#i've been seeing it on here for some reason?

[uranometrias]

isn't that sweet, i guess so, aaron hotchner

summary: in which you reunite with your big sister's best friend, aaron hotchner for the first time since you graduated high school, and headed off to university. the last time you'd seen him you'd been a seventeen year old with a massive crush, now you were a special agent with doctorates and degrees. when the BAU is paired up with your unit during a case, you find that unit chief aaron is completely different from the aaron you'd looked up to growing up, but for good reason. one thing that never seemed to change though, is how he seems to know you better than anyone else, which is unlucky for you considering he's married with a baby on the way. pairing: aaron hotchner! x cia! female reader category: fluff x crack content warnings: none really? made up case details. mentions of bombings, murder, death, terrorism. there's an age gap of about 7 years between r! + hotch and this takes place in s1... idk it's just a bit of word vomit surrounding hotch finding a woman that's not haley attractive. no cheating though, cause it's literally fleeting, but reader is a bit smitten. author's note. i've got hotchner brain rot, and find myself with thousands of ideas that i never can bring myself to write. the girls that love him can be a bit... scary lol. they do not play about him, but whatever... he's on my mind so here we are.

it''s been so many months omg. i went to basic training and officially became an army girl! now i'm in italy now learning how to be a paralegal (which makes me even more equipped to write badass women with legal knowledge yum!) anyways... i'm sort of back, my schedule is packed, but i'm gonna get back into writing because i've missed it so terribly. xx

He hears you before he sees you. Your voice, despite the years that resided in between the last time he'd heard it hadn't changed much. It had gotten a bit deeper, a sign that you were no longer the bubbly teen he'd last seen you as, you were older, an adult now. Still, there's an undeniable giddiness that rested beneath your words that took him back to days when you were being chased off by your big sister for hanging around too much and "being way too obvious"

Obvious about what? Aaron had never quite figured it out, but he knows it's you nonetheless. You're standing in the middle of the Langley Headquarters, the Central Intelligence Agency office. The last Aaron had heard about you, you'd been on assignment in Qatar, but that was nearly eight months ago. Jobs that required FBI Agents and CIA Case Officers to overlap were usually gruesome, and despite how polite your tone was, he could still place a level of sternness.

"If we're dealing with some sort of cluster, the last thing we want to do is proceed haphazardly." you're speaking to a group of about ten counter-terrorism operatives, voice low so as not to disturb the other pods of agents working. "That said, over the last month there's been a bombing a week in the areas surrounding the capital." you're muttering just as the team is finally breaching the threshold of your particular pod. The building was bustling, flooded with bodies working on what Aaron was certain were different cases.

One of the agents, a man about your age seems to notice the new group, and clears his throat. You turn, eyebrow raising as you take him in. "I'm sorry?" you question as if the noise was some offensive remark made. The agent, whoever he is, seems to freeze up, eyes wide as he points forward in the general direction of the team. Aaron hears Elle's quiet little snort, and wonders how the two of you will manage to work alongside one another. Elle was - or better put, she could be quite volatile. And it seemed the way you'd spoken to your subordinate had already managed to put a sour taste in her mouth.

"I hope we're not interrupting." and you're finally turning, eyes fluttering directly to Gideon. You don't acknowledge anyone else on the team, only Gideon, head tipping to the side just slightly. Your lips push together, eyes then moving to the clock that rested on the desk nearest you.

"Not interrupting, but you're late, and we can't afford to wait around for the F.B.I. to finally give a damn." and your tone isn't snippy at all, but it's clear that you're passionate about your job, and this case. It makes sense that you're in the position that you're in. You turn back to your team, hands clasping together, "Everyone, these are the Bureau agents we were promised." you motion to them loosely. "You'll all be expected to work with them, not against them." you're back to pretending the profilers aren't there, he's not offended.

He can tell though that the others aren't sure how to take you. "This isn't the time for a balls match, and I don't care how long you've worked where." your eyes shoot across the entire group, resting sternly on the same man who's cleared his throat earlier. "They're here because they've mastered the art of getting into the mind of sons of bitches like these. In layman's terms we need them, and I expect you to give them the respect they deserve," it's then that you finally look back at them, eyes sweeping over the group.

Aaron sees it when surprise crosses your features, it happens when you finally lock eyes with him, but you hide it in an instant. "W-We can expect the exact same of them." everyone notices the sudden waver in your tone, but your face is so set they've got no time to unpack it. "I don't want to hear about any of you getting beside yourselves because you're too egotistical to accept a different opinion. Our goal is the same, so for now these are your comrades, and you'll treat them like you'd treat any cadet coming out of Peary."

You sound so official, and Aaron thinks that's partly due to the fact that you were one of the youngest in the room, which came with a certain level of scrutiny, which in turn meant you had no room to show any ounce of uncertainty. You couldn't give them any reason to believe they could undermine the authority you'd been granted. "We clear?" you ask, and you've regained some of that regality to your voice, and Aaron finds that leadership suits your character.

It's not until your team has offered their affirmatives and you've issued a handful of tasks that you finally turn back to the team. Your eyes sweep over the entirety of the line, deliberately passing over Aaron, and he wonders if that's deliberate. "Welcome to Langley." you start your introduction, "My supervisor said you guys would be here an hour ago." you admit, and you don't sound inherently snippy, but it's clear their perceived lack of punctuality was a bother.

"Our apologies, we came as soon as we were cleared." Jason is saying, and Aaron is certain all minds are running directly to Erin Strauss. She'd always had an affinity of making things way more difficult than they'd ever needed to be.

"That's alright, I'm just glad we've finally got your brains in the building." and you extend a hand, a polite (but still closed-off) smile residing on your face. "Jason Gideon, right?" you question, and he's accepting the gesture gingerly. "I'm Case Officer L/N, I'll be your point person while my supervisor is away." and you're looking at the clock again. "They should be landing within the hour, I'm sure he'll be looking forward to meeting you all." you proceed.

"This is Doctor Reid." and Gideon is addressing Spencer, who offers a small wave that you reciprocate. "This is our technical Analyst Garcia.." and he motions to her, the blonde beaming vibrantly at you. She's a walking ray of sunshine, a brightness that's needed in the profession. You offer your own sort of bright greeting, "And these are SSA's Greenaway, Morgan, Jareau..." and before Jason can move to introduce Aaron, you're offering the first real smile of the day.

"Hotchner." you complete Jason's greeting, smile deepening just slightly. "I'm actually quite familiar, we go way back." and Aaron feels every set of eyes to his left and right snapping right to him. He sees Derek's smug little smirk and JJ's perturbed eyebrow raise. He's not in the mood for questions though. "Follow me, we tore apart an office to make space for you guys." and you're walking, and the team is at a loss. Most of them seem to have no clue how to respond, but Derek does, he always does.

"We go way back?" he mimics cheekily and Aaron's eyes can't help but to roll. Elle and Jennifer are releasing similar snorts, clearly amused at the entire situation. Aaron doesn't know why they're so hellbent on trying to see something that wasn't there. It wasn't like you were some mysterious woman from his past. You were the kid sister of his childhood friend, basically a neighbor. Still, he couldn't deny that the feeling that stirred up alongside the familiarity was not lost on him.

"Let's just focus on the case." Gideon is muttering, and Aaron doesn't think he's ever appreciated the old man more.

It's barely a few moments before Aaron's being pulled from his head. The space that had been allotted to the team was nice enough, it would do for the time being. You watch them appraise the space, hands clasped in front of you like you were waiting for their reactions. "Thank you, it's perfect!" he breaches the first conversation between the both of you, and your eyes seem to light up, shoulders jumping at the not-quite praise. He notes then that you must not get a lot of 'good jobs' from your superiors.

"It's the least we could do, honestly." and you shrug slightly. "My boss won't like that I'm saying this, but we're really backed against a wall here." you lower your tone a bit. "If your team wasn't available, we'd be in a bind." you admit, and Aaron is familiar with the sentiment. His team did a lot of good work. "But, if I'm honest, I am kind of surprised to see you in the midst of the fray." you pivot, showing off all your pretty teeth as Aaron's lips quirk involuntarily.

You'd always been a vibrant person, the kind that could pull the sun out from behind storm clouds. That was something no amount of time could help him forget, and as you let your smile reach your eyes, the crinkle reminds him of a time before all the death, violence, and trauma he'd become accustomed to with the life he'd chosen for himself. "I'm hoping it's a bit of a happy surprise?" he says, because despite the circumstances, this was still you of all people.

"More than a bit." you reply instantly. "Honestly, the circumstances are God-awful, but it is nice to know that the 'little Aar Hotchner' that used to sit in our kitchen for breakfast, is the unit chief of an entire FBI unit." you say, and Aaron knows whether they want to be obvious or not, the team are eavesdropping, minds split between starting at their work, and hoping for a bit of insight into who their boss had once been. He'd deal with the fallout of that later.

"Little?" he says unconvinced, as you breathed out a small laugh.

"Okay, maybe not so little at all." you correct yourself teasingly. "I just- I can't believe that I'm actually seeing you again." and your head tips to the side like you're actually just coming to the realization.

"Yeah, you were a ghost for a bit there after your graduation." and it hits you like a ton of bricks. The last time you'd seen Aaron Hotchner it had been when he'd shown up to your high school graduation. Eighteen year old you, who'd been more than eager to leave Virginia behind and start your real life. That was almost ten full years ago.

"Yeah." you agree with a small nod. "Wow." and you exhale through your nose. "Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, I wish I could say I was surprised, but honestly you've always been the bossy type!" you tease before you can really stop yourself, and it catches you both off guard when Aaron actually laughs.

"I guess I could say the same thing about you. You know, I almost didn't recognize you coming in. Being in charge though... it suits you." and this causes you to brim with nervousness, a nervousness you hadn't felt since you were a kid. You knew you were good at your job, you'd fought hard to get it, and you would do anything to maintain it, but it didn't come with a lot of friends, or congratulations, or even just a small bit of encouragement. It was a thankless role.

Somehow Aaron saying something so minute was enough to set all your doubts and second guesses about yourself at ease. Something that he seemed to have never grown out of practice with.

"Thanks, Aar." you say quietly, and you look like you want to say more, but then your phone is buzzing in your pocket, and you're pulled back into a different headspace. The kind that had no time for laughter, for catching up, or anything outside of business. You check your phone, head pivoting to look at that big clock on the wall, and you sigh.

"Everything okay?"

"My boss is running late, won't be back until tomorrow. Which means this is now officially my case." you express, and Aaron understands your plight. The sudden pressure, the way you must have been nervous.

"That's what we're here for." he reminds you politely, treading lightly. "So you won't have to do this one by yourself." Aaron continues, as you blink away your awe. "And like I said, leadership suits you, you'll probably have the whole office in shape in no time." he offers you more encouragement, and you wonder how it could be possible to leave someone behind, and come back to them holding the same amount of space in your heart.

"Thank you." you let out a tired exhale. "I should go. I was expecting him to handle a few things, but now that it's on me... I have a lot more work to do." and you open and close your hand, flexing your fingers as you shuffle awkwardly. "I'm sorry-" you begin, and Aaron is waving you off, face pinching up in a way that was not quite like him.

"Don't. It'll give us time to think." and he's speaking for the team, who he knows don't need much to find a breakthrough.

"Right. It was-" and you look like you're not sure if you want to continue. "It was really good to see you again, Hotchner." and you stumble a bit as you take a small step towards him. "Just-" and you blink a few times. "Let me know if you need anything." you express, "Anything at all." and the emphasis isn't too lost on him as you beam up at him like you were remembering every last thing you ever recalled about him.

It takes you a second to note that the rest of the team is zoned in on the both of you, and you're immediately making your smile drop, taking a step back. "Uh-" you extend a hand, motioning to the entire group. "All of you." you offer, "If any of you need anything, my office is just up there!" and you point across hq to a large office surrounded with glass doors looking out into the bullpen. "Thank you again for your help." and you're looking at Hotch again, an almost sorrowful look on your face as you offer a smile before you take your leave.

Aaron finds it impossible to pull his eyes away from you, because you were so completely different from who he remembered. But some parts were still the same. He blinks away these thoughts, mostly because the loudest thought in his mind is of Haley and the baby they were expecting. But what were the odds that you of all people would be here. He catches the intense stare of Gideon, and both his eyebrows jump. Jason had a way of reading people like no one else.

He doesn't want to know what he found as he examined Hotch. So instead, Aaron beelines towards Morgan and Reid, hoping to hover long enough to get his head back in the game. If they notice the way his eyes would scan the office every so often, if only to catch a glimpse of you, they say nothing.

So he doesn't say anything either.

[yunjardi]

SIZE TRAINING WITH JAKE

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pairing: boyfriend!jake x girlfriend!reader

content warnings: smut [mdni], uprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap), size training, use of sex toys, dirty-talking, pet names (good girl, baby, princess, love), praise, fingering, spanking, oral (both receiving), lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 1.9k [short, i'm sorry guys :''( ]

a/n: another little drabble from me 2 u <3 ily my fellow jake sluts

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"i promise it won't hurt me," you pouted at your longtime boyfriend, jake, "we'll never know if we don't try."

you and jake had been together for quite some time now but have yet to have actual sex with one another.

sure, you've done things of sexual nature, but it pales in comparison to actually having 'real' sex. it's not like you were getting tired of getting eaten out and fingered by jake- you simply wanted to experience more of him.

and oh god did jake want to experience more of you.

the reason you two haven't gone as far as penetration was simply because of jake's size.

it seems cocky (no pun intended) for jake to say he's worried that he won't fit, but it's a genuine worry of his.

even you had to admit that his little fear was completely justified.

jake's dick really is huge.

even though you've seen his dick a million times, his size never fails to amaze you. he 100% gets an ego boost whenever he sees your eyes light up in surprise every time you see his dick.

"okay, love, we can try," jake agreed with a reassuring smile, taking you by surprise, "but that doesn't mean that i'm not terrified of hurting you, though." he managed to let out a chuckle despite his nervousness.

you never thought you'd see the day where he would finally succumb to your begging, but luckily, you were already a few steps ahead of him.

"don't worry, jakey, i've come prepared," you couldn't help but smirk, "wait here."

you got up from the bed and walked into your closet, soon walking out with a box containing three sex toys that you'd been meaning to show jake.

sitting back down on the bed, you opened the box to present the toys to him, each one getting progressively bigger than the last. jake was surprised at how dedicated you seemed to this whole process, and it turned him on to say the least.

"if you're so ready for this, you should hurry and take your panties off," jake smirked as he pulled you closer, now toying with the waistband of your panties. you let out a quiet whimper at his actions before obeying his orders, throwing your panties off to the side and crawling onto his lap, your bare cunt now on his sweatpants.

"that's more like it," jake chuckled sexily as he reached his hand down to your pussy, feeling how wet you've become, "look at you, you don't even have to be prepped. such a good girl for me." you nodded as you subconsciously began grinding your hips down onto his hand, craving his touch in the place where you needed it the most.

"aren't you supposed to be fucking the toys, baby? keep being a good girl and let me see how good you are at taking that puny sex toy," jake scolded you whilst pushing the box of sex toys toward you and urging you to pick one up to start using it.

you, of course, obeyed.

jake helped you get comfortable against the headboard before beginning to tease you once again, taking the first sex toy out of your hand and gliding it against your clit. jake couldn't help but get even more turned on at how sensitive you were despite the sex toy not even being inside you yet.

you let jake gently slide the sex toy inside you, your breath hitching slightly when it was fully inside you.

"you're doing so good, princess," jake cooed as he slowly pushed the toy in and out of your sensitive hole. you nodded with glossy eyes, trying to hold back your moans as jake picked up the pace.

suddenly, jake discarded the first toy, setting it off to the side before bringing his hand down to your entrance and swiftly inserting one of his long fingers, causing you to let out a soft moan at the unexpected sensation of his touch.

"jake-" you gasped out as he curved his finger upwards, grabbing onto his other hand for support as he added in another one of his digits. he couldn't help himself from lowering his head to get a taste of your cunt as he fingered you. come on, how could he possibly pass up an opportunity to tease you with both his fingers and his tongue?

your eyes rolled back as jake swirled his tongue on your sensitive clit while also still working his fingers in and out of you.

jake could fully get off by just simply doing this, but he had to remember the main objective at hand.

stopping suddenly, jake reached off to the side to fetch the second of the three sex toys, this one slightly bigger and wider than the previous. you held onto jake's hand as he slowly inched the new toy inside you, this one more of a struggle to take than the last.

"look at that, baby," jake flashed a pretty smirk, "you're getting better at this." he brought his gaze down to your stuffed entrance, the toy stretching you out just a bit more than the last. jake began to move the toy in and out of you gentler than last time, still worried that you may get hurt.

you couldn't help but squirm under his touch, becoming more and more eager to take him.

it hadn't even been 5 minutes with the new sex toy when you started to become desperate.

desperate for more.

desperate for jake's touch.

"babe, i need you," you managed to breathe out through the moans that escaped your lips, "now, please."

jake's ears turned red at your sudden begging, his pants somehow getting even tighter than they were before which he didn't think was possible.

"b-but we haven't even gotten to the last toy yet-"

"i need you to shut up and fuck me already; i can't take it anymore."

to say that jake took your statement and ran with it would be an understatement.

immediately, jake practically threw the sex toy to the side and took it upon himself to spread your legs further apart to get an even better view of your desperate hole. he could tell just by looking that fitting his entire cock in you would be a difficult feat.

"i'm worried about you, princess. i'm not sure if you can take it," jake teased as he slowly let his fingers glide up and down your soaking entrance which caused goosebumps to form all over your body.

"i can," you rebutted, growing impatient, "let me show you."

you scooted closer to jake and began to toy with the waistband of his sweatpants, causing his breath to get caught in his throat due to the suddenness of your actions. slowly, you pulled both his sweats and boxers down to reveal his throbbing cock. you couldn't help but moan at the sight before taking it into your hand and spitting on his tip, feeling the weight of it against your palm.

"fuck," jake breathed out with a deep groan, admiring you as you lowered your head down to his cock before finally connecting your tongue to it. jake tangled his fingers in your hair as you sucked on his sensitive tip, eventually letting more of his cock slide down your throat.

unexpectedly, jake motioned for you to sit back.

"i need to fuck you right know, baby; you have no idea."

you slowly leaned closer to jake before kissing him passionately.

"show me then."

at that, jake had you positioned on your back, readying you to take him.

butterflies erupted in your stomach as you watched jake line his tip up to your entrance before grabbing your hand. you nodded at him as a signal that you were ready.

jake ever so gently let his tip pass through your entrance, not being able to stop himself from letting out a groan at the sensation of finally feeling your tight walls squeeze around his cock. you were surprised at how quickly the soreness turned to pleasure although he was barely halfway inside you, beginning to moan at the feeling alongside him.

"does it feel good, jake?" you asked him shyly.

