Tamaar Kir Bataar X Original Female Character - Tumblr Posts

make every moment count

​​Tamar x f!Reader

A/N: Full nsfw version is here :)

Word count: ~2.8k

Summary: Tamar tries to defend your honor on a night away from the Volkvolny. 

Warnings: Attempted SA, slightly NSFW, slight violence, power dynamics.

She’s standing up at the bar, it’s crowded, several ships have pulled in within the last few days and it always makes for a busy night. She is well aware of Tamar’s eyes on her back, watching her every move. It’s protective in a cute way, she knows y/n can handle her own, but still likes to keep an eye out, ‘just in case’. She’s waiting patiently for her turn, she’s already had a few drinks and doesn’t mind waiting a few extra minutes. A shoulder roughly pushes her to the side, shoving her further away from the barkeep. 

“Hey!” she protests, turning to look at the person. The man in question is obviously Fjerdan, would be considered mildly attractive - if she was into men. But, he reeks of beer and fish that’s been left out a few days too long, his teeth are slightly yellowed as he smiles. 

“Girls don’t need drinks.” His words come out in broken kerch, a Fjerdan accent. She rolls her eyes and ignores his comment, shoving him back out of her way with surprising strength, and takes her previous position. His frustrated grunt sounds behind her, and she ignores it. She’s dealt with his type before, Fjerdan deckhands on their first few trips who haven’t learned their place yet. Most of them have never seen a woman carry a weapon, let alone try and order their drinks in a bar. Saints forbid she carry a weapon and order her own drinks. Her knowledge of Fjerda is unfortunately skewed and limited to what she’s seen from Fjerdan sailors. Maybe one day she’ll visit, if they ever stop burning and executing people like her.

She freezes when she feels his hand harshly make contact with her ass. It’s obviously intentional and she’s filled with fury. It’s one thing to shove her out of the way for drinks, but another completely to try and grope her. It won’t end well for him, especially with Tamar watching her like a hawk. Maybe her senses are slowed by the alcohol but a few seconds pass before she turns around, arm pulled back - ready to break his nose, but he’s already being dragged out. Tamar had gotten there first. The entire room has gone silent, all eyes watching the Shu girl drag a tall, well built, sailor outside like he’s a doll. 

“Saints” y/n curses under her breath before following them outside. It’s approaching winter in Ketterdam, and the air is growing crisp again. Not enough to need a jacket, but not enough to be comfortable in short sleeves. Not for the first time, she wishes for the mild falls and winters of Novyi Zem, her favorite place to dock. Weddle is beautiful - clear seas, bright skies, full of colors and the smells of different spices. Ketterdam smells like fish and waste - to her at least, some people love it here, but she’d rather be almost anywhere else. 

A small crowd gathers as Tamar pushes the man out the door, into the open space in front of the pub. Y/n smiles as she watches her punch him in the face, something flushes inside her, something she needs to ignore right now, it’s not the time and definitely not the place. Her smile drops as he calls her foul names. Her eyes narrow and she stalks up behind him, bending to grab a small stone off the floor. 

“Hey idiot.” She launches the stone at the back of his head, and it meets his target. His face turns back to her, he looks oafish, and she can see the purple bruise already forming on his cheek. He’s caught off-guard enough that he misses the kick she lands right to his groin. He’s not as phased as she would’ve hoped but she dodges his weak attempt to fight back. A large figure steps in front of her, and shoves him back - he tumbles several feet away into the dirt. It’s Tolya. Y/n tries to dodge past him after the man, but Tolya throws her over his shoulder. She grumbles, pounding weakly into his back. 

“I had him.” 

“I know. We’re getting out of here before the two of you get us in any more trouble.” 

Y/n just huffs, but doesn’t argue with him. She notices Tamar following them a few paces behind, another crewmate by her side, evidently trying to keep her from turning around. She stills hears Tamar still cursing obscenities at him over her shoulder. Now that y/n’s being dragged away, she knows Tamar won’t stick around any longer. The man’s crewmates are holding him back, keeping him from trying to retaliate further - a smart move. 

A few streets down, Tolya finally lets y/n down. Tamar’s caught up, and was walking right beside them - but didn’t do anything to get Tolya to let y/n down. 

“Traitor” she mutters once her feet are back on solid ground. Tamar just winks and wraps an arm around her shoulder. 

“We can’t take you two anywhere.” Tolya grunts. His voice sounds disappointed, but she can see the amusement in his eyes. 

“What do you mean?” Y/n says. “We’re a great source of entertainment.” 

“More like trouble. Can’t go more than three visits without one of you starting something.”

Her eyes narrow. “He started it.” 

“You’re right.” He sighs.  

