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burntheedges · 16 days ago

Text

Meet the Teacher

Din Djarin x f!reader | 11.4k | 18+ | main masterlist | ao3

summary: After your first few weeks as Nevarro's new schoolteacher, there was only one student's parent that you hadn't yet met. When you decided to send Grogu's dad a message, though, you never would have expected where it led.

a/n: Din's back! This is my fic for @penvisions' give a little love challenge. My prompt was mistaken identity. 👀 Once I figured out where I wanted to take that, this was pretty fun to write! Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta and helping me whip this one into shape. Also, I did attempt to research how messaging would work in Star Wars, got conflicting results, and then gave up and decided I can do what I want. So consider this almost canon-aligned as far as messaging goes. lol

tags/warnings: epistolary, fluff, space texting, reader is an elementary-ish teacher with no physical description, a lot of school-talk, elementary school student shenanigans, flirting, teasing, pet names (cyar'ika/sweetheart, mesh'la/beautiful), mistaken identity, misunderstandings, Star Wars cursing (kriff, kark, dank farrik), a bit of ogling, smut (kissing, fondling, grinding, fingering (f!receiving), p-in-v sex, creampie)

...

You haven’t been on Nevarro long, but you’ve learned a lot about your new students already. When Karga recruited you, all the way from the Mid Rim, he’d told you it was a small but growing city with a small but growing school. They finally had enough students to need to split them up into multiple classrooms, and that was where you came in. You’d taken the job because you liked the idea of helping to build something, and because you were ready for something new.

You were taking over the room with younger children, which was your preference. And so far they’d been wonderful to work with – they were all so excited by new things, so happy to learn. Each day was a joy as you watched them grow.

As you got to know the kids, you also got to know the parents. Teaching the youngest children made you more well-known around town, and it had been easier to settle in than you expected. There was Diima, who was learning how to braid her own hair and had been teaching some of the other kids – her moms had invited you over for dinner and you thought you might end up being friends. Oora, the young Twi’lek who loved spaceships of all kinds – his father ran the food stall in the market that always had the best fruit. And Tamar and Ilana, the twins, who very intentionally never dressed alike – their parents ran the med clinic.

And then there was Grogu, your smallest student. You’d never met his dad, though you knew of him from Karga and Cara. But so far you’d only learned that Grogu missed him and that he was off planet a lot. He was never there to pick up Grogu, at least not in the few weeks you’d been on Nevarro so far. It was always Cara or IG-11, or a few times even Karga himself.

As you waved goodbye to the last of the kids for the day – Kiran, a young Mirialan whose mother was a mechanic at the shipyard – you collapsed into your desk chair with a sigh. Cara had come by to pick up Grogu again, but you’d been hoping to finally meet his elusive father. The kids would have a show at the end of the term to sing some songs and show off what they’d been learning. So far you’d been able to invite all of the parents personally when they came to pick the kids up. You sighed again and tapped your data pad – you’d just have to send him a message.

You’d sent him a message only once before, when you first started, just to introduce yourself. You hadn’t gotten a message back.

You stared down at the pad for a moment, biting your lip. Just be straightforward, to the point. You nodded and scrolled down to the contact for Grogu-parent. You saved all of your students’ parents’ contact info that way, though you added their names to the end if you knew them.

you: Hello! This is Grogu’s teacher, I sent you a message a couple of weeks ago when I started. I just wanted to invite you to our end of term show and to let you know that his schedule will be changing a bit, as we’ll be adding a rehearsal once a week. His class will be singing some songs and showing off what they have learned this term. They’re all very excited about it!

You sent another message with the date and time of the show and wondered how you should sign off.

you: I will also let Cara and IG know. Please let me know if you have any questions and if you’ll be able to attend. Thank you!

Once the message was sent, you leaned back in your chair, hoping you’d hear back from him this time.

You were startled when your pad chimed before you’d even settled into your chair.

Grogu-parent: Hello. Thank you. I will be there.

You grinned. A response! And so quickly! You needed to say something back, to make it clear this was a way he could get in contact with you if needed.

you: Great! I know that will make Grogu very happy. He has really enjoyed learning to follow along to the notes of the songs and he is becoming a very enthusiastic assistant on the drums.

There was a pause, and you wondered if you had said too much, or if he’d gone quiet again. But then your pad chimed.

Grogu-parent: Something he can hit that makes noise? Sounds perfect for him.

You laughed. If someone had told you that morning that you’d actually talk to Grogu’s elusive dad and that he would make you laugh, you weren’t sure you’d have believed them.

Grogu-parent: Thank you for telling me. I know I miss a lot when I’m off planet.

Suddenly, you realized you hadn’t thought of it that way and wanted to kick yourself. Of course his dad would be sad to miss hearing about what Grogu did in school, and all the little ways he was growing and learning. Your heart squeezed in sympathy.

you: Would you like me to send you more updates? I would be happy to do it. I usually share them with parents at the end of the day. I’m sorry I didn’t think to send them to you this way instead.

Grogu-parent: That’s alright. I know I never replied to your message, I didn’t get it until days later. Yes, please send me updates. I might not be able to reply right away but I will be happy to get them.

You tilted your head as you read his message, wondering what sort of work he was doing.

you: Oh that’s fine! I’ll start sending you updates, but no pressure to respond to them. I understand you must be busy.

Grogu-parent: I’ll respond when I can. Thank you again.

You smiled as you set your pad down and stood from your desk. Finally, you thought. You’d made contact with Grogu’s dad! You walked out of the schoolhouse with a spring in your step.

As you made your way to the market to pick up something for dinner, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. You were happy you’d moved to Nevarro, you realized – you liked the people and the growing feeling of community that you had been welcomed to join almost immediately. There were beings of all kinds in the little city, from all over the galaxy – you’d met a fellow newcomer just the day before, a friend of Cara’s from the resistance who was good with plants. You’d met Carm, a Bothan, who had a knack for fixing droids. You were pretty sure you’d even spotted a Mando, once or twice, and Diima’s mom had told you about the family that had just moved in next door to them and was planning to open a restaurant.

It was a nice place to live. You were happy you’d decided to take the offer.

…

The next day, when Cara picked up Grogu, you let her know that you’d also invited his dad to the show. Grogu chirped and smiled at you, and you smiled back.

“That’s right, bud, your dad is coming!”

Cara grinned. “See? I told you he would, squirt.” Grogu made a noise like a cheer and waved his little arms and you both laughed. “See you tomorrow, teach!” Cara tossed Grogu lightly in the air as she turned and he squealed.

You smiled, shaking your head at their antics as you made your way back to your desk. You knew just what you wanted to tell his dad.

you: Today Grogu kept working really hard on trying to write his name! The Aurebesh characters are still new and tricky for them, but he honestly does pretty well when we can draw them in the sand with his claws. He also shared his snack with his friend Oora, which was sweet.

You didn’t get an answer right away, and you tried not to be disappointed. It had been nice to talk to him the day before, but you knew he was busy with work, whatever work he did. You packed up your bag and hefted it onto your shoulder.

When your pad chimed, you dropped it unceremoniously back onto your chair.

Grogu-parent: Are you sure you’re talking about my kid? He’s not usually one to share food.

You laughed, but before you could reply your pad chimed again.

Grogu-parent: That’s great about his name. I know he knows so much, even though he seems so little.

You nodded as you typed your response.

you: He does! I can tell. Sometimes he gets a little bit frustrated when he can’t communicate the way he wants. But the kids are all great with each other and they really listen to him, even without words.

Grogu-parent: I’m glad to hear it. I worried he would be too little for the class, even though technically he’s older than I am.

You laughed and tucked away that little tidbit of information.

you: I know he’s technically the oldest, but he’s also not the youngest, in terms of development. They’re a good group and they get along well.

Grogu-parent: He is an old baby, isn’t he? Thank you. Again.

You laughed and found yourself smiling again as you walked to the market. You wished you knew his name, but it felt awkward at this point to ask. You supposed he’d have to stay “Grogu-parent” in your pad. For now.

…

After that, you fell into a bit of a rhythm.

He wasn’t always able to reply immediately – sometimes you came in to work in the morning to find his response waiting for you, and you didn’t let yourself wait for more than a few minutes at the end of the day.

But he always replied.

You found him easy to talk to, with a clear sense of humor and love for his son that you could feel through the messages. It infused every word he sent you, and it made you smile softly whenever you thought about it. You still felt bad that you hadn’t thought of this arrangement earlier. But you tried to make up for it with more details now.

…

you: Grogu led the other kids in a game today at recess. It seemed to be a mixture of tag and catch, and I’m not sure if he made it up, but they had fun. And I was proud of him for teaching them without words!

Grogu-parent: Sounds like the game he learned from a friend’s kid on Sorgan. I’ve seen him play it before, but I’ve never figured out the rules. I’m not convinced they don’t make them up each time they play it.

…

you: Grogu drew you a picture today! From what I could tell it’s your house, he was very proud of it.

Grogu-parent: I can’t wait to see it. He has a collection growing at home on the walls of his room.

…

you: Today we learned about hyperspace, and Grogu got really excited when I showed some footage of what it looks like to travel in hyperspace from the cockpit. He’s not the only kid who’s been in space, of course, and they all had a lot of fun sharing about their experiences. He drew us a picture of what I think is your ship, and the other kids loved it.

Grogu-parent: He does love hyperspace. I think it’s the colors. That kid loves to fly, even to go upside down. Never seen someone treat an evasive maneuver like a thrill ride like that.

you: Evasive maneuvers, huh? Sounds intense!

Grogu-parent: It’s been a while, but when he first came to me we had to run from some people who were looking for him. And me. Took us around the galaxy for a bit.

You remembered the school’s security measures that Karga and Cara had told you about and furrowed your brow.

you: Is everything ok now? Is he in any danger? Are you?

Grogu-parent: We took care of it. But that’s why we have the alerts in place at the school. Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.

you: I’m not worried about me! But Grogu and the rest of the kids! I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt them.

You could believe it, though. You just didn’t want to.

you: I mean, I know the Galaxy can be like that. I just wish it wasn’t.

Grogu-parent: I know what you mean. I wish that, too.

You didn’t realize until later while you were eating dinner that he’d never answered your question about his own safety, and it made you worry. You didn’t even know what his job was, you realized, and felt the worry settle in your chest.

…

you: Grogu made you another picture but this time he refused to use any color except blue. I’m not sure what it is, but he was very insistent about it! Cara took it home for you.

Grogu-parent: I’m not surprised, he loves blue things. I can’t wait to see it.

…

you: Today Oora gave a demonstration of a traditional dance he learned from his family, and surprised us all – apparently Grogu had been helping him practice and knew the dance, too! It was very sweet of him to dance with Oora when he got nervous.

Grogu-parent: He does love music, and he really loves helping his friends. He feels everything so strongly.

Grogu-parent: I’ll tell him, too, but if you remember tomorrow, please tell him I’m proud of him.

…

For once, you had evening plans.

You hurried home at the end of the week to drop your bag and then to meet Cara and Diima’s moms at the cantina. When they’d invited you, you’d internally done a victory dance – you’d made friends!! – but externally, you’d kept your cool. Mostly.

Cara was the only one there when you arrived, and you settled in beside her in the booth.

“Teach!” She greeted you with a grin. “Whatcha drinkin’? How are the kids?”

You gave her your order and soon you had a drink, too. You filled her in on what your charges had been up to that week, getting a few laughs at their antics. “What about you, constable? Anything new?”

“Well, we were going to take care of a reptavian problem over towards the east end of the lava flats, but Mando had to go off planet again. We’ll wait for him to get back, could use his firepower.”

You tilted your head. You figured she was talking about the shiny Mando you’d seen around the market sometimes. “Who–”

But before you could ask, Neela and Aminet arrived, and by the end of the night you forgot you’d even had a question at all.

…

you: Grogu got excited when we learned about banthas and blurrgs today! We’re focusing on the letter Besh if you couldn’t tell. Then he drew a blurrg, it was honestly a pretty great likeness.

Grogu-parent: He’s met a few before, so he knows them pretty well.

you: Wow! When did Grogu meet a blurrg?

Grogu-parent: When I first met him, we had a friend who kept them. He’s even ridden one before.

you: You know, his picture from today makes a lot more sense now. He drew a little Grogu on top of the blurrg.

Grogu-parent: He really likes blurrgs. They seem to like him too, which is good. Otherwise I’d be afraid they were going to eat him.

you: That IS good because they definitely would.

…

At some point, your messages with Grogu’s dad became less focused on Grogu. You still always made sure to send an update, of course, but you were starting to get to know him, too.

You were trying not to look too hard at how that was making you feel.

You’ve never even seen this man.

You were starting to realize that that might not matter to you.

…

you: Today we went on a little field trip to the market and Grogu was very well behaved!

Grogu-parent: Are you sure you’re talking about my kid? He didn’t try to eat every blue treat in sight?

you: Well, no, he did do that. But then we stopped and talked to the man who makes those blue cookies he likes – his name is Tam – and he showed Grogu how carefully he has to make each one. The way Grogu held the one Tam gave him made me think he was in awe. Anyway after that he was very well-behaved

Grogu-parent: He does love to learn new things. I bet he loved watching the cookies get made.

you: He really did! And me, too. I had no idea they were so finicky

Grogu-parent: Not a baker?

you: I can make bread ok, I guess. Tam’s got real skill.

Grogu-parent: I can only make a few dishes but I’m trying to learn more for Grogu.

you: I bet he loves that! Is it hard to cook on your ship?

Grogu-parent: I don’t really, no space for it. I mostly rely on rations or quick things until I’m home.

you: Ok that sounds not so great, so PLEASE promise me you’ll try the new restaurant when you get back. It’s really good and you’ll deserve it after all those rations!

Grogu-parent: I will.

You tamped down the part of yourself that wondered if you could bring some long-lasting food that Grogu could give to his dad for his next trip. That was probably too much for a person you’d never even met. Right?

…

you: The kids have been taking turns telling stories about their families, and Grogu told us one in pictures today. It seemed to involve a lot of snow and spiders? Ice spiders? Are those real?

Grogu-parent: Of course he picked that story.

Grogu-parent: Yes, it was when we were on the run, like I told you before. My ship was damaged and we had to do an emergency landing on an ice planet.

Grogu-parent: The local fauna did not appreciate Grogu’s approach to exploring the area and chased us back to the ship.

you: Holy kriff! We’re they actually as big as a house, or was that his creative license taking over the drawing?

Grogu-parent: Most of them were small. One of them wasn’t.

you: That sounds absolutely terrifying

you: I’m so glad you’re both ok!! How did you get away?

Grogu-parent: A couple of the New Republic guys from Adelphi had followed us and helped out. But we had to limp over to Trask to get the ship fixed.

you: You know, that is basically what Grogu drew for us, I think I just couldn’t believe it was all true.

you: Ok my mind is totally blown. Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?

Grogu-parent: More than I would like, yes.

…

you: Grogu did really well with addition today! We’re learning about adding and subtracting with piles of tokens. He even helped his friend Kiran with a tricky one!

Grogu-parent: He’s so smart, I’m glad he’s getting to show it.

you: He really is! And he loves to learn.

Grogu-parent: I’m glad he’s so good at making friends. I was worried about him. I don’t set the best example.

you: What do you mean? You have so many friends

Grogu-parent: I can’t tell if you’re joking.

you: Not joking! There’s Cara, and Karga, and IG.

Grogu-parent: 3? Is that a lot? I don’t think I’m very good at being friendly.

You hesitated, but it did feel right to call him a friend, at this point.

you: Well, you’ve also mentioned knowing people on at least two other planets. And you’re friendly with me! That is, if you don’t mind being friends with someone who sometimes forgets to switch out of “talking to kids” voice when talking to adults. And who is usually partially covered in arts and crafts.

Grogu-parent: I don’t mind. I’d like to be your friend.

You grinned and did not do a little victory dance. Definitely not.

you: me too!

That one had made you float home.

…

you: Wait, you really calculate all your jumps yourself?

you: That’s so impressive! Does it take a long time?

Grogu-parent: It did when I first started, but I’ve done it so many times it’s not so bad now.

you: Grogu must get his math skills from you.

Grogu-parent: So much happened in his life before I found him. Most of the time I feel like I’m learning things from him, and not the other way around.

You felt a little squeeze around your heart at the thought of Grogu without this man, without his dad. You were glad they’d found each other.

you: That’s adorable, but you should know he shows us things that you taught him all the time.

Grogu-parent: Uh oh. Like what?

you: Today he showed us how to tie a cape around your neck so it will stay on. It made me wonder – do you wear a cape?

There was a pause that made you wonder if you shouldn’t have asked. Your message screen moved up as if a new message was about to come in, but then nothing did for another minute.

Grogu-parent: I do. Sometimes.

You laughed, a bit wonderingly. Who is this man?

…

you: Today some of the students shared stories or keepsakes from their homeworld or families – this isn’t a mandatory activity, since I know it can be complicated for some. Grogu drew us a picture of IG-11, I think. But he got really excited when Tamar mentioned that the twins have family on Tatooine, of all places.

Grogu-parent: He’s been there, so that was probably it. I guess I do have another friend there, too. Maybe two.

you: Ok, I’m starting to think you really undersold your ability to make friends

Grogu-parent: I wasn’t lying when I said I’m not good at being friendly.

you: You’re friendly with me! And how else did you get all these friends, then?

Grogu-parent: I ask myself that all the time.

Grogu-parent: But it’s easy to be friendly with you.

You blinked and felt your face heat up, suddenly glad you were alone in your classroom.

…

you: Today in rehearsal Grogu showed us that he memorized his part for the show! It was very cute, I’m sure he’ll do it at home for you.

Grogu-parent: Oh I’ve seen it. He’s been working hard on it.

you: Of course he has! I could tell

Grogu-parent: I’ll be on planet next week, maybe I could watch a rehearsal? If that’s alright. I don’t want to be in the way.

You grinned at your pad, but you also felt suddenly nervous. Were you ready to actually meet him? You didn’t even know his name.

you: Of course! No, you won’t be in the way, we have plenty of space. It will be so nice to finally meet you!

Grogu-parent: Ok, good. Yes, it will be.

…

On the day of the rehearsal you walked into the schoolhouse buzzing with nerves and excitement.

You were going to meet him. Grogu’s dad, whose name you still didn’t know, somehow, but whose kind, funny, possibly-edging-towards-flirty messages were starting to take over your thoughts. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you couldn’t help it.

You were going to meet him.

You managed to tamp down your excitement as your class arrived and took up all of your attention, but it never quite left your mind. By the time rehearsal rolled around after lunch, the nerves were back.

With 10 minutes to go, you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the door what felt like every 5 seconds. Diima’s mom Aminet arrived, and then the twins’ parents. You knew Kiran’s mom was going to try to get away from the shipyard, too.

The door opened again, and you turned to see her slipping inside and smiled. When you looked past her, you were startled to see the Mandalorian you’d seen around town standing in the street, about 15 feet from the school and framed by the door to your classroom.

He was tall, with very shiny armor and very broad shoulders. He was also covered in a slightly intimidating amount of weaponry, though you knew he was Cara’s friend and so you weren’t actually that scared. For a moment you simply stared at him, and even though his face was covered, you had a feeling he was staring back.

Curious, you took a step towards the open doorway, but that seemed to shock him into action. He took a corresponding step back, looked around, and then turned and walked away.

You poked your head out of the door and watched as he turned a corner, heading towards the market.

Weird.

You heard the kids start to make more noise behind you and turned, realizing it was time to begin.

…

Grogu’s dad never did show, but you tried not to let it get you down. At least, not until after the kids had left.

When Cara came to pick up Grogu, she smiled ruefully and shrugged. “I know, he was supposed to come. Sent me a message asking me to swing by, something came up.”

You sighed and shrugged back. “That’s alright. I know he’s busy.”

Your pad stayed stubbornly silent, and you left it at the school to discourage yourself from obsessively checking it all night long.

What happened?

…

Yawning, you dropped into your desk chair the next morning with a sigh. You hadn’t slept well, too worked up over what had – and hadn’t – happened the day before.

But your heart leapt into your throat when you saw you had a message waiting.

Grogu-parent: I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it. I had to go off planet again, and it was pretty last minute.

Grogu-parent: I already apologized to Grogu but I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet. I was looking forward to it.

From the timestamps you could see that he’d sent the messages while you were at home, trying to sleep. You bit your lip, wondering what to say back. It helped that he apologized but you still felt disappointed.

you: That’s ok. I know you’re busy! I would have liked to meet. Maybe next time?

Grogu-parent: I shouldn’t be too busy for this. Next time, yes.

you: Deal. I’m counting on you, friend

There was a long pause that made you bite your lip. Was that too much? You started to put the pad down, sighing.

But then another message appeared.

Grogu-parent: Since we’re friends, you should call me Din.

You froze. Din?

His name.

You started to grin.

you: I see you, trying to make me forget about missing you yesterday by telling me your name today!

As soon as you send the message you hesitate, wondering if that was too much. But he told me his name! This has to be flirting. We’re flirting. Right?

Grogu-parent: Missing me?

Kark. Of course he noticed that. Before you could even feel the heat reach your face he sent another message.

Grogu-parent: I really wanted to be there.

you: I’m just teasing you, Din. Thank you for telling me

You grinned and changed his contact name.

Grogu-parent-Din: I missed meeting you, too

…

After Din told you his name, it seemed like your conversations just… flowed. You were opening up to each other in ways you hadn’t quite been able to before and it was making you feel giddy.

On top of that, you were pretty sure he was flirting with you. At least, you hoped so. You couldn’t stop turning the question over in your mind.

It’s not like you could ask anyone. You hadn’t told anyone you were having actual conversations with this man you’d never met – all Cara knew was that you sent him updates.

These weren’t exactly updates.

you: Anyway, Grogu loved it. Painting with feet is always a popular activity but he was very enthusiastic

Grogu-parent-Din: That doesn’t surprise me at all. He loves making a mess.

You laughed.

Grogu-parent-Din: Is this one of those days when you’re covered in arts and crafts?

You blinked. He remembered that? And he was thinking about that? Was he thinking about what you looked like? You hesitated, and then typed your response.

you: Oh definitely. I’m wearing more paint than clothes at this point.

Kriffing hell. Why did I just say that? You stared down at your pad, incredulous. That had to be too much. You definitely shouldn’t be flirting with a parent like that. And you hadn’t even meant to flirt! You started to type again, to apologize, but he beat you to it.

Grogu-parent-Din: Sounds like quite a sight.

you: See, I warned you, being friends with me means being friends with someone who can’t stop kids from covering her in paint.

Grogu-parent-Din: Never said it would be a bad sight.

You felt a tingle run up your spine. Did he–

Grogu-parent-Din: You’re not afraid of a mess. Neither am I.

Grogu-parent-Din: You’re a good teacher.

Kriff, you wished you knew what this man looked like. You said goodbye and stood up to leave, you should not be having thoughts like this in your classroom.

Not afraid of a mess, he’d said.

Kriff.

…

Din kept flirting with you. It had to be flirting, you’d decided. (And you were definitely flirting.) But neither of you had addressed it directly.

You spent your days with the kids, and about half an hour every afternoon flirting with Grogu’s dad. And then the rest of your evening thinking about it.

you: Grogu drew us a picture of a sort of humanoid-looking figure hanging off the side of a Jawa sandcrawler. It was pretty small in comparison with the sandcrawler, but was that you?

Grogu-parent-Din: Unfortunately, yes.

you: How did you end up hanging off the side of a sandcrawler??

Grogu-parent-Din: The Jawas took apart my ship, stole the parts. I was trying to get them back.

you: Well I assume you did, since you still have a ship

you: How did you get them back? Dare I ask?

Grogu-parent-Din: That’s a long one, but it involved me getting something they wanted from a mudhorn.

you: A mudhorn?? An actual mudhorn

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ll tell you the whole story sometime. But yeah, I got the parts back. Got a whole new ship now, though, that one got blown up later.

You realized you were staring down at your pad, mouth dropped open, frozen.

you: … Din.

you: Blown up???

Grogu-parent-Din: You know, when I list it all out like this, it sounds kind of ridiculous.

you: Kind of?

you: Does this kind of thing still happen to you?

Grogu-parent-Din: I won’t lie, sometimes it does. But not nearly as often.

Grogu-parent-Din: I promise, I’m careful. Much more these days.

you: You swear?

Grogu-parent-Din: I do.

you: Alright.

As you set down your pad, you thought about what you knew about Din. He wore a cape, did evasive maneuvers in his ship, had friends on multiple planets, and sometimes hung off the side of sandcrawlers and fought mudhorns. Someday you’d find out what his job was, and this would all make more sense.

You hoped.

…

At some point after he told you his name, you started taking your pad home.

It made sense, right? It would be rude to cut off the conversation because you had to go home, of all things.

And so like most nights, you found yourself sitting on your bed, smiling down at your pad, talking to Din for what you refused to recognize was over an hour at this point.

Grogu-parent-Din: You know, I didn’t realize how much calmer my life is now until I started telling you these stories.

you: I’m just glad your life IS calmer now! Din, sometimes you tell me things and I don’t know how you survived.

Grogu-parent-Din: Me too. That it’s calmer now, I mean. For Grogu, of course, but I get a lot more sleep these days.

you: I know you’re busy, but maybe you could stick around for a bit longer next time. Relax a bit? I think you need it

Grogu-parent-Din: I’m not very good at relaxing.

you: Maybe you just need someone to show you how it’s done

You were flirting again. You bit your lip.

Grogu-parent-Din: You volunteering?

You grinned. He was flirting back.

you: I might be. What do you say?

Grogu-parent-Din: I say I’d like that.

you: Yeah?

Grogu-parent-Din: Yeah, cyar’ika. Show me how to relax.

You let out a noise that you were glad no one was around to hear.

you: What’s that mean?

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ll tell you when we’re relaxing.

you: Promise?

Grogu-parent-Din: Promise.

…

With only a couple of weeks to go before the show, you were starting to feel the pressure, both for the kids and because you were finally going to meet Din.

He would have to come to the show, right? He said he would. You were pretty sure your distraction was noticeable – Cara had almost called you out on it multiple times. She’d taken to squinting at you and smirking knowingly when she caught you checking your pad.

A few nights after the promise to let you show him how to relax – which you couldn’t let yourself dwell on, not if you wanted to get anything done – he told you about his ship getting blown up.

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ve got a new one, of course, but I do miss that ship.

you: Of course you do! How long did you have it?

Grogu-parent-Din: Almost 15 years.

Your jaw dropped. He’d lost his home of 15 years?

you: Din, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.

There was a long pause that made you worry you’d somehow overstepped. You started to type, to backtrack, when his response appeared.

Grogu-parent-Din: Thank you.

Grogu-parent-Din: I think people expected me to just get a new ship, but for a while I didn’t want to.

you: Of course not!

you: ugh, who said that? Let me talk to them

Grogu-parent-Din: It’s ok, cyar’ika. No need.

Grogu-parent-Din: Of course you can make me smile when I’m thinking about this.

You sucked in a sharp breath and tucked yourself into a ball around your pad on your bed. He smiled.

you: I made you smile?

Grogu-parent-Din: You always make me smile.

Your own smile felt so big it was taking over your face.

you: You make me smile too, you know. Even when we’re not talking, you make me smile

Grogu-parent-Din: Yeah? How do I manage that?

you: I may or may not think about you, you know… sometimes.

Grogu-parent-Din: I think about you all the time.

You felt your entire body get hot and tingly and gasped.

you: Din!

Grogu-parent-Din: I do. Lately you’re all I want to think about.

you: Din. Are you flirting with me?

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ve been flirting with you, cyar’ika. Nice of you to finally notice.