"so fucking good, princess," he responded before leaving a kiss on your neck.

before you knew it, jake bottomed out, his tip finding a resting place at your sweet spot which caused you to let out a whimper as you squeezed his hand.

his movements were painfully slow at first due to him not wanting to hurt you, but that only caused your desire to burn deeper.

"jake, i need more," you managed to whimper out between his thrusts.

"yeah? turn around then, princess," jake smirked, "fuck, i've been waiting for this." he couldn't help but suck in a breath once you turned around for him, your pretty ass on display for him and only him.

he left a harsh spank on your ass before gently sliding his cock back inside you, earning a moan from you. your eyes rolled back at almost every single on of jake's thrusts, almost rendering you silent at times as your brain and body struggled to process the copious amount of pleasure jake provided.

jake kept a tight grip on your hips as he thrusted deep inside you, feeding off your pleas for him to keep going though he was unsure of how much longer he'd last. your walls held onto every inch of his cock, desperately squeezing him with every movement no matter the velocity,

the feeling of finally having him inside you was euphoric to both yourself and him as you both kept a tight hold on whichever one of each other's body parts either of you could manage to grab a hold of.

it didn't take long for jake to feel a familiar sensation. that familiar sensation. the one he'd only ever been able to feel against his fingers until this very moment.

"can't hold on any longer, hm?" jake panted out as he used his strength to lift your upper body toward his, your back now flush against his toned chest, "do it, then. cum for me, princess." his words almost demanding and stern, or what you'd simply call hot if you weren't so dazed from his cock to the point that he has you thinking in shakespearean.

at that, you finally let the coil that was slowly building itself up in your core let itself loose.

the feeling of your arousal coating his length sent his mind into a frenzy, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. his strokes became sloppier as you ravished in his comforting yet arousing touch.

you didn't care that you could already feel your cunt becoming sore; you wanted more and jake was more than happy to please you to your absolute limit. that being said, you let him pound your pussy until he reached his climax. the two of you moaned in sync as a mix of his seed and your warm arousal wept from between your legs.

jake gently lowered your body back down onto the bed as he sexily brushed his hair back with his veiny hand. his unintentional sex-appeal drove you insane even immediately after you just let him fuck you silly - it almost gave you the confidence to ask for a second round if you were being completely honest, but alas, you were already sore enough and didn't want to push your luck.

"thank god we finally did that," jake looked up to the ceiling before turning over to give you a kiss, "i hope you're ready to do it even more because i'm afraid i can't get enough of you, baby."

"so does that mean..."

"round two?"

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a/n: I AM NOT AFRAID OF MONSTER COCK JAKE TRUTHING ‼️‼️

taglist: @axartia @jjhmk @valiantwastelanddelusion @jayroseyy @ayohahaha @asaheyow @lhsng @bunhoons @red-xherry @duolingofanaccount @leeis @jaeyunology @green-orangeade @imbaeksbae @sunghoonmybeloved @sh1mja4yun @leeheeheeseung @shjsnjkj

©yunjardi on tumblr 2025

[kabr0ztrousers]

Bull hybrid cowboy x chubby fem reader. He runs a little ranch all by himself no one for miles and her car just so happens to break down near his road. He offers her a ride into town but ends up kidnapping her. Would love it if he ties her up and shows her all the reasons why she should stay with him.

Hmm... Now do I write another hucow scene or don't I? Only kidding, you all know where this is going.

Kabr0z Writes Episode 34: Free Range

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: kidnap; dubcon; noncon; lactation; impregnation;

A/N: Thanks again for the steady stream of requests, you lot! Remember if you want to see something, want me to revisit a kink or scenario I've done before, or have a totally new idea, let me know and it'll probably happen!

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You loved that little shitbox of a car, mid 2000's spec, old enough to drink and still going strong. Up until about 5 miles back. You were on a tiny country road in the middle of the night, cruising at 60, when you heard an almighty bang followed by a jangling noise. Your revs went through the roof for a moment before you started to coast. By the time you stopped and inspected the damage you'd already figured out what happened. The jaunty angle of the gearstick and the lack of any resistance on it meant your gears were probably strewn across several hundred metres of road. At least your engine still worked so you had light, heat, and BBC 2.

You didn't, however have any phone signal.

So you sat in the layby in your car, idling the engine to keep the battery running and listening to the 80s. Sleeping in a running car seems like something that's probably illegal, but you figured if the police found you, they could probably give you a tow to go with the fine. Hopefully you'd make it to morning and then walk however far the nearest town is to call your insurance.

A horn behind you shocked you out of your thoughts. You looked around as a rugged 4x4 pulled level with you. A window rolled down and the driver motioned for you to do the same.

He was a bull hybrid, horns wreathing his head, a thick gold ring adorning his nose. "Need a tow?"

"Yeah, I think my gearbox is fucked" you smiled at him

"That'll do it for you, I can get you to town if you want, climb in"

You got out of your car and into his, grateful for the save. He hooked a rope from his car to yours and pulled away, your stricken vehicle in tow.

You didn't think anything of the route he took, country lanes are far too narrow to turn around in, especially in a big vehicle like this one, but you'd been travelling for a while. It's not like he wasn't charming, softly spoken with just a hint of an accent, apparently he had a herd of dairy cattle that he pastured around the area, and you were being regaled about the trade. The radio in the car gently playing some tiny local station or other, predominantly focusing on spinning old records and talking about the weather.

Suspicion set in when you turned off the road, he was taking you up a gravel track in the pitch-dark. He seemed to know the area pretty well but you figured that to get to civilization, you should probably be following the asphalt rather than abandoning it.

He pulled up at a house and turned off the engine, shoving the keys into his pocket "Come on, let's get inside"

You got out and bolted away from the house. You're not stupid enough to follow him in, you'd only just met!

He was faster than you. You'd barely made it twenty yards when you were tackled to the ground. The bull huffed as he tied your ankles together and hefted you over his shoulder. You hit and struggled against him, but he only chuckled at your assault. "Spirited, aren't you?" He opened his door and carried you over the threshold "You'll do fine here"

He put you down onto a plush sofa and sat in a chair opposite to you. Minutes passed in silence, you sullenly staring at him, him eyeing you up like a cut of meat.

"What will you do with me?" You spat at him

"Honestly, I'm not sure. You seemed like a soft townie when I picked you up. I'd thought maybe let you call for a tow, give you a coffee, and maybe a roll in the hay." He was still staring at you

"But?" You felt like there was a but coming

"But, you're not badly built, and you're not such a pushover. Now I'm deciding if I want a wife or not"

You recoiled at his comment "If you think I'm marrying you, you can fuck off!"

He shrugged and got up "Plan B then. With hips and tits like those you'll be a good fit"

He lifted you into a seated position and tore off your top, baring your chest and the rolls of your tummy. He grabbed one of your tits and hefted it "Natural, very good"

If looks could kill, you would've atomised him. As it was he merely met your gaze as he roughly inspected you.

"I was right, you'll do excellently" He picked you up again and swung you over his shoulder before carrying you outside. He crossed a field, not caring about your yelling and screaming for help. He knew nobody was around for miles, even if someone heard you they wouldn't be able to help you. He pushed open a barn door and carried you in, putting you down on a pile of straw "I'll see you tomorrow"

He left you there. The ropes were tied tightly around your ankles. You struggled against them until your fingers went numb to no avail. The other occupants of the barn stirred with your struggling. Your eyes were adjusting to the gloom, you could just about make them out.

They were other women. Some cow hybrids, some not. All of them plump, many pregnant. They looked at you with big doe eyes, curiosity on their faces as they regarded you.

The first one put her arms around you in a hug, then another and another until you were smothered in a dozen round women, their full breasts pressing against you as they started to doze off on you. Stuck there in the centre of the cuddle pile, you couldn't help your eyelids getting heavy, your head cushioned against a plush belly as sleep claimed you too.

You woke with the dawn. The other women mooing eagerly and dispersing around the barn. The bull man from last night opened the door and stepped in. He looked over at you before settling to work. One by one he attached milking cups to the other women, who each settled down contentedly as the machines pumped them, the milk being drawn into tanks at one end of the barn.

Finally he got to you.

"Enjoy your night?"

You spat at him. He laughed.

"Damn, I wish you'd reconsider being my wife. As it is, I can still put a calf in you." He lifted you and carried you to a fence, tying your arms to it before cutting your ankles free.

Your tits swung below you as he pulled your hips up and hiked your skirt up. He tore a hole in your tights, revealing your pussy. You screamed as he started to lick you, his thick tongue penetrating you already as he fingered your clit. You felt your skin flush as your body responded to him, getting wet and ready for him. His licking and stroking was drawing you in, until you quivered with a tearful orgasm.

You felt him straighten up behind you. He lay his cock on your back and you shivered with the length of it before he pulled back and started to ease the tip in, crooning as he went "You're doing great, girl, just a little more, a little more"

The sound of his voice was making you wetter than his tongue did. You whimpered from the fullness from his cock pushing slowly into you, stretching you out. Your hips were pushing back against him, sending waves of motion up your body. He started to push harder, move faster. Your whimpers turned to blissful sobs and whines as you sped towards your next orgasm, the length and girth of him getting you off all by itself. When he squeezed your hips it was too much. Your body tried to push back, but it didn't need to. He could feel your impending orgasm and hilted himself in you, tiny thrusts slapping his balls against your clit and driving you over the edge. He started to throb and pulse in you as your cunt clenched around him. His thrusts were fast and deep, he was close and wasn't going to cum anywhere but inside you. His pounding on your cervix was getting to you, as was his gripping your waist and your hips, and the jolting swaying of your tits. He pushed a hand between your legs and circled his fingers over your clit. You came again. This time he joined in. Your moans and grunts mingled as the other women watched you, still mooing in euphoria from being attached to the pumps.

He stayed inside you, his cock still giving occasional pumps of cum. His huge hands tracing patterns on your back and rubbing your aching muscles. Then he pulled out, and you heard a spatter of his cum fall out of you and onto the straw below. He cut your arms free and helped you off the railings, laying you on the straw.

"I treat my ladies well, you'll see"

A month has passed since you joined the herd. You spend your mornings hooked up to the milking machines, your afternoons lounging in the fields munching clover and enjoying the company of your new friends, then in the evenings Aaron, as you leaned his name, would often visit you and put another load in you. You're already late on your period, you just haven't told him yet.

Yeah, you're giving up some freedoms, and you're pretty sure you're getting dumber

But it sure beats your old job

###################################

Postscript: A bit of an experiment in trying to split the difference between "awful human farm" and not being overly horrible to the POV character. Hopefully it hits the mark nicely. Who knows, I may do a continuation or a "what if" where it goes into fluffy marital sex between Aaron and Fem!Reader...

At any rate, this is your periodic reminder that my ask box and DMs are always open, and to not hold back on your requests! I'm not in the habit of airing anyone's dirty laundry so if you do cross some unforeseen line the worst you'll get is a no

[dubious-sanity]

I'm back, it's definitely been only one second but time is an illusion.

I hated this chart's design so much that I decided to take it on myself to make it somewhat legible. And so behold the new 5e breeding chart.

In the process of making this a few things became apparent.

Yes, the dragon is the only 100% fertile race here. But a few other 'universal breeders' emerge, clustering way above other ratios around 80%. Most of these are the other powerful or very magical Celestials, Fey and Fiends however Humans are also counted amongst these ranks.

It was the lowest ratio race however that grabbed my attention and turned this into a true hyper fixation.

Gnolls sit at a pathetic 16.1% breedability. Only able to breed with 3 of the universal breeders, Themselves and... Tabaxi? Why Tabaxi?

Why was anything chosen to be the way it was here? Why can Humans breed with Giants but not Goliaths? Why can dragons fuck everything that moves? Why are some species hyper specific like Gnolls then others use broad strokes like Fey and Fiend. Why do Genies not belong amongst the likes of other magical universal breeders? Why do half orcs gain the ability to have a kid with merfolk?!

The full supplement provides no additional context or reasoning on these comparability choices (except that dragons are the only species that remains fertile their entire life, so once again, lets go dragons).

I started to build additional tables to see if there were any other unifying factors or interesting discrepancies and made two simple ones to start.

A little bit of explanation, for alignments I took what was given by the first book each race appeared in. If a race was purely described as being chaotic or lawful, if they had no strong alignment, or if they are held under a broad stroke like fey I put them under mixed.

So what does this teach us? Well there's a lot of variation here between alignments and playability. the minority of these races are evil but that doesn't stop them from getting pregnant. Instead, at least subconsciously, the designer wrote in moderate neutral races as the least breedable. The opposite to this is also true, Mixed races usually are tagged in their books as strongly taking the side of either good or evil, like Dragons or Fey.

Mixed races also tend to be non-playable another correlator for breedability. NPCs in D&D like the described Dragons and Fey are usually powerful fantastical creatures.

So in my opinion having looked at this data, the strongest correlation for your ability to 'plap plap plap get pregnant get pregnant get pregnant' is literally the amount of drama you can impose on the world around you.

As to specific choices made on who can breed who? I think that's mostly vibes based. Gnolls and Tabaxi can fuck cause they both have fur, same for Aarakokra and Kenku with bird vibes. Races are included based on their playability and then their level of horniness, every included race is some kind of playable character, famous type or some kind of typically fuckable monster. See again, dragons, fiends, Gnolls.

As I'm writing this I realize I have to cut myself short cause there's a full fucking essay I could write on this bullshit and I still have additional data points I want to add to the chart and I don't want to bore people for too long.

Regardless if you wanna double check my equations, add data of your own or even just peruse in higher detail. I've linked the live document I made this in below.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here

seems like a good time to remind everyone that in the dnd sex supplement dragons are fertile with literally everything

[sophsbookstore]

Floral Encounters

Charles Leclerc x Florist!reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Word count: 1340

A/N: lmaoooo i've been gone for a really..really long time…but guys we are so back! New year, new fanfics that need to be written. Requests are still very much open if you have anything you wanna see, sorry for the absence and happy reading!! <33

The little flower shop nestled on a quiet street in Monaco was a peaceful haven among the hustle and bustle of the city. Inside, the soft scent of roses and lilies mixed with the gentle hum of classical music playing from an old speaker in the corner. The owner, Y/N, was behind the counter, arranging the last few bouquets of the day. She loved her shop, the routine of it, the way it allowed her to be surrounded by beauty every day. But most of all, she loved the chance encounters—those small moments where someone new would come in, buying flowers for loved ones, or sometimes for no reason at all.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when he first walked in.

Charles Leclerc.

He had been a familiar face on the streets of Monaco for years, though Y/N had never had the chance to meet him. She had seen him in passing at a café or two, but nothing that could spark a conversation. She couldn’t say she was a huge fan of Formula 1, but she knew enough to recognize the man who had become a hero to so many in the city.

He stepped into the shop, the doorbell chiming as it swung open, and for a moment, Y/N was taken aback. She quickly composed herself and flashed him a friendly smile.

“Hello, can I help you with anything?” Y/N asked the man in front of her

Charles paused for a second, as if processing her presence. His green eyes flicked over the shelves filled with flowers, before landing on her. His lips curved upward in a small, charming smile.

“I need a bouquet,” he said, his accent thick but easy to understand. “Something... for my mother.”

Y/N nodded, stepping forward to guide him. “We have a variety of roses, peonies, maybe some tulips... what’s the occasion?”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to find the right words. “No real occasion. I just wanted to do something nice for her.”

The simplicity of it made Y/N’s heart flutter a little. He wasn’t here for a birthday or an anniversary. Just because. That kind of thoughtfulness was rare. She tilted her head slightly, studying him for a second before offering a suggestion.

“Well, if you’re looking for something elegant, I’d recommend a mix of white roses and lilies. They’re classic, timeless.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as if he was amused by the suggestion. “Timeless, huh? I like the sound of that.”

Y/N gave a small laugh and picked out a few stems, expertly arranging them in a hand-tied bouquet. “The lilies symbolize purity, and the roses... well, they symbolize admiration and love. Perfect for a mother, don’t you think?”

He leaned against the counter, watching her work with an intensity that made her feel a little warmer than usual. “Sounds like you know your flowers,” he said with a grin.

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” Y/N replied, her fingers moving with practiced precision as she wrapped the bouquet in parchment paper. “You get to learn a lot when you’re surrounded by them every day.”

When she was finished, she handed him the bouquet. “Here you go. I hope she loves it.”

Charles took the bouquet, his fingers brushing against hers for a moment, sending a small jolt through her. He didn’t pull away right away. Instead, he looked down at the flowers, his expression softening.

“I’m sure she will,” he said quietly. Then, as if thinking of something, he added with a teasing smirk, “You’ve made this a bit hard to top. Do you take requests?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“I might need you to help me with another bouquet next week,” he said, his gaze lingering on hers just a little longer than necessary. “But... this time, it might be for someone special.”

Y/N grinned, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I’d be happy to help,” she said, her voice lighter now, more playful. “Maybe I’ll even throw in a little extra flair for someone special.”

Charles gave her a wink and turned toward the door. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said with a laugh before leaving the shop, the bell above the door ringing again.

The days turned into weeks, and Charles kept his word. Every time he raced in Monaco or elsewhere, he would come into the shop, often with a similar request. Sometimes it was for his mother, sometimes for a friend, and sometimes, he hinted that it was for someone else entirely.

After a particularly thrilling race where he finished second, Charles returned to the shop, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. He was still wearing his racing gear, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how different he looked outside the car—his intense, competitive energy replaced with something a little more... relaxed.

“Back for more flowers?” Y/N asked as he entered, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

He nodded, though there was a certain hesitation in his usual confident stance. “Yes, but this time, I’m celebrating something special.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, walking over to him. “Oh? What are you celebrating?”

Charles paused, glancing around the shop as if to gather his thoughts. Then, his gaze landed on hers, and a flicker of something unspoken passed between them.

“I’m celebrating getting to see you again,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, but hearing it now, in such a direct way, made it feel like something new.

Y/N smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. “Well, that’s a good reason to celebrate.”

He grinned, stepping closer to the counter. “I think so.” He leaned in just a little, lowering his voice. “What do you think? Another bouquet, just to make it official?”

Y/N considered him for a moment, her fingers brushing against a vase of lilies nearby. “I think you’re getting pretty good at this... but how about we make it even more official?”

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Her smile widened, and she set down the flowers she was holding. “How about you let me buy you dinner?”

He blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback for a second. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted into a grin. “You’re asking me out?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Y/N teased, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Charles chuckled softly, his eyes not leaving hers. “Not at all.” He leaned forward just a bit more, his voice quieter. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she didn’t let the excitement show too much. “It’s a date, then,” she said with a wink.

The dinner was set for a few days later, at a small, intimate restaurant by the harbor. Charles showed up in a simple button-up shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly handsome. They shared stories over a bottle of wine, laughing at each other's jokes and enjoying the easy, warm atmosphere between them. The night ended with a stroll along the water, hand in hand, both of them silently agreeing that it was the beginning of something new.