They all laugh, and split up for the night. Tolya and the other crewmate head back to the ship, but they’d opted to stay at an inn, taking a break from the Volkvolny for a night. Getting some time and space alone may have been a big motivating factor. As far as the crew officially knows, they are just platonic friends, but y/n knows they aren’t fooling anyone - but they have so far refused to officially tell anyone. In the name of professionalism - as much as you can get in a pack of rogues and mercenaries, they keep it to themselves. Tolya knows, of course, Tamar can’t keep anything from him.

Y/n links her arm through Tamar’s, drawing her as close as she can while walking. “You know it’s incredibly attractive when you try to protect my honor.” 

“Try?” She said, turning to face her. “I’m pretty sure I did, there wasn’t any try there.” 

“I’m certain that was me.” There’s a small smile on her face, the mischievous kind. She knows what kind of argument she’s starting. 

“Who’s the one who threw the first punch?” 

“Who’s the one who threw the last?” 

“Technically that was Tolya.” They reached their destination for the night, an inn well known to them, and luckily there’s a room available. Y/n hands over some Kruge in exchange for a key - attached to a chicken bone, and thanks the innkeeper before letting Tamar take her hand again, following her upstairs.  

“Still, I won.” Y/n continues their argument from before. 

“This is a competition now?” Her tone is light, and there’s amusement in her eyes. 

“Isn’t everything?” 

“That’s one way to look at things.” Tamar keeps a firm grip on her hand, tugging her with more urgency up the stairs towards their room. She counts the numbers on the doors. 

“You’re absolutely ridiculous” she says to her back, barely keeping up. 

“You love it.” she says without turning around. 

“It’s possible.” 

“Probable.” This time she does turn around, and her grin is infectious. Y/n can’t help but smile back. 

She groans anyway, “please don’t start talking like him.” They’ve reached their door now and y/n steps in front to unlock the door, her fingers fumbling slightly with the key - maybe from nerves, maybe from mead. Tamar wraps her arms around her and plucks the key out of her hands, unlocking the door with a wink that makes her roll her eyes. She gives her a gentle shove inside and follows her, closing the door behind them.  

As soon as the door is locked, her back is pressed up against it. Not too roughly, but not gentle either. Tamar’s body follows, notching perfectly into hers. She loves the feeling of the soft leathers pressed up against her chest, the hilt of the knife strapped to Tamar digging into her stomach. 

Tamar’s forearms are braced on either side of her head, and her forehead presses against y/n’s. “I love seeing you punch someone.” she says, her voice low and breathy. 

“That’s probably a bad thing.” y/n replies, but can’t help the pink flush that slowly fills her cheeks at the praise. The corners of Tamar’s lips turn up, and y/n’s eyes narrow, knowing she can sense her blood flow. It’s an unfair advantage, she knows exactly what each word and action does to her, and no matter how much she denies it, Tamar can tell if she’s lying or not. 

“Depends who you’re punching.” 

“Maybe i’ll make it a habit.” 

“Slow down.” She laughs, “as much as I like it you probably shouldn’t go around punching people because of that.” 

“You probably shouldn’t try to tell me what to do.” Y/n’s eyebrows raise slightly. Her hands pushing at Tamar’s shoulders so she can take in her whole expression. She creates enough space between them that she can cross her arms and tilt her head slightly. It’s a challenge, and Tamar takes it. 

Quicker than she can blink, her hands grasp y/n’s wrists, and pin them above her head with one hand. The other comes to press two fingers up under her chin, tilting her chin up so she can meet her eyes. The expression in the other girl’s gaze sends goosebumps down y/n’s spine, and her blood rushing straight down. 

“I remember quite clearly you like being told what to do.” Her breath catches, she searches for words, something to respond with, another sarcastic remark, but she can’t find any. The winning smirk on Tamar’s face makes her eyes narrow. She’s not backing down, not yet at least. Tamar’s grip on her wrists is light, and she yanks her arms down, flipping their positions so she’s pressed against the door instead. 

A slight look of shock passes across Tamar’s face, and y/n takes the chance to slide one hand up her body to rest on her throat. A smile crosses Tamar’s face, and it infuriates her. Her hand follows hers, covering the hand on her throat and pressing firmer. “You have to actually mean it.” Somehow she’s the one pinned to the wall, but still in control of the whole situation. 

Y/n’s jaw drops. Tamar moves her hand off her throat, and leans down to grip underneath both of her thighs. Moving on instinct and muscle memory rather than conscious thought, y/n jumps, wrapping her legs around her waist, and her arms around her neck. 

Tamar’s lips graze across her ear, “good girl” and her entire face flushes, she’s certain her skin is completely red now. She walks them over to the bed, her eyes focused on hers, and gently throws her down.

Y/n’s brows furrow when Tamar doesn’t follow her on the bed, she reaches up to tug her down. 

Tamar sighs, eyes looking down to gaze at her. “Weapons.” 

“What?” 

“We need to take our weapons off.” 

