at times from just a simple touch.

She pushed Logan onto the couch and let out a soft breath as she looked down at him. And he looked up at her, pulling her close by her hand so she stood between his legs. He pressed the back of her hand to his lips, thumb rubbing against the wedding rings that sat on her fingers.

Her other hand lifted to push his eyepatch off his face, revealing the milky white eye underneath. He wasn’t completely blind in that eye but he was self-conscious about how it looked. Maya didn’t mind. She liked seeing his face in its full glory. Her thumb traced underneath his left eye, causing him to let out a breath of contentment.

The deformed eye was a result of getting shot, but it never quite healed right. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with his healing factor, it was fine with everything else. Just that one eye. However, he counted himself lucky that it didn’t look worse.

Logan huffed softly and leaned forward, burying his face in her solid but still plush stomach. He wrapped his arms around her hips as he nuzzled his face against her. He could feel her body rumble underneath him as she laughed. Her hands cradled the back of his head as he kept rubbing his face against her torso. A low purr escaped his chest.

He tugged her onto his lap, hands on her hips as he pushed his face into her neck to breathe in her scent properly. Now, it was mixed with a perfume which he had complained about many times before. It made it harder for him to pick up her smell.

Maya pressed a kiss to the side of his head, a light and easy smile on her face. One that she only had when she was with Logan and he was being affectionate like this.

“I love you.” Logan pulled away from her neck to look her in the eye when he said it. He was loyal to a fault for Maya. He’d kill for her, easily. If he could die, he would give up his life in an instant.

Maya’s eyes roamed over his face, her smile widening. “I love you too.” She pressed a kiss to his left eyebrow. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

They sat in silence for a while, drinking in each other's presence like they did most nights they were together. It was routine Logan wasn’t used to but he found that he loved it, even during missions like these.

He grabbed a cigar from his blazer and lit it. The light cast a harsh shadow over his face and illuminated him with a warm light, if only for a few seconds. Maybe less. Maya always thought he looked pretty when smoking a cigar and, sometimes, Logan would use that to his advantage.

He took a puff from the cigar and smirked as he blew the smoke in her face. She stared at him with an amused look in her eyes, largely unphased. She sat up a little straighter on his lap and raised an eyebrow with interest.

“Logan—” Maya breathed.

He cupped her chin with his free hand, thumb tracing her bottom lip. “C’mon, pretty girl,” He called her the one thing he knew would make her melt. “Open up.”

Maya’s eyes darkened, pupils blown wide that the color was only a thin ring. Her jaw clenched before she finally did comply, her lips parting.

Logan grinned as he took another drag from his cigar, sharp canines barely made an appearance between his lips. Maya noticed. He blew the smoke into her mouth like he had done it a hundred times before. He has. It never got old. She sucked in the smoke and blew it right back at him.

He pulled her chin close so he could kiss her, to taste the cigar on her lips. He would light up a cigar just to taste it on her lips a lot. He found it was more addicting than the tobacco they were made of.

“Can never get enough, can you?” A sly smile appeared on Maya’s lips as Logan pulled away, putting the cigar between his lips.

“Of you? Never.” He tilted his head, an eyebrow raised as he looked at her. His hands dropped to cradle her hips. “I married you, isn’t that proof?”

Her heart beat louder, harder in her chest when he mentioned they were married. She could never get used to it—his ring on her finger and her ring on his finger. How he stared at her with such love and adoration that she felt like her chest was an overflowing waterfall.

“If I recall, I proposed first.”

“True, but you beat me only by a week.”

“Mm, sure.”

Logan might have claws but he also had the ability to bend that waterfall to his will, subconsciously or not.

[recreationalfanfics]

Blue Lock Boys × Fem! Native! Reader: You Bead Something For Them

Disclaimer: ANOTHER POST FOR ALL MY FELLOW NATIVES, NON-NATIVES ARE ALLOWED TO INTERACT WITH THIS POST AS LONG AS YOU ARE RESPECTFUL OF OUR CULTURE. Again, all Indegenious/Native Tribes are different so I sadly won't be able to represent all of our people but I am gonna try and keep this as general as possible!

Cultural Context: My favorite part of our culture has always been beading and there are two types of beading: looming (where you use a loom essentially) and applique embroidery, where you just bead on designs with a sewing needle and thread! I will be talking about the embroidery one in this post since its one I've seen my tribe do a lot so I hope you all enjoy!♡

Reo Mikage:

- Your beading has always been so impressive to him. Not only is it the patience you have when you do it but also, the way your hand is so steady, and how creative you have to be with the beads in order to get the picture and design you want.

- HE WILL BUY YOU SUPPLIES, TOO. What fabric do you need to put your beads on? What specific brand of beads do you want? Do you want him to have people make you your own custom glass beads??? Just, like, stuff like that.

- He loves it when you walk around, a pair of shoes flashing an old design you did a while ago. Some beads had broken off and went missing a few times so some of the design was gone but he still liked how it looked on you!