Charles looked at Y/N, his expression soft. “You know, I’ve been to Monaco many times, but I think this is the first time I’ve really felt like I’m home.”

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Well, I’m glad I could be a part of that.”

“I think you’re going to be part of a lot of things in my life,” he said, his voice sincere.

She couldn’t help but smile at the thought, her heart full. “I’m looking forward to it, Charles. I really am.”

And as the stars twinkled overhead, they both knew that this was just the beginning.

[wheneclipsefalls]

Swimming Lesson (A Precious One Shot)

Pairing: Adult Ao'nung x Hyperfeminine human reader

Summary: Ao'nung is more than eager to teach you how to swim. He doesn't, however, anticipate what it leads to.

Warnings: aged up characters, explicit sexual content MDNI, reader has mild fear of water, interspecies relationship, established relationship, swearing, possessive beahvior, brief mention of violence, past bad relationship, insecurity, marking, scenting, dom/sub dynamics, etc.

A/N: I've been overthinkg this one for way too long. Here's how it turned out

Precious Masterlist

Adult Ao'nung photo by Cinetrix

Tawtute modesty is a perplexing concept. Most Sky People dress in a way that covers their body, even going as far as creating cubbies in their metal homes where they can change these clothes without others seeing. For a species that appears to have just as much sexual drive as Na’vi do, they certainly waste a lot of time and effort acting ashamed of their bodies. 

Although your clothing is far more appealing, and even revealing at times, you too act very shy about being exposed. 

And yet, it appears that this cultural norm is thrown out the window when it comes to swimming attire. Calling an outfit a swimsuit as you do, suddenly gives a tawtute a free pass to discard ninety five percent of their clothing and prance around without care. 

No one had informed Ao’nung of this however so when you walk out in your handmade swimsuit for the first time, it takes him a moment to connect his mouth to his brain again. You give a little twirl as you always do, before rambling on about what material it’s made of and how easy or difficult it was to construct. 

And as usual, Ao’nung takes his time admiring your latest work with greedy hands that always come out to grip your hips and spin you from side to side. This is a common routine for the two of you. It is customary for him to see your latest projects first so you can receive his opinion. Although both of you know he offers nothing close to helpful feedback. The real joy from this arrangement comes from him opening ogling you in the pretty clothes until you sufficiently feel confident in your genius. 

You never stop him when he gets handsy either. Although that pretty blush often spreads from your cheeks to collarbones and you giggle at his lack of restraint, he knows you enjoy the obvious display of carnal desire. It’s a win-win scenario. 

And today, stars above, there is so much for him to look at. Or rather, so little fabric to cover your form because this swimsuit as you call it is tiny. In many ways it feels a lot closer to the usual attire of females in his clan with intricate straps and only a tiny top and bottom to shield some of his favorite parts. In fact, this set is much like your bra and panties combo.

When he squeezes your hips and turns you to the side, he is more than ecstatic to find that this duo is actually more revealing than most of your undergarments. Is this truly considered decent in tawtute culture? Oh well, he knows better than to question when something good comes his way. Whatever reasoning sky people have come up with to justify these tiny outfits, he is grateful for. 

The bottoms are held together by strings that tie at each hip similar to the ties on your upper back that keep the small chest piece in place. You’ve chosen fabrics of light blue for the base and cream for the trim that is of course bunched into frilly fashion. It wouldn’t be yours without some extra flare. The front of the bottoms cover decently but the back draws a shape higher onto the hips that leaves more than half of your gorgeous ass spilling out. 

And it’s not the only thing to spill. The bottom sit low on your hips so that the front is tucked just beneath that adorable pooch of a stomach that Ao’nung is constantly tempted to bite into. Even the ties on the hips just barely press lines into your plush flesh that you call love handles. And to top it off, there is a tiny bow between your breasts and a matching one just atop your vulva. 

Eywa above, if he knew teaching you to swim would put you in an outfit like this he would have fought even harder to make this day come sooner. 

“Do you like it?” You ask, cheeks pink but eyes telling him that you already know the answer to your own question. 

“What did you call this?” He asks, sweeping your long hair over one shoulder to admire the curve of your spine. 

“A bikini.” 

“Oeyӓ tawtute, I more than like it.” His lips gently press over a mark he had sucked into your skin last week, just above your shoulder blade. With twiddling fingers and a smile he can practically feel radiating even from behind you, goosebumps rise over your exposed flesh. “I don’t know what stops you from wearing this bikini thing more often.” 

You snort and playfulling try to elbow him in the ribs. “You horny meathead.” With a giggle you turn around to scrunch your nose up at him which he has come to recognize as a chiding expression. 

He’s not sure what is so funny about his comment. You may be giggling but he sees no reason why you couldn’t wear this during day to day life on the island. Although, he wouldn’t want to miss out on your strange dresses either. 

“You know I can’t do that.” 

He doesn’t but Ao’nung lets it drop when your small hand intertwines with his own and you practically begin skipping towards the beach. It seems this successful outfit has put you in a good mood, so it’s best to hold his breath and pray that it will remain that way once you get to the water. It has taken a couple weeks of convincing, borderline demanding, that you learn to swim. 

Today you don’t show the usual signs of apprehension so Ao’nung plays along carefully, treading as light as a hunter worried about spooking their prey. 

The good luck has passed. Whatever giddiness you felt from showing off your new bikini dissipated ten minutes ago when you two had finally reached the shore. Now you remain perched on the rock wall that extends a way into the shallows, watching with a nervous smile where Ao’nung stands in the water. 

“You are stalling.” He accuses. 

“I’m not.” You protest, bottom lip becoming snatched between your teeth. “I just think I need to observe you some more before I get in. After all, nothing’s better than watching the master.” 

You catch on fast, that’s for sure. In the short few weeks the two of you have been together it seems that you’ve already devoted yourself to figuring out how to charm him and target certain weak spots. Try as you might, however, that isn’t going to work today. 

“Get in.” 

Your arms wrap around your own torso, a nervous habit of yours. He isn’t being mean, isn’t even raising his voice in the way some of his own teachers did when he was younger but it takes very little to intimidate a small tawtute like you. It’s important that he maintains some form of strict authority in these lessons, otherwise you will walk all over him. 

It will never cease to perplex him how carelessly humans treat learning to swim. He thought the most horrific part of it would have been their form alone, something that had made his jaw drop the first time he saw Spider swim, but unfortunately it goes far beyond that. Among the seaside clans it is customary to have newborn children already learning how to kick to the surface on their own. Children know how to swim far before they can take their first steps. From what he’s heard, even the Omatikaya teach their children from a young age. And yet, Ao’nung was horrified to hear you say that some humans don’t learn how to swim until they are adults, some even die without learning. 

He won’t let that be your fate. So no matter what it takes, he is getting you in the water today. 

“You are being a bad numeyu [student], precious.” He warns, clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment. Just as he expected, your shoulders drop slightly. No doubt if you had a tail it would be tucking between your legs right now. Such little praise to have you melting and such little criticism to have you proving you can do better. 

“We can start tomorrow I prom-AH!” Whatever promise you had hoped to placate him with turns into a squeal when Ao’nung heaves himself up onto the rock wall in one fluid motion. Immediately you start running back towards the beach. You know just as well as him that he can and will hunt you down to drag you back since it has come to that. 

There is a part of him that awakens at the first sign of a chase. It’s the same part of his nature that has him imagining all the ways he could rip those scraps of fabric you call a bikini off and ruin you for any other man. It doesn’t help his focus to have your squishy ass bouncing further out of your bottoms as you sprint. 

Regardless, the hardest part about catching you has nothing to do with the skills he has learned as a hunter and everything to do with keeping his carnal desires at bay. You would be all too happy to let take a session of his head between your pretty legs over a swimming lesson. 

He has one thick arm wrapped around your waist within your first five steps. You waste no time in starting your pleas to be released, shorter legs kicking in the air as he tucks you against his chest. 

“Wait! Ao’nung, I can’t! Not today. Put me down!” 

“You can not learn without getting in the water.” He says simply. 

“No no! I can’t! I can’t!” Once again your words turn to shrieks when he swiftly jumps back into the ocean, softly landing his feet in the substrate. The waves only reach his hips at this height and with you in his arms you are nowhere near having your head dunked under. 

Nevertheless your efforts to cry for mercy quickly shift into clawing your way up his body. You squirm and wiggle and manage to twist halfway towards him so that you can grab his shoulders and try to get higher. You climb him like one does a tree, but with far less grace than anyone who has experience climbing to get the fruit. 

“What are you doing?” With furrowed brows it takes everything in him not to laugh, only grunting softly when your feet get dangerously close to keeping him between the legs. 

“Okay I think that’s enough for today. Bring us back up!” 

“It is fine. Nothing is going to happen.” He assures, using his other hand to steer your feet away from his tewng [loincloth]. Ao’nung tries not to think about how good it feels when your legs wrap around his torso instead. 

“Easy for you to say! You’re like ten feet tall and can hold your breath for an eternity.” The tide is not strong today, just as he planned, but even the small waves billowing against his waist seem to put you on edge. 

This is why you teach children to swim early on. They have no notion of fear. 

He is caught between two conflicting temptations. Laughing his ass off at your antics and chucking you into the deep end much like they do for Metkayina babies. However, both won’t have the desired result in the end. And Ao’nung tries to remember too how different you are from the Metkayina. They are born with life saving instincts while from what he has seen from humans, has been nothing but concerning regarding their instincts. There is no telling if you will resurface if he lets you go under now. 

Growing up his teachers had always been strict; unforgiving. He knew the importance of learning skills swiftly so as not to become a burden for the clan, and even more so surpassing expectations as he would someday be Olo’eyktan. A tough regiment had worked for him but you…

You are soft. And it’s one of his favorite qualities you possess, both physically and emotionally, but this also means that using that strict attitude to the same degree would more likely have you giving up and locking him out of your room more than making any real progress. No, while a firm hand is necessary with you at times, it’s evident that praise draws so much more out of you than negative repercussions. 

Ao’nung had thought you particularly inept when it came to climbing but he is surprised to find that you’ve scooted your way significantly up his torso and now have your blunt nails dig into his shoulder blades. Oh how he wishes they were dug in there for the same reason they were last night as he fingered your demon pussy open. 

“Oeyӓ tsyeym [my treasure], do you think I would let you drown?”

“Well no but-”

“Is there anyone that knows these waters better than me? Anyone further capable when it comes to moving through the sea?”

“No.” You mumble against his shoulder. 

“So since you are here with me, an expert, and we’ve already established I will not let you drown then does that not mean you are the safest person, both human and Na’vi, in the ocean today?” He tucks a curve finger beneath your chin so you are forced to meet his expression, his brows raised in question. 

His logic is difficult to deny although there is still some hesitancy in your movements when you nod. But he’ll take it.

“And as your karyu [teacher] who is experienced in these ways should you not be trusting my methods?”

“Ao’nung-”

“No?”

Those pink lips form into what is surely meant to be a scowl but instead looks like nothing more than a pout to him. You know he’s right. How could you claim otherwise? But you stubbornly want to hold onto this fear. 

“Yes, I suppose.” You say in a voice so small that Ao’nung’s ears have to perch forward to properly catch it. 

“Good girl.” He grins, pecking you on the cheek before you can think up another excuse. “Let us begin.”  

“Mawey, paskalin [be calm, honey]. You are too tense.” He purrs, hands supporting the curve of your back as you attempt to float atop the water. It’s a form not typical for the Metkayina but considering your small lungs he has deemed it essential for taking breaks in the water. However you are stiff as a board. 

“I’m just trying not to sink.” You squirm until back on your feet and latched to his side. Perhaps you worry the tide will be strong enough to pull you out. 

“The harder you try the more you will sink. Diving is not meant to be a struggle won. You must move with the water, do not fight against the sea.” For you to truly understand what he means you would have to actually try submerging beneath the waves. He had insisted that you learn without your mask, after all there is no guarantee you would be with it at all times, but it seems this crutch is one you are attached to and therefore refuse to go beneath the water without. 

It is no issue. Ao’nung would rather teach you to dive the proper way slowly than have you relying on this crutch indefinitely.

“But you said that the sea is unforgiving. That it is a powerful force that does not discriminate when choosing prey.” Wet hair sticks to your cheeks as you look up at him. Ao’nung screws his lips and places a hand on his hip. You know how to pack a lot of trouble for someone half of his size. 

“Hm, you love to twist my words, precious.” He teases, one hand snatching your hip to tug you in closer. He steadies your weak form when you stumble at the action. 

“I-I’m not twisting it but this doesn’t make any sense. What am I supposed to do if a wave pulls me out from shore? I’ve heard even some Na’vi can not kick their way back in and so if they can’t neither can I. Not with these weak tawtute legs. And that’s not to mention the sea creatures. To some of them I’m not even a full bite!”

“None this close to shore are big enough to bite.” He cocks his head to the side. “Only some that could sting.”

“Ao’nung!” you screech hitting a hand against his chest. “I’m being serious. How am I ever going to be strong enough to do anything out here? It’s a hopeless cause which I knew but then again when do I ever really listen to-”

“You have forgotten to breathe.” And sure enough you pause for a second to take in his words before finally inhaling a shaky breath. When you get into rambles like this it’s common for you to fly off without any end in sight. Some days they are born out of nerves while others it's in excitement as you explain your favorite romantic movie in detail to him for thirty minutes. How did you survive such rambles before him? Who else was there to remind you the importance of oxygen? 

“You think too much, paskalin.” Your pout only deepens but you lean against him. “I said I will teach you to swim and so I will. The rest is not for you to worry about.” Your hair tickles his lower abs when your head rests against him. He hears you inhale, preparing himself for more weak protests, but then you stop. 

Your attention is snatched off to his far left where there is some splashing. He follows your gaze to find it fixated on one of the newests Ilu’s in deeper waters. This juvenile can only be a few weeks old as it is shorter than his forearm and remains in close proximity to its mother. 

When he spots the way your expression softens, an idea sprouts. Ao’nung has been taking the wrong angle this entire time. It was only last week that he discovered how empathetic you are for animals, especially ones that have not reached adulthood. You had gone from constantly cooing at the strange small animals in your magic screen to falling apart into blubbering tears when one of the baby hippos, as you called them, couldn’t find his mother. It took a long time of hearing your choked up voice ramble about how alone that little creature must feel. It was a strange experience. Then again, that was during your bleeding week. 

“We call her An’ali and her mother Se’xte.”

“She is adorable.”

“Do you want to see her?” 

“Well yes but it’s deeper out there…” You trail off, uncertainty present in your tone. 

“Grab on.” He instructs before bending down onto one knee and prompting your hands to his shoulders. You’re slow to comply, those big beautiful eyes peeking up at him with a flicker of apprehension but it seems your curiosity overrides that emotion because you finally clutch his shoulder to sprawl out across his back. 

He could walk out to the ilu without any struggle of touching the bottom but Ao’nung opts to swim out smoothly, keeping his head and yours above the water. Just a small step to get you used to the feeling of gliding through the water. However, his swishing tail coming to aid does get tangled with your feet every now and then causing a giggle to bubble up your throat. 

Luckily this sensation appears to distract you from the way the ilu swim out further into deeper waters. Ao’nung finds himself holding his breath, praying that you don’t notice how much further the sandy bottom is now. Fortunately, just as he hoped, the cute creatures have your full attention upon reaching them. 

“Wow,” You whisper in a daze, looking past his shoulder. An’ali rubs up against her mother, earning an affectionate call in return. “They are beautiful.”

“They are ilu. Peaceful creatures.” When he reaches behind him to grab one of your hands there is resistance but he continues until it is resting upon the mother’s head. Se’xte gives a curious look but does not push away your tiny hand that pets at her head. He has a strong enough bond with her to have trust extending to you as well. 

“And you ride them?”

“When we are younger, yes. Once a Na’vi has come of age and undergone their iknimaya they ride Tsurak.” If you are this amazed by the ilu he can only imagine what you will think once he introduces you to a Tsurak. Once he gets you more comfortable in the ocean maybe he can convince you to let him take you for a ride. At a slow pace of course. Your soft little hands do not have an ounce of the grip strength necessary to hold on for anything faster. 

“She likes you.” Ao’nung smiles as Se’xte gives a chirp. He can practically feel you beam against his ear. 

“I like her too.” It only lasts for another minute or so before the ilu is ducking beneath the water, not a sufficient amount of time to get a closer look at her baby. “Where are they going?”

“Beneath. We can follow.” Your fingers dig deeper into his shoulders, your breath wavering. Ao’nung doesn’t wait for permission however. It’s best not to give you time to overthink it. “Take a deep breath, paskalin.” 

He waits to hear you deep inhale before diving beneath the surface. Your right arm hooks around his neck instinctively, your legs kicking out frantically but then there are the ilu just ahead, swimming around one another in a playful circle. Not wanting to push his luck too much on the first time, he surfaces after only a few seconds. This time he sets you to stand on a rock so that your head is above the soft waves. 

“Ao’nung!” You gasp, holding a hand over your heart as if it is about to go into cardiac arrest. “Are you insane?! I could have died.”

“And yet you didn’t.” 

That deeply rooted frown melts even as your eyes glare daggers back at him, no doubt not appreciating the smug look he wears. “You maniac!” Your accusation is accompanied by your right hand splashing water back at him. You’re barely holding back giddy laughter as you splash at him. Say what you want, but he knows you enjoyed the rush. 

Ao’nung sweeps his own right hand out to splash back but his miscalculation of strength and the difference in height turns it into a full wave that washes over your entire upper body. “Oh.” He cringes slightly, feeling just a tad bit guilty for playing so rough. 

However, to his surprise it lights something in your eyes. That embering fire turns into full blown competition as you try to imitate his man made wave. He fights back with his own, this time more gentle, retaliation as your laughter picks up. The Metkayina male’s tail swishes in excitement the further you take this little competition. Little sounds erupt from you that confuse him for a moment before he realizes this is your human form of battle cries. 

His stomach aches from laughing so hard even as you manage to push a wave high enough to pummel him in the face. Ao’nung’s cerulean eyes narrow, his lips turning up into a crooked smirk. You have the better sense to scramble across the short distance of the rock when he lets out echoing yips and cries of a hunter who has already caught his precious prey. 

Laughter and shouts coalesce together when he snatches you back in his arms. The splashing dies down as you struggle to catch your breath between wheezing laughter. Even Ao’nung himself finds his heart pounding at a significantly faster rhythm, but it’s spurred on by a new thrill that has taken him. 

In the fit of playing you’ve slowly floated out of the circle in his arms, still holding onto his arms for support but there is no fear in your eyes now at being loosely kept above water. Just as he thought, the worst was all in your head. 

“Do you trust me?”

You pause, eyes flickering between his face and the water again. And though it takes a moment for you to respond, you finally relent. “I do.” 