You wanted to hide your face, even though you were the only person in your apartment. You settled for kicking your feet like a weirdo.

you: I hoped you were. I’ve been flirting too, you know

Grogu-parent-Din: Oh I know.

you: Din!

Grogu-parent-Din: I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you last time. I wish I had.

you: Well, the show is next week! so soon! We can actually meet

you: It’s not your fault you had to work.

There was another long pause, and you furrowed your brow, but it couldn’t quite wipe the smile off your face.

Grogu-parent-Din: So I might have lied about that.

you: About what?

You frowned down at the pad.

Grogu-parent-Din: I didn’t have to go off planet suddenly.

you: What?? Din what are you talking about

You didn’t like the swooping sensation in your stomach. So then why had he left?

Grogu-parent-Din: I did come by the school that day, but I couldn’t go in.

you: Why not??

Grogu-parent-Din: I saw you, and I know, I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair that I’ve seen you. But I saw you, and you were smiling at someone, and you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, cyar’ika.

Your mouth dropped open. What?

Grogu-parent-Din: I froze. I got tongue-tied, I guess. All of a sudden I just knew, but I wasn’t prepared. And then I ran like a coward. I’m sorry.

You handled your pad in shaking hands, making a few more typos than you usually did.

you: Din, are you tellign me that you thought I was so beautiful you ran awaY?

Grogu-parent-Din: Basically, yes. I know, I know, Cara already read me the riot act. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t run next week.

you: You better not!! I can’t believe you’ve seen me and I’ve never seen you.

He ran away because you were too beautiful? What the kark? This sort of thing did not happen to you.

Grogu-parent-Din: I promise I will be there next week and I won’t run away.

you: Good.

you: No one’s ever thought I was so beautiful they RAN before, you know

Grogu-parent-Din: That you know of.

you: You know, that’s a good point

…

By the day of the show, you were a wreck.

You and Din talked every night, and it was wonderful, but it felt like a build up to something that was going to change your life. You didn’t want to put that much pressure on a simple meeting, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You liked him so, so much.

And on top of that, the kids were excited and nervous and bouncing off the walls. Literally, in some cases. You wanted things to go well for them, and you wanted things to go well for you.

It was a lot.

Grogu-parent-Din: Can I come by early? Or should I wait until after?

you: PLEASE come early. I can’t wait through the whole show to meet you, I’ll be too nervous! The kids are going home for a couple of hours after school, and then they have to be back for the show

Grogu-parent-Din: Cara is taking Grogu with Oora for a final practice together and I said I’d meet her there. So I can come as early as you’d like. You tell me when to be there and I will.

Your hands were shaking again.

you: How about half an hour before the kids are due back? Gives me time to have emotions but not to get TOO distracted.

Grogu-parent-Din: Am I going to give you emotions, cyar’ika?

you: You know you are, Din.

…

Somehow, the kids had been gone for an hour and you’d managed to finish setting everything up in the small auditorium. The little stage was ready and the decorations were perfect.

And now all you had to do was wait for Din.

It was nerve-wracking. You were doing your best not to watch the clock, but with fifteen minutes to go before he was supposed to arrive, you found yourself pacing around your classroom, talking to yourself.

You were debating running to the corner and back just to work out some energy when someone cleared their throat behind you.

You whirled, heart in your throat, and were surprised to find the Mandalorian you’d seen around town standing in the doorway of your classroom.

“Oh! Hello, Mando.” You took a deep breath and resisted the urge to twist your hands together. “Can I help you with something?”

He didn’t answer right away. He looked around the room, and you took a moment to study him. His armor was very shiny, and it fit him very well. He was a very broad man, you realized. And he had fewer weapons on him than the last time you saw him, though of course he still had some.

He took a step inside and his cape swayed behind him.

“You know,” he said, and his voice was deep and warm. You thought he might be smiling, but wondered how you could tell. “I know it’s not realistic, but I really did picture you more covered in paint.”

You froze and felt a tingling sensation flow from your feet to your head, making you suddenly lightheaded. It can’t be.

“...Din?” you breathed, stunned. Your eyes traveled over the length of him again, and then suddenly caught on the cape.

He stepped forward again and then he was right in front of you. You couldn’t stop gaping at him.

“Hi, cyar’ika,” he said, voice deep. He reached out and lightly brushed his fingers against yours.

Your body finally kicked back into gear at his touch and you shoved him lightly in his armored chest. “Din!” You put both of your palms on his chest and marveled at the fact that he was here, in front of you, solidly physical and real. “You’re here!”

He chuckled, and you marveled again at being able to hear him. “I promised I would be.”

You felt yourself start to smile and noticed his helmet dipped. “I can’t believe you’re here.” You ran your hands down his chest and then froze. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just started touching you, I didn’t even ask–” You started to pull your hands away but he caught them and placed your hands back on his chest.

“You can touch me,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” you asked, grinning.

He nodded.

“I may have thought about it… a lot,” you confessed, stepping even closer.

His hands released yours and came to rest on your hips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

For a moment you just grinned at him, a bit stunned.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come in last time,” he said, and he did sound sorry. “I wanted to, I just…”

Now that you had him in front of you, real and solid and a man, it felt suddenly easier to tease him. “But you were overwhelmed by my beauty, huh?”

You gasped when he tugged you closer and squeezed your hips. “I was,” he agreed. “You are so kriffing beautiful, cyar’ika.”

You felt yourself begin to melt, but then remembered. “Wait,” you said, looking up at his visor. “You promised – what does that mean?”

He leaned down and nudged your forehead gently with his helmet.

“Sweetheart.”

…

The kids’ show went off without a hitch. Grogu was overjoyed to have his dad in the audience and played the drums with more enthusiasm than you had ever seen him have in practice. All of the kids did well, and their parents kept telling you how impressed they were as they headed home.

As soon as the area around you cleared, after the show, Din appeared with Grogu in his arms.

“Grogu, you did so well!” You reached your fist out to bump his little one and he cheered. “I’m so proud of you and I know your dad is, too.” You looked up at Din, who nodded.

“I am,” he agreed, “I told him.” He looked down at Grogu. “Right, bud?” Grogu made a little noise that definitely sounded like agreement.

“Are you heading out?” You asked, smiling at Cara when she came to join your group.

Din nodded. “Taking this one home. But, I wanted to ask – are you free tomorrow?”

You grinned. “I am.”

He took a step closer and Grogu made a little bah noise. “I’ll message you. But you have plans.”

You could feel Cara smirking at the two of you but you couldn’t look away from Din. “I do?”

Din leaned a little bit closer. “You do now.”

You said goodnight, but the warmth from finally meeting Din and knowing you had plans later carried you home.

Grogu-parent-Din: Meet me at the market after lunch?

you: Yes! What are our plans?

Smiling, you made an update to his contact.

Din: I’m ready to learn how to relax.

…

You stood by the large tree at the edge of the market, nervous but excited. You’d spent too much time picking out your clothes and now that you were there, you couldn’t stop remembering how it had felt to finally touch him.

“You look beautiful,” a warm voice said from behind you, and you spun around.

“Din!” You grinned. He was very shiny in the midday sun.

He stepped closer and one of his hands came up to cup your upper arm. His gloved thumb moved back and forth across your skin in a light caress. “Hi, cyar’ika.”

You felt your face heat at the endearment, now that you knew what it meant.

“I’m ready to relax,” he said, voice teasing.

You laughed and leaned a bit closer. He was right there, in front of you, and you felt like you were floating. “Alright. I say we walk through the market and stock up on some snacks, and then we’ll try out some aimless relaxation. Preferably on a couch or other soft surface. And maybe we’ll listen to some music.”

Din nodded along to your instructions, turning to follow as you walked towards the market. He slid his hand down your arm and slipped it into yours. “Does your place have a couch?”

You looked at him. “Din, would you like to come back to my place? Do you have time?”

He leaned forward and nudged his helmet against your forehead again. “Cara’s got Grogu. I’m all yours. And yes, I do want to.”

“Great,” you said, smiling, and started to point out your favorite stalls. You collected some fruit and cookies from Tam and some other snacks as you walked.

Din took each item and stored them in a bag as you collected them. “Are these the cookies Grogu learned how to make?”

You nodded. “And he still loves them.”

Din laughed. “Of course he does.”

Once you had a nice assortment, you turned in the direction of your apartment. As you walked, you marveled at how easy, how right it felt, to spend time together in person.

“Is it nice, being back on planet?” you asked.

He nodded once. “Food’s much better,” he said, and you smiled. “So’s the company.”

You turned onto the small street with the door to your apartment. “Flatterer.”

As you stepped up to your door to unlock it, Din stepped up close behind you. So close you could feel the heat of his body. “It’s the truth, cyar’ika.”

You felt a shiver travel up your back as you finally unlocked the door, followed by the tips of his fingers as they followed the shiver. “Well, here it is.” You waved your arm at your apartment and stood to the side to welcome Din inside.

He looked around, and suddenly you felt nervous. Before you could get too worked up, though, he said, “I like it. It’s very warm, like you.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Din stepped closer and nudged your forehead with his helmet again. “You’re easy to talk to, and so warm in all of our conversations. It feels like that.”

You leaned closer. “Does this mean something?” You nudged his helmet.

He hummed. “It’s a Keldabe kiss. It’s how we kiss without removing our helmets.”

“Din!” You exclaimed, leaning back to look at him. “You kissed me when we met yesterday?”

“Couldn’t help it.” He leaned in to do it again and you grinned. “I’ve been wanting to for weeks.”

You reached down and took his hand, tugging him towards the living area. “Come on. We have some relaxing to do.”

To your surprise, rather than joining you on the couch, he started stripping off his armor and placing the pieces carefully on your dining table. He must have noticed your surprise because he explained, “Relaxing, right? This will be more comfortable.”

You watched carefully, taking note of each piece. When he was finished he was just wearing his flight suit and helmet. You couldn’t help but ask, “not the helmet?”

Din seemed to tense for a moment, but then he relaxed. “No. I… my creed. I can’t take it off in front of other living things.”

You tilted your head, considering this information. “Not even Grogu?”

He shook his head. “Grogu is clan, he’s my son. Our clan can see our faces.”

That made sense. “Alright. Want to sit?”

You gestured at the seat next to you and smiled as he sat.

“You don’t…” he trailed off and turned in his seat to look at you head on. “You don’t have more questions?”

You turned sideways and leaned against the back of your couch, propping your chin on your hand. Your knee brushed against his leg. “No, not right now. I mean, I want to know more, but mostly I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready, right? If it’s stuff I can know.” You reached over and slipped your hand into his and squeezed. “I don’t want to push you, and I like the way we’ve been talking.”

He leaned forward and squeezed your hand. “I like it too.” His voice was suddenly much deeper. “Thank you.”

You smiled. “Are you thanking me for being patient?”

Din nodded. “I am. So what’s the next step in our day of relaxation?”

You gestured at your sound system. “Let me put on something soothing.” You grabbed your data pad from the coffee table and set it up. “There.”

Soft music started to play and you eased back into your seat.

“Do we just sit here?” Din asked, sounding a little baffled.

It made you smile. “Yes, but we can talk. Or you can always lie down, that’s much more relaxing.” You grabbed a pillow and placed it against your thigh. “Want to try it?”

“Here?” He pointed at the couch and you nodded. He hesitated and then took off his boots. He slowly leaned down until he was lying back against the pillow. As soon as his back was flat he groaned. “Ok, maybe I needed this.”

“Maybe you need a back rub,” you replied.

Din laughed. “Probably. I don’t know if I’ve ever had one. You offering?”

“Never?” You shook your head, incredulous. “Ask me again later. We’re relaxing right now.” You fell into an easy conversation about your week and you finally found out more about his job. As you talked, you leaned further into the couch and started idly tracing shapes along his chest with your fingertips without even realizing you were doing it.

“A bounty hunter makes so much more sense than what I was thinking,” you remarked as he finished telling you about his last job. “All of your ridiculous stories make sense now.”

Din laughed again and you realized you wanted to hear that sound more. Every day, if you could.

“That’s good. I realized in retrospect how it all sounds when I was talking to you.” He reached up and laced his fingers through yours, stilling your hand against his chest. “It doesn’t scare you?”

You looked down at his visor and smiled. “I was already worrying about you, but I know you’re capable. I could tell from your stories. If anything, it’s reassuring — you must be good at it, to be doing it this long.” You sighed. “But I probably will still worry, yes.”

Din hummed and you felt certain he was looking at you, too, even though you couldn’t tell through the dark glass. “Cara offered me more work around here. I think I’ll take her up on it. I’ll still go off planet sometimes, but not as much.”

“Well,” you said, smiling, “I won’t pretend I don’t like the sound of that. But you don’t have to do that just because we’re, um…” you trailed off as you realized you didn’t exactly know what you were.

“Relaxing together?” He teased, and you laughed. “It would be better for Grogu, that’s important. But I do want to be here more so I can see you more. Not only send messages.” He squeezed your hand. “I like you.”

You felt something warm settle inside you at his words and you were certain it showed on your face. “I like you too, Din.”

You told him more stories about the kids’ antics during the week, but you realized as you finished a story about Kiran trying to adopt a lizard from the lava flats as the class pet — and Grogu wanting to eat it, instead — that Din had fallen asleep.

You smiled and curled your body more around his helmet and the pillow in your lap. The fact that he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with you filled you with warmth. You took the opportunity to study this man who had somehow swept you off your feet through pad messages. Even without seeing his face, you could tell he was attractive – his body was toned and strong, but not thin. You could tell he was used to very physical work. You traced his shoulders and arms and chest with your eyes and bit your lip – he was much more exposed like this, without armor. You could see the outline of his body and it made you press your thighs together under the pillow.

Get it together, you told yourself sternly. We are relaxing, not ogling.

He stirred, suddenly, and you couldn’t help but soothe him. “Shhh, go back to sleep,” you murmured. “Relax.” He seemed to settle again at the sound of your voice, so you kept talking. “I’m really glad you feel comfortable here, Din. With me.” You hummed along to the music softly for a moment. “You really are very handsome. I can tell. And kriff, these shoulders. And your hands.” You laughed softly at yourself. “I already liked you, you know? Without seeing you. But now…” you trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by what you were admitting even though he was asleep.

At least, you thought he was asleep.

He startled you by responding, suddenly, and tightened his hold on your hand on his chest to keep you from pulling away. “Now?” he asked, voice scratchy and deep. “Now what, cyar’ika?”

You felt your face heat up. “How much of that did you hear?”

Din hummed and settled more into the couch. “Something about my shoulders.”

“Kriff,” you said, laughing. “That’s so embarrassing.”

He shook his head. “No, I liked it.” He squeezed your hand. “What were you going to say? But now…” he prompted you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Now I like you and I can’t stop looking at you, I guess.”

He looked at you for a moment, helmet tilted back. Then he started to sit up. You made a noise in complaint but he settled in much closer to you than before with his arm over the back of the couch. You were touching from shoulder to knee. Your breath caught.

“Is that really what you were going to say, mesh’la?” He leaned in towards you and pressed his helmet to your forehead again.

You shivered. “Din—“ you started, not sure what you were going to say.

“Tell me,” he urged you softly. He dropped his arm over your shoulders and suddenly you were totally wrapped up in his warmth.

“I already liked you,” you repeated, leaning into his embrace. “And I already wanted you. Before I’d even seen you.” You stumbled over your words but felt a surge of confidence when you felt him draw in a sharp breath. “And now I can’t stop looking at you. Because you already had me with your flirting.” You reached out and placed your hand on his thigh and squeezed, and you couldn’t take it anymore. “But Din, I am so turned on. I know we just met, officially, but—“

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured, wrapping his free arm around your waist. “I’ve been hard since you told me to lie down in your lap.”

Your gaze shot down to his pants, but you couldn’t see any proof.

“These pants don’t show it. But believe me,” he lifted your hand from his thigh and placed it over his hard length. Your eyes widened. “I want you. Badly.”

“Din,” you breathed. You looked back up at him and squeezed his cock, and watched a shiver travel across his shoulders.

“How dark is your bedroom?” He asked suddenly.

“Very,” you said, a bit confused. “I have those curtains that block out the light, helps me sleep.”

“Perfect,” he replied, and tugged you up off the couch. “Come here, mesh’la.” He grabbed something from the pile of his things on the coffee table and led you towards your bedroom after you pointed it out.

Once inside, he moved towards the windows and closed the curtains. The room immediately darkened. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking around the room, and nodded.

“Good,” he said, and you stepped closer.

“Good for what?”

Din held up his hand and you realized he was holding a length of black cloth. “It’s dark enough in here. But just to be sure… if you, would you wear this?”

Suddenly you realized the reason why he was doing all of this and your entire body lit up in response. “Your helmet?” you asked, eyes wide.

He nodded. “Will you?” He held what you recognized as a blindfold towards you, and you nodded before he’d even finished speaking.

“Of course,” you said, stepping closer. “Din, I promise, I won’t look. But yes, I’ll wear it.”

You saw some of the tension fade from his shoulders and smiled. He took you gently by the shoulders and turned you around. “Thank you,” he murmured as he lifted the blindfold into place. He tied it tightly, but not too tight. “How’s that?” You felt air on your face and wondered if he was waving his hand in front of your eyes.

“I can’t see anything,” you confirmed. You reached back, trying to find him, and he caught your hand. “I promise.”

He turned you back around slowly and suddenly you were pressed up against his chest with his hand on your back. “I believe you. I trust you.”

You thought of the way he had fallen asleep so easily in your presence and smiled. “What now, Din?”

You heard a hissing noise and then a large thump and realized he must have removed his helmet. The sound of his voice confirmed it. “Now, cyar’ika,” he said, and you shivered when you felt his breath on your face, “I’m going to kiss you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, yes, and maybe please, but you never got the words out. His lips met yours and every other thought flew out of your head. You could tell he was somewhat new to this – that wasn’t surprising, considering what he’d told you about his helmet – but he learned quickly and you barely noticed any awkwardness. You lost yourself in his kiss, in his arms, in the darkness of your blindfold.

When his tongue traced along your bottom lip, you moaned, and his answering moan made you feel lightheaded. He broke away suddenly to press kisses down your neck and you sighed. “Din,” you said, and realized your hands were tangled in his hair. His hair. “That feels so good.”

“Does it?” He murmured, and you could hear his smirk. “Tell me, cyar’ika.”

You pushed yourself closer until you were pressed fully against him. “Yes, Din. Can we– can you–” you weren’t sure what you were asking, and he interrupted you with a nibble at your neck.

“We can do whatever you want,” he promised, voice low. “What do you want, mesh’la?”

That word, the new one, finally snagged at your attention. “What’s that mean?”

He lifted his head and pressed his smile to your cheek. It made you smile back. “That’s what you want? To know that?”

You nodded. “Please. And then I want you to make me come.”

Din growled and tugged you in the direction you were pretty sure led to your bed. “Beautiful,” he said, voice intent. “It means beautiful. Because you are.” He tugged you downwards and you realized he was sitting on the bed. You settled into position straddling his lap and ground your hips down. His answering moan was very gratifying. “Let me make you feel good.”

He had one arm around your back, and you felt his other hand trail along the waistband of your pants. You tilted your hips forward to encourage him. He undid them deftly and you sighed when his large fingers slid inside your underwear.

He teased you, and you knew he could feel how wet you were without even pressing inside.

“Did I turn you on, cyar’ika?” He pressed his lips to your ear and you shivered at how deep his voice was. “Is this for me?”

“Yes, Din,” you said, and before you could say anything else his fingers parted your folds and slipped inside.

“So wet,” he said, voice awed. “And all for me, hmm?” His fingers found your clit and circled it and you gasped. He swallowed it with a kiss.

You broke away on a gasp when he replaced his fingers with his thumb and trailed through your wetness to circle your entrance with his fingertips. “Din,” you said, pleading.

“Is this what you want, mesh’la?” You nodded and he nipped at your neck below your ear. “I thought about this,” he said, lips brushing against your ear as he slid his fingers inside you. “Thought about this when you talked to me, when I pictured you covered in more paint than clothes.” He curled his fingers forward and you moaned. “Thought about this when you made me smile, when you said you think about me.”

“I do, Din,” you said, voice unsteady. You wrapped your arms around his neck and ground down on his fingers. “I thought about this, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, and you nodded against his neck. “My fingers?”

“Yes,” you said, building up a rhythm with your hips. “And your cock. And your tongue.”

Din let out a noise you could only classify as a whine and it sent sparks shooting up your spine. “You want that? My mouth on you?” You nodded, almost frantically, and he shuddered. “I want that too. You have no idea how much.”

You could feel it building inside of you and you buried your face in his shoulder. You marveled at feeling so much of his skin as you did.

“I think you’re close, cyar’ika,” he murmured between kisses on your neck. “You’re squeezing me.” His thumb started to move faster and you knew you were about to fall over the edge. “Come for me, beautiful. I want to feel it.”

You did, with his fingers thrusting in and out of you and his arm holding you tight in his lap. You cried out his name as you fell and shuddered at the sparks flying through your body. The pleasure washed over you like a wave, head to toe.

When you came back to yourself, you were on your back on the mattress with Din’s body pressing you down.

“You with me?” he asked, and you nodded. “Good. Cyar’ika, I want to fuck you.”

Your head swam at his words, and you nodded again.

“Let me hear your voice,” he murmured, and kissed you. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me, Din,” you said, and felt it when he smiled into a kiss. “I’ve wanted it, badly.”

“Me too,” he promised, and lifted off of you to remove his flight suit. When he pressed back down and you felt his skin on yours your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Dank farrik,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re so soft.” He rubbed his body against yours and you gasped at the sensations he sent through you. His hard cock was trapped between your stomachs and you lifted your hips, wrapping your legs around him, trying to change the angle.

Din tilted his hips and suddenly his cock was nestled against you, and you gasped. “You feel so kriffing good,” he moaned, and you nodded.

“You too, Din,” you cut off on a gasp when the head of his cock nudged your clit. “Please fuck me.”

Din huffed a laugh, and murmured, “so polite.”

You smacked him lightly on his very shapely ass, and then paused to fondle it. He laughed again and you grinned into his neck. “Is there something wrong with polite?”

Din nudged at your cheek until you turned into a searing kiss. “No,” he finally replied, lifting his hips and reaching down to move his cock right where you wanted it. “Just makes me want to give you what you want. Even more.” The head of his cock pressed against your entrance and you sighed. “I’ve thought about this so many times, almost since the beginning.” He started pushing inside and you tangled your fingers in his hair. You were panting. He was big. “And then I saw you, and you were flirting with me, and I couldn’t,” he pulled out slightly and thrust forward again, “stop,” he did it again, farther in this time, “thinking about it.” He pushed steadily forward until his hips met yours and you both moaned.

“Me neither,” you said, turning your head and nipping at his ear. He moaned again. “So much, Din.” He shuddered as he pulled out and thrust forward again, and you lifted your hips to meet him.

He found a steady rhythm that sent sparks up and down your spine, building you up and sending you closer and closer to the edge. Your mind was spinning with pleasure and a bit of awe that you were finally there, that Din was inside you, like you’d been hoping for. Like you’d been craving.

Din leaned his weight onto his left arm and snaked his right hand between your bodies until he found your clit. When he circled it with his finger you almost sobbed.

“I want to feel you come again, mesh’la.” Din’s voice was rough with his own pleasure and it made yours shoot higher. “Squeeze me tight. Dank farrik.” His chest heaved when you did as he asked and squeezed. “Let me feel it. Come for me.”

He thrust forward again and circled your clit just right and you fell off the edge again, but this time it felt like you were flying. You spiraled upwards on the wave of pleasure and when it crashed down again it flowed over your entire body, leaving tingles in its wake.

You squeezed his cock and he moaned into your ear. “You feel so good when you come, kriff, your pussy feels so good.” His hips thrust forward again, losing their rhythm, and you knew he was close. You tugged at his hair until your mouth hovered over his.

“Din,” you said, and kissed him. “Come inside me.”

He moaned and he did, thrusting twice more before stilling and moaning your name. When he collapsed on top of you you wrapped your arms and legs around him and sighed.

“Kark,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses along your neck and throat. “That was so good.”

You laughed, and gasped when he laughed too and you felt it against your chest. “It was, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “You know, I like this relaxation thing.” You laughed and squeezed him. He grunted. “I have another confession.”

“Uh oh,” you teased. “Is this the last one?”

Din pushed himself up until he was leaning on his left arm again and kissed you softly. “I promise. After this it’s just getting to know each other more.” He kissed you again. “But I need to tell you. I didn’t just run because you’re beautiful.” another kiss. “Even though you are and that was part of it.” A longer kiss this time followed by a nip to your bottom lip. You smiled. “But I also saw you, and all of these feelings I’d been putting off and denying came rushing up and I couldn’t deny them anymore. I think I was afraid, since we’d never met, never seen each other.”

You nodded. You knew that feeling.

“It was all real, suddenly, and I wasn’t ready for that.” He nudged at your nose with his and hummed.

You kissed him. “But you’re ready now?”

“I am,” he said, voice firm and warm. “I want you. I want this. I want to figure it out.”

You grinned. “Me too, Din.”

“Good.”

…

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this fluff. lol

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian #give a little love challenge #x reader #meet the teacher fic

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wandaslittlelove · 6 months ago

Text

Freak

Pairing: Agathario x Daughter!Reader Warnings: Mentions of bullying

“Mama? Mami?” the six year old calls out into the dark bedroom. It was about midnight. The moon shining through the cracks of the blinds. The girl had been put to bed hours ago but had woken up a little bit ago. Agatha wakes to her arm being shaken. She quickly turns on the small bedside lamp as she takes the small girl into her arms. Rio wakes at the movement having never been a light sleeper.

“Niña?” Rio says softly as she looks over to see her daughter in her wife's arms. There are small tears running down your cheeks as you look over at your mami.

“Am I a freak?” Both women are taken back by your question looking at each other to see if they knew what you were talking about. They were both fully awake now Rio reaching out to brush your hair from your face and the tears from your eyes as Agatha gently rocked you.

“No baby no. Why would you think that?” Agatha asks as her hands rub up and down your back.

“The girls at school. They say that I’m a freak because of how I look because-” You pause in your sentence as you look up at Rio and immediately she understands what you mean. You had taken most of Agatha’s features. Your hair being a wavy brown and eyes a baby blue. Head to two you were like a mini version of her all except one aspect. You hadn’t learned to control the transformation yet. How to stop the bones that appeared out of nowhere. Out of all things Rio wished you wouldn’t have gotten that part of her. “They say I'm disgusting. That I shouldn’t be alive.” You whisper as you bury your face in your mama’s chest.

“My darling, you are not disgusting or a freak, you are beautiful.” Agatha speaks as she looks to Rio. She can tell that her mind is racing. That she’s blaming herself. They had always feared you would get made fun of for it. Rio feared you would grow to despise her for it. That you would blame her for not being able to be fully normal. It’s part of the reason they had enrolled you in a school specifically for witches. They thought that maybe the kids would go easier. But it seemed that wasn’t happening.

“Do you think mami is a freak?” Agatha asks, causing both of your heads to turn at her wide eyed.

“No! Of course not.” You answered quickly as your head turned to look at Rio. Your tiny hands reached for her. Trying to show you didn’t think that. “Mami is pretty.” Rio’s heart melts at your words.

“Rio shows her.” Agatha says and Rio knows immediately what she’s asking. Rio had only shown you her true form a handful of times. Scared that you would think she’s a monster. With a deep breath the bottom part of her face turns into bone.

“Do you still think Mami is pretty?” Rio waits silently. Her nerves grow but quickly melt the second you bring a hand up to touch the bone.