- He also loves the texture of your beadwork, looking at a work in progress design you had laying around from a year ago and asking if it was if he could touch it, admiring the craftsmanship even tho you tell him that it still looks a bit sloppy, he loves it all the same and doesn't understand how you can see any flaws in it.

- You have made designs based off of him, too. Using beads colored purple that are his exact eye and hair color. Whether you made it into an earring or necklace for yourself, he doesn't really care, he just LOVES seeing you wear it honestly.

- So one day you decide that you want to bead something for him. Maybe his shoes? Obviously not his soccer ones but shoes that he wears on his days out or something. Maybe a bracelet that he can always wear whenever you aren't allowed in Blue Lock! Or perhaps just do something on his bag?

- Either way, whatever you decide to give him, HE LOVES IT. He is careful with it however, even if you assured him that you sewed the thread and beads together as best as you could to make the design more hardy but he's still very careful with it.

- HE TRIES TO PAY FOR IT AT FIRST. LIKE, HE KNOWS HOW MUCH TIME IT TAKES FOR YOU TO DO THESE THINGS AND HE'D FEEL SO BAD, but you assure him that you don't really want his money (especially after he already got you such expensive and high grade supplies) and that you just wanted to gift this to him because he means so much to you and that you really appreciate him respecting your culture and being so supportive of you that you just want to give him something in return.

- AND HE LOVES IT BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING ELSE LIKE IT. The design you did was personalized for HIM. The time and attention you spent on this was for HIM. MONEY WILL NEVER BUY HIM ANYTHING THIS SPECIAL. So he will cherish the ABSOLUTE HELL out of your gift.

- He's fiercely protective of it and when he misses you, he just lays and admires it and your handiwork.

Rensuke Kunigami (Pre-Shidou):

- Rensuke is so interested in it, honestly. Like, he'll ask you all the time what designs you're thinking of doing, how you arranged the beads to get them to look like that. Just a whole bunch of questions but he knows you won't get annoyed and will answer all of his questions.

- Doesn't mind sitting in silence as you bead and he's practicing kicking goals into the net. He likes the comfortable silence and sometimes, he'll just smile at you lovingly as you furrow your brows and carefully place different colored beads that join together to create a beautiful pattern.

- He does make sure to check for needles when he's over at your place because last time when he sat on a couch, he accidentally sat on a needle that you placed there so it wouldn't fall or go missing. It didn't hurt that much but, you know, it's a needle. At least you let him know where you place your needles.

- If you ever spill your beads, he will help you pick them up and idk why but its just really cute to imagine him crouching down and helping you pick them and just being REALLY attentive about it. Especially if it was his fault, like he knocked over your plate of beads with a soccer ball or something but POINT IS, HE IS THOROUGH.

- He likes seeing all the bags, shoes, if you have a blue lock id that came with a lanyard (for when you are permitted to visit) then yeah, you're totally beading that too.

- Gets defensive if someone says anything that puts you, your art, or your culture down. Like, you're doing some beadwork and one of the guys just asks why you do something so pointless and Kunigami immediately jumping to your defense.

- "Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it's pointless. You don't know how much work and time it takes them." and then he proceeds to just casually beat them in the next match he has with them.

- If you ever give him something you beaded as a gift, he will cherish it. I personally think he'd look cool with beaded necklace with a soccerball on it. You're embarrassed because you think it's really generic but he is absolutely stoked about it!

- Obviously he can't wear it in Blue Lock but anywhere else? He'll proudly wear it with you, making sure the bright patterns are visible for everyone to see and running his fingers against it and feeling the texture and smiling to himself about all the long hours you put into making this for him.

- He also knows sometimes you stay up late to make things though or finish up a few things on your beading but he will definetly urge you to go to bed and when you resist, he just carefully takes the needle from you and wraps an arm around you and you're about to protest but you let out a yawn and sigh and begrudgingly admit that he might be right.

Ryusei Shidou:

- Homie has BEEN asking for something from you ever since he learned that you do that. To be honest, he definetly thinks there are some parts of your culture that are cool as fuck but some of them are stereotypes that you might need to correct him about and he's willing to listen.

- But back to the beading thing, he saw how some of your things had various different tribal patterns or just some designs you thought looked cool and he asked where you keep getting that stuff and is fairly impressed when you tell him you made it yourself.

- "YOU SHOULD MAKE SOMETHING FOR ME. Like, a super badass design on my jersey!"/ "Ryu, that design would probably break. I could do a leash though, that'd be more useful."/ "I could work with that~"

- However when you start working on his gift, he soon realizes that the beading process takes A LOT your time. Aka, time that you could've spent with HIM. So he'll whine and ask you to pay attention to him and you have to be there like: "Shidou, YOU ASKED FOR THIS." and he's all: "I KNOW, BUT I'M DYING OVER HERE, BABY!"

- He has knocked over your plate of beads before, let's be honest. He doesn't mean to do it, he's just so easily excited and energetic and a huge fucking menace that its sadly the price the you pay for being in love with him. He'll help you pick them up but he's so fucking annoyed with them too because THEY'RE SO STUPID SMALL, HOW DO YOU DO ANYTHING WITH THEM!?