Ao’nung smiles and situates you to float on your stomach. “Follow my lead, precious. Take a deep breath.” 

Once he is sure your lungs are filled with oxygen Ao’nung wastes no time in helping you dive beneath the surface. His hands guide your body into the proper arch so that you can sink below and once you are, he dives beneath himself and grabs your clasped hands. With ease he slips deeper until he is directly below you and able to smoothly pull you through the water. 

Your eyes are squeezed shut, as if bracing for harsh impact. Rolling his own eyes, he taps your cheek gently. When they timidly open he gives you a wide grin and a wink. However, Ao’nung does not have your spotlight for long. Now blown wide into sparkling orbs, your eyes take in every detail of the sea.

He gets to see it. The first time you fall in love with the ocean. The way you almost let out the breath in your lungs when a spade wing skates close by. How your gaze reflects every vibrant color the reefs have to offer. From the smallest to largest creature, you pay each the same undivided regard. 

He couldn’t say what you see if his life depended on it, too enraptured in watching your reaction instead. The way one hand unclasps from his and reaches out to pet the juvenile ilu that passes them. Ao’nung can’t remember the first time he saw the ocean. He was only a baby and since then the underwater world has been his home more than the land above. So there is no telling if he looked at it for the first time the way you do now. Does he still appreciate the beauties of the sea for what they’re worth? Or has he grown to take such things for granted? 

It feels like seeing it anew when he looks at it through your eyes.  

He could watch you forever. Pull you through every inch of the sea if it means you can experience every wonder present from the open sea to the small nooks and crannies. You however can not hold your breath forever like this. So reluctantly, Ao’nung pulls you back up above the waves.  

You gasp for air, but luckily there is no coughing fit to follow. Ao’nung keeps you above the surface as you fight to go back into a steady breathing pattern. However, it seems that the rapid beat of your heart is not just from catching your breath but also a reflection of the pure adrenaline your body displays. 

Nothing is said for a long moment. Trying to gauge your reaction is difficult but a ravenous energy buzzes from you. Those pink lips part, but you don’t speak right away. You don’t appear to know what to say. And then slowly, your right hand comes to cup his cheek. He’s lost in your eyes the moment they snag his. A small sound catches in your throat, something between a laugh and a sigh. 

For all the millions of words you’ve spoken, somehow this sound is the one he understands the most. True and utter awe. 

Ao’nung doesn’t have to think when your lips touch his. It’s as simple as holding his breath, effortless as he pulls your body closer to his and bends to meet your kiss. It’s only been a few weeks since you first came to retrieve your bunny from his marui but his body has already begun acclimating to yours beautifully. He knows when to anticipate your little gasps for air when you’ve been kissing too long. His large hands have memorized the curve of your face and the feel of his fingers threading through your silky hair. 

The ocean has never felt more tranquil than with you in his arms. 

“The purple on the fins also reminded me of a dress that I put down ages ago, but now I don’t know maybe I will pick it up again. Because it looks so pretty in the water. Now that I think about it, it reminds me a lot of Annika’s dress. The one she magically receives at the end.” 

Ao’nung wracks his brain to identify which movie you are referring to. Is this one you have already showed him or are you simply thinking out loud? Chances are it may be one of the stories he missed entirely because you were too tempting wrapped in that silky lingerie. Distracting you had earned him a light slap to the head but you didn’t complain once you were clenching around his thick fingers. 

Even with your translation, following the plots of those weird stories is not nearly as entertaining as watching your face scrunch up in pleasure. Regardless, it’s important to you so he tries his best to behave. Or at least behave enough to keep you from kicking him out of your room. 

“Oh my god what I would give to have the fabric for that dress.” You groan, your little theatrics tugging a smile to his lips. 

“You were a very good numeyu [student] today, paskalin.” Ao’nung says, squeezing the hand that is interlocked with his own. Your fingers barely peek out from where his massive hand has them caged. 

“Yeah well I have a pretty good karyu [teacher].” You send a wink even as heat rushes to your cheeks. 

“Well I wouldn’t be a good teacher if I didn’t motivate you properly. So since you were so good for me today,” He snatches your waist and pulls you to a stop against him in one move. “I think you deserve a reward.” Those soft hands rest along his stomach, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles along the swirling pattern of his skin. 

“Oh…I…is that so?” All essence of confident flirting flitters away before his eyes. Much like a fish out of water you gape for the proper words. It is far too easy to render you to such a state. 

“Why are you soaking wet?” Lo’ak rounds the corner and jumps onto the woven walkway. While you put effort into breaking away and turning to the Sully boy with a smile, Ao’nung finds no reason to conceal his distaste for the untimely interruption. 

“We were swimming.” You chirp, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Lo’ak’s unnatural dark brows knit together. 

“You can’t swim. You’re terrified of the water. Remember last time I tried to get you in. It took hours and after five minutes you-”

An unrecognizable string of words fall from your lips to interrupt a story that Ao’nung was becoming quite interested in hearing. The consolation prize however is hearing your sharp tone shut the other male down. Whatever embarrassing memory Lo’ak was wanting to share is certainly enough to have you fidgeting beside him. “Ao’nung is teaching me how to swim.” You say, switching back to Na’vi. 

“You are?” Lo’ak scoffs, finally turning to address him. His golden eyes dart between the two of you and it takes no genius to understand what memory the forest boy is recalling. In his youth Ao’nung had not been the most patient in teaching Lo’ak especially. Then again, he was also not in love with Lo’ak. He never earned the same softness that you bring out in him. 

“It seems she has only been in need of the right karyu.” That smooth comment has Lo’ak eyes narrowed into slits. Sensing the tension between them you are quick to jump in. 

“It was actually a lot of fun! I got to see a spade wing and a baby ilu, Lo.” Your voice is infused with so much energy, it’s clear you are attempting to compensate for the negative energy withering between Lo’ak and himself. 

“And you went out in that? Tsmuke [sister], those are barely scraps.” He huffed, gesturing at your swimsuit. Something swells in Ao’nung’s chest. By the stars he is not about to let some forest boy crumble your confidence in wearing such a garment after all the work you’ve done to get this far. However, just as he is about to steer you behind him and give this skxawng [moron]  a piece of his mind, you shrug and let out a little laugh. 

“You wear nothing but a loincloth every day, Lo’ak. You’re not really in a position to judge.” Lo’ak opens his mouth to protest but you beat him to the punch. “Anyways, we’ve got to run. Bye!” You call out with a dramatic wave while tugging Ao’nung down the walkway. Sending a sly look over his shoulder he catches the way Lo’ak watches from afar with a pinched expression. 

“Sorry about him.” You sigh. 

“He does not approve.” 

“No, it’s not like that. Lo’ak just thinks he has to play this protective brother role. It’s not personal.” His relationship with Lo’ak has come a long way since the Sullys first landed on this walkway. They’ve grown to put up with one another and occasionally be friendly, a necessity with the Omatikaya male courting his sister. That being said, he has never considered them close, nor would he be offended at finding out Lo’ak sees it the same way. You on the other hand don’t seem to understand this dynamic as you desperately try to reassure him. 

“I swear he thinks just because he’s taller he can play big brother. He has concerns but that’s just part of his bravado act. I wouldn’t let it bother you.”

“It doesn’t.” Ao’nung shrugs. Although, it nags at him that Lo’ak has been sharing these concerns with you. If he has complaints they should be brought to him directly, not woven into your mind in hopes of creating doubt. Would that work? Have you already developed your own concerns? You’re a shy little thing at times but Ao’nung has always figured that to be part of how your personality reacts to his own. Surely, you must know the way he feels about you. 

For all the ways you openly wear your heart on your sleeve, he still somehow can not be sure. Some things still remain a mystery when it comes to you. 

“What is this?” You ask, once you're back inside his marui. He squints to make out one of the small figurines he had placed next to his hunting gear. 

“A…cat?” He answers, eyes still squinting to see if he has passed your test correctly. 

“No Ao’nung. I mean what is it doing here? What are all of them doing here?” The rest of the figurines are much like this cat one, although just like your bunny they all wear tiny clothes. Calico Critters you had called them the first time he asked. They serve no real purpose, just tiny things that stand there but the important thing is that you adore them. 

So naturally he swiped them to bring back here. 

“They don’t do anything, precious. Just exist I suppose.” 

Your attempt at a stern expression is endearing, hand placed on your hips as your neck cranes to glare up at him. 

“I’m starting to think you’re a kleptomaniac. You can’t keep stealing my stuff.” 

“It is not stealing.” He shrugs. 

“Oh really? Then what is it?” 

“Relocating.” Ao’nung grins. “Now you can enjoy them here.” 

Although there is not true ire in your questioning there is in fact real push back on the topic. You know why he has stolen your creepy figurines. Just as you know why he has strung some fabrics of pink and purple like a canopy along the ceiling of his marui. And placed a few of your extra blankets in his hammock. Whatever it takes to lure you back here night after night. 

Notwithstanding all of his efforts, you continue to split your time between here and your place in the tawtute caves. Moving into his marui would be a natural next step in your relationship. Of course you are attached to all the silly trinkets you’ve acquired but he is not opposed to letting you litter his marui with them as long as you would call this place your home too. 

Still, he remains patient. Many courting couples wait until properly mating before living together anyways. You must share the same morals. However, he sees no harm in enticing you all the same. 

“I know what you’re doing.” Your voice smooths out into a sing-song tone. Ao’nung’s long hair falls over his right shoulder when he cocks his head to the side and feigns innocent curiosity. “You truly are ridiculous.” Fighting back a smile you begin arranging the figurines neatly into their separate families. 

He has the decency to wait until they’re organized before sweeping you from the ground and falling back onto his hammock in one swift move. It draws a surprised chirp from your lips. A deep sigh echoes from his own chest even as you make weak protests about him giving you a heart attack.

“You know I still need to dry off.” You remind him but Ao’nung already has his head leaned back against the woven fabric. His right arm smoothly encircles around your middle to clamp you against his chest. You squirm and thrash to get out of his hold but it only takes an iota of his strength to keep you locked there. Even with his eyes closed in a show of feigned sleep, he can’t keep his lips from twitching into a pleased smirk. 

That smirk crackles into a full laughter induced grin when your small hand swats at the side of his head. “Ao’nung,” You chide, a slight whine to your tone that has him stifling back his amusement. 

Peeking his eyes open he finds your own strangely colored eyes glaring back at him. This little game of back and forth is one that you both enjoy frequently but he has a feeling that this time you may actually insist on being let up to get your towel. A sigh heaves from his chest as he shakes his head fondly. “There is no need, tawtute. I will keep you warm.” He says, reaching down to pull out a blanket and toss it over your small form. 

Ao’nung is grateful when you don’t fight him further or demand a proper reason. He would give one but it’s unlikely you would understand. How could he explain that seeing you drenched like this does something to him? That your hair smelling of the sea’s salt water serves as a direct signal of you and his home coming together? Everything about you is unique, so new and foreign to him but there is something about witnessing those beautiful aspects of you slowly integrate into his life on the reef as well that lingers with him. 

But you’re tawtute. Your sense of smell is greatly dampened in comparison. It’s a shame considering how many times he has scent marked you and you can’t even recognize it, let alone appreciate the possessive gesture. No, there isn’t an easy way to explain to you what he is feeling as he presses his nose against your crown. And even if there is, it’s doubtful that he would be the one to find it. Saying the right thing hasn’t always been his strong suit. It’s Tsireya that is good with the mushy sentiments. 

And why waste the air with such jumbled nonsense when this moment already holds everything he needs? An ocean breeze that filters through the entrance of his marui to coast over your frame and carry your essence. A soft sway to the hammock, lulling him to relax. The satisfying weight of your warm body draped across his own. 

And then there are your hands. Uncalloused pointer finger that delicately begins tracing over his shoulder tattoo. The soft glide of your finger greatly contrasts the pain he had endured to stain his skin with dark ink. You’ve never witnessed a Metkayina tattoo ceremony but your quiet fascination carries a certain reverence. 

Swirling down further and further until he can feel the tickle along his bicep. Such a simple sensation, barely more than the brush of a breeze, yet it melts through him like liquid gold. The unconscious tense of his muscles release and already he can feel his breath deepen. He’s on the verge of succumbing to this silent lullaby when his ear twitches from being touched. 

Ao’nung opens his eyes to find that you are carefully tucking a few strands or curly hair behind his pointed ear. Letting others touch his hair is not a normal practice for him. Traditionally he has relied on Tsireya exclusively to fashion it into a suitable hairstyle. There is something deeply…personal about it. It’s always been a fixation for you though.

And where his tail typically pikes onto alert and a growl blossoms in his chest at a foreign touch to his curls, somehow it all dissipates away when it comes to your strange tawtute hands. 

Perhaps it's the way you marvel at him openly. You’ve always had a fascination for pretty things, a category that he was pleased to find himself a part of when your hasty confession came that first night. You’re often shy in speaking it, but your touch and stare always hold that same appreciation for his physique. 

There’s more to it, though. 

When you stare up at him like this, all bashfulness put to the side, it cuts him open. As if with one prolonged moment you’ve managed to strip him bare and peer into his very soul. It’s not his hair or intricate tattoos that you see. Not even the dozen of physical differences between you two that screams alien. You look at him. 

Whatever you see in him. 

If only he could read your thoughts. Finally untangle your tawtute customs and culture that have webbed you into a puzzle for him. Do you get that burning in your chest too? That one that feels like his heart has been clutched in an iron grip? Perhaps a grip from the same hands that now go back to tracing his tattoos. 

With the smallest sigh your head drops back onto his chest. Sleep overcoming you is obvious by the now absence of touch along his right bicep. Ao’nung follows you into slumber mere minutes after when he has finally brought his heart rate back to a normal speed. 

Your nap far exceeds his own. While Ao’nung had only dosed off for a few minutes but you are dead to the world for at least a half hour. Apparently that little swim had worn you to the bone. He would have to help you with endurance. It seems tawtute are not built for staying in the water long. 

In fact you are so still as you sleep that Ao’nung finds himself placing a hand across your back to check that it still rises and falls with breath. When you do wake up it takes a minute for you to make out where you are with blurry vision. A sheepish look crosses your features upon realizing what position you’ve remained in. It’s followed by some silly notion that you laying on top of him is somehow considered rude or uncomfortable. He’ll never understand why you make these assertions. 

Regardless, Ao’nung quickly wraps both arms around your waist when you attempt to move off of him. Dislodging yourself from his hold is an impossible task, a truth that you must come to recognize as you only give a feigned huff and try fighting back a smile. 

“We can’t stay here forever you know.” 

His pointer finger slowly drags over every vertebrae of your spine as he lets out a thoughtful hum. “Maybe not forever but I did promise a reward. Can’t have you skipping off before receiving what you are owed.” 

The air seems to thicken with his words. A familiar tension is slowly wound as all of your sleepiness dissipates and goosebumps ripple across your skin. He can feel the evidence of his own excitement shifting beneath his tewng. Dirty thoughts of all the ways he could reward you sprout to the forefront of his mind. There is no end to these thoughts when it comes to you. Never before has someone woven themselves into his fantasies so incessantly. Even to the point where it can be a struggle to focus on his duties while you swim through his head. 

Ao’nung pushes down those ideas for now, however. It’s only fair that you get to pick the reward after all that you’ve accomplished today. And then…if you need some ideas he would be more than anxious to supply. 

“Have you decided what reward that will be?” He asks, forcing his hands to remain above the tempting curve of your ass. Just for now. You’re not always the most articulate when his wandering hands come into play. 

Something flickers in your expression. Only a second before you are averting your gaze and gnawing on your bottom lip. Ao’nung’s exploring hand stills as curiosity lights within him. Propping himself onto one elbow he invades your space, forcing your eyes to meet his own. 

“You do.” He smirks, reveling in the way you fight to squirm. 

“Well, maybe. I don’t know. It’s just an idea so I’m not sure if-”

“Sevin [beautiful/pretty],” Ao’nung interrupts. “Tell me.” He coats his voice in a smooth purr, hoping to coax an answer from you, but his patience can only last so long. Whatever idea has sprouted in your brain must be obscene enough to prompt such hesitation in telling him. However Ao’nung has come to find that your meter for rating lewds acts is far more sensitive than his own. Regardless, you have his attention now. All of his previous ideas are cast to the side in favor of hearing what has you blushing. 

“I was thinking that maybe…if it’s okay with you…that I could…suck you off?”

Ao’nung’s devilish smirk drops in an instant. 

“For your reward you want to suck my cock?” The vulgar language has your cheeks deepening in color but you manage to nod.

Great Mother above, where did he find you?

It seems he must have done something right in his past life. He was ready to find satisfaction in your slick along his tongue and watching your writhe with pleasure but now you are sitting on top of him, the true depiction of bashfulness, asking to put his cock down your throat. His brain can’t really make sense of it, but he still stands by not asking questions when nice things come his way. And precious, you are by far the nicest thing he has ever had. 

“Is that weird?”

“No,” comes his instant reply. Subconsciously he holds his breath. You’re an easy one to spook. 

“Actually I was hoping you could teach me.” 

This is starting to feel far too close to one of his favorite fantasies. So much so that Ao’nung takes note of every detail in the room to confirm that this could not be just some erotic dream. But this is real and a feral creature is stirring inside of him, gnawing at the bars of its enclosure. 

“You’ve never…” Ao’nung trails off. Neither of you have talked much about past relationships, you especially. It’s common knowledge that the Metkayina prince has had his time sleeping around but he has no inkling of what you’ve experienced. The only hints he receives are the clear hesitation in your movements. Just enough to have him wondering if he is your first. 

“I have. Just once.” That has his other arm propping him so he is now sitting up properly. “I mean I tried to once but I-I wasn’t very good at it. At least that’s what he said. Which make sense, I had no idea what I was doing so I couldn’t really be mad when he said we shouldn’t again-”

“Who?” A dark venom fills his chest. This is the first time you’ve discussed a past lover and he’s already not liking the light it's being presented in. 

“Just a guy I used to date back with the Omatikaya.” So he’s not here. It would take crossing an ocean to kill him. Then again, he’s done more for less. Was it an Omatikaya male or did you fool around with one of the science tawtute? “It’s fine. He was right.”

His brain lags at the information. Caught between confusion and rage. 

“And oh god now I’ve made it sound like the most unappealing thing possible. Great.” 

Ao’nung barely hears your embarrassed groan. What man in their right mind has a beautiful creature like you on her knees for him only to criticise and turn her away? To be presented a gift and not only reject it but smash it into pieces, tear your confidence to shreds. So what if you’re inexperienced? A true man knows how to teach, takes joy in it. Joy that this creature has tossed out without regard. 

It’s a perplexing tug of war between emotions. As a man himself he can’t help but find this person’s actions incredibly ridiculous. And yet, the idea of him enjoying your body has Ao’nung imagining ripping this faceless man to shreds. And a man he must not be. No true man does this. 