“Yes.” You answer with no hesitation. Rio takes your hand in hers holding it tightly before changing back and pressing a kiss to your hand.

“That’s right. Mami is beautiful even when she looks like a skeleton and you my love are too. If mami is beautiful then so are you because you look like her. My skeletons.” A laugh escapes your lips at your mama’s words. Rio shares a smile with you both before a smirk overtakes her features. Moving quickly she plucks you out of Agatha’s lap and lays down with you trapped in her arms. Agatha joins in quickly, her hands tickling you as you squirm and try to get free.

Tomorrow they would have a talk with your principal and find out who was saying this stuff to you. Tomorrow they would continue to remind you that you are beautiful and loved.

#rio vidal x agatha harkness #agatha all along rio #agatha harkness x rio vidal #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #rio vidal x female reader #rio vidal x fem reader #rio vidal x y/n #rio vidal x you #rio vidal x daughter #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x daughter #agathario #agathario x reader

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arieslost · 1 year ago

Text

the other papaya | op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (brief pato o’ward x fem!reader)

summary: something something the first five times you hear the name “oscar piastri” and the one time you say it

wc: 3,165

warnings: mention of covid lockdown, a wee bit o’ angst, drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

The first time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was said in contempt.

You knew your boyfriend didn’t hate him, but you also knew that Pato could practically hear the phone ringing with the offer to drive for McLaren in F1 right up until he found out that the seat was going to someone else. To Oscar Piastri. The “kid,” as he so aptly referred to him.

“He’s only two years younger than you,” you admonished him one night, soon after the announcement was made public.

“Exactly. A kid.”

“I’m two years younger than you.” You said, and that made him wrinkle his nose.

“Point taken.”

You would describe your relationship with Pato O’Ward as puppy love. Things between the two of you escalated a little too quickly, as many things in 2020 did. You went from going on a whopping four dates by the end of 2019 to living together for the foreseeable future when everything went on lockdown. Your mother had voiced her concern about it, but if you didn’t live with him you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, you liked each other so much that it only made sense that you continued to build your relationship in the comfort of his spacious apartment. The two of you settled into a decent rhythm, and you took the time to learn more about motorsport. When he was finally able to hit the track again, you went to every race you could, decked out in papaya, cheering him on no matter what. And you continued to do so even though he lost his chance at driving in F1 to “the kid.”

The second time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it came from the man himself when you ran into him at the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.

It was the first time you felt rather hesitant about going to a race with your boyfriend. Pato was welcomed to the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver, and that was how you found yourself feeling extremely out of place in the McLaren garage. You met Oscar’s girlfriend before you met him, and while she was kind enough to get you a pair of headphones and offer to sit with you during the race, the entire interaction had you feeling like you should’ve just stayed back at the hotel. All the other WAGs were dressed to the nines, looking effortlessly beautiful, and you were wearing ripped jeans and a jersey with Pato’s number on it, like you always did, even though he wasn’t racing. With Pato busy in a debrief, you were busy just trying to stay out of the way and not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me,” someone said, and you assumed you were in the way, so you apologized and started moving when the person grabbed your arm to stop you. “No, sorry, I just– hi. You’re Pato’s girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes widened when you recognized the man talking to you. “Um… yes, I am.”

“I’m Oscar. Piastri,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, accepting his handshake and telling him your name in return. “Are you here to tell me I need to leave?”

“What? No, of course not. Pato told me you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face starting to grow hot, because you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Pato lost a chance at a seat to this guy, and you remembered his disappointment well. But you didn’t expect Oscar to come up to you in a million years.

“That’s really nice of you,” you continued, trying to smile without looking too awkward. “Congrats on getting the seat. You must be pretty talented.”

“Ah, thanks.” He looked at you for a moment, and you looked back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”

You giggled in spite of yourself. “You said that already.”

“Right, yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, hesitantly tacking your name onto the end of his sentence. “Thanks for being here.”

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar. Good luck today.”

Two races later, Pato messaged him to congratulate him on his podium, and you mentioned wanting to thank and congratulate him yourself. You got Oscar’s number, and after his quick response, the conversation died out, just as you expected. You didn’t have anything else to say to him anyway, but soon after, you got a follow request from him on Instagram. You accepted without a second thought– just one papaya supporting another.

The third time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was when a TikTok showed up on your feed talking about the “shocking split” between him and his girlfriend. You were reasonably surprised; his girlfriend was beautiful and kind, and from an outsider’s perspective they seemed quite happy with each other. The video went on to discuss speculation that his girlfriend was the one who had ended the relationship, and there were pictures of him looking visibly upset at the latest race. You closed the app, feeling like you were massively invading his privacy even though the first thing you saw upon opening Instagram was a statement on his story confirming the breakup. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“Ah, so you saw, too,” Pato said, adjusting his workout clothes as he leaned over your shoulder.

“It’s terrible,” you sighed, shutting your phone off. “They seemed so happy together.”

“High school sweethearts, too. That makes it worse.”

You gave him a look. “You can feel bad for him, y’know.”

“I do!” Pato raised his hands with a laugh. “But if he wants to sit out of a race because of this, I won’t be upset.”

“You’re terrible, get out of here.” You shoved him playfully, and he left with a kiss on your forehead.

The last race weekend before summer break brought you a taste of the heartbreak Oscar went through only a couple months prior.

Pato had been in one of the older cars running some tests, and came home a little later than usual. He didn’t even answer your question of how his day was before he was sitting you down on the couch and looking anywhere but at your face.

“Pato, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out,” you laughed nervously.

“I think we should break up.” He said, face stony.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a little while,” he began, “and I think it’s for the best.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” You asked, shifting away from him as you felt your heart begin to pound.

“Ever since I became a reserve driver.” He confessed, and you scoffed.

“Are you serious right now?”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a F1 seat.” He said, like that made breaking up logical.

“Yeah, I know. And you know how I know? Because I’ve been around for years.” You hissed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Pato protested, following close behind. “This is my career. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, moving about the room to collect as much of your stuff as you could with shaking hands.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. You packed up all your things and took the soonest flight to Australia to try and forget about the fact that Pato had just thrown away years of being together for a fleeting chance at driving a stupid race car.

The fourth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s on the other end of the phone.

The two weeks following your breakup are uneventful and entirely consist of you, the warm Australian sun, and the spare bedroom in your aunt and uncle’s house. You haven’t deleted any of your IndyCar posts, nor have you posted any more. In fact, you haven’t posted anything since the last time you were in Australia, only a few months ago. Your Instagram has become stagnant; a reflection of your real life. You haven’t told many people about your breakup, so you’re surprised when your phone rings. Even more so when you see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Oscar. Piastri,” he adds his last name like an afterthought, just like he did when he introduced himself in the garage.

“I know,” you say, pushing yourself into a sitting position on your bed. “Caller ID. Although you’re probably the last person I’d expect a call from.”

“Listen, are you not around anymore?” He asks, evidently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t posted about IndyCar or anything.”

“Ah, um, yeah, no, I’m not.” You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Pato and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. So, no reason for me to be around, I guess.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his loud sigh crackling through the microphone. “I figured something was wrong. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m uh… I’m sorry too. Seemed like you had a good thing going.”

“Thanks. Seemed that way for you, too,” he mumbles. “So… I guess things have really been sucking for both of us lately.”

“Pretty much.” You laugh.

“This is a terrible idea,” he begins after a moment of silence, “but are you in Australia right now?”

You debate lying to him, because it is a terrible idea, and you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say next. You don’t care. “I am.”

“Alright, well, it’s summer break for F1 right now, and to be honest you’re the only person I know that understands what I’ve been going through.”

“Are you asking me to be your wallowing buddy?” You ask.

“Something like that. My plan was pretty much along the lines of drowning our sorrows in alcohol.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason that does you in.

The fifth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s through a cheap karaoke microphone.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve spent with him, and you feel like you’re still a little drunk from the night before when he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

“What is this, a celebration?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs out so you look like a starfish where you lay on the living room floor.

“It’s whatever the fuck we want it to be.” He takes two glasses and pours the champagne out.

You giggle at him while he dramatically sets them both down on the coffee table at your side. “You definitely pregamed before you got here.”

“I did not,” he protests, but you shake your head.

“No, no, you say curse words like that when you’re drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘oh my God, this champagne is so fucking good.’” You mock him after taking a sip, and he starts laughing too.

“Fine, you caught me.” He throws his hands up. “I pregamed. But, I walked here, so who cares?”

You’re glad that your aunt and uncle are out for the night, because a few hours and countless glasses of champagne later find the both of you in the attic, discovering a karaoke microphone without a machine to match.

“Screw the machine, we don’t need the shitty machine,” Oscar rolls his eyes, watching you put batteries into the microphone. “We’ll just find something on YouTube. Does it work?”

You flip the switch and hold it up to your mouth. “HELLO? It works.”

You regret putting fresh batteries into it as soon as Oscar gets up to sing. You think that he might not be half bad if he’s sober, but drunk, his singing is absolutely insufferable. You would care if you weren’t equally as drunk as him. He pulls up a karaoke video of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, only after getting you to swear on the lives of your entire family that you won’t tell anyone what you see or hear. You consider secretly recording him, but the second he starts, you’re practically folded in half from laughing so hard at his antics and the fleeting idea is gone.

He’s so dramatic with every lyric, like he’s trying to act all the words out while he’s singing about a stranger in his bed and pink flamingos in his (nonexistent) pool. When he gets to the part of the chorus talking about taking too many shots, he gestures for you to hand him the champagne bottle. You hand it over immediately and watch as he stops singing entirely to take a long drink straight from the bottle, ignoring how attractive he looks the whole while. You actually think that you’d really like to kiss him. You’re drunk, and you’re heartbroken. You just want to laugh and forget about it all. So when he chokes on the champagne for a moment and flounders to find where he’s supposed to be in the song, you do just that.

The song ends both too soon and not soon enough, and you give him a round of applause, chanting, “Encore!” a few times as he takes a bow.

“I’m Oscar Piastri,” he yells, “and I fucking hate relationships!”

You cheer loudly. “Speak on it!”

“Except I have a problem,” he says, all of a sudden dejected as he flops onto the couch beside you, still speaking into the mic. “I have a biiiig, huuuuge problem.”

“Tell the all-knowing, and she shall answer,” you turn onto your side to face him and reach out to… you don’t remember what you wanted to do. Maybe touch his cheek. Or his nose. Or his lips.

Your hand ends up resting on the top of his head, fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair.

“I think I might really like you,” he whispers, his words muffled by his lips smushing against the top of the mic. “Which is not good. I mean, it’s good, like, I think you’re amazing, but it’s not good, because I broke up and then you broke up, so we both broke up, but not with each other, with other people, and–”

You cut him off by taking the mic from him with your free hand and switching it off.

“Sorry.” He says, blinking at you slowly. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“We do,” you begin, petting his head. “Eventually. But not now. I am way too drunk to talk about this.”

This makes him start giggling, so you start giggling, and then you’re both cackling and clutching your stomachs.

You want to laugh, and forget about it, and you want to do it every single day with Oscar.

The first time you say the name Oscar Piastri, it’s while you’re laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve always been notorious for getting easily bruised, but breaking a bone is a first. Especially when it happens in the public eye.

You were only trying to make a cute, aesthetic TikTok showcasing your first race weekend as Oscar’s official girlfriend when you tripped and fractured your ankle in front of half the McLaren team. Not to mention the throng of fans mere feet away.

The two of you didn’t start dating until half a year after his drunken confession, and when you first started going out you had to be very discreet so fans didn’t expose the both of you before either of you were ready. Most of your dates ended up being at your aunt and uncle’s, which had become your home too once you got a job and started really getting yourself together after your breakup. He flew out to see you all the time, and as soon as he suggested that you come with him to the race of the season, you jumped on the opportunity. You didn’t think you’d ever go to a race again, but here you were. You were both happy, and you were both ready.

And now you’re fuming, mentally cursing yourself as you look down at your boot-covered ankle that has now effectively ruined your entire weekend.

Oscar comes rushing into the room, and you hold up a hand.

“Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me.” You shake your head. “Just tell me if it’s somewhat safe to go online or if I should just throw my phone out.”

“What?”

“I know people are talking about it. Oh, no.” Your eyes widen. “No, no. I’ve become a public embarrassment for you. I knew it. It only took me a few hours.” You cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God… I am so sorry.”

“Again, what?” He asks, prying your hands away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from that,” you gesture to the boot, glaring at it before your eyes shoot back up to him. “Wait a second, how did quali go? Did you do your media stuff already?”

“I’m starting P5. I came here right after, no media.” He rushes out, pulling up a chair so he can sit right next to you and hold your hand. “They’re letting you go, right?”

“Yeah, just have to do some paperwork and get a prescription– why didn’t you go to the media?”

“Because they told me you got hurt? And you needed to be hospitalized?” He says, like it’s obvious.

“Oz, you get fined for that!” You exclaim. “Oh, no, this is so bad! First I embarrass you– no, not just you, probably the entire team, and now you’re here and not there and you’re going to get in trouble… fuck, what if you get fired?!”

“Baby, baby,” Oscar laughs, grabbing both of your hands now. “I’ll get fined, but I’m not gonna get fired just because I skipped media one time. Zak was fine with it, if that makes you feel better.”

You’re still worried, and he can see it in your eyes.

“What’s got you so worked up about this?” He asks softly.

“I just… don’t want to be a risk towards your career.” You say, feeling ashamed that you can still hear Pato’s words from the day he broke up with you. Oscar knows immediately.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, leaning in and kissing you on the lips, and then your nose. “None of this means anything if I don’t have you.”

You’re still taking it slow, but this is the closest either of you have come to saying “I love you” without saying it, so you pull your hands from his and cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss.

“Oscar Piastri, you are my whole world.”

Ten minutes later, Lando comes bursting into the room with such aggression that he almost faceplants, and he makes so much noise that a nurse runs into the room looking highly concerned.

So, you laugh, and you forget about it, and you do it with Oscar at your side, where you know he’ll stay for the rest of your lives.

note: this was a bitch to write. also i was gonna make a layout for this but i really wanted to post it tonight so it is sans layout and was edited like a half hour before it’s scheduled to post. all that being said, i hope u enjoyed!!

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#request #full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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readychilledwine · 8 months ago

Text

A Page From Another's Book

Eris Week - Day 1 - Bonds and Bargains

Summary - After 2 full years without you acknowledging the bond, Eris is willing to do whatever it takes for just a moment of your time

Warnings - Smut, choking (kind of), mating bonds, forced proximity, slight manipulation, and possibly a few missed errors. If you see them, no, you didn't 👀

A/N - Happy @erisweekofficial! I have challenged myself this week to try to use both prompts in one fic. Why? Because I could not choose! They were so good this year.

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears 💕💕

The look in your eyes was not what a male wanted to see from their mate. You looked at Eris like you hated him, a soft snarl always playing on lips too plush to have been real.

But Gods that look did things to him. Things that had his own smirk growing as you two stared at each other in silence, waiting for Rhysand to finish looked over the contact for trade Beron had forced his heir to come present. Rhysand was using his hand to hide a smirk.

The scent of the bond between Eris and y/n was potent. Honey and apples. Ginger and cinnamon. The High Lord understood now why so many of his family members complained about the way his and Feyre's scents mix. He could hardly tell who was who anymore but he couldn't stop breathing it in all the same.

“You can go sister, I believe I can hold my own against our dear Eris,” Rhysand dismissed you so easily. Your eyes met his in silent conversation before you stood, black dress swishing as you did and walked out of the room.

Eris felt himself relax then, body melting as he and Rhysand began to show each other vulnerability, “You told me she'd warm up to me by now.”

Rhys pinched his brows, “Y/n is a complex creature. Beautiful as the rising moon, complex as the stars.”

“And crafted from the very darkness between them,” Eris's fingers rolled, nails tapping the table in a pattern of annoyance. “What do I do?”

“Force her into a bargain,” Rhysand was half joking as he struck out a line on Beron's trade agreement. He paused, sharp mind and eyes hitting Eris. “That.. May actually work.”

Eris looked at Rhysand like he had grown two heads, “She would not make a bargain with me, she hates me.”

“She likes knowledge more than she hates you, trust me. And, Eris Vanserra, you live in a court she has never been able to go to.”

Eris fell into a brief moment of silence, “And you believe this could work?”

“It turned out well for me,” Rhysand picked at his jacket. “Make a bargain with her, force her to spend time with you.”

Rhysand slid the contract back over, a look of annoyance on his face as he did, "Your father,” the word spoken with such disdain, “needs to learn what fair terms actually means.”

“I do not believe my Father would know fair if it bit him in the ass,” that snake like smirk came forward. “Luckily, it will be me you deal with soon-”

“Is it not you I deal with already,” Rhys groaned. “Anyways, y/n. Bargain her a week in Autumn in exchange for intel.” He said it so casually, having accepted what the Fates and Cauldron decided would be with you the second the bond snapped during the war with Hybern.

And what a dramatic way for it to have snapped. A fight between Autumn and Night's emissaries leading to you pinning the heir to the ground, dagger at his throat.

It was one thing you and Azriel had in common:

Going for the jugular whenever you two deemed it fit.

Rhys waved a hand dismissing Eris, “I'm sure she is in the hall, waiting to guide you to your room.”

And you were, leathers clinging to every curve, one wing stretched out while you pulled your arm across your body, “Sore, assassin?”

Defiant eyes met his, narrowing slightly as he stared, “Only by the sight of you, heirling.” You began to walk away from him, forcing Eris to follow you to his room in Hewn City. Footsteps fell in time, breathing in sync as the bond between you two pulled and flickered.

It wasn't tense, but the quiet that lingered was thick. There were mountains of emotions between you two. Anger that lingered from years of what he claims was all an act and lies.

“You look beautiful today,” you were the only being he ever spoke this gently to. “Your hair has gotten longer.”

“Are we making casual observations?”

Eris smirked at the way your held a bite yet your eyes were soft. You were truly the most beautiful creature he had ever gotten to lay eyes on. In a dress, armor, casual clothing, leathers. Your confidence was unmatched. You owned every room you walked into. He admired that about you.

Eris opened the door to his room, hand going just above the small of your back to usher you in, “I have an offer for you.”

You leaned against the wall, a shadow coming to check on you. It indicated he was on a time crunch, that your brother would be coming soon. “I am listening.”

“Come with me to Autumn. A week of your time in one of my private residences in exchange for intel on my father.”

Your mind began to race at the possibilities. Bringing home info to Rhysand that the Night Court could use was like dangling a sparkling object infront of a fish. He knew you would bite. “What is in it for you?”

“You. Just one week where I get to see my mate in my court, in our fashion, enjoying our food. Such a small thing to give me in exchange for the knowledge I will give you, and your ability to stay safely in a court you've never enjoyed.”

It was tempting, so tempting the shadow on your shoulder panicked and ran to Azriel. “What's the catch?” You moved to sit on the chair, long legs crossing at the ankles as the two of you continued staring each other down.

“No catch, my lady.” He moved to you, a hand touching the loose hair from your braid. It was a bold and dangerous choice, touching you so freely. “Just a week in exchange for information. That's all I wager.”

His hand raised to you, the freckled skin calloused from training and earning his place as a general, but so soft. Hands spoke volumes to you, and his were so similar to Rhysand's. You raised your hand slowly and took his, feeling the warmth from his skin heating yours.

The bargain mark for you was nothing, a small rune on the inside of your left ring finger, but he flinched slightly before moving to the mirror across the room and pulling up his shirt. He rolled his eyes at the small matching rune above his heart. “What does it say?”

“Agape,” you responded quietly. “We need to leave if you plan on getting out of this alive. Azriel is coming.”

He grabbed your without hesitation, without even putting his shirt back on. Fire and smoke surrounded you before the silence of a cabin. Soft whimpers immediately started before howling. Loud howling. 12 hounds all began to point their noses to the skies they couldn't see. It was a celebration of his arrival home before the smallest then began to pawn at the door.

Eris just smiled as he made his way over, “Be back before dinner,” he told them, patting each one on the head as they can out into the warded clearing. Your feet carried you behind them, eyes wide in wonder as you took in the colors of the trees.

Warmth.

A fireplace with a good book and spiced cider.

Chilled air and pumpkins.

You had always longed to see Autumn, but Beron's prejudice towards Illyrians always got in the way. “Eris..” You were speechless as you admired the woods, the crunchy leaves on the ground. “Its-”

“Home,” he finished as he leaned on the railing watching his hounds. “We're right on the border of Autumn and Winter. There are times where the run rises and sets on the creek and lake near by that makes the snow of Winter appear like it is on fire.” His smile was so soft, eyes relaxed, muscles even slowly loosing tension. “This is my favorite cabin I have. The village nearby is quiet, open minded, hates my father.”

“That seems to be a reoccurring theme,” you jumped in.

Eris smirked but didn't say anything. “Can I offer you more comfortable clothing? A drink?”

Night one with him was filled with you two reading silently, one of his hounds being the first to inch his way into your lap and cuddle. Rhysand had not checked in, Azriel had not searched for you. Not even a mocking letter from Nesta. It was peace, bliss that allowed your guard to fall down.

He allowed you to sleep alone in a spare bed, not even asking as you used your ability to shift to get rid of your wings for the night and stole his sweater to sleep in.

The smell of bacon woke you from your lay in. A rare lazy morning that had you stretching as you walked on in just his sweater.

It felt so domestic, natural to both of them. He wordlessly handed her coffee and sugar, sipping his own. He was shirtless, lean form on display and making your brain spiral to the what ifs. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he continued cooked breakfast, knowing you could not do it.

“How far do you powers as a wild form go?” You glanced at him, not ready to speak without at least getting one sip of coffee in. His hands shot up in defense, a graceful step back as he did. “I am asking because I wanted to leave you with some marks so you could do shopping. Observe the village here.”

You only hummed, reaching for a finished piece of the crispy bacon and bending down to give it to the sweet hound that had attached himself to you. “What's his name?”

Eris sneered as you gave his well trained pet a piece of bacon, dark brown eyes meeting his like it was a victory, “That is Whiskey.” The Hound seemed to skip away as you stood up, “And you will not spoil him.”

“Says the male who had 3 in his bed last night and the rest all in fluffy dog beds that a nicer than what some poor lower fae have.”

“They are orthopedic. Smoke hounds require comfort for their limbs,” his tone was definitely defensive. Almost parental. “They are faithful companions. They deserve comfort.”

You were thankful for your ability to hide laughter, but your eyes began to betray you. This male was not the one you knew, the one who you believed left your dear friend for dead. “To answer the earlier question, it's limitless, like Tamlin's ability, only less effort and my scent is hidden.”

“So you can spend my coin today,” he tossed the bag casually on the counter. He moved the pan from the heat before reaching around you, “You are even beautiful in the morning.” He'd carry the torch for you. He'd carry it even if you rejected the bond, as pathetic as that was.

Day two with him was filled with heated glances that grew the more he showed you who he was. Touches that lingered as he took you from shop to shop, purchasing candies, clothing, books.

He was a handsome male. You'd be a fool to lie if you said otherwise.

The third evening is when things became more. The bond was humming, desperate for anything to happen between you two. Music was playing softly as you two read again. You books on the history of Autumn, Eris a novel he refused to let you see the cover of. His fingers swayed his bookmark in a small dance, the movement as smooth as you had witnessed as he and Nesta glided across the floors of Hewn City.

“You're staring,” He said without looking to you. “Did your high lord never teach you it's impolite to stare?”

“Maybe if your bookmark wasn't waving all over the place while you read your smut,” you muttered back at him. Amber eyes met yours, brows raised as he mouth tried to formulate a response.

“It's not smut. It's a love story!”

You snatched the book from him, the brief contact of your body against his making the bond pound, “Her body sang for him. Each roll of his hips setting fire to her veins,” Your voice reading those lines had the scent in the air shifting. He could no longer mask his need for you as he took a deep breath. “His length filled her, reaching places inside of her she'd never find without him, pulling sob after sob from swollen lips as she held to him.”

“Enough.” He grabbed the novel back and drank his whiskey like a shot as he stared at you now.

No more words passed as you tell held eye contact.

No pointed remarks. No jokes.

The music seemed to fade as the bond began ringing in your ears.

2 years. 2 years if knowing who your mate was. 2 years without even so much as a kiss.

It was finally too much. You had never enjoyed slow burn romances. Why turn this into one when the longing lingered all the same.

Perhaps he closed the gap. Or maybe you did, but it happened. His lips on yours in a passionate kiss, dominating you quickly by tugging your hair back to angle your head.

There was no looming war. No assassinations waiting to happen. No lingering past wounds. Not as he lifted you, laying you down infront of the fire place.

Not as he pulled your shirt off, then his own.

Not as he kissed down your body, nipping and marking his favorite places to remind him to spend more time there later. Neither of you could wait. Neither of you wanted to.

Your bodies were born ready and aching for each other. Like two halves forced apart and just waiting to collide.

Even in the heat of this moment, he looked at you, eyes searching for a sign of doubt, for anything that didn't ring a resounding yes. All he found was lust. Heavy deep want weighing on both of your souls.

He reminded you that you two were nothing more than stardust. Stardust given life and form. Needs and wants. A chance.

You understood the book now as he filled you, stretching you after time spent without a partner. You understood that now, too. Understood why Lucien was all too happy to wait as well.

It had never felt like this. Sex had never felt like coming home. Like your soul was nurtured as he wrapped your legs around his hips. As he moved, he used the bond to instantly get his feedback. He wanted you to sing for him, to cry his name, and when he found that soft spot inside of you, he knew he could have it.

His movements focused on that spot as you grabbed his forearms, back arching off the ground for him, mouth falling into a silent scream.

“Look at me, y/n,” he panted. “Look at me when I make you see the heavens.”

His thumb moved to your clit, circling and rolling it in time with his hips, watching as your breasts bounced.

There wasn't an inch of you Eris wasn't instantly falling in love with. You were exquisite. Not too thin, curves in all the right places. Muscles strong and flexible.

“You are better than I dreamed,” he moaned. “A muse hidden to all but me.”

You whispered his name, eyes squeezing shut as the coil began to build and tighten. He would be the death of you. You of him if he wished, “Eris.”

“Sing for me, my fire.”

The coil built more and more, “Eris!”

He kept pushing and kept hitting that spot. He wouldn't last, not with the way you two fit like a puzzle. With the way your warmth hugged him. But you were also there, dangling from the edge by a string Eris held in his hands.

“Eris, please?”

“What do you need,” he whispered. “I want to hear it. Beg for me it.”

Your hands trembled as you moved his hand that wasn't occupied with your sensitive clit to your throat, eyes looking at him in silent understanding.

Life had not been gentle or kind to you, nor to him, love would not be either.

He squeezed softly, only enough to make you feel the euphoria. His pace picked up, driving hard and faster into you.

It was a chain reaction as you hit your high, screaming his name like you had in all of his dreams. He followed you over, groaning loudly before he praised you and worked you through your heightened state. Screams fell to soft whimpers, whimpers to pants.

Eris waited until the shaking set in, until he knew you were done to pull out before standing to grab a cloth to clean you. Soft kisses were shared as he took care of you before wrapping you both in a blanket.

You two said nothing as you processed what happened.

You didn't even mention the mark on his left hip. One that you knew. That matched Mor’s only hidden mark.

You just processed. Processed that you knew deep down that you loved him. Processed that in few days the bargain mark you shared would disappear from you both, fulfilled and nothing more than a smear on your histories.

In a few days, you'd be going back to the Night Court.

And you couldn't help but you find yourself considering if that was truly home.

How could it be when it wasn't where your mate was?