- Also if he ever hears you go: "Fuck!" and hiss in pain, he knows for a fact you probably poked yourself and he walks over to you and PUTS THE TIP OF YOUR FINGER WHERE YOU POKED YOURSELF IN HIS MOUTH.

- You pulled your hand away the first time and said: "RYU, WHAT THE HELL-" to his excuse was "What? Just kissing it better for you.~" So he just does that and you're going to have to accept that. Might teasingly bite your finger when you remind him you still have to work on his gift.

- When you finally finish with it, HE IS SO OBNOXIOUS IN SHOWING IT OFF. Like, he's talking about how great and talented his s/o is and how they're so cool and if anyone makes fun of it, he is gonna need to be locked up again. IF ANYONE TRIES TO TOUCH IT, HE WILL BE IN PRISON FOR LIFE.

- Tbh he might break it during like a fight or he just was too rough so you do have to make some repairs to it and while you're semi-annoyed, you think its really cute how he gets so upset about it until he starts talking about how he's gonna murder the guy he was scrapping with. If he has to wait because you don't have the right color beads, he will be moody with everyone (except you♡) and he'll be patient for when its ready.

- Ryusei loves seeing you wear the jewlery that you made tho, there's something so mesmerizing about you casually representing your culture that just makes him feel some kind of way. Idk why but he'd def like the dangly beaded earrings you wear, they're just super pretty on you. He can't explain it.

[fbfh]

For all my eddie and lovesick eddie simps with baby fever did you know that your baby does in fact look just like eddie and just like mommy?? Did you know he loses it and blushes and giggles when he looks at your daughter cause he sees you in her even though everyone says she looks just like him????? Well it's fuckin true!!!!

Here are some diverse face claims for eddie x reader's baby girl!!!!!!!

[pickledpascal]

might fuck around and write a hugh fic once im done with this wolverine fic....

something friends to lovers maybe

[rockislandadultreads]

November is... Native American Heritage Month!

Celebrate Nation American Heritage Month with us by checking out these fiction recommendations!

Indian Burial Ground by Nick Medina

All Noemi Broussard wanted was a fresh start. With a new boyfriend who actually treats her right and a plan to move from the reservation she grew up on - just like her beloved Uncle Louie before her - things are finally looking up for Noemi. Until the news of her boyfriend’s apparent suicide brings her world crumbling down. But the facts about Roddy’s death just don’t add up, and Noemi isn’t the only one who suspects that something menacing might be lurking within their tribal lands.

Blood Sisters by Vanessa Lillie

As an archeologist for the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Syd Walker spends her days in Rhode Island trying to protect the land's indigenous past, even as she’s escaping her own. While Syd is dedicated to her job, she’s haunted by a night of violence she barely escaped in her Oklahoma hometown fifteen years ago. Though she swore she’d never go back, the past soon comes calling. When her sister, Emma Lou, vanishes, Syd knows she must return home. 

The Berry Pickers by Amanda Peters

July 1962. A Mi’kmaq family from Nova Scotia arrives in Maine to pick blueberries for the summer. Weeks later, four-year-old Ruthie, the family’s youngest child, vanishes. She is last seen by her six-year-old brother, Joe, who will remain distraught by his sister’s disappearance for years to come. Meanwhile, in Maine a young girl named Norma grows up as the only child of an affluent family. Norma is often troubled by recurring dreams and visions and, when she realizes her parents are keeping something from her, she attempts to uncover her family's secret. 

The Truth According to Ember by Danica Nava

After getting rejected for the 37th time, Ember Lee takes her job search into her own hands. She gets “creative” and answers the ethnicity question on applications with a lie - no one wanted Native American Ember, but white Ember has just landed her dream job. Not only does she thrive in corporate life, she also hits things off with the IT guy and fellow Native who caught her eye on her first day. But when they’re caught in a compromising position, a colleague blackmails Ember and threatens to expose their relationship.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and disturbing imagery. If you do not like depictions of war and torture please proceed with caution. I did heavy research for this chapter, but please know it is entirely FICTIONAL. The characters are not real, but the events are based on real American history. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low

1890

I knew I was going to die. 

If the arrow in my side does not take me, then the man who rides the horse I lay across surely will. 

I felt no pain. Perhaps it was the fever of the fight. But it didn’t hurt. I thought of screaming and thrashing, but I thought better of it. As my father would say, ‘The one good thing about problems, is they’ll still be problems later. Don’t need to deal with them right away.’

Either way, I was still going to die. 

If only my father had taught me how to survive the frontier. I know now that you must learn to recognize those who won’t survive, and be wary of their doomed decisions. They are to be avoided at all costs. Because their fear is tragedy’s closest cousin. And tragedy is contagious in this place.

My mind was snuffed by a white blanket of fear, but somehow I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. But God had already abandoned me, perhaps he never loved me at all. My life had been an endless cycle of taking, why would it stop taking now. 