To treat you in this way…there is no honor in such actions. The Omatikaya are different but they are still respectable Na’vi. It could not have been one of them, that would somehow feel worse. So a tawtute it must have been. A vrrtep [demon]. 

“It doesn’t have to be that. I think I might be making it a bit weird by sharing this.”

“This man said such things to you?” To your face? He looked you in the eyes as you fiddled with the hem of a lacy skirt and apprehension seated beneath long lashes and told you he didn’t enjoy your mouth around him? He watched those beautiful eyes hold back tears? Looked at perfection incarnate and spat in the face of it? 

“Well yeah but..does it really matter?”

Does it matter? How could it not matter? Is that what he wanted you to think? That this was no big deal, convince you to suck it up and move on without complaint? That wouldn’t work on you. It’s only been a few weeks and even Ao’nung knows that words cut you deep. Anyone with a morsel of sense would know that. But this man, the same that somehow had the honor of sharing your bed, obviously had not taken a second to understand you. 

Could he even please you if so? Had he even tried? Not in the way Ao’nung has, that much has been obvious from the way you still tremble after the orgasms he coaxes from you. It’s not a contest, for that he would require true competition. However a part of him, a part that directly conflicts his innate urge to pummel any man that has touched you, feels as if there should be competition. No one would ever compare to him, but your past experiences should have at least been enjoyable. 

“Who is this?” His throat strains to hold back a growl. 

“Um…I’m getting the feeling that it’s a bad idea to tell you.” 

Smart thing that you are, you’re right. Correct if your goal is to prevent Ao’nung from ripping this anonymous man’s throat out. He can’t fathom why you would want to protect him but then again this is very in character for you. No matter what someone has done you always have a way of finding a soft spot for them. You care so much, sometimes too much. 

And this man didn’t care for you at all. 

Your precious heart is too big to tell him, but the Metkayina prince vows he will find out one way or another. 

“He was just being honest.” 

“Sevin,” A stern understone laces the pet name as he captures your chin. “He did not deserve you.”

Ao’nung weighs those words with every ounce of sincerity he can muster. And you feel it. It shows in the way your shoulders drop and expression melts into something new. Not a smile by any means but his words have touched you, they beckon you further into his arms. And then there is that cinch around his heart again. 

And being the ridiculous little thing you are, you thank him. As if telling the truth is ever a favor. You are utterly nonsensical at times. Utterly nonsensical and utterly his. 

“What he deserves is a spear through the chest.”

“Okay big guy, calm down.” You say, patting his chest while trying to hide your creeping amusement. You think he’s joking. How cute. 

“Are you asking me to teach you because that’s what you want or because you think this is what I want?” Ao’nung hates to ask, to potentially ruin this opportunity for himself, but it’s needed. He won’t be like that pathetic creature of a lover you once had. Avoiding that starts with making sure you aren’t simply doing this for his benefit, to prove yourself in a way that he has never and will never ask you to. 

“Do you want it?” 

His hairless brows drop as he gives you a deadpan look. “Precious, you already know that I do.” Want it more than you can even fathom. “But that’s not what I asked you.”

There is a beat of hesitation, you poor bottom lip already torn up from your gnawing. “I want to feel like I know what I’m doing. I want to make you feel good in the same way you do me.” 

“You already do.” There is still much left for the two of you to explore, so much more he can’t wait to do with you but there is no rush. You’ve brought him to the heights of pleasure no one else has before. 

“I know but…still. And it’s not the only reason why. I’m curious.” Your head tilts in a subtle way to create a curtain out of your hair and hide that sheepish look. “You’re just so different and I…I’m interested.” 

Different.

Interested.

Two trails of thoughts fighting for attention. Different from your past lover. Different because he is Metkayina or different because he is a Na’vi. Perhaps it shouldn’t matter but it’s difficult to stamp down that curiosity.

However, Ao’nung focuses on the latter. The same that has his ears perking with his own interest and groin suddenly becoming very aware of your weight situated there. 

A low hum of appreciation rumbles in his chest as he slowly situates your further onto his lap. His turquoise cheek brushes against your jaw before he presses a slow kiss there. “My curious sevin, hm?” You suck in a breath when his sharp teeth just barely nip at your earlobe. 

“Yes.” You whisper but those small hands are already smoothing over his shoulders, one even slinking to the nape of his neck. 

“You know I am always happy to sate your curiosity, precious.” 

That abused bottom lip is finally released when he captures you in a kiss. Despite the growing anticipation, Ao’nung leads this kiss in a pace that is anything but rushed. It’s languid. Relaxed. Sensual. And when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss you eagerly respond in kind. 

The ties of your bikini are much simpler than the average Metkayina top and yet it’s difficult to concentrate on undoing them when his tongue is swirling around yours and your hands have already taken real estate lodged deep in his hair. Fingers fumbling for a moment to undo your top he can’t fathom at which point he had let you get such a tight hold on him. Those curious hands hold more power than he would dare to let you know. 

The skimpy piece of fabric finally sags, only held up by being sandwiched between his chest and yours. 

“This is what you want?” Ao’nung asks again, only departing from your lips for a second. 

“Yes.” He pulls back when you eagerly chase after him for more.

“Promise me.” He demands. 

“I promise.” 

No words have tasted sweeter against his lips. So Ao’nung rewards your sweet behavior with a slow beckon of his tongue. Skillfully exploring and stroking your own until a groan has your lips parting wider for him. His right hand cups the back of your head, easily encompassing the width of your skull in his hold. Anything to keep you there, to continue breathing in your essence until it is seared down his throat. 

Your breath is erratic when he pulls away. Even more so when he whispers a simple, “good girl.” There is always a visceral reaction that comes from that short phrase. An ease of tension in your muscles, a breathy sigh that directly trails to a shiver down your spine. It’s become one of his favorite coined phrases for that reaction exactly. Praise has a way of slipping you into a new headspace, one where worry dissipates and you finally allow him to worship you in the way you deserve. 

Ao’nung veers back just enough to let your top fall before pulling you close again. Your breasts press against his chest, those tender nubs already prickling against his skin. So responsive and he’s hardly done anything to you yet. 

It’s your turn to fumble with the ties when you attempt to undo his tewng. Ao’nung smoothly shifts onto his knees but that doesn’t greatly reduce your struggle when it comes to unwinding the ties from his tail. He’s partly to blame. The second you graze the base of his tail it reacts with a strong swish. Without one of your own, it must be difficult for you to comprehend the unique sensitivity of his tail. You sense there is something, though, hands already retreating shyly. 

“What is wrong?” He murmurs against your temple. 

“Nothing.” 

It’s less than convincing, even more so when you grapple to meet his gaze. “No need to be shy, precious.” 

“I just…don’t want to hurt you.” 

It’s tempting to roll his eyes, a tawtute habit you’ve somehow managed to ingrain in him. Instead, he grasps your tiny hand carefully in his own and begins pushing it back towards his tail. “Just as you are mine, paskalin, I am yours.” Ao’nung fights back a shiver when you just barely brush the base of the wide appendage. “Which means I am yours to explore. Yours to enjoy.”

“Take advantage of it.” Something flickers in your countenance at his words. Although still slow and careful in actions a spark of intrigue ignites. He has been the main instigator in your interactions, far more bold in letting his desire for you show. And while Ao’nung revels in always having the upper hand it’s important that you understand the joy that comes from it too. To let you wander and sate your curiosities without restraint. Finally allow yourself the freedom from silly tawtute concerns that plague you. 

Because he is yours. 

He has been yours since the first time he saw you land at their shores with ribbons in your hair wearing that ridiculously short yellow dress. Even he did not know that day how far gone he already was. 

Either way, you two have obviously been crafted for one another. And Ao’nung will be damned before he lets pointless Sky People customs get in the way of you fully enjoying that bond. To finally taste the ecstasy that comes with owning someone, body and soul. 

Finally his tewng falls away and Ao’nung helps you dispose of it to the side. As he works on the ties of your bottoms now a kernel of courage slowly sprouts within your actions. Ao’nung smirks against the crook of your neck when he feels the traces of fingertips along his pecs before dragging over the lines of his abdomen. 

As tempting as it is to tease you for the interest, Ao’nung spares you his knowing looks and instead encourages the action by placing sweet kisses along your throat. With very little effort he ripens an old mark he had left there last week, licking over the now beautiful contrast of color in delight. It seems to spur something within you as well, small kisses now running over his collarbones and down his chest. 

The touch is featherlight, enough to have him almost squirming at how it tickles him. However, you are already letting your touch travel south. Ao’nung graciously aids this endeavor, sliding you off of his lap, flinging your bottoms to the side and laying down on his back with spread legs. For a moment he considers standing up and letting you kneel for a better access but it feels like a risk. 

You are just barely mustering up enough confidence to explore. A small thing like you is easy to startle, standing above you could be too intimidating. And as much as he loves watching your nerves paint a beautiful blush over those cheeks, today it’s in his best interest to tread carefully. 

Ao’nung holds back a jerk reaction when your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Despite your demure nature this activity has become one very familiar to you. It’s been a safe substitute for your little pussy as you work your way up there. It’s hard not to think about how you will stretch around his thick cock someday, how little whines will bubble up your throat without reprieve and he will finally know what it means to be inside of you. 

But you are small. And fragile. 

It’s easier to push those thoughts aside in order to maintain his patience. 

You only stroke him a few times, hand barely able to wrap fully around him. And then without any warning, there is a loss of touch and you are crawling up his chest again. Ao’nung pulls back and raises a brow when your right hand slinks to the back of his head. Perhaps you are wanton for another kiss but then your lips never descend to his. Instead there is a shift in his hair before the rest of his long locks are falling freely and you are holding the band that originally had it tied into a bun. 

This is a common preference of yours, seeing his hair unrestrained. However, today you don’t just fling the band to the side and become engrossed in admiring the curls. That large band is fitted around your wrist before you are bending back to gather your own hair. The view is more than preferable, back curving and chest opened up for his heated gaze. All of a sudden he can’t remember what his objections to his own hair were. Not when his teeth are drawing blood from his lip just imagining how perfectly they would sink into your right breast. Just above the nipple where no one but him would get to admire such a beautiful mark. 

You tie your hair back into a ponytail, even giving its roots a good tug for measure. You mean business. 

“Who is stealing whose stuff now?” Ao’nung jests. 

“I don’t see you complaining.” Your nose scrunches at him in a teasing manner. It wipes away when his warm hands encompass your hips, kneading the flesh sensually. His left  hand travels up your stomach and past your ribcage before brushing one nipple not so innocently. 

“I’m very generous when it comes to you, precious.” You won’t understand how true those words are, especially when you’re too busy gasping at the harsh tug he gives your right nipple. 

Saliva gathers along his tongue as he flicks the other hardened nub. Those pretty little tits always feel good in his mouth. So malleable. Your cries always responsive. If it weren’t for the clear ache between his legs the Metkayina prince would have you flipped onto your back and mouth tormenting those perfect breasts until you would beg for him to stop by now. 

But that’s not the reward he promised you, he reminds himself as you are released and slink back down between his thighs. Apprehension settles in your shoulders again when you are face to face with his twitching cock. Fisting the bottom you take a deep breath to steady yourself. 

“Paskalin,” He calls lowly. “There is no rush.” 

Everything in his body screams otherwise, but Ao’nung maintains a cool composure. You’re already nervous. Already scarred from a past bad experience. It’s his job to do everything in his power to ease that burden. Even when that means torturing himself with the perfect image of you nestled between his thighs all while desperately aching for your touch. 

“Yeah but you’re-”

“I am fine. It’s your reward, sevin. Do what feels natural to you.” 

What feels natural to you is far more than what he is ready for. Plush lips press against his hip bone, trailing down into open mouthed kisses along his thigh. And then there are your teeth. Those silly blunt teeth that struggle to make an indent in his flesh but your attempt is stimulating all the same. A soft tongue and small teeth encompassed with those perfectly kissable lips work to suck and bite a new color along his upper right thigh. 

You’re trying to mark him.

Claim him as he has claimed you so many times. 

It’s concerning how fast it frays as his self control, awakening that primal beast within him. His own nails sink into the root of his messy hair while his other hand resting at the back of your head, carefully ensuring to cup you gently not push. When a muscle in his thick thigh flexes that silky tongue chases the line it makes. 

The entire endeavor has his body awakening with anticipation, fighting the urge to pin you down and take what he wants now. It is ridiculous how such a simple act from his tawtute has him twitching with need but he loves seeing you this way. Letting your unbridled desire show, using his body the way that has always been your right. 

When you pull back, Ao’nung’s neck cranes to see the damage. And damage you can barely call it as there is the smallest purple spot blooming along his upper thigh. Tiny indents of teeth around it. 

It is nowhere near the possessive carnage of his own marks upon your lighter skin, in fact the change in color is hardly a contrast. But it’s his. Your adorable attempt at marking your territory is utterly his to treasure. His precious tawtute leaving the sweetest of gifts. 

“So pretty, paskalin.” He purrs, finger stroking through your scalp as he battles the urge to stick his tongue down your throat again. The pad of your thumb brushes over the mark, gaze just barely peeking up at him beneath your long lashes. 

His body can’t fight a jerk this time when you unexpectedly grab the base of his cock again. A reassuring smile is quickly plastered on his face when you look up at him in concern. The size of him is borderline comical in your hand. Cock practically the length of your forearm, it’s daunting to imagine what a tight fit it will be in your mouth. Equally erotic and nerve wracking to think of those sweet lips stretching around him. 

“Promise you’ll help me do it right?” You ask gently, as if you aren’t simultaneously stroking his twitching cock in one hand, precum already drizzling down between your fingers. 

“I promise. Stop worrying.” Ao’nung prays you don’t hear the waver in his voice. How unfair it is to expect him to answer your questions when it’s taking everything within him not to fuck up into your fist. “Just start with your tongue, precious. Let yourself taste.” 

He had meant for you to explore slowly, maybe start from the bottom and work your way up but it’s clear you’re out to kill him because instead your pink tongue immediately flicks at the head of his cock, right over the slit where a drop of precum rests. 

It’s a pure shot of electricity. 

And that’s when Ao’nung knows…he is in trouble. 

How did he not calculate for this? This is by far not the first time he has had a beautiful woman’s mouth running along him, but they had all been Metkayina women before you. Their tongues had a rougher texture, something enjoyable but entirely different to the silk-like surface of your own. It’s so soft it almost tickles.

He’s known this from the first time you kissed but somehow that never translated into how it would feel against his most sensitive parts. 

Mercy is not afforded to him. Like the good numeyu you are, his instructions are taken to heart as your tongue lathers along every inch of him. Sometimes shorter flicks of your tongue while others long strokes that travel from the base to tip. You are duteous in your task. Even going as far as running over his heavy balls hanging beneath. 

Great Mother above, he was not built to contain himself like this. 

Blown out pupils look up at him when you pull back. It’s impossible to miss the seated hunger in your gaze, but first and foremost you wait for him to guide you. There is a drop of his arousal resting at the corner of your lips innocently, already starting to glow as eclipse has set outside. 

Without thinking, Ao’nung finds his own thumb pressing at the dot to slip it back inside your mouth. The digit is accepted without question. Curiosity getting the better of him now, the prince presses his thumb down on your tongue. 

Obediently your jaw slacks and lips separate. The pad of his thumb drags over your silky tongue as his other fingers curl beneath your chin. Saliva coats the digit before Ao’nung softly presses your jaw closed. “Suck,” He instructs. 

Unlike with swimming you don’t question his methods. You suck hard enough to hollow your cheeks, presenting the perfect tools to imagine what it will feel like around his cock. “There you go. Breath through your nose, sevin.” 

You take every direction graciously, following each to a tee. By the time he pulls his thumb out with a pronounced pop sound, it has a line of saliva still connecting it to your lips. He can’t help himself. Ao’nung slides that wet thumb down between your legs and lets it brush over your clit. A choked sound echoes from your throat, clasping his shoulder as he reaches further down to confirm his suspicions. 

You are absolutely drenched. 

“I-I want to try,” your breathy voice rushes out. 

Biting back a moan, Ao’nung kisses your cheek before whispering, “Do as you wish.” 

With heavy lidded eyes, he lays back and watches you settle between his thighs again. There is less urgency this time, desire overriding your apprehension. Less timid now, you take his cock in hand and start to fit your lips around the head. The tip is barely past your lips before you are emulating the ministrations he had taught you on his thumb. Cheeks hollowed and tongue running wild, you suck the very life out of him. 

“Precious precious,” Ao’nung gasps out, pulling your head off of him. “Not yet, sweetheart. Not yet.” 

His body thrums from the aftershock. Too much all at once. “Let’s focus on getting me in that pretty mouth first, hm?” 

“Sorry,” You mumble, already pulling back but Ao’nung pushes your head forward again. 

“Don’t apologize, sevin. You are being so good for me.” Wrapped in his praise you lower down around him slower this time. 

Just fitting the head inside is already a mouthful, something he tries to keep in mind as his hips are begging to buck up into your sweet cavern. It feels like being wrapped in satin. That perfectly hot wet cocoon of your mouth encircling his cock as if it was made for him. Not even halfway down and he can just barely feel the back of your throat. 

Ao’nung keeps you positioned there, not wanting to push you too far yet. He makes the mistake of looking down, however, and that image alone has his balls drawing up, dangerously close to the edge. Your pink lips stretched to their limit, such a beautiful contrast to sparkling eyes that peek up at him for approval. An absolute masterpiece. 

A shudder ripples forward when you suddenly pull off of him. “It won’t fit,” you pout. 

As if the situation isn’t already enough, those deceptively sweet words have the filthiest of fantasies running through his head. 

“That’s alright. You can use your hand for the rest.” He prompts. 

The advice helps when you lower down again, fisting what you can of the rest with your hand but even then it won’t cover all of him. “Now you can try your tongue, sevin. Just like I taught you.” 

But the way your tongue incidentally rides the vein on the underside of his cock is far more than what he taught you. It’s only his reaction that has you less oblivious to its sensitivities. Ao’nung lungs suck in air sharply, the concave of his stomach accenting the x shape of his ribs. 

“Am I hurting you?” You ask, abruptly rearing off of him. Those beautiful features are painted with such genuine concern Ao’nung is caught between laughing at your innocence and growling in need. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

“You are so far from hurting me, precious.” Voice thickening with something carnal, Ao’nung pins you with ocean blue eyes. “That pretty mouth feels so good around me. Let me feel it again, paskalin.” 

The words strike you hard, plummeting you into a daze-like state as you softly follow the push of his hand. Whatever worries you have dissipate, too focused on getting him to gasp like that again. And it turns out such filthy words are exactly what you need when he is nestled in your heat, wide eyes crinkling with glee. 

“There we go. Now suck, sweetheart.” 

It takes little encouragement for your compliance. Even the small directions of how hard to suck, where to lap your tongue is ardently followed. Less experienced you may be but your obedience makes up for it ten fold. And then you are following him down into the thick haze of desire. Nostrils flaring, your head starts lowering down to take him deeper. 