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

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elysiansparadise · 9 months ago

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Composite chart observations

🤎When Mercury is in the 4th house it makes you feel that with this person you have opened up like no one else. Both feel that they can say what they really think without feeling judged or criticised and they will have that particularity that their words will have a strong emotional impact on the other, mostly in a positive way. They will have the tendency to say what the other needs without meaning to and talking to the other will be comforting after a tense or stressful day.

🤎If Saturn and Jupiter are in conjunction in the 4th house or both of them are in that house, both people will take each other's emotional world seriously, take the time to understand each other's needs and seek to lower their defences little by little. . They can make a beautiful home and/or make the relationship a safe place for both of them that they know they can retreat to if the world out there becomes overwhelming. Strong trust in each other, a feeling of comfort and contentment in which they work and invest.

🤎When Mars is aspecting Neptune [especially conjunction, trine, sextile] it makes it more likely that the couple will actively do things to fulfil the dreams they have together. You can support each other not only in achieving what you always dreamed of in a relationship, but also in pursuing your individual dreams and aspirations. This couple dreams of achieving things together, of sharing their achievements, including them in their dreams and growing together in every way.

🤎Aries rising in this chart tells us about a playful relationship in which both can be their true selves and feel comfortable in their own skin. Authenticity, adventures and a lot of joy. It is likely that both of them are people with a strong temperament and it can lead them to arguments, but with patience in the relationship [or placements in 2nd, 4th or 6th house] it is very likely that they will resolve their issues easily. They are direct with each other, they can tell each other everything and rely on each other for their strong connection and personal values.

🤎With Juno in the 4th house, it suggests that the relationship is meant to provide a deep sense of security and emotional stability for both partners in the relationship. The couple can actively work to create an environment in which they both feel protected, loved and safe. This mutual commitment to emotional security can be a central pillar of the relationship and the main reason why both natives consider taking this relationship further or at least see it lasting in the long term.

🤎The position of the North Node in the composite charts can reveal karmic lessons and the spiritual purpose of the relationship. These positions may indicate areas where people are destined to grow together. For example, in the 1st house both will grow a lot on a personal level and will discover parts of themselves that they had no idea about. In the 2nd house you will learn to value the things that you consider important, you will reconsider priorities and you will understand which things are really valuable to you. In the 3rd house you will learn a lot next to the other, from the most mundane things to more complex concepts. Likewise, you’ll be able to better communicate your ideas without fear of being judged.

🤎When Pallas is in the 1st house, this couple can have a peaceful and logical approach when issues, conflicts or problems of all kinds arise. They will always validate the other's opinion and feelings before jumping to conclusions. Furthermore, when there are differences between them, they do not seek to "beat" or crush the other by showing that they are right, rather their love and respect for the other is so great that they will seek to reach a resolution that they both feel comfortable with. Great admiration, respect and fascination with the other and their personality.

🤎If Vesta is conjunct Sun, Moon or Rising tells us about a relationship where there is a lot of devotion, this is because Vesta is a representative of that term. They will not only demonstrate devotion by being faithful to the other, but by investing time, energy and effort in the relationship. There will be a strong fascination between both of them and they will feel that the other is worthy of all the efforts and affection they have to give.

🤎When Pluto aspects either the Sun or Venus it makes this relationship something totally new for both of us. They will help each other to have a different perception of relationships, changing old mindsets. A strong attraction will bring them together, the intrigue and curiosity about the other will keep them hooked from the first interaction and the glimpse into the depths of the other will make them end up deciding to take a more intimate approach to the relationship. A powerful, intense and very transformative union.

🤎If Uranus is conjunct the Midheaven or in the 10th house, it is very likely that, regardless of the relationship, people will perceive a strong sense of unity and friendship in both. Their relationship falls into the description of fresh, positive, unusual but full of trust and support. You will both encourage each other to pursue your individual goals and celebrate each other's achievements as your own. For this couple, each other's individual success is important and they will play an important role in the path that the other travels as far as pursuing their goals is concerned.

🤎With Moon in the 1st house, not only will love and support abound between both of you, but individually you will feel the need to encourage the other to be authentic, not to wear masks when you are together, and you will have the ability to make each other feel safe. There will be familiarity between the two and it is very likely that they are a couple or friends, there is a bond of the type 'I choose you as family'.

🤎With Ceres in the 6th house, the couple nurtures and cares for each other, this not only refers to physical care, but also emotional and psychological support. Both individuals feel safe and supported in the relationship and, in turn, try to be reciprocal with the other by giving what they receive. They will support each other in all areas, from being a strong emotional support, a safe place for the other or even taking care of the other in their most vulnerable moments. They really enjoy doing things for each other and many times they won't even have to ask for it, since both will easily sense these needs.

🤎With the trine or sextile between Moon-Uranus, this couple can feel that spark between them, feeling not only fascinated by the other, but also very inspired. They will allow themselves to feel freely, they will not bind the other or seek to control them in any way and they will feel an affinity and genuine affection towards the other and their uniqueness.

🤎The favourable aspects between Moon-Saturn or if they are in mutual reception [Capricorn or Aquarius moon + Cancer saturn] help a lot if both want to take the step of living together, since it gives them not only affinity in terms of lifestyles, but also a strong sense of responsibility regarding the relationship. There is a lot of commitment, similar priorities and future planning [Saturn] for a domestic life together [Moon].

🤎When Pluto and Mars are conjunct or opposing, beyond showing a powerful attraction and a desire that seems to grow more and more, it also shows us a couple who is willing to do whatever it takes to guarantee not only the security of the relationship, but of the other person. They can be fiercely protective of each other and be very intense about each other. There is also an intense fascination for the other and, although many people do not usually associate it with this aspect, there can also be a strong admiration and fixation for the other.

🤎When there is a stellium in the 2nd house it shows that both have a strong need to be close to the other, many times even their mood seems to radiate in the presence of the other. This couple will seek to be there for each other and work together for the stability of the relationship. The comfort of the other and that they do not lack anything they want will be important to them. They can have a tendency to spoil each other very frequently and if Venus or Jupiter are there, it can often be excessive.

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#astrology #composite chart #composite chart observations #astro content #astro observations #astro notes #composite chart info #composite charts

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perpetuallyscreamingbird · 3 months ago

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Love love love the way the voices are all their own distinct personalities but there's those little ways they bleed into each other that show they all come from the same person. Or god in this case.

Each voice is its own unique captured experience shaped by the circumstances that created them as much as the vessels are, they just manifest differently because The Long Quiet is not built to change and to grow, so instead of adapting himself he takes the old parts of him and tucks them away in his subconscious, listens to them and the new insights on the world they give his otherwise stationary perspective. He learns, but he is not bound by who he was before.

The voices all capture distinct reactions to the situations, but theres moments where you can see them bleed together, moments where the person they belong to shines through because they're not quite so different as they initially appear. Cold and Stubborn with their disregard for the body as an entity that needs to function the way a normal body should, Skeptic and Opportunist both analysing a situation to find the perfect time to strike back, Broken and Smitten both desperate for The Princess to see them and to make them whole even when she hurts them, Paranoid and Cheated in their suspicion and their manipulation of the construct, the list goes on.

Somewhere in the middle, all these unique perspectives bleed together in a way that makes it believable they came from the same source and I just think that's neat. I can believe Cold and Smitten are both faces of the same god because, well. Human nature is complicated, and both Cold and Smitten have that same single minded contempt for The Narrator that binds them together even when their existence seems to contradict each other.

A mind is a fascinating, spiralling thing, and nobody is able to be described in just a few sentences. The Long Quiet is opportunistic and loving, enduring in the face of hardship and broken by circumstance, the god created to kill death and just the unlucky guy who happens to be stuck on a path in the woods.

And at the center of it all, they're The Hero. The voice to which all other voices lend a piece, however small, one of the only voices who will never directly oppose The Long Quiet's decisions because within him is the capacity to make all those choices and more.

There's something beautiful about the way The Long Quiets mind unfurles throughout the routes, how it helps you understand what's going on both more and less

#slay the princess #stp long quiet #stp voices #stp spoilers #stp #this game is so good #i could think about it for hours #and i do #something about how people are inherently complicated #and who you become is guided by what you experience #but its still you #you will always be recognisable in every version of yourself that can be #and i just think thats neat

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boybandbaby · 2 months ago

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Easier (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!BAU!Reader)

summary: 5 times you and Hotch make each others’ lives easier but don’t take credit

word count: 5481

warnings/tags: mention of case involving children, mentions reader not liking subtitles on screen (personally I love them but it’s for the story), some suggestive content (for that please mdni 18+), mention of Jack but he’s not in it, mention of going to morgue but does not talk about experience there, pre-established/ early stages of relationship, use of y/n, as always if I missed anything lmk

note: inspired by this Brooklyn 99 scene of Jake and Amy (starts at 45 seconds)

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

1️⃣

When you had started with the BAU, Hotch didn’t treat you much different than he would any other employee. Of course, he’d known the team for longer and they’d experienced plenty of hardships together.

He’d wanted you to feel comfortable and also promised Rossi (your mentor) that he’d give you a chance before judging. He found pretty quickly that you were just as intelligent as Rossi had stated and found himself looking forward to working with you.

Slowly over a few months time, he found himself growing a soft spot for you. You were a great team player and he felt confident that he could trust you. Not only that, he thought you were beautiful. Sure he shouldn’t be thinking about his employee like that but the first time he’d made you laugh (the entire team couldn’t get over him actually cracking a joke), he was entranced by your smile.

The first time it happened, you’d had a rough time with the case. While you were able to save the victims, this was your first time working with children. Hotch had checked on you several times after the case but you either brushed him off respectfully or assured him you were fine.

He knew you weren’t because you spent several hours starting, then restarting the report. When you finally turned it in, he didn’t have to heart to make you correct small mistakes seeing as you’d struggled to get through it. He told himself he’d only do it this one time but eventually it became a habit.

“Agent, can you sign this and turn it back into me by the end of the day?” Hotch’s calm but commanding voice says from behind you.

You swivel in your chair to see him holding out a file to you. “Sure thing, boss.” You take possession of the file and meet his eyes briefly.

He gives a curt nod before making his way back up to his office. You set the file aside to complete for later.

Just before you start packing up for the day, you catch a glimpse of the file sitting at the corner of your desk. You figure you’ll just sign your report, since Hotch didn’t give any corrections, and call it a day.

When you open the file to your report, you don’t immediately notice it. As your fingers flip the pages and your eyes briefly scan the pages, you catch it.

It’s almost unnoticeable at first glance but then you squint and your eyes focus in on the corrected word. If it hadn’t been for the slight change in ink, you wouldn’t have noticed it. The word “behavior”, in your hurried writing looked a lot like “bchavior” but now had a small deep black loop to close off the “e.”

The consistency of the ink didn’t match the rest of the report, definitely someone with a heavier hand than yours. Hotch did always scold you for writing too fast and must’ve added the loop to your “e” instead of making you do it. Not just that but he’s done it several times throughout the report adding that little line to your “u” that sometimes looked like “v.”

As you came to the end of your report, you quickly (you never learn) signed your signature and closed the file. You sit back in your chair and keep your gaze fixated on the closed manila folder. You don’t know why but you feel your heart racing. You take a chance peek to your left and through Hotch’s office window.

He’s as composed as ever, opposite to your spiraling thoughts. You pick up the file and make your way over to his office with a quiet knock. “Come in.”

“Hey boss, sorry for the delay, here’s the signed report.” You hold onto the door frame as step into the office.

“Great, just place it over there please.” He points the end of his pen to a stack of finished reports at the end of his desk.

You do as instructed and linger back in the doorway. “Everything okay, agent?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You shake your head, an attempt to clear your thoughts. Hotch pauses his pen just centimeters above the paper in front of him, head still slightly angled down at his desk but gaze focused on you. He hears your soft, “nevermind” then your louder, “have a good night, Hotch.”

He watches as you walk away, respectfully keeping his eyes above your waistline of course. He knows you must’ve noticed his corrections on your report, but he’s not sure how you hadn’t caught on that he’s been doing it for months, ever since he’d started developing feelings for you.

•

Aaron Hotchner was a busy man. Juggling the duties of being a father of a growing preteen boy and the unit chief of the BAU meant he often didn’t have a lot of time for himself.

You notice how tired he looks and how he suppresses his exhaustion to be the best leader and father he can be. While you admire his perseverance, you also know he could use a hand in his daily life. You take it upon yourself as his employee and admirer to help him out.

Hotch was running late and by running late, you meant barely making it to work in time for his morning meeting. You knew he’d be late when he hadn’t shown up before you and several other members of the BAU, like normal.

You make your way to the coffee machine and began brewing a fresh pot of coffee. It only takes minutes before it’s hot and ready. You’d seen how Hotch makes his coffee, even heard him order on coffee runs or late nights at a diner after a long day.

You grab a clean mug from the cabinets and get his cup of coffee ready. Slowly taking it to his office and setting it down on his desk, you fix the stack of papers into a neat pile before closing the door behind you.

Just as you’re sitting back at your desk, you hear the elevator doors open and the bell signal someone’s arrival. Hotch hurriedly but still as composed as ever, makes his way to his office.

You watch briefly as his stops in his tracks, the smell of a familiar perfume and coffee hitting him as soon as the door opens. He shuts the door behind him and notices the steaming cup on his desk as he rounds it. You keep your eyes to your computer but can sense his intense gaze on you. Minutes later, he’s exiting his office. He never mentions it and neither do you, but when you see him holding the mug as he heads to his meeting, you feel giddy.

2️⃣

You’re not sure when it happened but somewhere along the way, the lines between yours and Hotch’s relationship had blurred. Nothing was quite official or set in stone but things were definitely progressing from boss and employee to something more.

A few weeks ago you had called Hotch and let him know you would be late to work as your car battery died. Hotch asked if you needed a ride to work. Never one to deny more time with him, you agreed and let him know what car shop you were at.

When he arrived, he had hopped out of the car and greeted you with a kiss to your cheek. “You’re cold.”

“I am.” You laugh.

“Well let’s get you in the car then.”

Since then, Aaron had started picking you up every Friday morning when you worked a local case or had a day at the office. These were the days when he didn’t need to go in earlier than everyone else and didn’t have to rush into the office.

While Hotch preferred to meet you at your doorstep and walk you down to his car, you’d assured him you would meet him at the curb so he didn’t have to get out.

You were already waiting outside of your building when he pulled up. He parked the car and stepped out, bringing you into a hug.

“Good morning.” He whispers while rubbing his hands over your back. He pulls away, keeping his hand on your biceps.

“Hi, handsome.” You speak with a slight teeth chatter. Aaron rubs your arms up and down before pulling your door open and sliding his hand down your back as you enter. Ensuring all limbs are in, he shuts the door behind you and makes his way around the car.

You’d complained before and Hotch knew from experience how cold you get but today you wouldn’t have to complain. Immediately you’re enveloped in warmth not only because of the heat blasting from the vent but also by the heat from your seat.

Taking a quick glance, you see that Aaron’s turned on your seat warmer already. Your cheeks flame and you feel a flutter in your stomach. The door opens and Aaron gets in. “Don’t forget your seatbelt,” he reminds and confirms you’re strapped in before driving off.

As he drives off, you can’t help but take a glance at him. You don’t think you’ve ever met someone so sweet and considerate before. You sink further into your seat as heat continues to spread all over your body.

•

When Hotch had ruptured his eardrum after the car explosion, he refused to take time off being as stubborn as he is.

You knew his ear bothered him from time to time but he never mentioned it. When you tried to bring it up, he’d assure you he was fine.

About a month after the incident, you were lucky enough to share a hotel room for the night. Hotch had strict rules about sharing a room and maintaining professionalism so the night would be spent either talking about the case or winding down.

You tried to get Hotch to do the latter most days and tonight was a success. After you had showered, which Hotch always let you go first, you propped yourself up against the headboard and turned on the tv.

“Find something good.” Hotch had said against your forehead, his pajamas draped over his arm. “And don’t fall asleep on me.”

“Okay, boss.” You roll your eyes before gently pushing his chest and peering around him at the screen.

As the bathroom door opens with steam wafting into the room, Hotch catches the glow from the tv amongst the darkness of the room.

“I thought I said something good.” He teases, though he hasn’t actually seen what’s on the tv. He ruffles the towel through his hair before hanging it up in the bathroom.

When you don’t respond, he shuffles towards the bed and sees you fast asleep. He chuckles and takes the remote from on top of your stomach. When he goes to turn off the tv, he sees that you’ve put on a some baking show and the closed captions.

Hotch turns back to you, going to comment on the discovery when he remembers you’re already knocked out. His pride has prevented him from really talking to you or a doctor about his condition and fears of actually losing his hearing.

He knows you’ve seen him struggling lately trying to keep up with Reid’s factual rambles or Rossi’s whispered comments. He also knows how distracting you think words on the tv screen can get which is why he’s so surprised you’ve done it now, and for him.

Hotch has an internal debate on whether he should call it a night or whether he should indulge himself in his guilty pleasure of seeing cakes get crafted. He figures since you’ve gone out of your way for him, he’ll watch just one episode.

Hotch gets comfortable on his side of the bed, scooting just a little bit closer to you than he normally would on a case. When his leg brushes against your arm, you hum and shift just slightly, head now resting against his thigh.

Hotch makes no attempts to move or wake you. He thinks maybe a little unprofessionalism won’t do too much harm.

3️⃣

Aaron usually is the first one to arrive at work meaning he frequently leaves before you wake.

You’d only been officially together for a few weeks but you’ve been staying at his place more often. Often enough to know which shirts he wears with what suit and tie.

You usually sleep a bit later than him, watching a show or reading a book you’re currently hooked on, and sometimes even scrolling through your phone.

Aaron always tries his best to make minimal noise as to not wake you, tip toeing around the room to gather his items before heading out. You reassure him that he’s allowed to make as much noise as he wants in his own home and that you wouldn’t be upset if he did wake you.

Hotch wakes with a slight ache in his body, probably from the strenuous activity the night before. He smooths a hand down your back before he gets up to start his routine. After a steaming hot shower, he quietly patters towards his closet. He opens the door, feeling an extra bit of weight on the door as he does so and hearing the crinkle of plastic.

His brows furrow as the backside of the door comes to light. Hung on the back of the door is a deep navy blue suit (you still argue with Hotch that it’s really just black), a white button up and a deep maroon tie under a clear plastic for protection.

Hotch gives a close lipped smile to himself, left arm across his chest, while his right is perpendicular on top of the left. His right hands rests under his chin as he examines the outfit on the door. He rubs his thumb over his chin and takes a peek outside of the closet and towards the bed.

He sees you sprawled under the mess of covers, only the back of your head visible. It’s no question that you must’ve did this while he was sleeping as a late night endeavor. He shakes his head with a small chuckle before taking the hanger off the hook.

Just before he leaves, he leans down over your figure, smoothing his tie to his chest so it doesn’t tickle you awake. He bends down to your ear, “see you later, honey” before kissing your temple and leaving for the day.

•

You were hardly ever a person who showed up to work late but you can’t say it hasn’t happened a few times. Lately, it’s happened more frequently as a result of your late nights of scrolling on your phone.

“Sorry, sorry. I know I’m late.” You mumble in a rush to get to your desk.

Aaron had already been propped against your desk, sipping on his coffee. “Good morning, agent.”

“Morning boss.” You sigh, “I’m sorry.”

“Everything okay?” He stretches his empty hand towards yours on the desk, a subtle gesture.

“I forgot to set my alarm last night.” You reply sheepishly. “Won’t happen again.”

Hotch’s pinky rubs on the top of your hand. “Good, or I’ll have to write you up.” It’s an empty threat as he makes his way up to his office.

A few days later, you rushed in to the office again, barely making it in time for the briefing.

“You know you can set a reoccurring alarm, right?” Morgan teased.

“I have a reoccurring alarm, thank you very much.” You sass, slinging your jacket on the back of the chair. “I fell asleep on my phone last night, forgot to charge it.”

“Let’s get started.” Hotch commands, ceasing all conversations for now. After the briefing and instructions to be on the jet in 20 minutes, the team files out of the conference room. “Agent? A word?”

You nod, sitting back down abruptly. Emily and Morgan “ooh” as they exit the room, receiving two eye rolls in return.

“Hotch, I’m so sorry.” You peer up at him as he towers over you, not threatening.

“I did always recommend you limit your phone time before bed.” He tisks. “You’re on your second strike for tardiness.”

“And when I get my third?” You raise a brow.

“You won’t.” He gives you a pointed look. “But if for some reason you do, we’ll have to find a suitable punishment.”

“Aaron Hotchner, are you flirting on company time?” You gasp.

Aaron’s lips twitch with a smile before he quickly suppresses it. “Charge your phone, Agent.”

Later that day, yourself and the team are slugging your bags into the hotel somewhere near midnight. Hotch and Rossi descend from the check in desk with room cards.

Hotch allows the team to decide who they want to pair up with and which one of them is lucky enough to get a room and bed all to themselves (usually Rossi.)

He hands you one of the cards, bending down to grab your bag for you. The team were quite suspicious of the dynamic between you and Hotch considering how often you roomed together, but no one ever had the guts to say anything.

You both retreat to your room, tired and ready for a few hours of sleep. After your night routine of showering before Aaron, you check a bit of social media while you wait for him to join you.

When the door opens up, you set your phone down on the nightstand and slink down on your elbow. Aaron’s squeaky clean and ready to snuggle with you. He’s become more accustomed to bending the rules behind closed doors.

You smile when you see him, rubbing the mattress in circles and then patting it a few times. Hotch shakes his head but obliges you because he really does want to lay with you.

As soon as he gets in the bed, he pulls you into him. It’s not long before you’re both sleeping soundly.

In the middle of the night, Hotch wakes to use the bathroom, a result of the endless cups of coffee throughout the day. You groan when he leaves you, rolling over onto his side of the bed as a form of protest.

“I’ll be right back.” He brings your limp hand to his lips for a kiss then disappears. When he’s done, just before he shuts the light off, he catches a glimpse of your phone on the nightstand.

He uses the light from the bathroom to search through your bag and pull out your charger. He plugs it into the wall and then into your phone.

A quiet ding and a 15% charged battery pops up on the screen. He chuckles and rolls his eyes before padding over to shut the light off.

In the morning, Hotch is already gone, most likely talking about the case over free continental breakfast with Rossi. Your alarm rings, waking you abruptly. You turn over to shut the noise off. Your phone is attached to its charger and you accidentally yank it out of the wall as you grab it.

You check the time and see that your phone is 100% charged. Below that is a text from Aaron.

Aaron: Good morning, honey. I’m downstairs with Rossi. Don’t rush to get ready, there’s plenty of food and we don’t have to leave until 7.

You: Good morning, my love. Be down soon.

You lock your phone and press it to your chest, throwing yourself back onto the mattress. A dreamy smile makes its way onto your face. You’re not sure when or even remember Aaron getting up during the night to plug your phone in but who else could it be?

You toss the blankets off of yourself, feeling energized enough to work the case but also excited to spend another day with the man that shows how much he cares for you in such little ways.

4️⃣

Hotch was currently reading Rossi’s latest book. He’d been doing so for the past few nights. You loved it because you got to see him pull out his rare nighttime reading glasses and sometimes he’d read to you with that smooth voice of his.

You laid beside him, a movie playing softly as not to disturb his reading. You’d both been engrossed in your own hobbies for quite a bit of time, no conversation needed, just being in each other’s company enough.

Your movie had ended and you realized you hadn’t heard a page turn in quite some time. You looked over to see Aaron’s head resting on the head board and the rest of his body on the mattress. You hadn’t even felt him sink further down beside you. His glasses stay perched on his nose and his book rest gently on his chest, hand still tangled in the pages.

With a small laugh, you shuffle off the bed. Aaron must be exhausted because he doesn’t make a move when you slide off the bed. You round the bed and remove the book from his chest, slipping in the Polaroid he uses as a bookmark. It was a picture Penelope took of you at one of Rossi’s dinner parties and Hotch had asked to see it, slipping it into his pocket and never giving it back.

You then softly took his glasses off, folding the arms and setting it on top of the book. You shut his lamp off and bring the blanket from his shins up to his chest. You don’t want to disturb him too much but his head and neck will ache in the morning.

You grab your discarded hoodie from your side of the bed and ball it up, crawling onto the bed. You shove it under his head, pressing a kiss to his hairline.

Hotch wakes in the morning, hands immediately flying to the lump under his neck. His hands pull at whatever he can grab, the string of the hoodie pulling and causing it to bunch around the hood.

He yanks it from his head and holds it up, laughs. He brings the hoodie to his nose, smelling one of his favorite scents: you.

He sees that you’re still beside him and allows himself a few more minutes before his morning run. He neatly folds the hoodie into a pillow and packs it beneath his head. His hand finds yours under the covers before he closes his eyes. He skips his run that morning.

•

It had been a long few days without Aaron. He’d taken some time off (a rarity) for Jack’s birthday and you were away on a case. Hotch had asked you to come over when you got back, missing you.

You agreed without hesitation and made your way over as soon as you landed.

Aaron was waiting at the door when you arrived, pulling you in by the waist as he kissed you hard, causing your bag to fall.

“Well, that’s a new greeting.” You giggle, squeezing his bicep and letting your hands trail down to his lower back.

“I missed you.” He says earnestly.

“Yeah? I missed you too.” You pinch his butt. “And I’m hungry.”

“For food right?” He jokes.

“Yeah, and maybe something else.” You wink.

“Alright, get in here.” He rolls his eyes and shuts the door, picking up your bag.

“My love, I’m going to shower. Do you need to use the bathroom?” You called out to Aaron as he made his way to the laundry room to get your clothes in the wash.

“No, honey.” He softly called back, “taking a long shower?”

Your bare feet patter down the hallway as you approach. “Yeah! I’ll be in there for a bit. I’ll leave the door cracked in case you need me.” You wrap your arms around his waist and pull his backside flush to your front.

“Don’t take too long, already ordered us some takeout.” He begins taking your clothes out of the bag.

“I’ll be out in a bit, promise.” You run your hands over his chest and kiss his shoulder.

Aaron knows when you take your long showers, you’re in there for no less than 20 minutes.

Once he’s gets the washer going, he hears a knock at the door. He opens the dryer and grabs the two white pieces of cotton. As he passes the bathroom, he slips in and lets you know the food has arrived.

You hum and turn off the water. When you open the curtain and step onto the bathmat, you can hear the sound of Aaron opening the takeout bag. You reach for the towel on the rack.

All logic leaves your brain as you try to comprehend why the towel is so warm. With slight confusion you wipe your body and grab your robe from the back of the door. Just like the towel, it’s warm. You touch Aaron’s towel that rests beside your robe on the door hook, just to be sure. His towel is not wet but not completely dry and definitely not as cozy as your items.

Then it dawns on you, Aaron had threw your items in the dryer before you got here and slipped them back onto their spots for you to have when you got out. As you wrap yourself in the toasty robe, you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Just as you’re about to exit, you meet with Aaron’s chest. “I was just coming to let you know that I served your plate. I didn’t know if you wanted chow mein or rice so I put both. Is that okay?”

You pull him down by his shirt and give him a kiss. “More than okay.” You mumble against his lips.

His hands reach for your hips, “go get dressed.” He pats the side of your thigh, just below your butt cheek.

“I think I’ll just wear this for now.” You wink at him, pulling him out of the bathroom and towards the living room where he’s already set the dinner able with your plates and drinks.

5️⃣

You’d had enough of your constant struggle and you planned to do something about it.

“Boss, can I come in?” You called out to Hotch through his open door.

“Yes, agent. Shut the door.”

“When can we get new chairs? My wheel keeps getting stuck and I nearly tipped the chair over.” You whine, closing the door behind you.