I had no idea where the man was taking me. I did not speak his language. I had heard stories about the wars between the Indians and Englishman. But I did not have a way to tell them I’m not a part of it, but I knew somehow if I could it would not matter. War will turn men into predators, and women into prey. 

Only days ago I felt like I was drowning under a waterfall, but now I see this is the real river of death.

The adrenaline had begun to leak out of my body along with the blood from the arrow. I watched in a blurred haze as the droplets disappeared into the ground as the horse took us swiftly through the dark forests. The pain began creeping in along with the darkness as I blacked out. 

When I woke I found myself laying on the dirt of a fort, the sound of Englishmen talking with the Indians brought me out of my haze. I thought I had been saved, I wanted to yell and scream for help. But the conversation did not sound pleasant, I could barely make out the figure of a man who must be a general and another who must have been the chief. To my surprise, I saw a young Indian woman standing behind the general, her wrists bound. She looked my age, but deathly beaten and ill. My throat closed in. 

The chief's voice rose in anger and I watched him point at me, then at the woman. After a moment the general waved his hands, and the girl was unbound and brought to the chief, he swiftly lifted and cradled her. I knew then it was his daughter. At the same time one of the general's men came walking in my direction and I realized I wasn’t being rescued, but traded. One woman for another, and eye for an eye. 

I thought death was better than being a prisoner, as my mind raced with panic. I almost begged the Indians to turn back and kill me. 

There must be a heaven, because that night I knew I had entered the gates of hell. Crawling on my hands and knees into the belly of the beast as he took me in his bed. Night after endless night. 

My days had turned into nights, and I no longer saw the point in living. Like my eyes had become devoid of color, and the world turned black and gray. Instead of praying to be rescued, I prayed my injury would kill me. 

There were other prisoners in the fort, mostly Lakota men. I bore no hatred for their people, but entirely my own. Their greed so suffocating they took the daughter of the chief, an innocent girl who had no part in their war. And turned her into a shell of herself. All in the name of greed. It was always greed. 

I thought my life couldn’t have any more surprises for me, that it must end here. But my life was about to change yet again. 

I noticed one of the other prisoners began watching me, then leaving behind extra food and water for me. After a few days, he approached me. 

“What is your name?” he asked, his accent thick. Like my language did not fit right in his mouth. Unlike his own.

“Kate,” I answered. Surprised to hear my own voice after days of torture, “what’s yours?” 

“Egwani,” he said, “or in your language little river. That wound in your belly is going to get infected.” River nodded at the small purple wound on my stomach . The general's men had cauterized it, but my body had been rising with a fever for the past two days. 

“It’s already infected.” And I hoped it would kill me quickly. 

River shook his head, “I can help you.” 

“Why would you help me?” Not that there was any hope for me anyways. Even if he stopped the infection, I was still stuck in this hell. 

“That woman the white man traded you for, she is my wife.” 

A chill ran down my spine. I did not want to think about what they did to her infront of him. 

“You gave your life to save hers. So I will save yours.” He said sincerely. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but still. If one woman came out of this alive, then I guess my death would have some meaning to it. 

“Even if you stop the infection, these men will kill me. There’s nothing you can do, I’m going to die here.” My voice betrays my thoughts. Desperation creeping its way into the cracks. Inside I wanted the pain to end, I wanted my suffering to cease. But I was still terrified, beneath it all I longed to return home. Pretend none of it happened. Return to my old life with my family. But that version of me no longer exists. 

River chuckled softly. 

“Is something funny?” The last thing I needed was to be shown kindness and then mocked. Like the general’s men had not degraded me enough. 

“You are stubborn like the Amicalola,” he smiled. Why was he smiling? Had he not suffered just as much as I had? He must have seen his wife beaten nearly within an inch of her life, and he could do nothing, yet he was smiling at me now. 

The pain in my body made my words come out bitter and sharp, “I don’t know what that means.”

“My people’s word for waterfall. You are strong like one too. It is a good name.” 

I scoffed, how incredibly wrong he was. 

“I’m not,” I stated with a groan. My head throbbed from the fever and my body was cold from the chills as the infection raged through my insides. 

“I can give you medicine. And when my people return in a few weeks, I will escape and take you with me.” He explained. 

“I think I’d rather you just kill me now,” I said, closing my eyes. The world around me was spinning in a dark haze, gravity pulling my body down with my thoughts. 

“You could have killed yourself days ago,” River began, “you could have taken a rope to your throat, or a knife to your heart. But you did not,” I opened my eyes again and looked at him, “that is how I know you are strong. Your will to live is burning through you right now with a fever.” 

My eyes filled with tears, and my throat suddenly felt thick. For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart began to fill with hope. River closed the gap between us and placed a gentle palm on my forehead, feeling the heat of my skin. 

“I have watched you turn towards the pain as it tears into you. I have seen the way you survive, these men think they have taken everything from you. But you have not let them devour your soul.”

“I could do nothing to stop them,” I croaked. Hot tears spilling down my cheeks like water through a dry creek bed. 