Despite his flaring desire to watch you choke on him, Ao’nung hesitates. You’re fragile. This isn’t like the other women he has been intimate with. Throwing you around, using you too harshly, can come with consequences. Push too hard and he may just break you, making this an experience you never wish to repeat. 

But then his cerulean eyes catch a glimpse of your thighs, the way they squeeze together. That tantalizing essence is thick in the air, even more so when you begin rutting against the fabric like an animal in heat. There is still a slyness to your movements that tell him you’re trying not to get caught, but it’s too late. 

You are enjoying this just as much as him, big wide eyes begging for more. 

And so more you will get.

“You want my cock down your throat. Don’t you, sweetheart?” 

The hum you give in response not only confirms his theories but lights every pleasure center in his brain. A growl rumbles in his chest. “Of course you do, because you’re a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

Another whine around him and Ao’nung’s toes are curling against the hammock. He fists the base of your ponytail and both of your hands position themselves at his hips, blunt nails digging in. “Then do as I say, sevin. Relax that throat and let me in.” 

The first time he slinks past the back of your throat, your gag reflex kicks in dramatically. Immediately he pulls out to allow you a ragged breath but before he can ask if you’re alright, your hands are clawing at his hips and trying to pull him back in. Ao’nung doesn’t need to be told twice. 

The pattern continues. His hips draw forward a little more each time until the choking seems to be too much and Ao’nung draws back to allow you air. Each time he is rewarded with the view of your sinfully debauched state. Lips ruby red, a mixture of his precum and saliva glossing over them, and blown out pupils lazily staring up at him. 

You’re a quick learner. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm of this pattern. It comes to a point where you are efficient in taking a deep breath before he is spearing down your throat again. Until it can be done faster and faster. Until he has almost three quarters of his length encompassed and able to thrust a couple times before needing to pull back. 

“Fuck, precious!” He groans, feet already planting against the hammock’s surface. “My perfect little cocksucker.” 

Those words spurs a new energy through you. When he comes to pop out after a couple thrusts, you snag his hip and give him a look. A silent communication that tells him all he needs to know. And by Eywa, it could not come at a better time. He is hanging just over the edge of release. It’s unclear how much longer he can keep that beast inside of him caged. 

So when you pull back for one last breath, his grip tightens on your hair and Ao’nung hips finally snap up with vigor. You take it like a champ, choking and drooling but eagerly pushing him to fuck down your throat. Those little ruts against the hammock becoming even more desperate with every growled moan he releases. 

“So fucking perfect.” He growls out between clenched teeth. The last tangible sound before his hips are ricketting sporadically and his balls are drawing up against him. Ao’nung finishes with his head thrown back. A position that only lasts for a moment as he quickly remembers to look down and watch the way you choke around him. He doesn’t fight it when you pull back and the rest of his spend lands across your jaw and collarbones. 

Now caught in his own daze, the prince hazily savors the masterpiece before him. Tears glossing over your eyes, abused lips parted, and his bioluminescent cum painting your satin like skin. If only there was a way to keep this image tucked away in his pocket forever. 

Coming down from his high, Ao’nung feels a tinge of guilt when he surveys your state. That is, until he catches another whiff of your arousal and watches a dopey grin trace your lips. For the first time in perhaps forever, he finds himself speechless. 

That grin dampens down in the silence, however. Chest still heaving for air you nervously ask, “Was it…good?” 

Nothing more than a raspy whisper but your concern is pure. 

Ao’nung is baffled. Wholly bewildered at how you can sit there with his sperm still dripping down your breasts and sincerely ask him such a question. 

He’s going to kill that pathetic man, that is for certain. Rip apart the one person that ever dared to make you question such a thing. The man that made you feel like anything less than a goddess. 

“Good?” He asks, slowly rising to sit up. You bite your bottom lip. “Oh precious, you aren’t good.” Ao’nung’s thick tail swerves behind him when he settles onto his knees, hands clasping your hips. “You are addicting. My perfect unraveling.” 

If he wasn’t so impatient he would savor the way your breath catches and eyes sparkle in delight. But he only sees it for a second before you are manhandled onto your back with a squeak and he is bullying his head between your squishy thighs. 

“Spread those pretty legs, tawtute. It’s my turn to taste.”

If you enjoyed this story please take the time to share your thoughts. I can't express enough how much it means to me, especially for this little story! It's one of my favorites<3

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[froggiequarium]

1k words; rafayel making nail art... for you (working on this when i'm supposed to be working on a new fic for main oops.... raf invaded my mind what can i say?)

-

rafayel noticed your little habit of constantly switching out your press-on nails every couple of weeks. infact, you often began asking him his opinions on which to use next after catching his curious eyes glued to you as you prepped your nails for the newly decided set, and he'd confidently point out the one he thought would suit the season or occasion better.

one day, after showing him the new sets you'd bought during a sale and oogling at the cute art and charms they were decorated with, he offhandedly asked if they were difficult to make.

"hm? well, i've seen videos that make it easy, but usually things look easier than when you actually try it yourself, so i just stick to buying them," you sheepishly point out with a little laugh.

and suddenly, rafayel has an idea.

in the next week or so, when its around the time to switch out your nails once more, rafayel calls you and tells you to meet him at his studio, that he has a surprise waiting for you.

curious and excited, you immediately make your way there, having no other plans for the day, mentally going through special days to make sure you're not forgetting any occasion.

though, it wasn't likely, given rafayel's nature of spoiling you with surprise gifts for no particular reason.

you make your way inside of his studio and find him in the living area, just finishing arranging some things before his gaze flits up to yours.

"well hello, miss bodyguard. you got here quick."

you take slow steps towards him, grinning.

"a certain fishy said they had something for me, i couldn't just keep him waiting."

he grins back.

when you close the distance and are standing right before him, he holds his hands out, palms facing up.

"give me your hands," he coaxes.

you do as you're told, sliding your hands over his, and he grips them gently, inspecting your hands— you don't have a new set on yet, just as he expected.

perfect.

"why don't i do your nails for you this time?"

you tilt your head.

"is this your surprise?"

"part of it."

"are you sure? i didn't think you'd be interested, and i'm used to doing it myself...."

"nonsense, let me decorate your hands for you this time, cutie."

you raise an eyebrow, suspicious at his insistence, but allow yourself to be dragged to the couch and seated next to him as he reaches for the utensils that you use to prep your nails.

"why did you have everything ready? were you that confident i'd let you do my nails for me?"

he holds up the nail clippers, moving close to begin snipping down your nails.

"its already been a couple of weeks since your last set, so i knew you'd be working on another one sooner or later."

something about the attention to detail rafayel pays when it comes to you makes your heart thump a little faster in your chest.

"right..."

he's finished trimming and filing your nails quickly before he grabs a spikier tool to push your cuticles back, trimming some as he sees fit. afterward, he's grabbing another tool and begins gently buffing the surface of each nail. when he reaches for a small alcohol wipe to drag over each nail bed, you speak up again, realizing something.

"wait, what set are you even going to put on? did you decide without me?"

he cleans the last finger, setting the wipe down beside him before reaching for the nail glue to have ready.

"give me a second."

he reaches for a little box that was hidden in plain sight behind a cup of paintbrushes on the nearby table. its a pretty blue and wrapped in a little purple ribbon. he hands it to you, and you slowly take it from him.

"this is the real surprise," he smiles, gesturing for you to open it.

you look up at him before pulling at one of the ends of the ribbon, gently unraveling it and popping the lid off of the box. you can't help the little gasp that escapes you at the sight within.

it's a new set of nails, pristine and pretty, looking like the ones that are on the pricier end of the websites you buy from.

they're a mix of pearly white and ocean blue, different images from seashells and little fish to a seahorse being painted on a few of them, embellished with small colored-pearl looking charms and some shiny gold glitter for highlight. even more, the shape of them is exactly your preference.

you're looking at them for a long time in silence due to the awe of the detail and beauty of them. rafayel watches you marvel at them, but grows too eager to hear your thoughts.

"do you like them?"

rafayel's voice breaks you from your trance and you finally manage to tear your gaze away from the nails to meet his eyes.

"did you.... make these?"

rafayel only shrugs in response.

"i decided to try it out. it wasn't the easiest thing, but it was simple enough, and i got the hang of it easily. still, i think my back is still hurting from the weird angle i had to be at to paint on such a tiny canvas," he whines, rubbing his lower back for emphasis.

you breathe out a laugh, pushing yourself forward and kissing the pout off of his lips.

"these are the prettiest nails i've ever had, raf. thank you," you beam.

his ears are bright red.

"its not that big a deal," he looks to the side, shy. the volume of his voice is lower at his next words. "besides, there's more where that came from, so its nothing..."

you nod, making a note to ask to watch him at work later. for now, you hold the box out to him, gaze expectant.

"well, i'm ready for my new nails, mister nail artist~"

he's back to his normal self at your words, pleased expression crossing his face as he snatches the box from you before picking up the glue.

"leave it to me!"

needless to say, you received the most compliments on this set than you had from the other sets you wore, everyone hounding you for which new nail place you went to this time for such a beautifully effortless result.

you were all too satisfied to turn to each of them and proudly reveal the secret nail tech, the curious gazes immediately growing stunned.

"my boyfriend!"

-

you cant convince me he wouldn't be good at nail art.... inspired by the next press-on set im going to use looking cutely painted (not ocean themed though) & it made me think ab how rafayel would definitely make you your own sets.... nail tech raf anyone???

-

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (13 - Mind If I...?)

Chapter Summary: You weren't the type of person to make easy assumptions, but you swore Wanda had been following you around ever since the mission in Turkey.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 4k+ | Chapter Tags: Age of Ultron!Wanda, Enemies to Lovers (sort of)

A/N: I've been soooo busy lately, but as promised, here's a new chapter... // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You weren't the type of person to make easy assumptions, but you swore Wanda had been following you around ever since the mission in Turkey.

At first, it was subtle—a coincidence here and there. The mission in Turkey had thawed the ice between you, shifting from open hostility (mostly from your end) to a cautious civility. Wanda had saved your life, and you'd extended a fragile olive branch in return. But becoming friendly with someone had never come naturally to you.

In the weeks that followed, you began to notice her presence more acutely. At first, you chalked it up to coincidence. After all, the Avengers Compound wasn't endless. It started with her appearing in the training room at the same time you usually had it to yourself. You thought the schedules you had set for yourselves would stay in place—Wanda working out in the evenings and you having the facility all to yourself at dawn. Even if it weren't Wanda encroaching on your space, you didn't appreciate company. 

“Mind if I’d join?” she’d said, her thick Sokovian accent still clinging to every word. You couldn’t very well turn her away without seeming petty, so you'd just nod and stick to your routine, hyper-aware of her breathing a few feet off. 

Then she'd start frequenting the common areas—lounges, kitchens, even that quiet nook in the library where you liked to lose yourself in a book. Always with a plausible reason, of course.

“Just grabbing a snack,” she’d say, foraging through the fridge as you nursed your coffee. Or “Looking for a new book. Do you have any recommendations?” her fingers trailing the spines on the shelf next to you. You’d nod mechanically, then busy yourself or wait a quarter hour before glancing at your watch and feigning a sudden memory of somewhere you needed to be.

One afternoon, as you were sifting through mission reports in the conference room, she walked in with a stack of files. “Steve asked me to go over these,” she explained, placing them on the table. “Do you mind if I work here?”

You glanced up briefly. “Plenty of room,” you answered, then turned back to your report. But your focus was shot. The shuffle of papers, the faint trace of her perfume—it was all too distracting. After a few strained minutes, you shut the folder.

“Something wrong?” she asked, picking up on your frustration.

“Just distracted,” you muttered, standing. “I’ll finish this later.”

Her face fell slightly. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It's fine,” you said curtly, already heading for the door.

That evening, you were in the gym again, pounding away at the heavy bag. As you replayed the day, you questioned whether you were being unreasonable towards her. Maybe it was all in your head.

“Mind if I join?” Her voice again. “I’m working on my form, maybe you could give me some tips?”

You turned to see Wanda at the doorway, gym bag in tow, looking hopeful. And pretty. Even though heavy eye makeup wasn't usually your style, you couldn't ignore that she was attractive, especially now that she was around so often.

Not that it mattered. Wanda wasn't your type, after all.

“Actually, I was just finishing up,” you said, reaching for your towel.

“Oh. Another time, then?”

“Sure,” you replied noncommittally, avoiding her eyes as you passed by.

Leaving the gym, you felt somewhat guilty for walking out like that. Was Wanda just trying to be friendly, or was there something more behind her constant nearness? Trust didn't come easily to you, and her persistent presence was suffocating you a little.

The next morning, you decided to test a theory. You altered your usual routine, heading to the training facilities an hour earlier than normal. To your surprise—and mild irritation—Wanda was already there, running through combat drills.

“Early start today?” you remarked coolly.

She glanced up, a small smile playing on her lips. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d use the time.”

You nodded slowly. “Right.”

Wanda stopped throwing punches in the air, clearly sensing something. “Is everything okay?”

“Just fine,” you said.

Her eyebrows drew together. “If I've done something to upset you—”

“Look,” you cut her off, sighing heavily. “Why are you always around?”

She blinked, taken aback. “I thought we were getting along better.”

“We are. But that doesn't mean we need to be joined at the hip,” you retorted.

Wanda’s cheeks flushed and she quickly looked away to hide the embarrassment and hurt on her face. “I didn’t realize I was that unwelcome.”

“You’re not,” you said, toweling off your sweaty hair. “I just need some space, okay?”

“Understood,” she said softly, gathering her things. “I'll leave you to it.”

Wanda was gone before you could take back all of it. You hadn’t meant to drive her from the training room. You just... you just wanted things to revert to how they were before—before she came in and upended your world—no matter how small your world may have been.

Over the next few days, Wanda gave you exactly what you asked.

—

Vision chose to knock on your door instead of walking through a wall to talk to you this time. 

You had been engrossed in a technical report for the past hour when you glanced at the clock—it was just past nine in the evening. Visitors were uncommon at this late hour, and you were hardly in the mood for company. Sighing, you set aside the tablet and stood, crossing the room to open the door.

“Yes, Vision?”

“Good evening,” he replied with a polite nod. “I hope I'm not intruding.”

“You were, but…” You stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. “Come in.”

He entered with that effortless grace characteristic of him, his eyes briefly scanning your sparsely decorated room: a king-sized mattress at the center, a small wardrobe, and a sound box at the foot of the bed. You noticed he seemed more contemplative than usual.

“Is there something you need?” you asked, leaning against the door jamb.

He clasped his hands behind his back. “I wished to seek your advice on a personal matter.”

“My advice? On what exactly?”

“Wanda,” he said simply.

Why did everything seem to be about Maximoff lately?

You folded your arms. “What about her?”

Vision hesitated, like he was carefully picking through his words. “I've noticed a... growing complexity in my interactions with her. Emotions that don’t compute.”

“Are you saying you have feelings for her?” you asked bluntly.

“In a way, yes,” he replied, almost clinical, like he was reciting lines from his programming. It was harsh, maybe, to still see him as just an AI, but you couldn’t shake it entirely. “I find myself wanting to understand her better, to be closer to her. But I'm uncertain how to proceed.”

You let out a short laugh. “And you think I'm the right person to help you with that?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Well, you and Wanda are friends. I thought you might offer some insight.”

You shook your head. “We're not friends, Vision. We just work together. Like you and I aren't friends—we're colleagues.”

He seemed to process this for a moment. “Ah, I see. My understanding was that you shared a closer relationship.”

“What gave you that idea?” you asked, unable to hide the slight edge in your voice.

“Because Wanda talks about you more than she does about anyone else,” he replied matter-of-factly.

That stopped you. “She does?”

“Yes,” he replied, as if it was obvious and you were too dense to have missed it. “It seemed logical to assume you two were friends.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Well, maybe we're... getting there. But that doesn't make me an expert on how you should approach her.”

“Perhaps not,” he conceded. “But any guidance you could offer would be appreciated.”

You considered his request. Despite your reservations, you could tell that he sincerely wanted to have a real connection with Wanda. If Wanda was looking for a friend, Vision might just be what she needed. 

“Alright,” you relented. “First off, why are you interested in Wanda?”

He took a moment. “She has a depth I find… compelling. She’s new to the team, just like me. I think that shared ground could be a natural starting point for a bond.”

You weren't convinced by his answer. It struck you as a cop-out. You suspected he might have deliberately shielded his true motives behind a logical and boring reasoning.

“Is that all?”

Vision appeared regretful—an emotion you hadn't thought he could display. Seeing it for the first time, it gave you a feeling that whatever he felt for Wanda—it was as real as the human side of him.

“I believe she's... lonely,” he murmured.

The word drops between you like a stone, stirring ripples you'd rather ignore. 

“Lonely?” you repeated.

“Yes,” Vision nodded. “Given the recent loss of her brother and being in a new country after her home was destroyed, it's understandable.”

There was no denying that the life of an Avenger wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, despite how the media painted it. Captain America and Iron Man costumes flooded stores, kids wore them for Halloween, and posters of the team adorned countless bedroom walls. Occasionally, you'd be stopped on the street for a photo or autograph. To them, you're living the dream.

But the reality was far different. It was more isolating than people realized. The relentless pressure, the heavy burden of responsibilities, the perpetual cycle of threats—it all took its toll. You suspected everyone on the team experienced this to some extent, but there was always another mission, another catastrophe, leaving scant time to confront personal demons.

Thinking about Wanda, you realized Vision had a point. She'd lost so much in such a short time. Her brother's death was still fresh, her homeland in ruins, and now she was in a new country with people who hadn't fully accepted her. If anyone was the loneliest among you, it was probably her.

“Maybe you're right,” you said, looking down at your feet. “She's been through a lot.”

Feeling uneasy about the direction the conversation had taken, you steered it back to Vision's original reason for showing up at your bedroom door at this late hour.

“So, what's the problem with getting to know Wanda?” you asked.

Vision cocked his head. “Wanda doesn't take well to unasked-for advice. When I try to offer solutions or comfort from what I've researched, she pulls away.”

“Research?” you repeated with a grimace. “Vision, people prefer advice that comes from personal experience.”

“I’ve only been recently “born” into the world, Y/N. I don’t exactly have many human experiences to share,” he said.

“Fair enough.”

Vision sighed. “I'm quite resourceful when it comes to finding answers. I've accessed millions of articles on how to make someone feel better—psychology journals, self-help guides, even personal blogs. Now I know why none of them worked.”

“Have you tried just... spending time with her? Without trying to fix anything?” you suggested. “Maybe invite her to do something together.”

“Such as?”

“I don't know—watch a movie, grab a coffee, something low-key.”

He shook his head. “I haven't attempted that approach.”

“Well, maybe you should. What does she like watching?”

“She has a particular fondness for sitcoms,” Vision recalled.