“We don’t have the budget for new chairs this year.” He sighed. “It’ll be first on the budget list for next year.”

“I have to wait a whole 7 months?”

“I’m sorry, honey. I’ll put in a work order to get yours fixed.”

“Right, like that works. How many times have I asked maintenance to fix it and nothing happens? Like a billion.” You throw yourself into one of the chairs across from him.

“Dramatic.” He rolls his eyes, “I’m sure they’ll listen to me.”

“Why because you’re a man?” You joke.

“Because I’m the unit chief.” He deadpans. “Why are you giving me a hard time?”

“Because I’m cranky and want a new chair.” You pout.

“I’m sorry.” He reiterates. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Kiss?” You plead. Hotch reaches across the desk to grab your hands. He looks out of his window and when the coast is clear, he kisses a knuckle on each hand.

“Work from the conference room if you need to.” He offers.

Barely even a day later, you get to work and sit in your chair, the wheels gliding across the floor and nearly knocking you into Spencer as he stands with Morgan.

“Shit. Sorry, Spence.” You look at him apologetically.

“You nearly took him out.” Morgan laughs. “Like a bowling ball.”

“Hey!” You and Spencer say at the same time. “Are you calling me fat?”

“Are you saying I look like a bowling pin?” Spencer crosses his arms.

“You guys are impossible.” Derek rolls his eyes.

You roll yourself back to your desk and stand up, turning the back of the seat. The little acetone smudge you made when you tried to get rid of the “hotch + y/n” doodle that Garcia and Morgan drew on your chair, is gone.

You take another seat and lean back cautiously in the chair, testing the waters. The back doesn’t recline like yours did, ending months of back aches from sitting too straight as to not fall back.

Interesting, you think. Maybe Hotch’s status did get your chair fixed or you’ve gotten a replacement. It isn’t until about an hour later, you hear a frustrated huff.

You turn and watch as Hotch tugs and tugs at the chair, the wheel stuck on his office carpet. When the chair finally gets to where he wants it, Hotch exhales and smooths his tie down, picking his pen back up.

He writes for a few seconds, touches the end of the pen to his chin and leans back. You see as he flails just a bit before steadying himself straight. You look away with a giggle just before his eyes check to see if anyone saw him.

Your smile doesn’t leave your face at the memory of his temporary loss of control. You know Hotch’s back will be killing him by the end of the day and what better way to thank him than a back massage.

•

Normally, Hotch would be out of the door already but he was spending extra time in the bathroom this morning. “Damnit.” You heard him mumble.

“Babe, we’ve got to go!” You slip on your jacket. “The team is waiting downstairs.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, exiting the bathroom and turning his back to you. You slip his button up over his white shirt, his fingers rushing to button it. You throw the tie over his shoulders, flipping the collar of his shirt up.

“What’s going on, Aaron?”

“I forgot my travel razors. Does it look bad?”

“Can barely even tell.” You slip his blazer onto his arms.

“I look-.”

“Handsome. As always.” He rubs his jaw. “Don’t worry about it, I promise I’d tell you if it was bad. Plus, you know how much I miss the beard.” You cup his face and kiss his jawline. “Now seriously, we’ve got to go.”

You both head downstairs, the team already staring as you two exit the elevator.

“Long night?” Rossi raises a brow.

“Fun morning?” Morgan winks.

“Stop.” You roll your eyes at him.

“My apologies, let’s get going.” Hotch orders, not unkindly as he leads the group outside to the cars.

You already know your assignments and split up in three groups. You’re headed to the morgue with Emily and Spencer for your first task.

“Be careful today.” You whisper to Hotch as he hands you the keys to the car.

“I will. You do the same. I’ll see you later today.” You nod at his words and send each other a small, closed lip smile.

“I still can’t believe you guys are together.” Emily nudges you, taking the keys from your grasp.

“It took you long enough to say something.” You laugh. “Can you give me a minute? I’ve gotta run to the front desk. I’ll be quick.” Emily nods.

You run back inside and ask the concierge if they can send some razors up to the room. The concierge happily agrees and tells you it’s at no charge. You thank him and run out to the car.

It’s a long day of working the case but everyone feels good about where the team is at. Hotch calls it a night sometime after 11pm, urging the team to atleast try to get 6 hours of sleep and hopefully finish up tomorrow.

The team walks with a pep in their step as everyone branches off to their rooms. As you step off the elevator with Hotch, you cling to his arm, not worrying about policies or anyone’s prying eyes.

Hotch immediately unravels his tie and takes a seat on the desk chair. He undoes his watch and places it on the desk. His eyes meet the plastic box holding two razors with a small white card attached on top.

Just below the hotel logo, in neat handwriting states “just as you requested, thank you and enjoy your stay.”

Aaron looks up at you as you gather your pajamas and travel sized toiletries. You feel his gaze, looking up from your bag. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, gorgeous. Can I shower with you?”

Your face brightens just a bit more, “yeah, of course.” You’ve never showered together. Ever.

“I’ll meet you in there. Can you get the water started?” He starts to unbutton his shirt.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Hotchner.” You pass by him, kissing his forehead. Aaron could just shower and shave tonight but he’ll just have to wake up a bit earlier and shave then. For now, he’ll enjoy your first shower together.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

#aaron hotchner x reader

180 notes · View notes

ariasakka · 1 month ago

Text

A Taste of Forbidden Pleasures

Jinshi smut

Fingering, 18+, virgin, female reader, SIZE KINK, obsessive Jinshi, masochist Jinshi, oral, pussy eating, dick sucking, fingering,

(Slight talk of face slapping and tasing. I’m a freak sorry!)

3k words

You know…I didn’t watch the show thinking i’d have a crush on Jinshi but I seemed to have forgotten how much I love feminine men. Now he’s all I can think about.

You’re both virgins, you both try your best not to take it too far. At first it was convincing yourself you’d never date Jinshi then it was convincing yourself you’d never fall in love with him because it was doomed to fail. After all you were a servant girl and he had high title, nobody would take it seriously. Clearly you failed and fell head over heels in love with him. You were both set on being eachothers forever and only partner no matter what. No matter the cost. That being said you both tried to tell each other it was best not to take it further than kissing.

Tonight the both of you were making out in his chambers as you always did. Only this time his kisses were more needy. He was whimpering inbetween each kiss. You were trying to contain yourself and not to the same. You succeeded on that but you were growing annoyingly wet with every kiss. His knee was inching closer and closer to your groin as the minutes went by. Jinshi knew his knee was creeping closer and closer to your sweet spot. He knew exactly what he wanted and he wanted to make you needy and whiny underneath him just like he always was under you when you make out with him on his lap like usual. Only this time he was on top of you so he had leverage. When Jinshi finally got his knee touching the sweet spot he longed for he felt a wet spot on the tip of his knee. You let out the sweetest gasp he’d ever heard in his life. He couldn’t contain himself. He left your mouth and started kissing up your neck until his lips met your ears and he cooed “Let me fuck you y/n, please”

You grab onto his robe not expecting him to say such a lewd thing “Jinshi no, you’d be too rough!”

He holds your face in his palms and looks down into your eyes with such a beautiful look. One almost too hard to resist.

Jinshi “No I would not do you really think that about me?”

You pause for a moment before saying “It wouldn’t fit-“

You knew quite a bit about sex so helping others wasn’t an issue but the few times you’d touched yourself you could tell you would have a hard time taking anything larger than your own fingers. Shame there weren’t any toys here. You would’ve brought some back with you after you returned from visiting your family but you were always too scared of having them found out and confiscated and in all honesty you wanted to save that feeling, that stretch, for your love, for Jinshi.

On the other hand you had taken lots of time practicing your skills with your mouth on vegetables. You had no doubt you’d be able to please him in that regard. You’d always expected to do something to him first. He always got a bit carried away with kissing you were worried he would have no idea what he was doing and hurt your poor insides even though you know sweet Jinshi would never mean to.

Jinshi would like to be more experienced than he is. Luckily he has done quite an embarrassing amount of reading up on the topic. He wasn’t too interested in doing that sort of thing with someone else. That is not until he met you. He had re-read all of the old books he did before and a large sum of new ones just to learn all the ways he could please you one day. In his alone time he had done some practicing with his fingers on various fruits such as peaches and oranges. He had no doubt he was quite skilled with his fingers at this point. He had no doubt he wouldn’t be able to please you now. If only you’d let him. He can be quite needy for you but he had practiced on enough fruits even an egg yolk to know his way around a vagina. That being said he did break a lot of egg yolk for the first few times but not after that. He practiced hundreds of times after that just to be sure he wouldn’t hurt you. A bit obsessive. But who wouldn’t be when it comes to the love of their life?

After a long pause you say “What if I do you first?”

Jinshi shakes his head no. “Next time.” He wants this to be about you. He’d spent countless nights imagining your face, your sounds, as he pleasured you. Though imagining your pretty little mouth or tiny hands on his cock was nice too he was in the mood for something else. For your release.

Jinshi “Just my fingers please my love.”

You cross your arms “I said you’d be too rough.”

Jinshi “I’m gentle.”

You protest “No”

Jinshi smirks “Yes, especially with my fingers”

You “You can barely contain yourself around me. The first time I said I love you back while kissing you came in your robe. How am I supposed to think you’d be gentle now hm?”

Jinshi “I’ll show you just. Trust me.”

You “Yeah whatever, you can never keep your lips off of mine kissing me aggressively 24/7 like you’re in heat.”

Jinshi “Yes I can”

He leaned down and kisses you gently. He teases his tongue on your lips, similar to how he would like to one day to your lips down below.

You can’t tell if his tongue on your lips moving the way on your lips they are is intentional but it only makes you want him more. You involuntarily grind onto his knee, getting lost in his soft kisses. He releases after a moment. Your lips feel cold you want him back. You let out a pout and try to pull his face back but he takes hold of your hand and holds it down above your head on the bed with his own.

You “See, can’t keep your lips off of me.”

Jinshi “That was gentle no?”

You “I suppose…”

Jinshi “How about this, slap me across the face if I’m too rough or you want me to stop?”

You always knew he was a masochist but you weren’t expecting that.

You “What?!”

Jinshi smirks “Do it.”

You “If you’re too rough that won’t stop you you’re a man and 3x my size.”

He hands you a taser

You “Um what is this..Jinshi?”

Jinshi “Taze me then slap me across the face then if I’m too rough.”

You “I…well…okay Jinshi.”

He can’t take it anymore. Fuck he really can’t take it anymore. He knows you’re a fucking masochist too. You didn’t notice you were getting completely soaked when he told you to slap and tase him but he sure noticed. He pressed his knee to your pussy harder. Pressing down on your clit. Your eyes met his filled with lust.

Jinshi “You’re soaking my knee please god let me fucking touch you even tase me for fun if you wish. I just need you. I fucking need you pleaseeee y/n.”

You bite your lip “Okay.”

Jinshi needs to hear you say it “Yes?”

You “Yes.”

He gently removes your clothes until there’s nothing left but your soaked panties. He took much longer than you wanted him to. His slow kisses all over your body, whispering dirty things into your ear, taking his time, it was driving you crazy. You were the one that was hesitant at first but now all you wanted was for him to hurry up and take you. When you were in nothing left but your panties he traced his fingers along the hem with one hand and rubbed your hips with the other, taking in your beauty.

You whine “Jinshi pleaseee.”

Your lust filled face and begging him to take you is driving him crazy but he must admit he’s proud of himself for making you this needy already before touching where he wants to most.

Jinshi “Can’t I admire how pretty my princess is? Alright Jinshi will hurry up, shh princess.”

He finally removes your panties. A string of wetness glistened as he removed them. Jinshi grazed his fingers along your pussy gently. Avoiding just the spot you wanted him to touch. You bucked your hips begging him to feel you where you needed most. Your face was so red anyone else would’ve thought he’d given you an aphrodisiac. He read up on foreplay. Oh, he read up on a LOT of foreplay. You were exactly where he wanted you. He spread your legs wide open and spit directly on your clit. He watched in awe at how you convulsed at the sensation.

You reached for the taser in warning. He chuckled. “Alright, alright.” Jinshi traced his thumb up and down your slit gathering your sweet juices. Then he traced two fingers over your throbbing clit. He was much gentler than you expected him to be. You never expected you to be the needy one in this situation. You started moaning so loud you were sure everyone would’ve heard you if Jinshis house wasn’t so far away.

Jinshi looked as you in awe “Fuck you sound so pretty for me, don’t hold back.”

You kept repeating a plea of “Jinshi please!” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to stop. He knew exactly what your body wanted from those begs. He began to place two fingers at your entrance. He gasped when he felt how tight you were. His books had always said to start with two fingers than add more but you were far too precious to him and he never wanted to hurt you. He removed the tips of both his fingers and settled with one. He lowered his middle finger gently into your cunt while rubbing your clit with his thumb. That went in much easier. He knew he would have to work on stretching his precious pretty girl out for a while before you could take his cock but he didn’t mind that one bit. Your hips started involuntarily moving on their own at the sensation of his finger. You were so sensitive under his touch. You knew you must have looked so stupid right now. How could the roles reverse into you being the needy one so fast? You desperately tried to hide your face in your hair or the sheets but all Jinshi did was brush the hair out of your face and force you to face him. “Don’t hide from me pretty. Aww so sweet, are you sensitive? I’ve got you. Let Jinshi do all the work okay princess.” He held your hips in place while he fingered you. You were much wetter than he expected but he didn’t mind. In fact he loved it. He wanted to taste it. Once he felt you opening up more he slowly slid his pointer finger inside you as-well. You tilted your head back. The stretch felt so good you were happy you didn’t have toys to use before, feeling Jinshi’s warm fingers work inside your walls was much, much better. Jinshi felt you pulsing around him hard. He was obsessed He leaned down and started kissing your neck. He was moaning inbetween kisses. At this point he returned to being the needy one. He sounded as if he was almost enjoying this more than you. He can’t help but grind into your legs as he’s knuckles deep inside your perfect cunt. To your surprise despite how needy he’s gotten he’s still remaining just as gentle. His fingers filling your untouched hole mixed with Jinshi being a whimpering hard mess is sending you over the edge. You’d only came on your fingers a few times but this, this felt much more intense. Jinshi could feel you getting close. He lifts his head up from your neck to watch your face. He wanted to watch how beautiful his girl looked when she came all over his fingers. The feeling around his fingers as you came mixed with the look on your face was too much for Jinshi. He came all over his robe just as he was letting you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. You chuckled. You knew your Jinshi would return to his needy lusted out self. “Such a beautiful boy”

He releases himself from your cunt.

Jinshi “Told you I’d be gentle.”

You “I’ll believe you next time.”

Jinshi “Better.”

You came so much you’d nearly think you squirted but you didn’t. You had no idea you could cum that much. Jinshi didn’t mind at all he licked his fingers clean. The haze over his face from the taste of your juices was intoxicating. He nearly looks as if he’s drunk from just tasting you. “C-can I taste?”

You “You just did Jinshi.”

He kneels down resting his face just where he wants it “You know what I mean.”

You grab a fist full of his hair and push his face down to your cunt. You’re so sensitive after just having came but you don’t care. You can’t get enough of him. The feeling of his tongue inside your walls is addicting. He can’t release his mouth from your lips. He is in love with your taste, with your feel, your insides are so soft on his tongue. On his lips. He loves it. He grabs your hand making you push his face down harder. This is definitely the way Jinshi would love to go out. You can tell he’s hard all over again just from the way he’s grinding into the sheets. You’d never heard much of men getting hard from eating a girl out and especially not getting hard of just after they’ve came. You didn’t mind though. At this rate you’re all worked up again and desperate to taste Jinshi if he’ll let you. You’d seen him hard through his robe many times but never the real thing. You’ve wanted to many times but were too worried more would happen if you did. Now you don’t care. You pull him by the hair off of you and throw Jinshi on his back. You straddle his lap. Jinshi is confused he was enjoying his meal.

Jinshi “Satisfied?”

You “No.”

Jinshi pouts “Was my tongue not to your liking princess?”

You “That’s not quite what I mean.” You begin to take off his robe. You can fell his hardness pressing against your ass. Good that’s just what you wanted.

Jinshi gasps, his cheeks grow bright red. “What are you-“

You begin to kiss down his chest and go to down lower. You palm his cock in your hand. “Mmm prettier than I expected” you kiss the tip. He can’t take his eyes off of you.

Jinshi “Fuck princess-god. Ahh!”

You lick up the side of his cock while making eye contact “Want me to stop?”

He shakes his head no and grabs the back of your hair for something to hold onto. He tries to be soft he doesn’t want you to overdo yourself.

You “You don’t have to hold back with my mouth you know. I don’t have a gag reflex.”

You appreciated how composed Jinshi was with his fingers but honestly you really wanted to see him let go. Not have control. At least your throat could handle that.

Jinshi “What did you just say?”

You “I have no gag reflex.”

Jinshi sits up and places two fingers down your throat to test. He’d came many times imagining your little mouth wrapped around his throbbing cock but he didn’t want to do too much if you wouldn’t be able to handle it. When his fingers bottomed out in your throat and you did gag he hissed. He added a third finger because that was closer to the size of his cock. When you didn’t gag at that either he raised a brow and you smirked at him deviously. He began slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your mouth. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation. It felt nice to you. Jinshi removed his fingers. He was panting already just by the site of that.

You “Believe me?”

Jinshi “Fuck I believe you!”

You “I want you to thrust into my throat with your dick. I want you to let loose. Loose control in my throat.”

Jinshi “Are you sure my love?”

You “Yes please.”

Jinshi “What about when I cum?”

You “Just pull out and finish mostly on my chest. I don’t know if I’d like the taste just yet.”

Jinshi “I understand. Okay. Here, kneel on the stool that’s infront of the bed and I’ll stand infront of you.”

Your face lights up, you’re excited to see your lover let go. Your excitement has him leaking with precum. Once you’ve gotten on your knees atop of the stool he stands infront of you. His cock at perfect level with your mouth. You stick out your tongue eagerly. You grab hold of his hips inviting him inside. He grabs the back of your hair to push himself deep inside your mouth. Your mouth looks so small compared to his dick he’s not sure how it’s fitting or even how you’re not choking. He keeps looking down to make sure you’re alright. You roll your eyes and force your face all the way down his length until your nose is pushed up against his pelvis. You start bobbing your head to assure him you’re fine. You push his hand on the back of your head harder to motion him to let go. Once he’s assured you’ll be fine he starts thrusting balls deep down your throat. His pace is fast, though he still holds back slightly not wanting to hurt his princess. Jinshi is a moaning mess. You look so fucking pretty like this. To pretty. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to last like this. He wants to do this to you all night. His hands are definitely never going to feel as good after this. While he’s busy bobbing your head up and down with one hand. You take hold of his free hand and place it on your breast. That sends Jinshi over the edge. He pulls out of your throat as quickly as he can and releases all down your chest. He rubs some on the bud of your breast. You whine at the sensation. Some of his cum spilled on your chin. You lick some to taste.

You “Maybe next time you can cum inside.”

Jinshi pants “You’re going to kill me if you keep saying such things!”

You “You were such a good boy.”

Jinshi draws the both of you a bath. He carefully washes your body then you do his. After the both of you cuddle in his bed chambers. The both of you should get dressed but neither of you care if someone catches you anymore.

You “You know Jinshi you’re oddly skilled.”

He smiles to himself proudly. He’ll tell you about his practice another time.

Non kinky version ↓↓↓

#jinshi smut #jinshi #the apothecary diaries #smut #fan fiction #the apothecary diaries smut #Spotify

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erenjaegerwifee · 9 months ago

Text

Make You Mine

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, kissing, suggestive themes, fluff

Word Count: 3.3K

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If that makes you uncomfortable feel free to scroll and do not interact with my page or any of my posts!

Index: karyu - teacher, hupx - miss, rutxe - please, kelku - house/home

Today is your first day, you are kind one nervous even though you’re teaching 7-year-olds. Kids can be mean sometimes but that’s not your problem. You have wanted this job since you were a little kid in the class, you always thought about how nice it was growing up and being able to teach children things you got to learn yourself, it felt like you were really helping the clan. You're taking over for the teacher then taught you, her name is O’laya, or as you used to call her miss O’laya.

You get up bright and early eating a heavy breakfast you now sort of regretted and made sure your brother was ready for the day. The clan is very big so you are not the only teacher in the clan naturally the kids are split up into different classes. You were lucky to get a young one. You thank Eywa for her mercy. You dress yourself in your leaf top and loincloth that stops by your caves, you decided you might be running around and there was no need to slip someone a peak of your undergarments so you had longer loincloths made just for this job.

You took a deep breath walking out of your kelku and to the class area to meet O’laya. “Miss O’laya, how are you this morning?” You greet her with a sweet smile. “Ah my dear, I am well, ready for today? I’m going to introduce you and take my leave.” You nodded and walked behind her into the class.

“Good morning children. Now I’ve already told your parents and you all that you’ll be getting a new teacher. So, I’d like to all to meet Hupx Y/n! She will be your teacher from now on!” Everyone greeted you with sweet smiles and O’laya took her leave.

“Good morning kids! I’m super excited to be your teacher why don’t we go around the class and get to know each other?” Your smile and sit on top of your desk listening to the children introduce themselves with names and ages along with things they like. They were every entertaining to listen to. Some were shy but some were upbeat and loud one of them being none other than your clan’s olo’eyktan’s youngest, Tuktiery, or as she requested people call her Tuk. When it was her turn, she stood so excitedly sitting directly in front of your desk in the class and said, “Hi new miss! My name is Tuktiery Sully very similar to my mama’s name but not that same! You can call me Tuk, everyone does! But anyways, I’m 7 years old and I’m new in this class to just like you! I like ikrans I can’t wait to get my own one day like my mama!”

“Well, that is wonderful Tuk! I’m sure one day you will have a beautiful Ikran.” You smile and she sat down and continued the lesson. After a long day of fun activities, it was time for the kids to go home. You were cleaning up the classroom while parents came one by one to collect their little ones.

There were only about three kids left when you heard a knock on the wood by the entrance flap and two parents walked in. They were Tuk’s parents, Jake and Neytiri Sully. You brought your hands up to your forehead to make the respectful gesture and they returned it smiling at you. “Ah, you must be Tuk’s new teacher I am her mother, it is very nice to meet you.” she was so beautiful, “This is my husband, Jake” she gestured her hands to her husband that now hold their youngest.

“The pleasure is mine; I look forward to getting to know you and your family.” you smile back at her. It was customary for the teachers to get to know the parents of their classes, it allowed for much smoother sailing when it comes to their education, everyone was involved in teaching the children. “We do as well, how about you sit with us at communal dinner tonight” Jake spoke up.

You must admit you were a bit stunned; you weren’t expecting such an invitation. “Communal dinner with the Olo’eyktan’s family wow, I am extremely flattered, but I wouldn’t want to intrude on your family time” you smile at them shyly, they thought you were very cute, you might fit in quite well with their older kids, “Rutxe hupx y/n! I want you to meet my sister” you smile sweetly at her pleading eyes and sighed with a nod; how could you not say yes to her? “I be happy to, if it’s okay can I bring my younger brother along, he sits with me every day.”

They agreed to let him join you, then walked out of the class with Tuk. The remaining children left shortly after and finish cleaning up the room, you felt a bit nervous to be having dinner with them, you thought about backing out in case it might be awkward but decided against it in the end, they were very kind people their children should more than reflect that. Jake was one of the most loved rulers of the Omatikaya clan, but in passing, you've never seen him act like he was worth more than anyone else.

He is a noble man; you suppose that’s why Neytiri fell in love with him. You left the room and made your way back to your hut to get ready for the dinner. Your brother was already there when you arrived, “Kamea you’re home early isn’t training longer than this?” he was sprawled out on the floor, his training equipment laid messily on the floor next to the entrance. “Just introductions, made a couple friends than I came home, what at we doing for dinner?”

“Uh we’re having dinner with olo’eyktan’s family tonight, they invited us to sit with them. Their youngest is in my class.” Ever since your parents passed, you and your brother have only had each other. When you first lost them, it was difficult to bounce back and you didn’t want to pitied stares of your people. So, you learned to take care of your brother at home. That included cooking in the comfort of your family home then slowly you would go back to communal dinners but only once in a while. The clan was not all that used to seeing you out and about.

When dinner time arrived, you put on a pink and purple beaded top and matching loincloth to make your way to the center of the village with your brother walking behind you. Your nerves were getting the better of you now as you picked your nails and looked around anxiously, you didn’t see the family yet so you walked through the crowd politely greeting people who decided to greet you both.

When you do spot the Sullys Tuk was jumping up and down waving at you, she calmed some of your nerves but her ruckus caused everyone else to turn to you. Jake and Neytiri stood and smiled as you walked over. You didn’t glance down at their other children just yet though. You and your brother brought your hands up to your forehead to greet them respectively. Only then did you both sit down directly in front two grown mean, who just so happen to be their sons. “That you so much for inviting us again, it was very kind of you”

Tuk sat next to you and Jake and Neytiri formed a semi- circle connecting the group with their children across from you. “We are delighted ever since Tuk came home; she couldn’t stop talking about her new karyu. Kiri pass them the leaves.” A kind girl with a few braids in her lose hair introduced herself and as Tuk’s sister Kiri. “Ah so you are the sister she wanted me to meet, I am y/n” you smile at her sweetly and unwrapped the food.

She smiled back at you then Jake spoke up, “Oh yea, let me introduce you, you know my wife and Tuk, this is Neteyam and Lo’ak my sons and well now you know Kiri” your eyes dart from Jake to the man sitting directly in front of you, Neteyam. You felt a blush creeping up he was gorgeous. Neteyam looked like Eywa carved him out of diamond. His skin somehow looked soft and tough at the same time, his hair braided neatly falling over his ears when he bent his head, and his eyes, Eywa his eyes were golden, the most beautiful shade of gold you’ve ever seen in eyes. You realized you were staring a bit too long when you noticed the smirk on his face and you brother elbowed you in the stomach.

Your eyes dart down before they came up to greet them both. Lo’ak was seated right next to his brother directly in front of you. “This is my brother, Kamea. He just graduated to warrior training” you gesture to your brother speaking to them all. “I know, he’s in my group of trainees, I look forward to working with him” Lo’ak said which made you smile, you are glad your brother is making friends better than you did at his age.

Throughout the dinner you kept glancing at Neteyam as he ate and every time you made eye contact you were always the one to break it, “So you're a new teacher, that is impressive not many people can replace hupx O’laya.” Neteyam spoke to you, he actually said something to your face. “Yea she was my karyu too” you smile, “she was? How old are you? I don’t ever remember seeing you in her class” He spoke again. “I’m 22 I think I was in the year below you, we’ve never been in the same class” you dip your head to stare at your plate when felt the blush deepen on your face.

“Oh, that explains it Neteyam is a year ahead of you, so let us about yourself are you mated yet?” Neytiri asked. “No, I’m not, I haven’t given it much thought”

“Yea says the girl with the wedding scrapbook?” Kamea said. You whip your head to look at your brother giving him a menacing glare, but like the dumbass he is, he never stopped talking. “She hasn’t mated yet because she doesn’t know how it would work with everything, if it were up to her, she would have already found some poor sucker to take care of her.”

You gasp dramatically putting your hands on your chest, “Poor sucker to take care of me? I’m the poor sucker taking care of you, you ungrateful rat.” you and your brother always bicker like that, sometimes you forget people are around. He was about to retort but you were brought back to reality by Kiri’s snickering, “they sound like you and Neteyam” she told Lo’ak making the family giggle.