“Sometimes, there is strength in surrendering. But you have surrendered nothing to the pain. I see your tears, but you do not weep,” he brushed a thumb over my wet face, “you are a warrior.” 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

True to his word, River’s men showed up exactly two weeks later. But before that, he had given me a salve mixed from honey and sage and rubbed it over my arrow wound, as well as the numerous others I had accumulated in my time here. He also gave me an herbal tea for the infection, and by some miracle it was working. Each day I felt my strength returning to me. 

River took beatings for me, when I could not walk or do chores. Or simply when the men felt like taking their frustrations out on another human being. And I felt incredibly guilty for it. But he always assured me that I needed to save my strength for the real fight, when his people came. Yet nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold. 

They came under the cover of night, and used the forest and mountains to their advantage. They brought the fire, as the fort was made entirely out of wood and before long it became a fiery prison from hell. I knew our escape would not be easy, even with the help of Rivers' men. I had my strength back, but no knowledge of how to actually fight. I was lucky enough to escape with just a burn on my calf. 

It had been a bloody massacre, and the men fought savagely. The Lakota people came with arrows and tomahawks and spears, and I watched as they made the men of the fort suffer. It brought a sickening joy to my heart, to see the men who had raped me have their skulls crushed and insides ripped apart. It felt like justice. 

We lost people on our side, too many. None of the other prisoners had made it out alive. And I grieved for the other girls of the camp who did not make it like I had, it felt unfair. But we managed to escape. After hours of blazing rage, River swiftly lifted me onto the back of a horse, and together we rode far away from the fort. Only a few of his people escaped alongside us, as we left behind their final resting place. The numbing shock of war is behind me now, and hope has taken its place.

His men had informed us that his tribe had moved to the bottom of the Tennessee river, to escape the constant attacks and find refuge further west. So that is where our journey took us. As if life had still granted me the irony of continuing west, despite all the horrors I had faced to get there. 

It took us nearly three months. We traveled through the Appalachian trails and the journey was not easy. We lived rough, and we lived hard. I felt like a burden most days, as I knew I was slowing down their journey. I was still not entirely healed, and some days I felt I did not have the strength to travel at all. But River was patient, and never made me feel like it was my fault. 

He taught me how to hunt, how to fish, and how to set traps and skin animals. He even taught me some of his language, but most importantly he taught me how to survive. 

“When we kill an animal we must use all parts of it, to honor it. These creatures are innocent, and when we kill an innocent we become a little less of a man, and a little more of an animal.” He told me as he demonstrated how to properly skin a rabbit. 

Death is something we share with all creatures; rabbits, birds, horses and trees. It's everywhere, and eventually it will take everyone. Just as it had taken everyone who had loved me. Even as the stars die, we cannot run from it. 

Despite his people running from war, they could not escape death either. We arrived at River’s tribal camp, along the bank of the Tennessee river, and it had been reduced to ash. We were too late, or perhaps we were lucky, this could have been our fate too. River, and the men who came to rescue us, were the last of his people. I saw something dark enter him that day, as he held the charred bones of his wife and child. The woman whom I gave my life for, all for nought. As I stood there, living and breathing, and she did not. Their entire family history, wiped clean from the earth. 

His rage became the oil to my flame, I felt his anger mix with my own deep in my soul. All this death we had endured. Intertwined our fates like loops on a chain that bound us like shackles. But it was our grief that kept us on a tight leash. River sought revenge and justice, while I yearned to take from the world what it had taken from me. Together, we would instill fear into the heart of every man who crossed the land.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate McCanon died the day I met River. What stood before him now was the Amicalola, the waterfall. I became a woman unrecognizable. 

Like many rivers, their journeys start with quiet beginnings, but as they are nourished by the waters of experience, they gather strength, flowing swiftly and deeply towards their desired path. If you follow their course and witness where they converge — they become a creature of beauty as well as fury. I became the waterfall: untamed and unbridled, sweeping away all in my path with wild abandon.

River made me into a warrior, and with each life I took, the world felt my turmoil. Anger guided my blade, for the world had stolen my family—my husband, and my daughter. It robbed me of myself, leaving me with nothing to lose. 

“Our purpose is to ensure our enemies' fear is greater than their greed,” he told me. We hunted poachers, bandits, and thieves. But his rage was never satisfied. 

He taught me how to kill, how to torture. How to fight with weapons capable of horrific fatalities. And I welcomed it with open arms. We fought and killed together for several years before I would begin to lose myself to the bloodshed. 

We were hunting a group of poachers, when we came upon what we believed to be their camp. River was the first to drag a man from his tent, a knife already in his side. He would ask questions, and then kill him slowly. His fate sealed the moment we found their tracks. The man claimed to know nothing, but we were not convinced. And it wouldn't matter anyways, we would kill everyone in the camp. Just for the sake of it.

“What you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.” River spoke in his native tongue as he slit the man's throat. Sickeningly slow. He would choke to death in his own blood. 

A sound came from the man's tent and a figure emerged, I drew my bow, ready to release it as they stepped out. The moment a child appeared, I wished then that I had the strength to kill myself back at the fort. I had turned into a monster. 