“There you go,” you said. “Pick a show she likes and suggest watching it together.”

He seemed to consider this. “Do you believe that would help her feel less isolated?”

“It couldn't hurt,” you shrugged. “Sometimes, all you need is someone sitting next to you.” Surprisingly, the words felt foreign on your tongue. You wondered if you even bought what you were selling, given your usual preference for solitude.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I will endeavor to apply this strategy.”

“Don't mention it,” you said, and then, off the cuff, you asked, “By the way, when I hinted that you had feelings for her and you said maybe, we’re talking just friendly feelings, right?”

Vision thought about it. He thought about it long enough that you almost retracted the question.

“She is objectively beautiful,” he finally said. “It’s something to explore once we've established a solid friendship.”

You hummed in response, neither confirming nor refuting his statement.

You walked him to the door. As he was about to leave, another thought occurred to you. 

“Vision?”

He turned back. “Yes?”

“Why did you really come to me for advice?”

He met your gaze steadily. “Because, despite what you say, I believe you understand Wanda in ways others do not. And perhaps, you understand yourself a bit less than you think.”

You opened your mouth to respond but found no words. Before you could gather your thoughts, he gave a courteous nod.

“Goodnight,” he said, and with that, he departed down the corridor. Your eyes wandered off to the door next to you, wondering if Wanda was already lost to sleep.

—

That week, the compound was uncharacteristically quiet. Missions were sparse, and the world seemed to take a collective breath. The team was left grappling with an unexpected lull, each member handling the abundance of free time in their own distinct way. Some welcomed the break—Clint retreated to his family, Natasha disappeared out of town with only a mumble of vague details, and Tony barricaded himself in his workshop. Only Steve kept busy, visiting schools and hospitals as part of an initiative to keep the Avengers grounded and engaged with the community. You, however, struggled with the sudden downtime.

One afternoon, after pacing the length of your quarters for the umpteenth time, you flopped onto your bed and stared at the ceiling. The thought of another movie marathon or video game session made you bored out of your mind. With a sigh, you pulled out your personal phone from the nightstand drawer—the one with a public SIM, not the encrypted devices issued by the team.

You unlocked the phone and opened a dating app you hadn’t touched in months. Swiping through profiles had become a sporadic pastime, and Natasha often berated you for it, reminding you that some of these girls weren’t just looking for a one-night stand.

You began absentmindedly swiping left and right, the faces blurring into one another. Matches were infrequent. Most assumed your profile was a fake, a catfish impersonating a celebrity. On the occasions when you did match with someone, they often turned out to be the imposters, hoping to scam or exploit. It was a frustrating cycle that usually led you to abandon the app altogether.

But this evening took a surprising turn. Just as you were about to give up and close the app, a new profile appeared. A certain Olivia. Stunning, huge green eyes and a great smile, with a bio that suggested a keen intellect and an interest in adventure. 

Your kind of girl.

It's a match! The notification popped, making you grin.

Surprised, you opened the chat. Olivia had already sent a message.

“Well, either you're incredibly good at Photoshop, or I've just matched with an Avenger.”

You chuckled, typing back, “Guess you'll have to meet me to find out.”

—

It had taken two nights of texting for you to convince Olivia to meet with you in person.

You stood in front of the mirror, deliberating over what to wear. Settling on a casual yet stylish outfit—a well-fitted white shirt and faded jeans—you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror. Satisfied, you grabbed your jacket and headed out.

Descending the hallway toward the exit, you passed by the communal lounge. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar figure sitting alone on one of the couches—a brunette with her back to you. Wanda. She was hunched over a book, and you recognized the cover—The Book Thief by Markus Zusak—the same book you had been reading a few weeks ago when she caught you in the library. 

Come to think of it, you hadn't seen much of her since you'd told her off in the training room. For a moment, you considered approaching her, perhaps to say a quick hello or even to apologize. 

But as you made a move, Vision came into the room, rattling off about some nearby restaurants Wanda might like. Wanda glanced up and mouthed a ‘thanks’ to him.

It sure had the makings of a date. Not keen on intruding, you quietly veered off, slipping out of the compound without announcing your exit.

—

You left the compound unusually early, intent on scouting the area to ensure it was secure and free of threats. Knowing the exits was crucial—in case things went sideways, you needed a clear escape route. Complacency wasn't an option. After all, the semblance of normalcy was just that—a façade. In truth, anyone linked to someone like you was never truly safe. 

It was also a good antidote for nerves. It had been ages since your last date, and chatting with Olivia over the past few nights had been a genuine pleasure. Her humor matched yours beat for beat, and she steered clear of the usual job interrogation. Instead, you both dove into discussions about literature and swapped stories of your favorite place you’ve been to.

It was Olivia who chose the restaurant. She knew enough not to bring you to a popular spot in the city, and picked a small establishment tucked in the quietest neighborhood of the city. 

You arrived five minutes early, only to find that Olivia had still managed to beat you there. She stood from a table near the window, greeting you with a warm smile. In person, she was even more captivating—confident, with that effortless, girl-next-door charm.

“Glad you made it,” Olivia said as you approached.

“Well, I did ask you out, so…” you joked, pulling out a chair.

You both slipped effortlessly into conversation. She did most of the talking, which suited you just fine—it meant you didn’t have to share much about yourself, something you were never quite comfortable with anyway.

“I've heard the beef stroganoff is supposed to be excellent,” Olivia said.

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed, looking over the menu. “Let's share a few dishes.”

You were about to signal a server when movement by the entrance caught your eye. Turning slightly, you spotted Wanda stepping into the restaurant. She glanced around as if searching for someone, then made her way to a small table near the back.

A wave of irritation washed over you. What were the odds? First at the compound, now here.

Olivia noticed your distraction. “Is everything okay?” 

You forced a smile. “Yeah, sorry. I thought I recognized someone.”

“Friend or foe?” Olivia joked.

“Neither,” you found yourself saying more honestly than intended.

Olivia chuckled, oblivious to the depth of your remark. “Well, whoever it is, they can wait. Tonight is about us.”

“You're right,” you agreed, pushing thoughts of Wanda aside. “So, tell me more about your trip to Prague.”

Olivia immediately launched into a story about a strange encounter she had in one of its historic streets but your attention wavered. Instead, you watched Wanda as she placed her order and then casually scrolled through her phone, resembling anyone else dining alone in a restaurant, passing the time while waiting for their meal. She seemed unusually pensive, and part of you felt a semblance of empathy, but you reminded yourself that it wasn't your job to worry about her.

Still, the coincidence was too glaring to ignore. Had she followed you? Was this another one of her attempts to get close to you, or was it something more vindictive—a way to retaliate for being so standoffish with her?

“Excuse me for a moment,” you told Olivia, rising from your seat.

“Sure,” Olivia replied, looking mildly puzzled.

Weaving through the tables, you approached Wanda's. She looked up, her face registering surprise as you stood there in front of her.

“Y/N—”

“What are you doing here?” you murmured, keeping your voice low.

She blinked, taken aback. “Having dinner.”

“Here? Tonight?”

She set her jaw at your tone. “Is there a problem?”

“It seems like you're following me,” you stated, the accusation slipping out despite your intentions. You weren’t entirely sure why you confronted her; it wasn’t to drive her out of the restaurant. It was just that not knowing her intentions was getting under your skin.

“I'm not. This is the only place around that serves Sokovian food. I come here when I miss home,” she said.

“You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?”

“What are you talking about?” Wanda demanded, standing up as well.

“I saw you with Vision at the lounge earlier tonight. He mentioned he'd found a few new spots for both of you to try,” you revealed, smirking. You wagered Wanda didn’t know you were there when she was busy planning evenings with her boyfriend—or so you assumed.

“Well, if you'd eavesdropped longer, you'd have heard me tell Vision I'd just go to my usual restaurant,” Wanda retorted calmly.

“Really?” You scoffed. “Then why are you here alone, at the same restaurant where I'm on a date?”

“You’re on a date?” Wanda’s eyes darted past you, landing briefly on Olivia, who threw a curious glance back. Her gaze took in Olivia’s features—a pair of green eyes, the shade more hazel than her own. A fleeting expression crossed her face before she turned back to you.

She sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. “Vision doesn't eat food. Why would he come with me?”

“Because he's your... he's…” You stumbled over your words, realizing you weren't quite sure what to label their relationship. The assumption that Vision was her boyfriend felt suddenly unfounded.

“Vision’s my friend,” Wanda said. “He was making suggestions because he knows I miss home.”

Before you could respond, she flagged down the waiter. 

“Excuse me, has the chicken paprikash been started yet?”

The waiter checked his notepad. “It's still queued, ma'am.”

“Please cancel it,” she said, much to your surprise.

“Certainly,” the waiter said, and hurried off.

“Wait, where are you going?” you asked as she began gathering her things.

“I'm getting dinner somewhere else. Happy now?”

“Wanda, that’s not what I—”

She breezed past you but stopped a few paces away, turning to face you. “Not everything is about you,” she said softly, then exited the restaurant without another word.

You stood there for a while, heart beating fast, hands trembling slightly.

When you got back to your table, Olivia looked up, her brows knitted together in concern. It was hard to tell if she was worried about the scene with you and Wanda or if she thought you might bail on her.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

You managed a weak smile. “Yeah, just a little misunderstanding.”

Olivia studied you for a moment. “Do you need to go?”

“No, no,” you assured, though your mind was elsewhere. “I'm here.”

—

It was around an hour before Wanda heard a soft knock on her door. She was sitting by the window, absentmindedly strumming her guitar, playing an old Sokovian folk song from memory—the same tune her mother used to sing while doing housework. She couldn’t remember the lyrics to the song, but she could recall how it made her feel. It never quite brought her to tears, but the melody stirred a deep sense of nostalgia. She remembered being happy and content sharing a cramped apartment with her family. Wanda's voice trembled as she tried to hum along. For all she knew, the song might have been about mundane chores like dusting or laundry, and she might never find out. 

The knock didn't come again, so she continued playing. When she finished her song moments later, she set the guitar aside and walked to the door, wondering if she had imagined the sound. Opening it, she found the corridor dim and deserted. She peered up and down the hallway but saw no one.

“Hello?” she called out quietly, but there was no response. Just as she was about to retreat back into her room, she noticed a small package resting at her feet.

Picking it up, she felt the warmth seeping through the container. Attached to it was a folded note.

Thought you might still want that chicken paprikash. I'm sorry. —Y/N

Wanda stared at your hastily written note, allowing a small smile to creep onto her lips. Her stomach growled softly, reminding her that she hadn't eaten much earlier. Her stomach gave a gentle rumble, a reminder that the quick American cheeseburger she'd grabbed from a food truck, after leaving the restaurant earlier in a huff, hadn't really filled her. Nothing quite hit the spot like the flavors of home.

It really did upset her when you confronted her about being at the restaurant, and it felt like a miracle that the day ended on a different note. If you were back this early, it probably meant you hadn't gone home with that girl, and Wanda couldn’t quite understand why she felt relieved by that.

Your note remained by her side as she ate the paprikash to her heart’s content. Maybe someday, Wanda would gather the courage to tell you the rest of the truth:

That she had stopped trying to read your mind, but she could still sense your presence when you were near or in the room. That earlier tonight, she felt you in the commons and her curiosity led her to follow you, only to be pleasantly surprised when you entered her favorite restaurant. That her heart sank a little when she realized you weren’t alone as she walked into the restaurant. That she couldn’t explain why she felt drawn to you, more than anyone else on the team. That Vision had become a friend, but she found herself still wanting your friendship too.

Maybe one day she’d confess all of this to you. 

Or maybe she wouldn’t.

[dailymanners]

It's Tuesday, and it's been a few weeks I think since my last Off Topic Tuesday, so I want to take the opportunity to talk about something very near and dear to my heart: the bidet.

I am an unapologetic bidet enthusiast. I strongly believe bidets to be superior over toilet paper alone.

Bidets are more eco friendly. People bring up the water usage as an environmental concern, however, bidets actually use less water than the amount of water it takes to produce toilet paper. As the article points out “It takes 37 gallons of water to make just one roll of toilet paper.” (Producing one roll of toilet paper also requires approximately 1.5 pounds of wood.) In contrast, using a bidet only consumes about one pint of water."

Also pointed out in the article: it's more hygienic because your hands are less likely to come into contact with your waste.

And also pointed out, it's (generally) gentler on the skin to use water rather than to scrape yourself repeatedly with dry paper.

And honestly, you just *feel* fresher and cleaner than when you only use toilet paper.

One thing I take issue with in this article is that it makes the sweeping generalization that "Europe uses bidets". Which, honestly, to me seems like bidets are mostly common in southern Europe, and outside of southern Europe their usage is hit or miss.

I know for a fact that Finland is the only Nordic country where bidets are widely used and common in most households. It was actually briefly living in Finland that made me a bidet convert. I still favor the Finnish style of bidet and find them to be superior to the other types, mostly because the Finnish style (a hose attached to the sink) allows more maneuverability than the kind that's built into the toilet seat (more common in east Asia) or the kind that is a separate bowl next to the toilet (more common in southern Europe).

But outside of Finland, bidet ownership and usage is scarce to nearly non-existent in most of the rest of northern Europe. When I came back to Iceland I scoured every hardware and housing goods store I could find, and none of them had a bidet, so I had to order my bidet online.

So no, as a whole not all of Europe uses bidets. Mostly southern Europe, and outside of southern Europe a few places here and there, like Finland.

However, I hope that can change, and more people can see the light when it comes to bidet ownership. Everyone I know who I've talked into using and/or buying a bidet has thanked me, even if they were apprehensive at first.

If you think of bidets as gross or weird, think of this: if you got some of your waste on your arm while you were in the bathroom, would you just wipe it off with paper and call it good? Or would you actually want to wash that off properly? Why should your nether regions get inferior treatment from the rest of your body?

Or, another example taken from a text I had to read in a French class in secondary school that was supposed to open our minds about the foreign concept of using a bidet: imagine you're staying at a hotel in a foreign country, and after a long day you want to take a shower. However, there is no shower in your hotel bathroom. You walk up and down the hallway looking to see if there is a shower anywhere on your floor and you find nothing. So you go to the front desk and ask the receptionist where the shower is, to which they give you a weird look, maybe they have to suppress laugh, or maybe they look grossed out at you even suggesting you want to take a shower with water. They explain to you that there is dry paper in your bathroom, and all you need to do is wipe yourself down with the dry paper (your pits / hair / etc.), and that having a shower with water isn't considered necessary here. How would you feel?

[doberbutts]

To note: I included all of those examples because they are things I have seen get labeled as "women's spaces" that trans men should not have access to. Not you, to be clear, which is why I asked what you were referring to, because so many times I see the above examples be referred to as women's spaces when many of them are co-ed or trans men still need access. Especially recently with the whole abortion and reproductive rights thing going around politically in my country. It's one of the reasons I've been quiet on tumblr for the past week or so and I only came back to answer a DM and spotted this post on my way back out.

Believe it or not, there are people who have said that trans men should not access any of these things by effect of being men, whether they are out or not, whether they pass or not, whether cis men have access or not.

Additionally to be clear- I also think that in most cases, gender segregation is stupid. I, uh, think that a lot of times "separate but equal" is perhaps putting a bandaid on a problem that needs lancing and suturing, and what we get is separate and very inequal. I also understand why gender segregation is a thing, and why it exists in the first place, and so have to come to think of these things from a harm reduction standpoint while also working towards a world in which gender segregation is no longer a thing that society feels we need.

That being said- honestly, as a gay and masc binary trans man, I don't want to access lesbian spaces. I don't want to access women's social groups. But I know plenty of binary and nonbinary trans men who have deep roots in lesbian spaces long before they figured out their genders, and I think it would be hurtful to eject them from a social group they have occasionally decades within just because they are trans. I felt that way about the kid that got kicked out of Girl Scouts after spending roughly a decade within the organization- kicking someone out because they're transgender is not right. You should not be forced to burn your social group the moment you take your first step towards your own happiness. Most binary trans guys will start to drift away from these spaces as it often eventually becomes quite dysphoric to be continuously referred to as women, it's not really necessary to shove them out the door before they're ready.

Also to be clear- I don't exclude trans women in the "we've always been here", which is why I mentioned that we as trans men have always occupied so-called "women's spaces" along with our *cis and trans* sisters. I personally occupy gay men's spaces and there sure are some trans women here too- I equally don't think they should be kicked out, because they've also always been here with us too. My "we" in "we've always been here" is inclusive of my sisters, my cousins, my siblings, my gender-in-laws. I've been out for 19 years at this point. And I've done so hand-in-hand with the rest of my trans family.

But to answer your question flatly: what, if not gender, do we used to exclude someone from a gender segregated space? I don't think we should have gender segregated spaces, and I think any efforts to exclude on a basis of gender will inevitably end up backfiring on those who do actually belong there- whether on cis butches and studs assumed to be too manly, or on trans women of any presentation due to their transness, or on trans men who are not yet out and it is not safe for them to do so, or on nonbinary people who are forced into one category or another against their will, or on intersex people trying to find their place...

And I think if the system is at such a high risk of harming the people it claims to protect, maybe it's time to try a different system of keeping people safe.

Any rule you (general) make is going to hurt someone it claims to protect. So why do we need the rule in the first place? Perhaps we should start by solving the problem that made us need these rules to begin with.

okay my question, genuinely, to trans men in the transandrophobia space, is this:

upon what grounds can someone justifiably be excluded from a womens space if not their gender? if trans men should be allowed into womens spaces, then why not cis men? i mean, theyre men, we're men, and if we're allowed in, why shouldnt they be? "they dont face the same struggles that we do!" lmao some of them do!

its just perplexing why the statement "the only reason someone can justifiably be excluded from a gender segregated space is that they are not the gender that the space is for" is so fucking offensive to people all on its own? like yeah yeah our struggles but like we are still men, right? and these spaces are for women, right? so why is "you are being excluded for being a man" when you are one treated like this absurdly offensive thing or like theres "no reason" for it. there is one! youre a guy lol.

whether you think that you should be excluded for being a guy or not is not the question im asking here-- its that, if being a man is not a justifiable reason to exclude someone from a womens space, then what is lmao?

[isa-ghost]

I genuinely intend to remain reinforcing that Phil Does Not Want To Do Lore On The Realm because I don't want the community's pushing to send him to the point of never doing anything like it again (I've seen this lowkey happen before in other fandoms).

BUT...

I see such a clear pipeline from trPhil's "no fuck you go away I'm burying previous trauma and pain in logging obsessively" to some sort of "fine, I admit I'm miserable because I lost family and friends AGAIN, and I will begrudgingly try soothing it with letting people in my bubble again" type surrender moment brought on by trSneeg because he's so persuasive and makes excellent points with pure logic and reason and the idea makes me salivate.