Your face was flush with embarrassment as you pinched your brother on the arm before you continue to eat, “What don’t you think won’t work if you mate?” You head whips up to Neteyam making eye contact with him, suddenly you lose your words, “um, I take care of my brother, I have been for years now, usually when you mate with a man you move out of your kelku and into his, well our parents are no more I can’t just leave him. My dreams of mating can wait”

“Your parents passed I am so sorry” Kiri said but your eyes never left neteyam’s you were captivated in them. Your brother once again nudged your shoulder and you turned to Kiri not noticing the look Jake and Lo’ak exchanged. “It’s ok, it was a long time ago” you smiled softly at her, “I don’t think that should be a problem, if a man loves you and knows your situation you wouldn’t be inconveniencing him by allowing your brother to live with you” Neteyam spoke to you again.

“You think? I don’t know, a couple of guys are courting but I haven’t decided if I’m ready to mate then yet” your face twisted a bit clearly showing the fact that you don’t like them which making Neteyam smirk.

You practically ignored his presence when you first got there but he couldn’t stop staring at you, you were absolutely phenomenal, the colors of your outfit complimented your tone perfectly, your hair cascaded down your back effortlessly, your loincloths were longer than the women he usually sees but he admires your effort to stay modest when teaching young children.

After dinner was over you said your goodbye hugging a crying tuk after you told her you couldn’t spend the night but promised to see her the next day. Your brother left during her crying session being tired and wanted to get some rest. The stars shined beautifully in the sky and you begin to walk away into the darkness towards your hut. “Wait up!” someone shouted behind you and you saw neteyam running up to you, that man just looks godly doing everything huh.

“Let me walk you home it’s dark” he smiled at you; he was such a gentleman. “But who’s gonna walk you home?” you joked at he started to match his pace to yours, “Very funny I am a well-known and respected warrior karyu, I can handle walking at night”

“Really, well respected I can understand but well-known? I’ve never met you before” you smile at him, being away from all the other prying eyes made it easier for you to relax and speak like you normally would, instead of being shy. You could see the your kelku coming into view and you were a bit sad your time with his warrior would be over.

“Hey listen I want to ask you something, normally I’d go about this a different way but I don’t really want to wait. Would you do me the honor of letting me court you?” his question caught you so off guard. You understand the courting process starts right after meeting each other as adults but you couldn’t believe your future olo’eyktan wanted you on his arm. “You want to court me?” You stopped walking and turned to face him making him do the same. “Why?”

“Why not, I met you a couple hours ago and, in that time, I’ve gotten to know you are single, you are smart, you have good mothering instincts and you are great with children, you are a good cook according to your brother, you put down a mean meal and still look sexy as ever, and one of the more obvious reasons, I think your so fucking beautiful”

His hands have gotten a hold of yours while he was speaking and he looked into your eyes as he said every single word and you just knew he meant it. You have never met a man you wanted to get on your knees for so bad, and he wanted to make you love him. You almost asked him to pinch you so you’ll know you’re awake but decided if this was a dream, you aren’t gonna end it.

“Neteyam..” you sounded awestruck as you whispered his name it makes him smile down at you so sweetly, you thought you were about to have a sugar rush. “Say it sweetheart, let me court you, let me make you mine” he took small steps closer until he was almost pressed up against you, one of his hands came up to your cheek stroking it softly with his thumb. “Yes, make me yours”

His lips broke out into a smile triggering yours and pulled you into closer, his arm was now wrapped around your waist and you were pressed against his chest. His skin was warm it almost made you shiver thinking about pulling away. His eyes dart down to your lips and back up to your eyes as if asking for permission to kiss you.

You leaned in and your eyes fluttered when he pressed his lips against yours softly. His lips were as worms as his body, kissing him felt like breathing a different kind of air, he was so gentle with you, so caring as if he could break you if he squeezed too hard. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss running your hands through his braids, rubbing your fingers against his head. You didn’t want to every stop kissing him, you never wanted to pull away.

He swiped his tongue on your bottom lip and you wasted no time giving him access to your mouth. He leaned more into you causing you to bent back but you didn’t let him go, Neteyam held you tightly against him exploring the crevasse in your mouth. You moaned into the kiss when he latched into your bottom lip with his fangs and pulled on it separating you from the kiss.

You didn’t waste any time chasing his lips as he pulled away making him chuckle, you continued to suck each other's tongue as if you weren’t out in the open and if anyone decided to walk pass, they would see you humping each other. You felt his bulge press against you between your thighs, you moan at the feeling of his clothed cock humping against your clit. Your time was cut short however by the someone clearing their throat behind Neteyam.

You both jumped pulling away from each other, your lips were swollen and you suddenly felt the need to cover your body from the cold and you watched Neteyam cover his hands over his bulge was we watch his father and brother stand in front of us. Lo’ak sported a wide grin almost as if he was proud of his brother and his father stood with a neutral expression but his smile was cracking through.

“I thought you were walking her home?” Jake said. “I was- I am”

“And so how did you end up with your tongue down her throat? Or was her tongue down yours?” Lo’ak said. Your eyes dart to the floor and your toes played with the grass.

You didn’t see the way Neteyam smiled at your shy behavior, “Why are you two even out here?”

“Well son, Lo’ak brought it to my attention you’ve been gone for 20 minutes and I wanted to make sure you weren’t getting mauled by some freakishly large predator, but it seems like she’s the one getting mauled.” Neteyam was at least a head over you, he was very tall, kissing him made your neck hurt but fuck did you wanna do it again. “I’ll be right there let me take her home”

Jake rolled his eyes at his son’s responses and Lo’ak just giggled like he a school kid. “It’s ok, I live right there, you did want you were meant to” you said to him softly gesturing to your kelku behind you and smiled at him.

“Yea and seems like he did a lot more too” Lo’ak snorted as he tried to hold in his laugh. If you weren’t so embarrassed you’d see how funny this must look for someone else’s point of view. “How about I take you out tomorrow? After your class, I’ll come there and meet you” Neteyam grabbed your hand and laced your fingers with his smiling at you.

“I’d like that, I’ll see you tomorrow then” you smiled as you begin to back away from him.

“Yea I’ll see you” he smiles watching you turn and run away into the safety of your hut before turning back to his brother and father.

They didn’t say anything besides tried to hold in their snickers about the whole situation, they can’t wait to watch this one play out.

✨I hope you all enjoyed reading! I had fun with this one! Let me know if yall want a part 2 cuz I want to write one!

✨Reblogs, comments and likes are always loved and appreciated!

Taglist:

@rivatar @delusionalwh6re @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @nilahsstuff @m1tsu-ki @kylimarz @quicktosimp @its-jennarose @r11k4 @xrollingmyeyesx @teymars @pandoraslxna @inlovewithpandora @neteyamsoare

#neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam avatar #neteyam smut #atwow neteyam #neteyam talks #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fic #avatar the way of water #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x female reader smut

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writingsfromhome · 2 months ago

Text

Unspoken Signals

A/N: reaaaallly tried to get this out for v-day. It’s been a while, I’m a bit rusty, but this is a quick fic w Harry and you as coworkers and a casual something else. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

—————————————————————-

“Well this is different,” I comment.

Before me sits a dozen children and they’re all very quiet. It’s music to my ears after the last hour.

“I didn’t know kids could even do yoga.”

“You didn’t know kids could stretch?” I raise a brow.

“The meditating part,” Harry clarifies. “I didn’t know they could quiet their minds and their demon mouths.”

I laugh softly and turn back to the kids. A couple are starting to get restless, peeking one eye open or scratching their noses—picking them more like. But it’s nice for the few minutes.

Both Harry and I worked at an art museum that had recently lost some of its funding and had decided to open up revenue streams by introducing “kids fun weekends”. So despite having zero training in early education, staff at the museum found ourselves having to look after children and host workshops from time to time.

So far we’d been volun-told to help with a crafts day, a movie night, wellness day, and an upcoming museum sleepover.

And I was so not being paid enough to deal with hyperactive children.

“Why do kids even need a wellness workshop?” Harry continues to whisper back to me. “They’ve got stressful jobs or something? Bloody put me on one and let me go home.”

“Anyone can experience stress Har,” I roll my eyes. Harry was one of those people who didn’t care about being politically correct when he spoke. Which led to a lot of bickering between us that most of our coworkers had gotten used to.

“The stress of any of these kids does not bloody compare to the stress of an adult.”

“Don’t be such an ageist,” I reply.

“Ageist? What the fuck,” he swears. “Do you just put a word in front of -ist and create a new prejudice?”

I gasp and hold his shoulder, “prejudice? Where did you learn such a large word?”

“Now you’re just being a word-ist,” Harry says smugly.

I snort despite myself, “And you’ve always been a prick.”

“Piss off,” Harry whispers. “This is unfair.”

We stand in silence, forced to do our job of keeping watch over the kids. But as they grow more agitated and so does Harry, I realize I really didn’t want to be here either.

“Well have you seen the new fake-Monet collection?” I ask.

It wasn’t actually fake-Monet. It was a local artist we were hosting in our community gallery that showcased…local artists. The first piece we ever saw hung up looked like a Monet so we took to calling him that.

“No. Not after that first forgery.”

“Wanna ditch this and check it out?”

“Fuck yes.” Harry’s eyes finally draw some life to them.

We leave our two other coworkers to deal with freshly-meditated children and sneak away.

The art museum wasn’t a large building; the ground floor was taken up by the open lobby, offices, the gift shop, and some of the more permanent exhibits. The second floor had revolving galleries and the community gallery sat on the third floor.

“D’you think anyone’s actually going to buy the guy’s fakes?” Harry asks.

“Probably,” I jam the button for the lift. “I saw a couple more pieces and they were beautiful.”

“You find any piece of art beautiful.”

“Well they are! It’s easy to find beauty in a lot of things if you’re not a prick.”

The lift arrives and the doors open; the reflection inside show a tall curly-haired annoyed bloke. Walking in with him is a shorter girl, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not a prick.” He looks down at me. “I just have standards.”

Suddenly in the enclosed space of the lift we’re gravitating towards each other like we tended to do. I smile up at him sweetly and he tsks and pushes me away by my chin; a conversation taking place with just our eyes.

The thing with Harry and me—because it was just a thing we didn’t label, was simple: we liked being around each other (despite being able to get on each other’s nerves).

We kinda just orbited each other and we were comfortable with it; some days he would follow me home and we’d hang out, get dinner, sleep together, and other nights I’d show up at his and we’d fold right into one another.

It was fun, and it felt cool not to label it. It felt very adult, like Harry and I were mature enough to appreciate the other in every aspect without being possessive enough to need to label it. Like somehow we were proving just how secure we were by doing it like this.

“You just like being judgemental,” I say and as the doors open onto the third floor I turn to walk out. “Because you’re an idiot.”

Outside stand at older couple who’ve definitely heard the last bit. I apologize and pray they don’t complain to anyone about the staff.

“Very unprofessional,” Harry goads as he laughs. “Do you harass all the elderly at the museum.”

“Shut up!” I shove him against the wall and he stumbles down.

“Oi!” He calls out as I walk away. “Oi! Help me up!”

“Help yourself!” I finally turn. He’s sprawled on the ground like this was his bedroom—because I’d seen the inside of his bedroom I would know. But he stays for so long I hurry back, not wanting anyone to walk past and get us in trouble for laying in the middle of the hall.

“I knew you’d come,” he smiles sweetly, his large hand in the air ready for me to grip.

“C’mon—“

I see it coming too late and he’s already trapped me in. He pulls me forward and I stumble into him, nearly catching myself on the wall. Nearly. I tumble into him instead.

“Grow up!” I scramble off of him as quick as I could. Because the one unspoken rule in this thing between us was staying nothing but platonic coworkers at work.

And that was the other thing about us—this unlabelled situation we were in. That as casual as we appeared there was a lot of orchestrating going on behind the scenes in order to be this nonchalant.

For example, only touching outside of work, not asking about dates the other went out on the weekend before, like saying you’re funny and where’ve you been when it’s been a while so as not to say I really like you and I want to be around you more and when you’re not around I miss you more than an unlabelled half should. Like getting drunk when I spot him at a club with another girl so I can continue to convince myself I really didn’t care all that much.

It was just Harry. At most we were just friends.

“This is me grown up,” Harry catches up to me. He can sense I’m annoyed and maybe he’s crossed a line so he lingers slightly behind.

I ignore him as I push the glass door into the gallery. This was one of my favourite spaces because of the large windows and views of the garden below planted by friends of the museum.

But mostly I loved it because it was a revolving door of local artists and it reminded me that everyone had a story to tell. And every story was beautiful.

“Don’t cry this time,” Harry whispers to me as he walks down the gallery to the far end.

“It was one time,” I mumble. That I actually cried. Usually I just teared up.

I couldn’t help it though, there was so much meaning and time put into these pieces. So much love and grief and every emotions on the spectrum. And I felt it all.

I decide I’d stop calling the artist fake-Monet because with a few more paintings I began to recognize his own signature style. He paints about personal community and finding it in public spaces—pockets around London.

“Hey look at this one,” Harry says when I’m a few pieces away. I walk over.

It’s unmistakably Hampstead Heath, the park a half hour walk from here and 15 from Harry’s place. It’s where we spent a lazy summer day a month or so ago. We were both free on the Saturday, our calendars opening up. I met Harry at his and we’d trekked through the hazy city to feel the cool breeze of the sturdy trees and the splash of the water. Despite the stickiness, we’d tucked into each other and pretended the shade was enough to keep us cool—enough to be so close. We read our book, took a summer nap, ate our picnic, and chatted about the rest of our lives. Passerbys would see two friends, or maybe two something-mores.

It’s only when the sun slinked down towards the horizon did we pack up. We walked back to his flat, took a shower together. We had dinner with his friends. It had been such a beautiful day I had ached with it because I knew how temporary it was.

But how perfect it had been. It had felt bigger than us.

Harry pointing it out toes that line again; he remembered it too, as something to reference. As something to compare to the beautiful richness of the tapestry before us—lavenders and lilacs, pinks and blues, sage, and dusty hues.

“Beautiful,” I murmur. We’re standing shoulder to shoulder now, I can’t tell who’s leaning on who.

“It…actually is.” Harry says in a hushed voice back. “I’m sorry fake-Monet that I doubted you.”

I look up at him in surprise, Harry rarely changed his mind. “Actually?”

“Yeah.” He looks down at me. “I think I get it.”

The expression in his eyes as he says this, as they fill with meaning, I have to look away. But the painting doesn’t help. It’s too full of my own meaning. Our meaning.

But there was no our.

“Wow.” I straighten up and move closer. “Look at that blending. And the details those are actually people.”

“They’ve all got their own shadow too.” Harry moves closer towards me again. He points it out.

“I’m gonna go look for shadows in the others.” I chirp just so I can get away. So I can keep denying.

A few hours later, the day is giving to nightfall. I badge out with Harry and we walk down the steps towards the iron gates.

“See you tomorrow?” I ask.

“I’m not in tomorrow.” He reminds me.

“Oh yeah your parents are in town?”

“Yep,” he fidgets with his phone and we stand in silence for a beat.

“Well I should-“ I say just as he asks, “Would you want to-“

We pause, awkward laugh. We were never awkward.

“You first,” I urge, wanting to know what he was going to ask.

“No it’s nothing. I should go. Got to clean my flat before my parents see how I live.”

“Don’t forget to hide the rolling papers from your bedside,” I tease. “And the magazines under the bed.”

“Oi I haven’t got magazines under the bed,” he smiles. His dimples make a handsome appearance. “They’re loud and proud on the coffee table now.”

“Except you haven’t got a coffee table.”

“If you know so much about my flat how about you come home with me and help me clean it? You can stay over.”

Come home with me. Casual, so casual.

But I know how calculated it had to be. I’d been there. Somehow I knew this is what he’d been trying to ask in the first place.

“What time are your parents getting in?” I ask.

“They’re early birds. Probably after 8.”

“8? Holy hell.” I swear.

“They want to do breakfast and then take me to visit my grandparents.”

“Right. Yeah well, imagine I’m still not out by the time they show up. That’d be so awkward. And there’s no way in hell I’m getting up before 8.”

His cheeks take on a slight blush. “They’ve…it wouldn’t be the first time they came over to a girl in my bed YN. I’m not 16.”

“I know. But…still awkward.”

“So?”

“I…don’t want them to get the wrong idea. We’ll see each other the day after. You’re working then right?”

My heart squeezes a bit at his crushed look before it’s swapped for happy, for easygoing. “Yep. Can’t get rid of me that quick.”

We part ways, I go mine with a heavy heart.

***

“So,” I check in with Harry at lunch the day he’s back. It had been a hectic day yesterday with a new group of kids and a new workshop to facilitate. Plus someone was quitting after being yelled at and Harry had missed it all so I wanted to update him. “How was your day off.”

“Shite,” he says. We walk a few streets over to a Pret. “Mum and dad wouldn’t stop whinging about my future and about settling down like I’m a fucking balding man in my 50s losing all prospects. I’m only 25!”

“Yeah total bummer having a day off for that,” I comment even though I have a hard time getting my next breath in. I can’t imagine my own parents caring that much about my life to spend a whole day with me talking about it. And what if I had stayed the night and accidentally bumped into them—would they have approved?

Should I even care?

“Then my nan basically told them to piss off but they started filling her head with it and then she’s asking me about any girls I’ve taken on dates lately. Started giving me relationship advice!”

“What was that?” I tease. “Take her on a walk and buy her some flowers? Go star gazing? Movie for 2 quid?”

Harry glances at me and his seriousness throws me off balance a little.

“What?”

He opens his mouth, then shrugs and closes it. “Nothing.”

“Sorry did I offend you?” I try to think of why he might be reacting this way.

“No, she actually did say some pretty old-fashioned shite. But I can take it from her. It’s my parents that drive me nuts.”

“Well I wish you were at work. Want to hear what happened?”

So I change the subject and we talk about what he missed. He’s more subdued today and I don’t read into it. He wasn’t mine to read into, I have to remind myself.

We talk about the gallery sleepover in two weeks, whether we were actually going to come in our PJs. When we get back to work we’re on different floors and I try not to miss him again.

***

“I actually brought mine—the appropriate pair.” My coworker jokes. We’re in the staff kitchen making an afternoon tea. Tonight was the gallery sleepover and I was not looking forward to it. But because I was working it I had the day off tomorrow and at least that was something to look forward to.

“I just brought a ratty tee. I don’t think I’m sleeping anyway.” I say.

“I hate that we got picked for this,” she continues. “I actually don’t even like kids. Why do you think I have none?”

“Well tonight will just be birth-control.”

“Trust me I don’t need it.” She cackles and walks away. My phone buzzes with a text.

Harry: Might be late tonight. cover for me if anyone asks?

Y: ur not even working the day how are u gonna be late?

Harry: got a thing. Just cover pls?

Y: obv

I wonder what was going on with him.

We hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to hang out the last week and work had been too busy to properly catch up. Plus our manager had been putting us on conflicting projects so I really had been missing Harry.

Even though Harry and I were friends there was something about distance and fondness that was proving true lately. And I hated it. So I’d gone on a string of dates this week. Hence my busyness.

I’d gone out on a date a week ago and even though I ended up going back to his place all I wanted to do was text Harry. Ask him if he was up, what he was doing. I’d forced myself to shut my phone so I wouldn’t be tempted.

After we close the doors to the public that evening we begin setting up for the kids’ sleepover. It’s so hectic nobody notices Harry’s late but he slides right in helping me string the lights in our biggest gallery. We work on the projectors next, I yap to him for 10 minutes straight and he barely replies. He’d been quiet since he got here.

And for the next few hours Harry and I entertain and help children have fun, we put on a fancy puppet show loosely based on famous artists—art projections included.

We sneak away to the kitchen after we take our bow for a tea break.

“Wouldn’t happen to have a flask on ya?” Harry sighs as he strains his tea bag.

“God I wish,” I stare into the dark abyss of my earl gray. That performance had really taken it out of me. “Who d’you think’s most likely to have something stashed away?”

“Well,” Harry yawns like he hadn’t slept all week and points to an upper cabinet. “Behind the cleaning stuff.”

“What?!” I gasp. “Seriously?”

“Well last time I saw it was last Christmas. Probably got some alcoholics here. I dunno if the stash is still there.”

“Well this is naughty,” I find a couple travel-sized liquor bottles like the kind you get on planes. I take one so that somebody else can have the delight of the other.

Harry sticks his mug out and I empty half the bottle, doing the same to mine.

“Make sure it’s covered,” he advises when I throw it in the bin. I shake it around until I can’t see it.

“Much better,” I cheers my mug to his. He catches my eye and it feels like we’re co-conspirators again. I pass a smile that’s only half-returned. “So what’s the deal with you?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up from his drink.

“I’ve barely seen you all week. And you’re late tonight. And you look haggard as hell.”

He shrugs, “I’ve been helping one of my mates out with moving out of his girlfriend’s. They broke up. He’s a mess so…”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “That’s kind of you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Do I?” I widen my eyes.

“Piss off.”

He cracks with a smile—a full Harry smile and I feel my heart beaming just to soak it in.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” I ask tentatively. I knew he had the day off too.

“Uhm,” cagey Harry returns. “Maybe. I’m not too sure right now.”

“Ah okay.”

We sip in silence that threatens to smother us. I get up as quickly as I can without wasting my precious drink.

“I’m gonna head back out.”

“Alright.”

I head back to the star-lit room where sleeping bags are laid out like mismatched brick throughout the floor. Some kids are cozied within, others sit on top. They’re all engrossed in the “bedtime story” being told by a local author.

It’s sweet, I think. This would become a core memory for a lot of these kids, drinking in the whole night through all their senses. I wish I had more memories like this. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so fragile all the time.

Adults staying overnight got their own gallery blankets and I drag one over to the far end, enough for any kid who needed assistance could find me but far away that I could be on my phone and not distract them.

Some time later another body joins me with his own blanket.

“Sorry,” Harry says as he sits.

“For what?” I play pretend. Just like these kids were doing tonight. What could you possibly be saying sorry for? What could I possibly feel entitled to you for? We’re just friends.

“For being weird earlier. I��well I have to tell you something and I’m being weird instead.”

My heart begins to thump in my chest.

“Tell me what?”

“So I’ve um…I’ve got a-“ Harry clears his throat. I glance up at him and he’s looking out towards the ceiling. “I have a girlfriend. I know we…we’re not…”

“Jeez Har,” even though ever atom inside of me is keeling over with something I can’t exactly examine yet, I play the joker. The friend. “If this is you telling me you’re getting serious with someone that’s all you have to say.”

“Really?” He turns to me and on the shiny hardwood floor so does half his body. I ignore how his knees feel pressing into mine. “You’re…okay?”

His voice is anything but casual.

“Yeah! It’s not like we’re a thing.”

Even still, I can’t say it. I die a little more.

“Yeah well I wasn’t expecting it. She’s the daughter of someone my dad knows? Pretty sure they orchestrated it but we went on a couple dates and then she asked…well she wanted to be exclusive I…”

“Well that’s good. For you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Thank god,” the air whooshes out of his lungs.

“I feel like I should be offended. You thought I was going to be mad or something?”

“No not mad…” he trails off. I look at his reaction and find him looking at me already. Even though it’s dark I can still see his eyes and they feel like they’re reading everything on my face. In a hushed tone he repeats himself, “not mad.”

I shrug, biting my lip hard to feel something other than the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Emotions I never thought would surface this strongly.

“I’m good. Actually I’m not good. I think that bottle we found was rubbish I’ve got to go toilet—“ I use his knee to pull myself up. “Save my spot.”

I walk away without sparing a glance back because my act is crumbling. I’m crumbling. And I don’t understand it.

If you asked me two weeks ago I would have gone on how fun it was to be with Harry but how the idea of being with him seriously would be weird. Would throw off our balance. But now I want to puke my guts in the toilet at the idea of having to let him go. Because he’s the one who moved on.

And as hard as I try tears still escape my lashline and make trails down my cheeks as I study myself in the brightly lit mirror. How could I be mad when we were just casual? How could I hate him if all he did was look for something serious. Someone serious.

Suddenly what had felt fun and mature feels childish and disposable.

I was disposable fun.

“Get it the fuck together,” I tell myself. “You’ve got nothing to cry over. You could get yourself a boyfriend too. He’s not your soulmate or something jeez.”

I blow my nose and give myself another pep talk before exiting the toilets back to where Harry waits for me.

“You alright?” He asks. A loaded question.

“Yeah. Regret doing this for the whole night though.”

“You could sleep. I’ll take first shift.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“Who gives a shit,” Harry tugs me so that I fall against his shoulder and it’s the worst thing in the world.

I don’t curl my arm through his like I might’ve before. Or cozy into his chest. I stay there like a stiff robot until sleep takes me. Even then it’s not long enough.

—1 month later—

I’m heading home after an uneventful day, ready to sink into bed and turn my brain off. These days my brain talked too much and I really wish there was an on/off switch for it.

“Um hiya?” A soft voice says as I exit the turnstile in the lobby. I turn towards the voice and it belongs to a sweet looking girl about my age with harsh features softened by a layered bob. On me it would look ridiculous but she looks like she was born to rock the style she was in.

“Hi,” the rule of thumb was even though you were clocked out if you exited from the lobby in work clothes and somebody stopped you, you had to help them. I’d forgotten to tuck my badge away today damnit.

“I’m waiting for someone? He hasn’t been answering his texts I was just wondering if-“

“You could ask reception?” I point to the desk behind her. “They can page who you need.”

“They weren’t really helpful,” she shrugs. “I’m assuming you work with him? Harry?”

It’s the last name I’m expecting from her lips. I nearly stumble back trying to take her in again with the new knowledge of who she might be.

“H-Harry?”

I’d heard her the first time. I’m just trying to grasp at a second to collect myself.

This must be his girlfriend. The one who wanted to be exclusive. And I hated that I’d liked her in our two minute interaction.

He hadn’t spoken much about her since he told me a month ago but since half of our relationship before her was being intimate, we barely talked and when we did it was mostly just work and the relationship felt really fragile and rough.

I could see what Harry saw in her—she was attractive. And not pushy; she let Joey at reception push her around which was hard to do. And she was meeting Harry here, at work. It must be getting serious.

All these thoughts race through my mind in a millisecond.

“Oh! Harry yeah,” I nod when she confirms. “Of course I know him. I think he was in a meeting might be why…I can go back in and check if you-“

“Oh no! Sorry I’m not trying to be a bother. You’re probably going home I just wanted to make sure he was still in?”

“Yeah! Yeah he’s in. I’ll tell Joey—reception, to page him if he’s out. He’s nicer than he seems.”

“That’d be perf,” she beams. I die a little more, unsure why I was helping her this much. Unsure why it bothered me this much.

Ever since Harry had ended the thing we didn’t have, my life had felt haunted. The ghosts of every emotion I killed in the moments we’d been together began to surface and they were torture. Biggest of all was regret and shame. Regret over what could have been if I’d just admitted how deeply I felt months ago. Shame because I wasn’t supposed to feel this way for Harry. Because he obviously didn’t feel the same way, he never would, and it would be embarrassing to ever admit it.

Our actual relationship had gone like this after that night—avoidance -> awkward small talk -> light bantering -> finally, being able to talk semi-normally again.

We stopped hanging out outside of work however, so every day I got to see him was a day I was excited to go into work. My friends told me I had to do something about it—confess and see what he says, or move on.

And I’d tried to move on. But every guy I tried to date didn’t hold a candle to the flame that warmed my heart; to the idiot I had the misfortune of falling for after we ended things.

Or maybe I was just the idiot.

And here I was self-sabotaging by helping his girlfriend. There was definitely something wrong with me.

“Elsie!”

Both our heads turn to the voice.

“There he is,” I say but she’s already squeezing my arm and walking towards him. Harry doesn’t realize I’m standing there and I watch him smile at her in a way that sends a spike to my heart. Then he notices me.