My heart was in my stomach as a little girl cried for her father. What have I done? I had almost killed a child. And we just killed her father, I realized we had been at the wrong camp. And I had just doomed a mother to be a widow, and a childhood to be ruined. I might as well have handed my fate over to them.

River stood before me, his face shadowed and his eyes vacant. The man who once filled my heart with hope now dwelled in darkness himself. At that moment, I knew I had to leave. I could no longer fight alongside him; our path led to a place from which I could not return. Like Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, yet born under the light of Spring, I too would journey down the river Styx.

He did not resist my departure. River assured me I would always be welcomed among his people, and if I desired, he would take me as his wife. For years, River had been my strength, and I his, but now I was leaving him—to salvage what little I had left of myself. 

After calming the child, I made a solemn vow to reunite her with her mother. This marked the beginning of my journey to break the cycle, and seek redemption for what I had done. It would also mark the end of my journey as a warrior. As we parted ways,  he whispered a message into the wind. I could not tell if it was a goodbye, or a promise, or a warning. In his tongue he told me “follow the rivers, and they will take you to the waterfall.” 

~~~

AN: I seriously appreciate all the love you guys are showing for this story. It motivates me to write more, and I'm truly having so much fun with it. Thank you! <3

[luci4theminorannoyance]

Hi!! I'm bit shy but I was wondering if you could a valeria x fem!native American fluff if you can it's ok.

(I hope you have a nice day or night🤗)

a/n: Hii! Sure I write for all races so there’s no need to be shy :)

Valeria:

-always curious to learn things about you!! She adores doing anything and everything she can with you

-happy to do things with you always :)

-tried to study your culture a bit more once and got a bit confused but understood MOST of it luckily

[gaysindistress]

Blue Star & a Coyote in love 

Pairing: shifter!Bucky x Native American!reader 

Summary: Ever the trickster, the coyote shifter named Bucky has fallen hopelessly in love with a woman who will never share his affection. 

Warnings: I didn't mean for this to get dark but here we are. violence, death, bucky being Joe Goldberg in the worst way, blood.

Word count: 2.7k

A/n: ahh this is so different from anything else I've posted! I hope that everyone loves it and let me know if anyone wants more of Blue Str and Coyote Bucky.

It's important to note that this is a dark retelling/twist of Native myths about Coyote and that means the reader is Native as are most other characters aside from Bucky. He isn't Native in the MCU and I will not write him as if he were, however, he does take on Coyote the trickster's persona. Coyote is known to go to extreme lengths to get what he wants so to me, it makes sense for him to appear as a white man (aka Bucky) when he wishes.

permanent tag list: @vonalyn @hidden-treasures21 @cakesandtom

gaysindsitress masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest.

Night after night, day after day, dance after dance, the man others called Coyote yearned for me. When the deep red skies and yellow sun gave way to the brilliant blue night sky, he would wait for my sisters and I to emerge. In a clearing, he would lay on his back to admire the way we danced and laughed throughout the night. Never did he try to reach for us or call to us although I knew he wanted to. 

I could feel it in the heavy stare that stayed on my back each night. I could see it in the way his lips would part in amazement when I danced alone. I could see it in the way his pale blue eyes twinkled when I looked at him. 

My sisters would giggle amongst themselves as we danced across the sky. They’d say things like “once again the blue star outshines us all” or “the coyote has fallen for you, blue star” but it was all in good fun. I knew they did not envy the affection he showed me. He was the Coyote after all, the famed trickster that everyone knew of. He had brought fire, among other things, to earth but also brought the first lie. He had been the hero for some and the great villain to others. He was not a man…no… creature to be trusted so his apparent interest in me didn’t mean anything to me. 

All it did was bring me worry and concern when one night he was no longer laying on his back in the clearing. 

I freeze when I don’t see him and it causes one of my sisters to fall into me. 

“Blue star,” she starts, ready to rip into me for halting our dance but she too freezes when she sees what I saw, “he’s gone?”

I look at her over my shoulder, “he can’t be.”

“Can’t be? Have you grown fond of the trickster?”

“No,” I shake my head as strands of hair that escaped from my two braids blow into my face, “no he is there every night. If he is gone, I fear something must have happened.”

My sister, Yellow Star, rolls her eyes, “to him?”

“No,” I say again, growing frustrated that she is not hearing what I am saying, “I…I don’t know but it’s not good.”

Another sister, our eldest, motions for us to carry on and follow the rest towards the mountain we pass each night. We follow but I keep looking towards the empty clearing as we return to our dancing. A deep unease fills my body as the heavy fabric of my dancing robe bounces around me. The fringe at the bottom hits my legs as if to tell me to “keep moving, keep dancing, forget the Coyote” and I obey. 

My sisters are dressed in cream robes with various animals weaved onto their backs. Only I am dressed in a robe made of blues weaved to mimic the night sky however I don’t blend in. Instead I become a shining star for all those to follow when lost at night. My robes and dance give hope to those who cannot find their way. I provide comfort to strangers and family alike as we take our place in the sky. 