Obviously it's all 100% ooc jokes and even if it WAS intentional rp, we have no guarantee that trPhil is "main" (specifically q) Phil, but technically trPhil HAS vaguely opened up to trSneeg about the grief and scars he has in the wake of losing his children. trSneeg knows trPhil is bitter and still grieving. He can see that logging, no matter what trPhil insists, is Not helping him actually heal. It's just barely letting him cope.

It's the same old tricks rpPhil has always turned to to deal with baggage, immersing himself as much as he can in physical labor of some kind. His projects back home in Hardcore, the "trains in his basement" in DSMP after he had to kill his own son, all the building and looting and protesting he did on QSMP any time the kids were taken away from him.

And I think we've seen more than enough evidence to show that trSneeg could 100% keep his cool through all the stubborn and heated refusal trPhil would meet with his attempts to convince him to just be willing to socialize and invest in people again. Not even to join Yellow, just let himself have meaningful connections again, rather than sticking to tolerating his and trFit's presences (most of the time). Even though trPhil's evasive behavior has been reinforced (probably tenfold) after The Keepers assaulted him and destroyed his wings AGAIN, I think with the tenacity and confidence trSneeg exudes, he could slowly eventually coax trPhil into opening up again. Even if just a tiny bit.

Especially because he sees why trPhil is so adamant on sticking to his guns rn, he knows it's not JUST the factions and snails. He'd see it even if trPhil hadn't straight up told him multiple times already. Right away, trSneeg would make it very clear that trPhil would have no obligations to anyone or anything, that socializing doesn't mean he HAS to save people from the peril they face or take a side in the interpersonal conflicts they have or help them all figure out what the deal is with the eyes or the Keepers or anything else.

He doesn't have to put up with a snail that reminds him of his lost kids, he doesn't have to choose a side like it's Purgatory again, he doesn't have to get involved with the horrors people are going through like he often did with the islanders, he doesn't have to help solve/understand whatever is going on in The Realm like he did with The Federation and The Codes and everything else fucked up and strange on Quesadilla Island. If having friends is all he wants, he can have that.

And even if trSneeg STILL couldn't sway trPhil with All That, that would mean we'd get a gut-wrenching storyline about how after so many years of loving and losing again and again throughout his immortal life, rpPhil knows that pain is a part of love whether you want it to be or not, you can't have one without the other. He can't make connections here without signing up for the stress and pain that comes with it because that's what it means to care about people.

It's not just the most recent time putting him off from it all, it's an entire cycle he's been forced to suffer in for as long as he can remember, because that's what being immortal entails. He wants the cycle to end already. He can't stand being fully alone right now whether he admits it or not thanks to QI. His determination to isolate himself as much as he can while he's in The Realm is to slowly reacclimate himself to being alone so he can tolerate it in his home world again. When the loneliness gets unbearable, that's when he has no qualms with being pestered by people or goes to see what everyone else is up to. As that happens less over time, he'll go home again now that complete isolation doesn't hurt anymore (or more accurately: now that he's reconvinced himself it doesn't).

All of this is to say, trSneeg is 100% the guy that would break the ice under trPhil and get his story rolling, whether that means he embraces the pain of loving and caring again, or reinforces how hellbent he is on trying to escape it.

[seamany]

The post that solved it all for me PART 1

NOT MY POST, THIS IS MOBILEBLACKSMITH2535 VIA REDDIT

(It might sound like I'm yelling at you in this paragraph but these are just things I wish someone told me like years ago) Here is where I talk about everything law of assumption that helped me ACTUALLY become a master manifestor. The law of assumption, as I see it, is the law of being. You cannot experience what you are not being. Coming from a person that used to cry myself to sleep every night feeling frustrated, hopeless, and extremely tired of putting all this effort into something and getting absolutely nothing back, this shit is real. Please do not take this post with a grain of salt. Please do not toss my story in with the probably hundreds of other "I have shifted" threads/videos you have witnessed. If you want to shift listen to every word that I say. I can't explain why we have this power I just know that from November of 2020 to July of 2023 I have been working my ass of to get somewhere, anywhere. In between those 3 years I had an on and off behavior towards shifting. I used to force myself to forget about shifting for a few weeks because it hurt too much to think about it. I felt like I won the lottery and I couldn't cash in the money. It was awful and I wouldn't wish that feeling of hopelessness on any other conscious being. Sometimes I would watch shifting tik tok compilation videos on YouTube and get a surge of motivation that would soon die out along with any semblance of dignity and self-esteem I had left. I'm telling you not asking you to see me as a real completely sane person because that is exactly what I am. Even though I'm creative and spiritual (not religious, spiritual), I can't help but see things logically. It's just my nature. I like patterns, formulas, structured systems, explanations, science, etc. I knew the probability of hundreds upon thousands of people describing in detail their experience of shifting couldn't be a phenomenon but a real...thing. I, for some reason, never doubted the possibility of shifting, more my capability to do it. Along my journey I've had my moments of distrust surrounding shifting in itself, and as I rounded onto the 3rd year of attempts I had increasing feelings of dread and anger. I was angry at the world that I live in, feeling dreadful that I couldn't escape it all. Then on one fateful fateful day, specifically July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am, I shifted. It was easy and it was effortless. Just as everyone says, but that's not something I'd like to focus on in today's post. I'm not making this post to tell you how simple shifting is or to "let go" (whatever the fuck that means) or to change your mindset. Those things are all useless compared to the thing that just clicked for me on July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am. What I am going to tell you is going to be so stupidly straightforward that your mind isn't going to want to believe me at first. You are going to try to make it more complicated than it is, just like you probably did with shifting when you first learned about it. But assure you that you should take what I am about to say at face-value. You don't need to let go, you don't need to change anything about yourself, you don't need to "release blockages", you don't need to reprogram your subconscious mind. You are done. You have your desire already. You are finished and there is nothing left for you to do.

LOOK AT MY PAGE FOR PART TWO

[muovipalikka]

Headcanons in fic form #4

Gideon must have been the unluckiest humanoid on Avantris. He had thought he left it all behind him the day he escaped the train, but here he was in his new life getting plagued by old wounds.

"When we get back to camp I can give you some ointment for under the manacles. Ain't nothing that can't fix, or so I've heard." Kremy told Gid trying to sound casual as if he had just heard it somewhere. And hadn’t consulted an apothecary.

That had been the first time Kremy had tried to get his manacles off. It was a couple months back, and he still wouldn't shut up about it.

"Gid, I can see the rashes from way over here!"

Gideon was quiet. He was unsure about letting Kremy’s claws so close. What would Kremy do after seeing his weak spots? Would he abandon Gideon, thinking he wasn’t capable enough for the job or would he use the knowledge as bargaining chips?

"Please just let me put a bit of grease under there. I promise no funny business." As a sign of peace, Kremy even left his cane where he had been sitting opposite Gideon, on the other side of the campfire. Gideon let him get closer, and Kremy approached him as if he were a scared animal. After sitting beside him, Kremy carefully laid a hand on his manacle.

"You already did your time, no reason to stay locked up." In retrospect, Kremy shouldn’t have said that. Gid hadn’t been a prisoner. He hadn’t done anything deserving of time spent on the train. But the words had soothed Gid back then. No matter how incorrect Kremy’s assumptions had been. Or how much he had beat himself up for what he’d implied.

"Now Gid, tell me. Can you get these off?"

Gid nodded slightly and looked at Kremy suspiciously, but he started opening the mechanism. Kremy just sat next to him, waiting patiently. He could see the torn skin, dry, angry, and inflamed. He winced theatrically, hiding the tears and genuine care.

When the manacle was finally off Kremy took his arm and held it like a tiny fragile thing. Gideon didn't know what to do with himself. He just looked at Kremy's golden eyes pleadingly. Hoping that he won't use this to hurt him.

Kremy took out an unopened tube of hand cream still in the box. It was clearly meant for humanoids with higher body temperatures. But Gideon didn’t think to question it. He was trying to pick a favorite between the cool cream appeasing his skin and Kremy's hands. Kremy was careful of his claws. Not letting them hurt Gideon’s fragile skin.

Gideon was glad he had trusted Kremy. After a few weeks, they didn’ hurt no more. Kremy even put some fabric between the skin and the manacles to lessen the irritation.

Kremy knew Gid was a stubborn bastard, but he also knew that the genasi undervalued himself. And this was undoubtedly the latter. Gid would never just ask for the ointment. He would even try to hide the skin inflaming and getting worse. Until Kremy ultimately caught him again. Which is why they had a little ritual. Each time Gid woke him for his watch Kremy would sit with him by the campfire. Early on he had made up excuses “Gid I’m so tired. You need to sit with me so I can wake up properly!” “I need you to light my cigarette Gid.” Little excuses to make way for “Well, since we now have a little time. I can check your wrists now,”

Now they just quietly sneak back to the campfire. Kremy would take care of him. Soothe his aches and hold him gently without a need for excuses. And Gideon knew he was the luckiest humanoid in all of Avantris.

Headcanons in fic form #1 #2 #3

[animentality]

I've always harboured a mild dislike for x reader stuff. I never really held it against people because I don't have the time to antagonise them, but it was so upsetting when every time I opened the fandom tag and all I saw were posts and posts and posts of bland x reader stuff that clearly is ooc with no real substance to them at all. So many of the RP blogs seem the same way.

As someone who tries to make analysis posts and art for the same fandom, it is disheartening when I spend hours and hours on an analysis post about a character and it maybe hits 120 notes while an OOC x reader of the same character soars to the thousands. Maybe it's selfish of me to say but I say it anyway.

The fandom is full of youngsters and I never felt comfortable voicing my opinion for the same because it just felt wrong to tell kids to stop existing in communities. But the amount of times I've been put down for shipping characters with each other rather than myself is an honestly surprising number.

Um. I don't really know where I was going with this.

But your post definitely opened my eyes a little bit on even why I dislike x reader so much. It's sinking in a little bit. My hatred for OOC stuff seeps into this, I suppose. So I wanted to say that. Yeah. I agree with you.

Thank you for saying it.

Signed,

A fellow analyser / artist / fanfic writer lmao

— @lunarcloak

I get you, man.

I know self shippers have always existed.

I don't mind them. If that's how you enjoy the media, then fine.

However.

I just don't think that the sudden rise of self shippers over fan analysis and shipping is a good sign.

I think it comes from a lack of media literacy and willingness to actually engage with a piece of fiction. At least shippers and fan analysts actually talk about the world and plot itself.

self shippers imagine themselves dating a character in an au that is completely disconnected from the story, and acting in a way that's not even close to how they are in canon.

which to me is like... you have a creative writing prompt but it's not a story you're actually engaging with. someone showed you a picture of a handsome man and said write a story about how he'd kiss you.

and it's like... ok. there's no crime in just being horny, but... when that's all a fandom is... I don't consider it a fandom, it's just a masturbation fantasy.

I thought the whole point of fiction was to dive into the human experience and try and understand ourselves better. See the perspectives of others. Live vicariously in another person's shoes.

Fan analysis about themes? Perfect. You're thinking. You're feeling. You're articulating. You're growing as a person as you decide what you like or don't like, or try to put together puzzle pieces so that the whole picture makes sense. Shipping? You're imagining scenarios. You're bending canon to fit your interests. You are developing your own ability to write characters, and growing as an artist and a writer.

But self shipping...?

Eh.

You're writing, I guess, but when you reduce yourself to just... idk, some generic girl that Gojo decides is the Bella to his Edward... I mean I'm glad you're happy and all.

But how happy are you

Are you happy at all, or are you frustrated by this aching loneliness deep in your gut that you just don't understand, and it never quite feels whole bc you keep cramming nothing into it.

And it's not the loneliness or the social awkwardness that I'm criticizing here ok, shippers and fan analysts can be just as lonely. I just think that the human relationship to art should be confusion and appreciation.

you should be trying to understand others or yourself.

you can insist well what's so wrong with escapism? why does everything have to be an intellectual exercise?

it doesn't have to be ... but there's a reason people feel so hollow watching marvel movies.

art without substance is consumption. it's a distraction from your own humanity, it is not anything more.

not to you, anyway.

and I don't know.

that's really sad.

I've made so many friends through ships and babbling about canon and gushing about narrative beats.

I feel like I got something out of fandom, if other people force me to see the world in another light. I feel like a story has done its job if it's made me feel something. and it's really done a great job if I feel invested enough to hope two characters smooch.

but self insert?

eh. so you just like the character and think they're hot. that's fine.

not that interesting to talk about either. requires very little analysis on your part.

they just provoke sexual feelings or romantic feelings , which are easiest for you to process, and then you can move on to the next pretty boy you can turn into a Dom.

it irks me, man.

just a tad bit.

[i-merely-jest]

Welcome to the show, folks!

This site is really fun from what I've seen so far... although I do have to comment on the lack of other Cookies on it!

What a shame, truly... that means less people to talk to, y'know.

Oh, and it sure is boring just sitting around and waiting for something to happen. Alas, I am trapped inside some sort of labyrinth, and my options are limited.

But hey! There's always something new on the internet, amirite? Boy, are a lot of you dirty little liars... Hehehe...

//mod will remain anonymous and goes by he/they pronouns

the plotline for shadow milk cookie himself is after being freed from the silver tree, but then being put into a different form of containment afterwards. for some reason i wanted him to be in an ikea, so this different containment just so happens to be a fucked up version of ikea. shadow milk cookie is essentially stuck in the infinite ikea, but not exactly, since it's not an scp and it's my own take on the matter. basically, it's like the cookie run equivalent of ikea since it's made with materials seen in the cookie run universe, and he can't physically leave it usually.

it is unknown to others what entity sealed him away here, and even shadow milk cookie himself claims to not know what it is. given how he's unwilling to talk about it most of the time, he is either lying completely or only telling a half truth. furthermore, he's not willing to divulge much information about the place he's stuck in aside from ominous answers that leave people with more questions. if he ever has visitors, he's more than eager to toy with them a bit, especially since they're exceedingly rare. good luck getting out though...

when he does appear to others in the real cookie world, it's typically as an illusion or ghost-like figure from him using his powers to project himself back into reality, so he's translucent. furthermore, he can still do voice impressions, so sometimes he will only be a disembodied voice, as this is easier and more entertaining to him. it is also more common than an actual appearance of him.

he can still have some effect on the real cookie world and can choose to be tangible or not, but is usually the latter. it's incredibly taxing for him to use his abilities nowadays, so he has to remain in his alternate reality, constantly trying to find a way out. it's been so long that he can somewhat control the environment with his powers, but for the most part it seems like something else is in control of the space. sometimes he can forcibly open up a gateway out, but will always have to return since there's always this unknown force dragging him back...

general dni, but if i find you annoying i might block you too

no nsfw, but some flirting is okay (don't expect shadow milk cookie to reciprocate in a genuine way though; he'd likely just see it as a joke) shipping generally depends because i honestly have NO idea who's he's even shipped with but. yeah. feel free to ask or try to plan something with me in advance (edit: okay so after figuring out it exists, i am kinda favoring shadowvanilla as a ship...)

i'm generally okay with either silly or serious roleplays, so have fun! i won't bite, i promise. (unless, of course... i'm lying? who knows...)

i encourage oc interactions, as well as canon character interactions! i'm also fairly open to cross-fandom roleplays if it really comes to it

fun fact: this is THE most effort i have put into an intro post. credit for the eye dividers goes to sisterlucifergraphics, and credit for the other shadow milk cookie assets goes to phantasyze. is this blog kind of self indulgent? yes, and i freely admit this. i think he deserves to be in a hellish solitary confinement dimension though.

tagging system

♧ Snapped strings (ooc posts, but i will also tag them accordingly with other tags that say they're ooc just in case. also before any text there will be two slashes (//))

♧ Was it a truth or a lie? (answered asks)

might make a specific tag for text posts later

[loonyloopylupin96]

Prompt: House Elf (Jan 26th) | @moonwater-microfic | Words: 596

"Have you asked him about K yet?"

Remus kept his attention on the book in front of him. Two more inches and he'd finish his essay. Provide six reasons for the 1763 Goblin Rebellion in-

"Mo-oony," Sirius sang.

With a sigh, Remus raised his eyes. "Can't this wait?"

"No," he answered, moving Remus' parchment aside and sprawling across the coffee table. "The goblins died years ago, their history isn't going to change."

Lips tightening, Remus sat back in his chair. They stared at each other for a moment before he answered, "No, I haven't asked him who he's been writing to."

"Why not?"

"Because if this is going to work out, I can't be creeping over his every correspondence-"

At that moment, a messy set of black hair appeared over the back of the seat. "Who's creeping over who?"

"Sirius won't tell me who Reg's been writing to, and thinks I should ask."

Sirius sighed dramatically. "I'm just saying that if it was my boyfriend-"

"That would be weird-" Remus offered.

"You'd be carrying on the family tradition-" added James.

"I'd be sick-" spoke Pete, taking a seat.

Sirius fixed each of them with a glare in turn.

"No. I'd want to know."

Remus looked between them, before sighing. "Fine. If you think it's necessary…"

And with that, he headed out of the portrait hole.

"But… you already know, don't you?" James asked in a hushed undertone.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, but believe me… I can't explain it well enough. This has got to come from Regulus."

---------------------

Peter, James and Sirius were in the Great Hall when Remus rejoined them later.

They dropped their conversation as he sat down, waiting in a pointed silence.

James broke it first.

"Well? What's the verdict?"

Remus shook his head, reaching for some lamb.

"Did he tell you?" Sirius asked, not trying to keep the curiosity from his face.

Remus ignored him, at first, but he fixed his stare on him as he bit harshly into a stick of carrot.

"He told me."

"And?"

"What did he tell you?" Peter asked, "Who is it?"

Remus sat, breathing with forced regularity. "Do you want to tell them, or shall I?"

"Oh no, the floor's all yours mate," Sirius responded, bearing an amused grin.

"Well… he cancelled our date-" Remus' eyes flickered briefly to Sirius as they often did when he spoke of his relationship, "-to write a return letter to… his house elf."

Stunned silence met his words. Well, excluding Sirius' raucous laughter.

"He- what?" James asked, perplexed.

Remus' cheeks had pinked slightly.

"He was writing to his house elf. He'd promised he would and… well, he did."

"Wait. So he skipped seeing you to write to a- Wow. Well, no offence mate-" he directed this at Sirius, "-but your brother is fucking nuts."

No one made the obvious joke, and Remus was silently grateful.

"So why are your cheeks so red?" Peter asked, confounded. It only served to make Remus blush harder.

"Because," Sirius answered for him, "He thinks it's sweet. Reg probably said some cute shit about how he gets off on looking after lesser beings and our Moony here forgot he's a human worthy of being loved by a normal person for 29 days a month - give or take - and probably fucking melted."

"Close enough." The four of them turned to see Regulus walking between the two tables, towards Remus.

"Ugh," Sirius grumbled, "I'm going. Don't start 'til I've gone."

Regulus merely flipped him off, leaning down towards his boyfriend with a coy smile on his face.