“Oh YN,” his eyelids flutter a few times too many. “Uh-“

“YN god sorry I didn’t even get your name,” Elsie turns back to me. “YN was helping me.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” Harry looks visibly relieved and flashes me a grin. I raise my brows and smile back.

Home. I had to get home.

“Well I figured Har already had a hard time finding a girlfriend, I didn’t want him to lose her so quickly. This isn’t even a very big place.”

Harry’s expression is unreadable but Elsie laughs.

“Very funny,” Harry responds.

“I know.” I gear myself up to say bye. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow, let you get to wherever you’re going. It was nice-“

“Well we’re just hanging out with some friends,” Elsie says.

“YN knows a few of them,” Harry says. I watch his eyes bug a little as he realizes he’s stepped onto a minefield and watch him back away smoothly. “Some of the younger crew go out for drinks sometimes.”

“Ah,” Elsie says as Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder from behind. He was laying it on thick but I don’t think Elsie noticed his hiccup. “Well why doesn’t she come!? YN you should join us! One more friend!”

“Oh I don’t think she wants to-“

“I was honestly just gonna go ho-“

I stop talking the same time Harry does.

“No you should!” Elsie says. “Don’t listen to Harry.”

I catch his eye and they’re saying please don’t.

Don’t tell me what to do, mine say.

Don’t be stubborn.

Challenge accepted.

“Ok! Maybe one drink.” I say as Harry huffs. It felt dangerous, having a non-verbal conversation in front of his girlfriend.

I was an idiot, I confirm. An idiot making bad decisions.

“Yay! Let’s go.” Elsie takes Harry’s hand and drags him to the front door. I nearly laugh at his face as he’s dragged past me—he was mad.

And it comes out a couple hours later. By then I’d had more than a single drink, have befriended most of the people I don’t know at the table and have caught up with those I do know. Harry had been mostly attached by the hip to Elsie and I tried not to stare daggers at it.

They’re an interesting couple, you can tell Harry is distracted most of the night and she tries to accommodate by being around and talking to him. He leaves a hand on her at all times but she doesn’t wrap herself around him the way I used to. Maybe she wasn’t touchy.

Maybe I was being obsessive.

So I distract myself with everyone, with drink, with a particularly cute boy who introduced himself as Elsie’s uni friend. Who happened to be brother’s with Harry’s old flatmate. Small worlds.

“YN,” Harry tugs my sleeve as Grant and I talk—if you can call heavy flirting just talking.

“What?!” I snap after the tugging gets aggressive.

“I need to talk,” He points to himself and then me, “to you.”

I could see he was well past tipsy. It wasn’t often Harry drank to this point so I follow him to find out what was going on.

I follow him to a patio table that had just been vacated, empty glasses littering the surface. An untouched shot sits in the middle. The tableau tells a story—art was everywhere.

“What?” I ask.

“What’re you doing?”

“What am I?” I laugh. “What are you doing? I think you’ve had a few drinks too many mate.”

“You’ve got drinks,” he replies.

“Yeah…” I look back at the half finished drink I left at the bar. “I did have more than I thought. I feel like I drink a lot more when there’s a lot of people around? Otherwise I’m just nursing my drink-“

“Why did you decide to come out tonight? When you’ve met my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

“When I’ve…what?! Your girlfriend invited me no thanks to you.”

“Yeah but you never come out anymore. And suddenly you want to come out when Elsie asks?”

“What d’you mean I never come out anymore?”

Harry sighs. “You stopped hanging out.”

“Yeah because you got a girlfriend? You stopped inviting me out!”

“No what? No! You’re always…it’s an open invitation I don’t need to specifically invite you out I-“

“So why did you invite me specifically before?” I call him out, feeling more sober than I was a few minutes ago. “You stopped inviting me. We stopped hanging out. And so I stopped inviting you when I went out cuz I thought you had a girl and I didn’t want to make it complicated I-“

My voice catches on an unfiltered emotion and I want to die. I feel heat creep up my cheeks as I try to swallow it down and hope Harry doesn’t notice. Fuck!

“Anyway your girlfriend invited me so I came! It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t…” Harry scratches his nose and looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to stop. I…it was complicated and I-“

“It’s fine. Whatever Har.”

“It’s not,” his brows come together. “Obviously s’not. I’m sorry? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

I almost laugh at what he’s said and how it sounds: I didn’t mean to make you feel. Well, neither did I.

“Yeah whatever. I’m not mad about it.”

“Sorry.” He says instead.

“Thanks,” I clear my throat for good measure, not wanting to be too emotional. I want to tell him I missed him but I don’t think it would be appropriate.

“I thought-“ he breaks off with a laugh. “Nevermind.”

“What?” I push him lightly. “You know I hate when people don’t finish their thought. It’s going to drive me crazy—what?”

“No this one you won’t like. Nevermind.”

“Tell meee,” I poke his shoulder until he slaps my hand away.

“Stop that! I hate when you do that!”

“I know.” I say smugly. “So?”

“It’s stupid. I thought you came here to annoy me or something. And then you’re practically sitting in Grant’s lap…”

He’s right. I wouldn’t like it.

“Hold on,” I bring my hand down on the table. “You thought I was flirting with Grant to annoy you? Why would I-what!?”

“Like I said,” he doesn’t make eye contact. “It was stupid. Nevermind!”

“No it’s not nevermind. You don’t drive what decisions I make in my love life.” Lie. “Got that?”

“Jeez you can’t get angry after forcing me to say!”

“I can!”

“Can you quit bitching I don’t have time for this.”

“I’ll be as big of a bitch as I want to be.” I cross my arms.

“Unfortunately, I know.”

“That’s a completely stupid thought to have-“

“Surely not all your thoughts are winners. That’s why you don’t say all of them.” Harry says, then laughs. “Actually you do. And I always have the displeasure of hearing all of them.”

My jaw drops. “It’s like you’re purposely saying the stupidest shit right now. Like you want to be a prick.”

“C’mon you little shite,” Harry tugs my arm until they uncross. “I’m joking, remember jokes?”

I want to say something snippy, tell him off, but as my arms fall away his hand slides down until the tips of our fingers brush. It makes me feel touch-starved, like I’d been isolated in the woods for the last two months growing crazy for human touch.

Harry senses the shift and his smile dies down, his throat bobbing up and down.

How was it that Harry, out of every man I’ve ever met and continue to meet, has this effect on me? How can one touch quiet my mind so completely while pushing my heart into overdrive.

Why, I want to ask the universe. Why was it this man in front of me that made me feel so intensely?

“YN,” he says.

I should pull away. I should because his fingers creep further now pressing into my palm. I want them to slide higher until they’re tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. I wanted him closer.

“I missed you,” it comes stumbling out. And the shock of it pulls me out of whatever trance I just found myself in.

I pull my hand away and Harry straightens up, his gaze clearing too.

“Sorry.” My heart is in my throat now. “Sorry. I didn’t—that was inappropriate. I’m gonna go back now…”

“Wait,” he calls out as I head back to Grant knowing my heart wasn’t in it anymore. That I was going home.

“Hm?” I try to blink away the shame as I turn back towards him.

“D-do you…regret anything?”

I raise a brow and he flushes. I was making this torture for both of us but I wanted him to ask.

Stupidly, I wanted him to know.

“Between us. I know we never…we’re just friends. But did you ever regret…us?”

I shake my head. “No. No. Never. It was some of the best times.”

It’s like I’ve said the wrong thing. His face falls and I decide I had to go. Had to. I was afraid what else might be spilled out between us.

I don’t even remember what I tell Grant, just that I grab any of my belongings that I can spot, ask him to throw his number into my phone, and hightail it out. And I nearly make it to the tube when a warm hand grips my arm.

“Get off—oh!” I nearly whack Harry with my purse but he ducks anyway. “What the fuck Har!?”

“Sorry. Sorry sorry!” He lets me go and I miss his warmth. “I didn’t realize!”

“Yeah! You can’t just grab a woman at night like that!”

“Obviously! I wasn’t thinking! I was just trying to get to you-“

“Why?”

“Bloody hell you know why YN!”

I stare at him. His face doesn’t hide a single thought, a single emotion. It’s vulnerable, and terrifying.

“Don’t take the piss.” He grabs my arms and gives me a shake. “You know. You know.”

“I-don’t do this. Har, you have a girlfriend. I don’t want to be that girl ok?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because that’s awful and-“

“No! Why didn’t you say anything when we were together? Any time we were together? When I told you I had a girlfriend? Why were you always so…cool?”

“Me? Cool?” I laugh. “There’s nothing cool about me Har.”

“Well you’re hard to fucking read then! I dunno! I was always leaving hints and signals that I actually liked you. And you always ignored them!”

“Hints? Signals?” I gape. “When the—what the hell do you call hints?!”

“I…I wanted you to meet my fucking parents for god’s sake. Did you really never-“

“If I’m hard to read so are you mate,” I lean against the closest thing—a mailbox. My legs are jelly. “Was that when you vaguely suggested I wake up in your bed while your parents were down?!”

“Fine well I bought you chocolates that one time, I’ve even got some of your tees in my room! I-I tried to plan romantic dates for us—Hampstead! I tried to tell you-“

“What?” I’m not asking him anything. I’m just questioning everything; everything I avoided and played off had meaning. Of course it did. Everything had meaning, but I’d just thrown our dictionary out the window so it would mean nothing. Because I was afraid.

“Really?!” Harry sighs. He crouches down and runs his hands through his hair. “Am I that bad? I thought I was making it so clear but you always brushed it off. I felt like an idiot for falling for you when it was just s’pose to be casual. I thought I was being a bloody simp.”

I inch down to where he crouches.

“You fell for me?” I whisper.

When he looks at me it’s with eyes that look like broken seaglass. With a mouth curved down so low that I want to kiss into a smile. Into a laugh.

He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. I give in to the sigh and his lips lift ever so slightly.

“How could I not?”

“I thought I drove you crazy?” I grasp his hand. “I thought I was just a fun distraction I-“

“I never said the second part.” He interrupts.

“You sure?”

“You were reading the wrong hints.”

I laugh and so does he. It almost turns into tears.

He stands and extends a hand that I take, his warm palm covering mine.

“Now’s when you return the confession,” he says without letting go. “So?”

“What? I’m not hiding any confessions!”

“Liar,” he tugs me close. “Your heart’s racing.”

“That’s from getting up so quickly.”

“You’re full of shite.”

We’re smiling so hard I’m sure we look like crazy people on the street.

But he had a girlfriend. Oh god. A sweet girl I’d just met today.

His expression grows confused as mine must turn to worry. I untangle myself.

“Harry…”

“I know.” He finally clues in.

“We can’t-“

“I know.”

We stare at each other for a heartbeat.

“I’m gonna go. Or else…”

“Just like that?” He asks.

“How else is it supposed to be?” I demand. “We can’t do this Har. And please…if you like her…respect her at all—don’t break up with her just to be with me. I wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”

“Then I’m just lying to her.”

“I…” I shrug. “I dunno. I just don’t want to be the reason for her heartbreak okay?”

“You’re being a sensitive snowflake. Breaking up with her is the right thi-“

“You can’t call people snowflakes-

“I can if that’s what they’re being-“

“I’m going home.” I tell him. It’s the last thing I want to do.

He opens his mouth with whatever quick retort he always had. But he must think twice about it. His face draws into a frown.

“Sort yourself out.” I instruct him. “Just sort it out. And then one day soon we can see…y’know.”

I half turn away, but can’t bear to leave without touching him one last time. Who knows when the next time will be. I flit to him so I can press my lips against the warmth of his cheek, so intoxicating. Like an addict only sniffing the alcohol in their cup. And when I feel his body loosening, about to hold my own, I flit away and rush into the tube without a glance back.

I don’t register anything on the ride home. I’m too shocked to even cry about it.

I wash the day away, the scent of him and the look on his face when he realizes we each had been trying to hold out own glaring neon signs to each other.

It’s late when there’s a knock on my door. I figure it’s my roommate forgetting her keys, and since I’d been laying on my bed in my towel after my shower too numb to sort myself out I end up opening the door basically naked.

It’s Harry.

His eyes roam over my terryclothed figure with a smile.

“What—what are you doing here!?” I grab the edge of my towel to keep it in place.

“Were you expecting someone else?” He asks.

“No-stop!” I push my hand into his chest as he crosses through the doorway. “Why are you here?”

His eyebrows draw together, hurt. “I…I didn’t think I was that drunk—we did just admit our feelings to each other a few hours ago right?”

“Yes but!” I put my hand down because his heart is beating fast under my hand and I don’t want to feel it a second longer. “You were also supposed to sort yourself out and-“

“Can you just let me in?”

I stare at him.

He stares back.

“Fine!” I give up and move aside. He closes the door behind him. That’s when I notice his hands. “What’s that?”

“For you.” He holds a bouquet up. “I know they’re shitty. I couldn’t find much at this time of night-“

“No hold on, I don’t understand.”

“We’ve wasted enough time throwing out shitty hints that apparently neither of us could read. We should never be detectives.”

I stay still, waiting for an explanation. Any bloody explanation as to why he’s here and not with his girlfriend!

“I went back to Elise. She knew something was wrong right away. I tried to deny it. She asked if something was going on between us-“

“God seriously Har! I said not to-“

“Did you want me to go back and pretend to be in love with her when I just had a fucking bomb go off in my life!? I know you don’t want to be that girl YN but I don’t want to be that shitty guy who stays with someone because he feels bad! What does that make me?”

I can picture Elise’s face in my mind. Oh god.

“She wasn’t mad-“

“You wish.” I snort.

“No she wasn’t. Well she was at first because she thought I was with you and her at the same time. I explained. I apologized. She got it. She…turns out she was still hung up over her ex. That she really liked me but she was mostly doing it to get her parents off her back. Because they never like who she dates. Which wasn’t a great thing to hear but…I’m pretty sure I saw her catching a cab as I was leaving. Maybe she went back to her ex.”

I’m dumbfounded with his retelling of what happened after I’d left.

“She’s okay. Are we?” He asks when I don’t reply.

The bouquet looks rough, like it was maybe clutched too hard and the flowers are nearing the end of their life. I imagine Harry rifling through a flower stand to find something for me. Coming here because he couldn’t wait.

I was kidding myself. I couldn’t wait either.

“Okay.”

“Okay??” He asks but he’s closing the distance because he’s reading me. He already knows me.

“Fine.” I say as he loops his arms around my waist. I stretch my arms up around his shoulders, clasping them at his neck. Something throbs deep in my chest. I missed him.

“I missed you,” he says. Always reading my mind.

“I didn’t know I could.” I say to him. His eyes are filled with a raw emotion that mirrors whatever’s aching in my chest.

“You’re like something from the gallery,” he cups my face. “Beautiful and original, breathtaking and you pass by it every opportunity you get just to get another glimpse. It makes you realize what you’ve been missing your whole life.”

“Aw Har,” my voice wobbles. If this was Harry when he was direct and not giving shitty hints I don’t know how I was going to survive us.

“What?” He whispers.

“You’ve got a soft side. You’re not actually a prick.”

His dimples make an appearance as he smiles. “I told you. I’ve just got standards don’t I.”

I wanted all of him—god how did I fool myself this whole time. I wanted all of him. He was just so lovely. “I think you’re going to ruin me,” I whisper back. His grin disappears and he tugs me ever closer.

“You’ve already ruined me.” He says. “I can’t look at any piece of art without thinking of you. I can’t go a day without wondering about you.”

“Is that healthy?” I murmur. My heart drums.

“Who the fuck cares about healthy?” He laughs.

We gaze at each other, the blood rushes through my body at high speeds.

“Mutual ruin?” I ask.

He responds with a kiss so passionate that I forget how to breath. I’m sure my towel was being held up by our bodies at this point.

“Mutual ruin. Or you can just ruin me.” His lips brush against my ear, feather down my neck. “I’m madly in love with you YN. There’s nobody but you.”

I don’t know whether to laugh from giddiness or cry from how my heart overflows.

“Har, I think I get the hint.” I say instead. He laughs.

“Fucking finally.”

💟💟💟💟

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #writingsfromhome #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #fic #harry styles one shot

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camzeecorner · 1 month ago

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𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙸𝚂 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙾 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶

the weekend had went by faster than what both you and chris had expected. it was filled with excitement and laughter the more time the two of you spent together. chris never thought he’d find the person who made him laugh so hard, or even make him feel seen. but he was wrong. Y/n showed chris more love then what he’d ever received in his entire life. two days was all it took to bring his smile back.

at least that what he thought. chris stood outside of the big doors of school, his feet shuffled against the pavement as he paced frantically around, trying to build the courage to walk in. it was silly how he felt almost unstoppable around you, but alone he just felt.. empty. like he wasn’t his own person capable of doing things himself.

he tried giving himself pep talks telling himself it was going to be okay, but nothing seemed to worked. he was nervous, he had his freedom and now it was over. he couldn’t just walk away, he needed to see you. he wanted to feel you again. it was something about you that made him feel so special, so here he was trying to overcome this darkness just for you.

chris stared at the glass doors watching as students walked pass through the halls, he bit down on his lips as he slowly shook his head. he had to do this, he needed to go in. why was it so hard, was he really just going to let them win. as more minutes rolled by chris only began to grow more and more angry with himself.

as chris inhaled a deep and sharp breath he tightly shut his eyes before swinging the large doors open. he could feel the cold air from inside come into contact with his body. he released his breath and he swallowed the spit that began to pool in his mouth.

slowly stepping forward he started to walk carefully in the halls. he was scared of course, he didn’t want to bump into anyone. but he felt a little less nervous with each step he took, feeling as confidence bounced from his body.

chris was feeling good, not perfect but better. he knew he had it in him to take his leap of faith. he knew if anything was to go wrong you’d be right there, waiting to fight his battles your friends put him through.

as chris turned the hallway he was met with the usual crowd of students. he eyes scanned the area not stopping till he seen your familiar face. just as he began to grow hopeless, he was met with your perfect face. you were laughing at something your friend had said, you’d never looked more beautiful.

feeling his feet move faster than his mind he began to speed walk towards you. his breath was heavy and his bag thumped against him with each step. just as he was close enough to call out to you his body collided with the floor. a small thud sound was heard making some students turn to see what had happened.

chris groaned in pain as he turned to the side clutching his stomach. his face scrunched up as he felt his stomach sting with pain. “..ow..” was all chris was able to make out. the small noise made the voice above him let out a small chuckle. as chris rolled to the side on his body he looked up with teary eyes being met with none other but his biggest bully.

“sturniolo.. when you gonna learn to stay out of my way?” the rough voice shrieked. laughter erupted as the group formed a circle around the town of them. chris’s eyes shifted as he tried to find you in the crowd. he watched as your face fell with sadness. he hopes you’d step in, be the better person.

he watched as you turned your head keeping your focus on anything but him. chris could feel as more tears filled his vision. the absence of your eyes made him feel as a knife was plunged into his heart. he wasn’t sure if he was being dramatic, he didn’t really care.

“and i promise you’ll never have to hurt again. it’s me and you chris..”

your words spun around swarming his mind. he was so hurt, you lied to him. you made him feel protected. but here you were avoiding the sight of his public beating. he could feel as his stomach tighten , his air felt like it was being cut from him.

he felt as the hot tears ran down his face unable to stop them. he didn’t care who saw. he was hurt, beyond hurt. he trusted you, and you betrayed him. he let himself get blinded by the love you showed him, how you made him feel good. just as quick as it came it was ripped away from him.

“aw look at the freak crying..” he heard above. he hesitated as he tuned his head meeting the gaze of all the laughing students. he felt humiliated and embarrassed. he couldn’t help but quickly grab all his items before making a quick run towards the exit.

he ran fast and didn’t stop, allowing his feet to carry him through the town. his breath was heavy panting as his chest burned with sorrow. slowing his movements he placed his hands on his hips trying to gain his composure. feeling the tears well in his eyes once more his mind replayed the scene again and again.

he couldn’t hold back the sobs that spilled from his mouth. he cried hard as spit dribbled down his chin onto his shirt. he began choking on his own cries as he felt his body fall. he wasn’t being dramatic, he was broken. it was hard for him everyday.

he just knew one thing. he never wanted to hear from you again.

special au tags - @maliaforstvrns @whore4mattsturniolo @thecrawlys @mattslolita @eeyoresturnz @emely9274 @cass-sturn @sturnsfavxo @st4rsturns @delilahsturniolo @oopsiedaisydeer @ikyoudreamofme @exactlygloriouscycle

reply to this post to be added to this AU’s tag list! - regular tag list too!!

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surlydragon · 5 months ago

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And everything that is now already existed then | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: Sylus shows you his favorite parts of his house, you are haunted by a strange feeling of familiarity, you spend some time with the twins and Noah, you learn about the bet they have going, no this is not a wattpad bet story that will be turned into a multi-part tv series even though i love that trope so much, the self control i exerted should be acknowledged if not praised. This part has less humor than other parts, I've been in a contemplative mood recently, sorry. Part 17 of the Sylus series. Notes: Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person POV, some Sylus POV. They/them pronouns are used to refer to reader as a placeholder for your preferred pronouns. The slowest of slow burns friends-to-lovers. This story contains: angst, fluff, banter, poetry, questions of morality, video game violence, discussions of real life violence, profanity, alcohol mention, self-harm mention, mc with self-esteem and guilt issues.

The water is warm. The man underneath you is warm. Your heart, you realize, is also warm. Quiet. Nothing hurts. You marvel at the feeling. How long can you get away with this? Plastered against Sylus’s big body, his rough hands just resting on your back. You feel guilty for keeping him from doing something else. For not being at work. For doing absolutely nothing useful to anyone. For feeling so good.

Sylus holds you, seemingly content to just sit here with you as the water laps against the sides of the pool.

“Don’t you have business to attend to?” you reluctantly ask, because you’re incapable of just trusting that good things can last. That the fulfillment of your deepest desires won’t be snatched away when you least expect it, so you push, push, push, seeking the weakness that will ultimately crack and cause the moment, finally filled, to break.

Sylus holds you a little tighter. “No.”

You wait, but he doesn’t elaborate. You should just accept it. Just enjoy this moment. All you have in this life is each moment—that’s all there is. Why can’t you just experience each one, savor it, suck it dry, until the next? Why must you always waste the pleasure of each moment by being in such a rush to get to the inevitable end?

But you can’t just accept it. You don’t know how. Your whole life has taught you that the moment you trust the permanence is the moment that the moment shatters. Might as well ruin it first, instead of fearing the end. And who are you to complain? What have you done to deserve it in the first place?

“Business slow in the Onychinus economy?” you ask.

“Tch,” he responds, seemingly indignant at the mere suggestion that his business isn’t printing him money even as he canoodles in a hot tub with you. “Business is booming, darling. The human capacity for cruelty is an endlessly growing market.”

You press your cheek harder against the sweaty skin just under his collarbone. You don’t want to think about what he offers people to enable that endless cruelty right now.

“Then how do you have the luxury of lazing about with me?”

“I’ve tasked Aidan with handling business that requires executive decisions for the foreseeable future. As much as it annoys me, I will likely have to answer calls like this morning, but I’ve informed him that I will not be leaving the base unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

You lift your head, curious. He looks down at you, relaxed, eyes glowing in the low light from the pool.

“Why?”

One corner of his beautiful mouth lifts. “Guess.”

You stare at him. He’s taking time off, not pursuing new deals, not focusing on growing his wealth… for you? Ridiculous.

“What will you do while you’re not doing business?” you ask, not able to bring yourself to guess out loud that he took time off for you, to spend time with you while you’re staying with him.

“What do you want to do?” He runs his fingers along your temple, brushes a lock of hair behind your ear, traces the shell of it with a fingertip.

“That’s not an answer,” you say, softly.

“Yes, it is.”

You can’t believe it. The man who is always on the go, from one deal to the next, disappearing for weeks at a time, doing who knows what, who knows where—the man who probably gets bored out of his mind while instigating a riot—says that he just wants to do whatever you want to do. You, whose idea of excitement is a new pair of sleep pants and a night off to watch let’s plays of horror games that you don’t have the time and energy to play yourself anymore.

“You can’t mean that.” You frown at him.

“Try me,” he challenges.

You try to think of something that he’d hate just to prove your point that he doesn't actually mean it when he says he’ll do whatever you want.

“Oh, kitten’s plotting,” he snickers after seeing your expression.

“I want to watch every Justin Bieber documentary ever produced,” you say defiantly. You really don’t. But you’re sure he’ll balk at this outrageous suggestion.

He shrugs a little. “Okay. We can see if they’re on demand in the theater room. If not, I’m sure we can pirate them.”

You narrow your eyes. He can’t mean it. Fuck, if he’s going to call your bluff, you’re going to have to actually sit through who knows how many hours of Justin Bieber: Our World. You barely suppress a shudder.

“Actually, I want to fly to a warm seaside resort and swim with dolphins,” you try, the picture of casual entitlement. You do not want to do this. You’re fucking tired. The last thing you want to do is get on an airplane.

“Dolphins can be as vicious as humans, but if you really want that, we can pack some things now and be on our way by dinner,” he says calmly. As if the suggestion isn’t utterly outrageous.

Is he being as petty as you, intent on not admitting that he didn’t actually mean it when he said he would do whatever you want, or does he actually want to do whatever the fuck you want? You can’t read him at all right now.

You’re desperate and stubborn. “Actually, I think the amusement park in Linkon City is having a furry event all week. I’d like to dress up as our respective fursonas and ride the roller coasters all day.”

Sylus doesn’t even blink. “Do you have a fursuit already, or do we need one tailored before we can go?”

You laugh in disbelief and rest your forehead on his shoulder. “What about you? Do you have a fursuit already?”

“No, I don’t have a fursuit, because I’m not a fucking furry,” he says drily. “But I do think I’d make a very majestic caracal cat. Which goes nicely with your kitten fursona.”

You blink. “That's quite self-aware of you." And then you scowl. "My fursona wouldn’t be as lame as a kitten.”

“Oh? What animal do you think accurately portrays your personality?”

You lift your head and think. You’ve never really thought about it. Something small and mean, probably. “A mongoose.”

He tilts his head, considering. “That actually fits you quite well. Good at hunting snakes, and very, very cute.”

You can feel yourself blushing. “Yeah, well. I’m not a furry, so it doesn’t matter even if it doesn’t fit,” you mumble a little.

“And yet you want to go to the furry event at the amusement park,” he lifts an eyebrow.

You stare at him, mulishly. You’re not going to admit that you’re trying to poke holes in his patience because you can’t trust nice things.

“But I don’t think that’s what you actually want to do,” he continues, with a gentleness that hurts your heart. He urges you to wrap your legs around his waist. “When I said you could test me, this is not exactly what I had in mind,” he teases. “How about you test me by telling me what you actually want to do, and then you’ll see that I mean what I say when I refrain from complaining about being bored while we do them?”

You wrap your arms around his neck as he stands gracefully, the water sliding down both your bodies. “I don’t want you to just not complain about being bored,” you argue. “I don’t want you to be bored at all. You don’t have to entertain me while I’m here. You can do whatever you really want to do.” You mean this. It’s enough, just being in the same house as him right now. Knowing that in the evening he’ll end up in the same bed as you. You don’t want him to tire of you too quickly by insisting that he spend every moment with you.

“Then I repeat—what do you want to do?”

Okay. Okay, he asked for it.

“Show me your favorite things to do at home, when you’re not being a warlord.”

He looks surprised. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. I’m really tired. I never get a chance to just relax. I don’t want to go anywhere, or do anything exciting.” You bite your lip, unwilling to admit that you’re desperate to learn more about him and that worried he’s going to think you’re boring.