Soon I forget the dread that has filled my stomach and again I’m laughing with my sisters, twirling and stomping through the clouds. We reach the mountain before I realize and I smile widely at the sight, my sisters sharing a similar look. We descend towards the mountain peak when our youngest sister, Pink Star, lets out a scream of terror. The eldest few race to her, yanking her from the clutches of an unseen force. She cries as she holds her leg, blood spilling from the torn flesh. They surround her as we all land on the mountain and search for the thing responsible. 

The dread in my stomach has reached my throat, clasping down with a phantom hand. My feet move without my approval and I find myself walking away from the group, towards the creature that lurks beyond the trees. 

Yellow Star grabs my shoulder and gently pulls me back. She gives me a worried look as my eyes stay focused on the tree line. 

“I can feel it too,” she whispers to me, “he’s here.”

As if even uttering that calls him, the Coyote’s yellow eyes flash in the black space between the trees. His light footsteps turn heavy and those yellow eyes morph into the pale blue eyes I’ve memorized. He looks like a human aside from the elongated fingers where claws lurk and pointed ears that hide beneath his shaggy brown hair. Dressed in all black, he blends in with the darkness around him no matter how brightly we may shine. A shutter races through my body when we lock eyes and a smirk grows across his face. 

“What do you want?” My eldest sister, White Star, sneers at him as the others attempt to help the youngest. 

He doesn’t answer or even acknowledge her, his focus entirely on me. Yellow Star steps in front of me as two more of our sisters do the same. His eyes narrow at the action but he finally turns to look at White Star. She asks him again? “What do you want, trickster?”

He rolls his eyes at the name, “you’ll need to try harder if you want to insult me.”

Pink Star cries out again when someone ties a cloth around her leg and White Star snaps her full attention to him. She moves with grace as she stalks towards him, hands balled tightly into fists as she comes face to face with him. 

Well face to chest as he stands nearly three heads taller than her. 

He merely glances down his nose at her, “what do I want?”

Bending down so he can truly be face to face with her, he says to her, “I want your sister.”

“My sister?”

His piercing eyes flicker over her shoulder to where I’m surrounded, “That is what I said.”

“No.”

He looks back to her, a brief moment of surprise flickering across his face, “No? I wasn’t asking for your permission, I was telling you. She belongs to me and I want her.”

“No. She is not yours. You cannot have her.”

He brings one hand up to grab her face, the claws finally making their appearance, “I was being kind with the youngling. I won’t offer the same treatment for you or the others if you don’t give me what I want.”

White Star‘s anger seems to morph in a calm and collected facade as she leans into him, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. The answer is no, now and for eternity. No you cannot take her.”

I can feel the growl rumbling through his chest before I hear it and I let out my own scream as his hand drops to her throat. We all gasp and cry out as her body falls to the cold ground and he stands with her windpipe in his hand. He makes a show of dropping it and wiping the blood off on the fabric of his pants. The black fabric greedily drinks in the blood and there is not even a wet spot where it once was. 

The Coyote looks between her body and us, “unless you want to join your sister in the spirit world, I suggest you give me what I want.”

No one speaks and he rolls his eyes again as the claws from the other hand come out. 

“Give me Blue Star and I’ll even let you take the body,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. 

Yellow Star is the one brave enough to speak, “You’ve killed one of us and almost killed another but yet you expect us to obey you? Even you should know better than that, Coyote.”

He sizes her up, taking in her tall and broad form. She had always been the strongest one of us all but always the most kind hearted. His eyes flicker to where the smaller White Star lies and then to where the young Pink Star is safely tucked behind more of our sisters. Her cries have stopped but dry tears stick to her brown face and her eyes pink to like her name, are trained on him. 

“I don’t feel like playing games or solving riddles today,” he warns while stepping over White Star and towards us, “I also don’t want to repeat myself anymore.”

The two sisters who are standing at my side gently tug me back as Yellow Star walks to meet him. A few of the older ones join her but the rest come to surround Pink Star and I. My own tears have stopped falling and now rage fills my body as I look wildly between the inevitable bloodshed in front of us and the women around me. 

“Green Star,” I beg the woman to my right, “we can’t let them fight. It’s me that he wants, let me handle this.”

Her green eyes are full of sadness and despair as she searches my face. 

“No,” she finally says before wrapping her hand around my bicep. I try to yank it away but another sister, Purple Star, grabs the other. She gives me a pointed look causing the two lines that stretch downwards under both eyes to go taunt. 

“Don’t,” She tells me and drags me back. 

His voice pulls out attention back to him, “Come to me, my blue star.”

Both of us go still. 

He’s calling me. 

My sisters’ eyes burn into either side of my face as my mind races and I desperately try to come up with something, anything to say. 

“You have ten seconds before I rip all of their throats out,” he calls again and it grows more clear that we may not have another choice. 

Yellow Star puts a large hand to stop him, “Do not come any closer.”

“Stop me then,” he snarls at her while stalking closer like a predator readying to attack its prey and when she makes no such move, he pushes, “I will take what is mine and you cannot stop me.”