Y/n laughs, and takes the hand Tamar offers. She follows her over to the dresser, and between the two of them they leave a small armory behind, kicking their shoes and throwing their holsters off at the same time. She doesn’t waste any time getting her launched back onto the bed, practically throwing her from halfway across the room. Y/n bounces on the bed with a laugh, hands grasping at the sheets to keep herself from falling off. 

Seconds later, Tamar hovers over y/n, arms propped to brace either side of her head. She attempts to arch her body up to meet hers, but a hand on her throat pinned her down, she lets out a small, involuntary, moan. It’s embarrassing how quickly she can make her wet, they haven’t even kissed yet, their lips haven’t met and yet she’s soaked completely. Y/n is tired of it. She reaches her hands up to cup the back of Tamar’s head to pull her down. To her surprise, Tamar lets her and they stop just a hair’s breadth away from each other. The golden tilted eyes dig into hers, and she pauses for a few moments. Her eyes are golden, with flicks of light brown. Y/n keeps eye contact, trying to memorize every bit of them she can. She watches as her eyes shift down towards her lips, and knows the pause is coming into an end. The kiss is dominating, possessive, and makes her toes curl. Every second is savored, every move of their lips, every touch, every feeling and sensation. They get so little time together - so little intimate time, that any second feels too precious to waste.

Later

Her fingers run through her hair, letting her rest on her chest with one arm splayed over her stomach. Her eyes are closed peacefully, and y/n listens to her heart beat, enjoying the steady rhythm. Minutes or hours could’ve passed before she felt Tamar move. She grumbles but the other girl lifts her head, resting it on a pillow. She peeks her eyes open, and Tamar grabs some nightclothes, throwing a pair at her. Reluctantly she sits up, pulling the clothes on. Unfortunately, anyone can barge in at any time - they’re technically always on duty. It’s only happened once and thank the saints it was Tolya. That was the first and probably will be the last time she’s heard him let out a childish scream. They probably traumatized him. And they’ve remembered to lock the door every time since. 

“Put some clothes on.” He yelled. “We’ve got to go,” and slammed the door behind him. 

Hopefully this night would pass without any interruptions. Unfortunately, it never seems to work like that. Less than an hour later, someone’s banging on the door. 

“Stay here.” Tamar mutters, darting over to grab a pistol before unlocking the door. She hears a sigh and mumbled conversation in Shu. Y/n’s Shu still isn’t great, but she catches the words “lead,” and “leaving right away.” in Tolya’s voice. 

“For fucks sake.” She curses from the bed, dragging herself up to start changing back into her clothes. Tamar catches her moving out of the corner of her eye, and winks. After gathering her clothes, she moves to the other side of the room where Tolya can’t see her strip naked. No need to re-traumatize him. Tamar closes the door and leans back against it. She looks over at Y/N who's naked, pulling her underthings back on. She carefully rakes every inch of her body. 

“Don’t you need to get dressed?” 

Tamar groans but pushes herself off the door, heading over to get her clothes on. 

“What’s going on?” Y/n asks. 

“Sturmhond has a lead on the summoner.” Her voice is low enough no one outside the room will be able to hear them. Y/n glances at the window, checking for any signs of someone outside it. Their room is on the third floor, but paranoia has been built into her over the last few years. 

“Really?”

“Yep.” 

“And he needs to leave immediately?” “We’re half a day behind.” 

They’re both fully dressed by now, and strapping their weapons back on. Her legs are still shaky and she stumbles trying to put a knife back in her boot. Tamar catches her, hands gripping her shoulder, and laughs.  “Careful.” 

“It’s your fault.” She grumbles.  Tamar raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”  “I wasn’t” she can’t help but smile, her cheeks flush and she turns her attention back to her pistol, carefully strapping it on her thigh. Tamar reaches behind her and wraps an arm around her lower back, pulling her in so she’s flush against her chest. Y/n’s breath catches, and she looks up at her with wide eyes. She leaves a soft, gentle kiss on her lips before releasing her. 

“I like your blush.” 

“Shut up.” Tamar laughs, and does an extra check around the room, making sure they’ve grabbed all of their belongings. She tugs y/n out the door and back down the stairs. Y/n throws the key on the desk,

“Sorry,” she mutters, before following Tamar out. Tolya’s waiting for them in the street. They don’t speak about their destination anymore, knowing anyone can have ears around the city. They’re still on high alert even though the streets are nearly abandoned at this hour - 4 bells. 

Tolya rushes them to the ship, grunting something about them being slow, before stopping them, just shy of the entrance to the docks. He points at y/n’s neck, “Tamar, please fix that.”

Y/n turns to glare at Tamar, who laughs, but does look a bit chastised. She quickly heals the bruises, and soon they’re back on board. Sturmhond gives them a knowing look before they take off, y/n taking the first shift on the sails as soon as they leave the harbor.