I can see the claws itching to find a home in her neck and the violent image of all my sisters ending up like White Star makes me ill. It seems as though the two holding me are also lost in their head and I manage to pull myself out of their grasp. Stumbling past them and the wall of others before me, I break through and nearly fall. Everyone’s eyes are now on me, waiting for my next move but I have nothing. I’ve come up with nothing but simply handing myself over to save them. 

A wildly stupid plan and the senselessness of it is only amplified by the grin that’s spread across the Coyote’s face. Yellow Star looks at me in quiet horror. 

A mistake she instantly pays for. 

One clawed hand slashes across her chest and neck and she staggers backwards, her eyes wide with fear and surprise. A choked sob breaks from my mouth and I launch myself to catch her as she falls to the ground. Cradling her against my chest, I mummer every kind and comforting word that I can think of. I refuse to look at the damage on her chest, too afraid to acknowledge that it might be fatal. From anyone or anything else, she would survive but those claws are sharper and stronger. They find their target no matter how quickly their victim is and unfortunately for my sister, she was too distracted by me to guess his next move. 

“My blue star,” he says with all the affection and tenderness in the world, “come here.” 

The sickly sweet drawl in his voice entices me to follow his orders but his actions have me rooted in my place with my dying sister on my lap. 

His blue eyes are replaced with the yellow of his animal form while another snarl rips through his chest and as my sister’s last breath leaves hers. Hot tears flood my eyes as I stare at her still chest but I tear them away to look at him. Waves of anger and frustration roll off of him as we make eye contact again. His soften for a moment when I finally look at him but mine harden all the more at the monster before me. He goes to take another step towards me, now only a few feet from me but I stop him. 

“You’ll kill them all if I refuse?”

“Yes,” he doesn't hesitate with his answer. 

“And if I go, will you let them go free?”

“Yes.” 

I look down to my sister. The bright yellow of her eyes has faded as she stares up at the night sky where we had danced only moments ago. I look to White Star and I swear that I see a tear fall from her snow white eyes. Behind me, I can feel the pain and sadness that fills my sisters as they watch us. I can feel the sheer heart break that no doubt washes over their faces as I gently lift Yellow Star from my lap and place her on the ground. Placing a chaste kiss to her forehead, I ask the spirits to welcome my sisters with open arms and full hearts. No one speaks or moves as I get to my feet and face the Coyote in his trickster glory. 

He extends a hand out for me to take, those terrible claws no longer in sight. The pale blue eyes have returned and for a moment, I forget that I’m not looking at any normal man.  For a moment, I forget the carnage he leaves in his wake or the blood that stains every inch of his sun kissed skin. I forget that this man has murdered my sisters and would have murdered them all if given the chance. 

For a moment, I feel safe as I take his hand in mind but the small cries of Pink Star behind me bring me back to reality. Sensing that I’ll back away and run towards safety, he nearly crushes my hand and drags me towards him. Whatever safety I might have felt is only a figment of my imagination, a cruel trick he used to convince me to come to him. 

The hand that held mine has moved to wrap around my waist so that I can’t move from his chest. The other grips my chin and his thumb trails over the three vertical lines there. The action sends a shiver through my body but I force myself to keep still and keep my eyes trained on his face. 

He dips his head down and his lips brush over my cheek as he whispers into my ear, “Finally my blue star. I’ve waited for you for far too long and now you’re mine.”

Whatever words I might have had are lost and he smirks at my silence. Drawing away, he orders my sisters to leave and tells them that they may take the bodies. His bruising hold doesn’t let up as I hear them scramble to grab our fallen sisters and dash towards the skies. Only when they are gone and we are alone does he let me have a few inches of space but only to grip my chin again. 

“What is your name?” he asks as he nuzzles against my hair, taking deep breaths as if I calm the storm inside of him. 

My hesitation frustrates him and the hand on my chin falls to my throat. He pulls back enough to be nose to nose with me. 

“Tell me your name.”

“Y/N,” I gasp as the hand grows tighter and the claws dip into the soft skin. 

“Y/N,” he repeats and grins. He says it again while his eyes flutter close and he nuzzles against me again. 

“Y/N, my blue star.”

My own eyes flutter close as his unspoken threat seeps into my heart. If it is freedom that I crave, it will be his heart that I need to carve out.

[orbitinytheworld]

Just reaching out to the following kinds of beta readers:

Has lots of knowledge about black history and/or native american history

Has lots of knowledge in american history (the one that's not sugarcoated in U.S. schools)

Has lots of knowledge on Inuit culture

Has a good understanding of Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway's and Aveline De Grandpré's character

Feel free to drop some good resources about the first 3 if you aren't willing to beta read but have some contributions. I'm planning to write an alternative history fic with an inuit oc involved and I don't wanna glamourize or sugarcoat certain topics.

[morgandr]

Imagine:

While traveling through West America you meet a man named Adam. While you were there y’all became friends and maybe a little more.

——————————————————————————-

(PHOTOS FOUND ON PINTEREST!)

(Adam Joaquin Gonzalez X Reader)

——————————————————————————-

(TAGS)