He leans forward and catches the side of your lip not caught in your own teeth with his. With your lip between his sharp teeth, he pulls back, gently, until you release it from your own. He pauses, inhales, and then lets go, licking your bitten lip with a quick, soothing flick of his tongue.

“That’s my spot,” he murmurs, pulling back.

Your brain is offline. You have no idea what you were just talking about, or what just happened. All you can feel is the slick of his saliva on the plush of your lip.

Fuck.

You want to fuck him so badly.

You search his face. Can he tell? Does he feel the same way? He touches you like this, and then does nothing. What does he want?

If he can tell what’s going on in your head, he doesn’t comment on it. “Then we can stay home. I’ll show you what I like to do when I’m tired and don’t want to do anything exciting.” His faint smile is tinged with self satisfaction.

“Okay,” you choke out. You will not slide down his body, push him onto the soft moss, and jump on him.

“But first, I will feed you.” The tendrils of his evol bring the fluffy towels to his waiting hand, and he wraps one around you, all while you cling to his torso. He just drapes the other around his shoulders, over your arms still wrapped around his neck. His evol then ferries the two cocktails that remained untouched for the whole time you were in the hot tub, following you back through the pool room and into the chill hallway as Sylus carries you to the kitchen. Between the heat of Sylus’s body and the towels blanketing you, you’re still warm. You watch the drinks following you over his shoulder, and then glance at him.

At your look, he says, “What? It would be a shame to let perfectly good drinks go to waste.”

“What time is it? Don’t you think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

He shrugs. “It’s probably past midnight, sweetheart. That’s when one normally drinks alcoholic beverages, isn’t it?”

You sigh. “So it’s basically noon in your day-night cycle.”

“Time is a construct, and inherently meaningless,” he says serenely.

After this insufferable response, you give up trying to save his liver for the moment.

Later, after Sylus serves you a meal packed with protein that pairs nicely with the cocktails as the fire crackles pleasantly and the clouds, reflecting the N109 Zone’s bright lights even at night, sweep across the sky outside his kitchen windows, after you’ve showered and put on warm, comfortable clothes, you find him in the sitting area of his bedroom, reading a book, the Beatles playing on his record player. You recognize the song— The long and winding road.

You stop, suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sense of sorrow. He looks up from his book and watches you curiously.

You left me standing here, a long long time ago

You feel like you’re forgetting something very, very important. Like your dream last night, but not about your family. About the man watching you inquisitively, his long, graceful fingers holding the book gently, the outline of his aquiline nose limned in the soft lighting of his bedroom.

Don’t leave me waiting here, lead me to your door

You suddenly can’t bear to be separated from him for one more second. You pad to him on your freshly bandaged feet, knock the book out of his hand, clamber into his lap, and hug him.

His arms come around you as if he doesn’t mind that you’ve just bulldozed your way onto his lap. After a few minutes, the song ends, and a new, more upbeat one begins.

You feel like you can breathe again.

You sit up, looking down into his face. You want to kiss him so badly. You’re afraid that he’ll gently push you away, as he pushed your hand away from the tie of his sleep pants that you were fiddling with recently. With such kindness, but a loud, resounding rejection of what he perceived to be you offering your body to him.

He’ll bite your lip, but you’re so scared that he doesn’t want to kiss you. Sometimes it seems like he wants you, you, not just a body, not just anyone praising him or challenging him, but you. Do you really still not know? My beloved is perfect to me.

But what if you’re wrong? What have you done to earn this incredible man's devotion?

“Will you tell me what you’re thinking right now, without the guessing game?” he asks softly.

You shake your head. “No. And I don’t want to play the guessing game right now.” You can’t bear to think about what you may be forgetting as you look into his blood-bright eyes. You can’t bear to reveal how badly you want to kiss him, only to be rebuffed.

“Not even a hint?” He nudges your nose with his. “Otherwise I’ll spend every free moment sitting around reading, listening to classic rock music.”

You look at him in confusion. “Why?”

“It seemed to work in luring a kitten into my lap this time. Maybe it works every time.”

Your heart is doing something funny. It doesn’t hurt. It feels… it feels so fucking warm. Like in the hot tub. What is happening to you?

“The music made me sad,” you offer this truth, as a reward for his sweet response.

“Not a fan of the Beatles?” He fiddles with the hem of your shirt, his knuckles brushing against your skin underneath.

“I do like their music. My gran used to listen to them a lot.”

“Is that what made you sad?”

You give him a look. “I said I didn’t want to play the guessing game.”

“I’m just asking questions,” he protests, the picture of innocence. “Is it a crime to want to get to know you?”

You gaze at him. Weren’t you just thinking about how you’re desperate to know everything about him? “Not one I’d arrest you for,” you say, looking down, smiling a little.

He laughs softly. “Lucky me. It would be hard to uphold my end of our deal and show you the music room, the library, and my favorite part of the greenhouse from behind bars.”

“That sounds like a busy itinerary,” you say, lifting a finger, tracing his clavicle revealed by his soft v-neck sweater.

His knuckles sweep over your skin just above the band of your soft pants.

“We have time—we don’t have to do everything today. Which one do you want to see first?”

You don’t care. Your heart is being weird and Sylus is touching you, and you’re touching Sylus. You could just sit here, forever, and enjoy whatever this… feeling is. But you’re afraid you’ll ruin it. Like you always do. If you take too much, he will actually get bored. You should pick one.

“Library,” you say firmly.

“As you wish,” he says, standing, holding you all the while. You can’t bring yourself to protest. You can walk on your own feet. Your feet already feel a little better after just a day. But he’s warm. And he doesn’t seem to mind at all. You drape yourself over him, and let him carry you through the dark halls to his library.

He sets you down outside one of the ubiquitous black doors, and then opens it for you.

His library, like the greenhouse, the pool, the room like a mountain hot spring, is lovely in a way that the rest of his house simply isn’t. Soaring ceilings, heavy built-in wooden bookcases lining the walls, a huge fireplace, electric as opposed to the wood-fireplace from the kitchen, at one end of the room. A wrought iron spiraling staircase leads up beyond the heavy wooden rafter beams to a space you can’t see. Deep red, plush rugs in antique designs hush your footsteps. Plush, deep seated chairs and loveseats, side tables with Tiffany lamps gently illuminate the space. One wall of his preferred floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the N109 Zone night, the red moon bright in the sky as the clouds scuttle past.

It’s like a library from an old, prestigious university. The kind of university you always wished you could have gone to, if you lived in another world. If this world didn’t need people prepared to kill and die for existential threats to humanity. Where you could study something functionally useless, but enriching to the human experience. Like French literature or poetry. The room smells of wood oil, old paper.

You turn in a circle and find Sylus leaning against a bookcase, watching you take in the room. “This is one of your favorite spots in the house?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s quiet. The twins aren’t big readers, so they don’t come in here. It’s a good place to think, and concentrate.”

“Have you read every book in here, like you’ve seen every film in your collection?”

He straightens from the bookcase and walks to you. As he comes to a stop in front of you, he reaches for your face, holds your cheeks gently in his hands. “No. This room is more about the future. Books I’d like to read when life is a little less busy. I’ve read some, but not as many as I would like.”

“Do you think that someday your life will be less busy?”

“If I have my way, yes.”

“And you’ll spend your days quietly reading in the solitude of your lovely library?”

“Not in solitude. But yes. You think it’s lovely?”

You look at him strangely. Didn't he just say he enjoys it because it's quiet and no one bothers him here? “Of course I do. It’s like someone designed it just for me.”

He looks down into your face, thumbs brushing across your cheekbones.

“Like I said. This room is about the future.”

You tilt your head at his non-sequitur. What does your loving the library have to do with his quieter future?

It almost sounds like…

The moment is full. You refuse to shatter it by considering such outrageous thoughts. You will enjoy this moment for what it is. A peek into the mind of this enigmatic man. The opportunity to explore a beautiful, private space in his home.

“Read to me,” he orders, striding to one of the soft couches and plopping down.

You snort. “What do you want me to read you, your spoiled highness?”

“Anything you want. Look around, pick something that catches your interest.” He lets his head drop onto the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded as they follow you walking to one of the bookcases, as you let your fingertips run along the spines of book after book. You see a lot of titles you don’t recognize. You see a lot that you do—classics as well as newer publications. You and Xavier spend enough time in the bookstore that you know a lot of titles by sight, even if these days you rarely have the time to read beyond the manga you share with your partner.

Your eyes catch on a familiar title.

“Oh,” you breathe.

“Find something?” Sylus asks languidly.

“One of my favorite poets. Gran had a copy of this.” You pluck the book from the shelf and walk back over to where Sylus is sprawled on the couch. The moonlight through the windows makes his eyes look even brighter than usual, glowing in the soft light.

“You’re a fan of poetry?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“Don’t act so surprised. I’m not entirely uncultured.”

“Your manga collection could have fooled me,” he teases.

“Manga is art. You’re a pretentious fool if you can’t recognize that.”

“No need to get your knives out, kitten,” he smiles, one sharp tooth peeking from behind his full lip. “I have a collection of manga here as well.”

“You do?”

He just steadily stares at you.

“Where?”

He closes his eyes. “Guess you’ll have to stay long enough to explore and find it.”

You stand over him, drinking in the sight of him. Surrounded by the scent of books, polished wood, the moon’s red light rendering him slightly otherworldly.

You want to stay long enough to find out. It’s only been two days, and you want to live in this moment forever. You're so greedy. You're so unworthy.

“Still want me to read to you?”

Instead of answering, the tendrils of his evol wind up from your ankles to your waist, lift you, deposit you on the seat next to him. He scoots down, places his head in your lap.

“You could have just said yes,” you say drily. “No need to be dramatic.”

“I don’t hear any reading. Chop chop.”

Oh hell no. You scowl down at him, but his eyes are closed. “Lap service costs extra.”

“Good thing I’m filthy rich.”

You scoff. “I don’t want your money.”

He opens his eyes. “I suspected as much. It makes taming you all the more difficult.”

You look at him curiously. “Is that what you’re doing? All of your generosity, in order to acquire a tame hunter?”

“What use is a tame hunter?” He dismisses your suggestion. “Your imagination is distressingly limited.”

“Once again, I disappoint,” you murmur. He clearly isn’t in the mood to answer your questions.

He tsks and closes his eyes again, wiggles a little to get more comfortable in your lap. “Make up for it by reading your favorite poetry to me.”

You want to lean down and kiss the smug look off of his face. You don’t want him to turn away if you do.

You begin to read.

“Try to praise the mutilated world.

Remember June's long days,

and wild strawberries, drops of rosé wine.”

He interrupts you. “I see why you like Zagajewski. Someone else who shares your taste in middling wine.”

“No comments until the end, thank you,” you jostle his head by bouncing your thigh a few times.

He scowls, places one big hand on your thigh and presses down. “Stingy. This should be interactive storytelling.”

You ignore the howling need in you to grab his hand, to guide it further up your leg. You continue to read.

“The nettles that methodically overgrow

the abandoned homesteads of exiles.

You must praise the mutilated world.

You suddenly think of the N109 Zone and all of its misery. Paying the price of some shitty corporation’s greed. But you keep reading.

You watched the stylish yachts and ships;

one of them had a long trip ahead of it,

while salty oblivion awaited others.”

You pause, thinking about Sylus’s wealth, the wealth of people like him, and everyone else. The yachts, versus the ships that will sink.

“That’s not the end. Why have you stopped?” Sylus's voice jerks you out of your thoughts.

“You know this poem?”

“I own the book, don’t I?”

“You said you hadn’t read everything in here.”

“Point,” he concedes. “But yes, I know this poem. I’m also an admirer of the poet.”

You think about him calling you kindred spirits, when you first met. How angry that idea made you. Now, you want to lean down and kiss him. You shake your head a little. You keep reading.

“You've seen the refugees going nowhere,

you've heard the executioners sing joyfully.

You should praise the mutilated world.

Remember the moments when we were together

in a white room and the curtain fluttered.”

Sylus interrupts you again. “I always liked the imagery of the moments spent together, the simplicity of the white room, the curtain fluttering. What more can one desire, when at their love’s side?”

You don't think you've ever heard him say something so romantic. But why would you have? You're not in a romantic relationship with him. Your heart doesn't seem to understand that fact—something inside you thrills that his idea of romance mirrors yours so closely. But his focus on the gentle moment, instead of the rest of the poem, strikes you as strange. “That’s what you see? Not the lovers enjoying simplicity, safety, while the refugees are going nowhere, and the executioners are singing joyfully?”

“The point of the poem is that you must wrest joy from an imperfect world where you can. You’re not helping the condemned by moping about their fate.”

“Is that the point? Perhaps the point is that all you can do is try to praise the mutilated world, but it’s fruitless. If that were the point, he would have entitled it 'Praise the mutilated world,' not 'Try to praise the mutilated world.' ‘Trying’ isn’t succeeding—try all you want, but it’s impossible to praise the world as it is. Better to use your yacht to save those drowning in the salty oblivion.”

“Idealist,” Sylus scoffs, as if the label is a profanity instead of a compliment.

You jostle his head again. “Cynic,” you retort.

“You’re not done,” he sniffs, closing his eyes again.

You resist the urge to buck your hips in order to dump him on the floor. You read again.

“Return in thought to the concert where music flared.

You gathered acorns in the park in autumn

and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.

Praise the mutilated world

and the gray feather a thrush lost,

and the gentle light that strays and vanishes

and returns.”

You finish, filled with a strange feeling. You’ve loved this poem ever since the first time you read it with the sunshine gushing into your gran’s living room on a slow summer day. As you grew, you loved it for different reasons, for its ambiguity, its hope and its resignation, its acknowledgment of the horrors of life and its simple pleasures. It always felt familiar to you, but the specific imagery reading it this time around is familiar in a way that feels concrete.

You think about the gray feather, the light that strays and vanishes and returns. You think about the feeling while listening to the Beatles, that you’re forgetting something important. You think about Sylus’s casual dismissal of the suffering of others.

Calling suffering fate seems like a convenient excuse to you. Why bother trying to make the world better, if fate deems that it should be miserable?

You think about sipping the rosé, biting the strawberry Sylus offered you. Your curtains fluttering in the breeze in your room, when Sylus has come to your place at night. These things you have enjoyed, as people suffer beyond the safety of your apartment and Sylus’s fortress walls.

“Stop torturing yourself, darling,” he says through your racing thoughts. He turns his head, presses his lips against your thigh, inhales deeply. It’s not a kiss, but you feel the press of his mouth through the fabric of your pants as if it were. You resist the urge to spread your thighs further.

“Should I read another?” you ask quietly. You don’t want to think about these things. You want to live in the moment. What kind of person does that make you? The desire to ignore the cost of this pleasure, your enjoyment of Sylus's home, proves that you don’t deserve it.

“Of course,” he says, but his phone vibrates in his pocket. He grunts unhappily as he reluctantly sits up, sliding the phone from his pocket. “Keep exploring,” he says, heading to the door. “I’ll try to make this quick.”

So you do. Wandering amongst the books, finding other titles that are your favorites, but so many that you’ve never read, never heard of. Many of them are not in your native language. You wonder how many languages Sylus speaks.

After a surprisingly short amount of time, he returns. "Read more to me," he orders, sprawling on the couch once more.

You look back at him, admiring the wrought-iron staircase spiraling up, the moon through the windows, his long, strong body casually stretched along the couch.

“Can we light the fire?”

“Of course. Fire," he says, and the fireplace flares to life at his command. You wonder if such a system is in place in each room. You wander back to the couch, and he pulls you down. You read him the rest of the poems from this collection, arguing here and there, learning his favorite parts, both matching and diverging from your own. Until your stomach growls, causing him to nuzzle it, insist on taking you to the kitchen and feeding you another meal. After you're once again full, he offers to show you the conservatory.

“Okay,” you say, relaxed, satisfied. He wraps his arms around you, lifts. You let him, wrapping your legs around his waist. You think about a gentle light that strays and vanishes and returns. What are you forgetting?

He takes you to the music room. It’s behind another black door. You would never be able to guess, walking through his solemn hallways, each expansive room unfolding behind each uniform door.

As you walk into the beautiful space, you’re struck with the realization that Sylus’s home is strange in many ways, and not just because it serves as both his home and his fortress, an armory and an indoor playground. The halls are winding and despite the height of the ceilings on each floor, they’re oppressive. There is no open floor plan for the house itself. Each room’s door can be closed, barricaded, turning the room within into a bunker. But behind each door, each room fans out, soaring windows, high ceilings, glass giving way to a savage view of the harsh landscape in a way that renders even the ugliness of the N109 Zone beautiful in a stark, barren-planet kind of way. You suspect that the glass is bullet-proof. You wonder what kind of impacts it can withstand beyond firearms. Could it survive a thrown grenade? A direct strike from a drone? Would anyone dare actually wage a full-on assault on the leader of Onychinus’s home?

“Not even the greenhouse rendered you speechless, kitten. Does that mean you like it, or hate it?”

You blink. You had been so busy wondering about the strategic choices of Sylus’s architectural design that you hadn’t even begun admiring the metal support beams, curling like vines in a distinct art nouveau style between multiple panes of glass, each meeting at the pinnacle of a glass ceiling. Two of the larger glass panes are not the standard window glass, but are stained glass, continuing the art nouveau theme, depicting colorful curls of plants, flowers, as well as animals—beasts from mythology, dragons, phoenixes, winged chimeras. Luscious potted plants scattered along the white marble floor. A white grand piano sitting in the center of the circular space. Instruments of all kinds, from all parts of the world, hung or resting on more organically wrought metal display mounts along two-thirds of the glass walls. A seating area, filled with comfortable, low furniture, carved blond wood in flowing, plant-like designs, sits between the piano and the view of the landscape through the clear glass, framed by the murals of stained glass.

It’s breathtaking. But you’ve had your breath taken by the greenhouse, the pool, the room with the hot tub, the library. Each in a distinctly different style from the rooms of the house that see daily use by their owner: Sylus’s bedroom. The kitchen. The hallways. The imposing dining room and its equally imposing banquet table. The cave-like theater room. Each dark—black marble, maroon accents, deeply masculine, modern, abstract art. But the rooms that have taken your breath instead of making you feel oppressed are so startlingly different from Sylus’s often-used spaces.

You can’t accept the moment. You can’t stand not knowing, even as you are afraid to know. You have to ask. “I don’t understand,” you say, turning to him.

He glances around the room, and then looks back at you. “It’s a home conservatory, sweetheart. Not a trick question.”

You ignore him. Your curiosity will eat you alive if you don’t ask him. You want to know. You don’t want to know. “Why does it feel like two different people designed your house?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Half of your house is edgy, big-dick rich vampire man-cave, and half is this,” you sweep an arm to indicate the delicate yet sturdy steel beams, organically curving into the height of the room, the chairs carved like palms, stained glass, the lush vegetation.

“Can one person not appreciate more than one style of home decor?” he asks, walking over to you, winding an arm around your waist.

You stare at him. Nothing Sylus does is by accident. You know this much by now. You know a lot about him by now. You don’t know enough about him by now.

“The parts of the house you spend the most time in reflect your style. But the other parts… the parts that wait for an owner that rarely comes. Did you choose the design yourself? Or did you let your architect run wild?”

His smile is faint as he gazes down at you. “How very observant of you, darling. But I designed every room in this house. The architect modified the plans where necessary to ensure the structural integrity was sound, but I chose the decor.”

You wait. It sounded like he ended that sentence with a ‘but.’

“You’re right. I didn’t have just my preferences in mind as I was planning each room.”

You want to know. You don’t want to know. What if you’re wrong? The very idea is insane. Presumptuous. How could he possibly know? You only met him a few months ago. This base isn’t newly built. You have no idea how long I’ve already waited, his voice whispers through your mind.

“Whose preferences did you have in mind?” you ask, your heart doing that thing again. That weird thing that doesn’t hurt but scares you with how good it feels. Don’t leave me waiting here, lead me to your door.

His smile widens, just a little. “Do you really not know?”

You can’t process this. How could he have known?

It’s like these oases in his dark fortress of a home were designed with your deepest heart’s desires in mind.

You want to kiss him. You want to resonate with him again. You want to drop to your knees in front of him.

The enormity of your feelings is terrifying.

What if you’re wrong?

How much worse will it be, if you let yourself believe, and he turns you away. What if he designed all of this for someone else. Because how could he have known, before you met just a few months ago—how could he have known the contours of your tastes, the things that make you most comfortable, the yearning of your heart in your small apartment, of what you’d give yourself if you could ever afford to make your home exactly how you would want? A refuge from the harsh world. Space to breathe.

Your feelings are choking you. You step away from his embrace, turn. You have time. He said he’ll wait. You focus on this room.

It’s beautiful. Because of course it is. You don’t recognize even half of these instruments.

You turn back to him. He has moved to the piano, straddling the white bench, legs spread, just watching you.

“Do you know how to play all of these?”

He shakes his head. “No. Most of these are collector’s items, antiques. But I do know how to play the piano.”

You stand, resisting the constant pull towards him. You want to go to him, run your hands through his hair, tug his head back, expose his throat, bite.

“Only the piano?” You satisfy your need to move by walking over to the sitting area, forcing yourself to sit away from him. You need to control yourself. You plop down on one of the beautiful chairs, carved like a ginkgo leaf.

He turns, sitting properly on the bench in order to face you, and opens the cover over the piano keys. He leisurely presses down on one key, and the note resounds through the lovely room.

“I can also play the organ,” he murmurs, before beginning to play in earnest.

You don’t recognize the piece. You know you’ve never heard it before. But the longer he plays, the more you’re overcome with the sense that you know it. The blood under your skin, your lungs, your bones—you feel pulled to him, to his long fingers sweeping over the keys, unseen from your vantage point in the room. You know what’s coming, the crescendos and the pauses. It’s beautiful. It hurts. Your thoughts drift to the poem. Its strawberries, its rosé wine. Its familiarity. Return in thought to the concert where the music flared. You want to ask Sylus if he owns a yacht. You’re convinced that there will be a park, and acorns, and you will pick them up and offer them to him on a sunny summer morning after a long, long night. It has already happened. It will happen in the future.

You can’t resist the pull any longer. You stand and walk over to him, stand next to him at the bench. His hands hypnotize you. Big. Rough. Delicately pressing the keys—sure, confident, flowing. Like his evol. Like him.

“Sit,” he orders, and you obey, sliding in next to him. You try to give him space, but he takes one hand, still playing with the other, and pulls you by the waist until you’re shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

You watch his hands, lost in the moment, lost in the feeling of recognition, of … something. That warm feeling in your heart, threaded with the pain of having lost something that you can’t remember.

Slowly, the piece comes to an end. His hands become still on the keys.

“What song was that?” you ask.

He flicks his eyes to yours.

“It doesn’t have a name.”

“Who composed it?” You hope that perhaps you can track it down later and listen to it again when Sylus isn’t around.

“Me,” he says, turning his head to look at you.

Wait, what?

“It’s already shocking enough that you play, but when do you have the time to compose?”

He lifts one of your hands and threads his fingers with yours. “Why so shocked that I have hobbies, like anyone else?”

“I just figured you’re always too busy with murder, mayhem, and munitions to have hobbies like a normal person,” you squeeze his hand as it swallows yours.

“I don’t have a lot of free time, but when I do, I like to spend some of it practicing and composing. Sometimes when I’m bored during business meetings I compose a little in my head and then write it out when I get home.”

At your incredulous look, he flicks your forehead gently with his free hand. “What would you have guessed that I spend my free time doing if it occurred to you that I do not, in fact, work in every waking moment?”

You consider it. “I would have assumed you spend all your free time hanging out in your shady nightclubs.”

He frowns at you. “I own classy nightclubs because they make me money and provide convenient venues for business deals now that I no longer host such deals in my own home. I do not spend any more time in them than necessary.”

“Is that what you meant when you said that Amnesia isn’t really your vibe?”

“You remember,” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Even though it feels like weeks ago, you did just tell me that like, two nights ago,” you flick his forehead in revenge.

“Fair point,” he concedes. “All right, then, yes. That’s what I meant.”

“So what is your vibe?”

“Curious, kitten?”

“Yes.” That warm feeling you have is overriding your fears of admitting this to him. You want to know him. You want to know everything about him.

“It’s easier to show you my vibe,” he shrugs. “We’ll make a date of it.”

He dropped the “fake” part again.

His phone begins to vibrate in his jeans pocket again.

He frowns in irritation. You stand, forcing yourself to move away from him.

“I’ll entertain myself,” you smile at his questioning look. He holds onto your hand as you move away, until your arm and his are stretched between you, and then he lets go.

You’re thankful for the interruption. Too much unadulterated time being the subject of Sylus’s entire focus makes you think insane things. Like that he designed parts of his house with you in mind. That you know music that you’ve never heard before. That you’re forgetting something important about him, even though you only met him recently. That a poem you read in your youth is a roadmap of things that have already happened between you and the man pacing behind the door, and what will happen before the light strays, vanishes… returns again.

You step into the hallway and wander back toward the kitchen. After a few minutes, you hear the flap of Mephisto’s wings. He’s keeping you company again. You keep walking.

You’re distracted halfway to the kitchen, however, when you hear voices coming from the theater room. It sounds like the twins, and someone else whose voice is familiar, but you can’t pinpoint it. You knock.

“No need to knock,” one of the twins yells.

You open the door and peek into the room. It’s dark, with all the lights dimmed.

On the large screen where you almost watched a movie with Sylus the other night, a video game is playing.

Luke sits on one of the loveseats, holding a game controller, while Kieran is squished onto the same small loveseat with him, their two big bodies barely fitting, hiding his face in Luke’s shoulder.

Noah is sprawled out on another loveseat, perfectly at ease. She gives you a lazy wave.

Luke pauses the game and looks over his shoulder at you.

“Boss busy?” he asks as Kieran lifts his head, a look of relief on his face at the interruption.

“Business call,” you say, nodding. You stare at the screen. It looks like…

“Are you playing the Silent Hill 2 remake?” you squeal.

“Yeah! Since boss is on a little holiday, he gave us the time off as well. Figured we’d finally play it.”

“Are you a fan of the original?” Kieran asks.

You nod. “Huge fan. I was so excited when they announced the remake, but I’ve been too busy with work to play it.”

“Wanna join? Kieran is too scared to look half the time. We can take turns, if you want,” Luke offers, sounding pleased to have another person to share the game with.

You seriously consider his offer, but you’re still so tired. You don’t really want to learn the controls mid-way through a playthrough. Weren’t you just thinking about watching let’s plays of horror games you haven’t had a chance to play yet? You can watch Luke play without having to do a thing.

“I’m good, but do you mind if I stay and just watch until Sylus is done?”

“Is that even a question? Get in here.”

Luke unpauses the game, and the familiar sounds of the world of Silent Hill, with amazing, updated graphics fills your vision. You slink inside the room and sit on another love seat, preferring to give Noah her space since she’s sprawled out like she already owns the place.

You watch as Kieran hides his face in Luke's shoulder again as a lying figure jerkily lumbers towards James Sunderland.

Apparently Noah notices Kieran’s fear as well.

“Aren’t you one of the feared Raptors of Onychinus? Like, you’re famous in the Zone. How can the same person who is known for intentionally leaving mutilated corpses in public as warnings to your boss’s enemies be afraid of video game monsters?”

You turn and stare at the twins, a little horrified. Not entirely surprised, because you know what kind of man Sylus is. You know what his organization stands for. But mutilated dead bodies? Where normal people just trying to get through their shitty workday, where kids can see them?

“That’s fucked up,” you say out loud.

“Hey, you’re a fucking cop. We know what cops are capable of,” Kieran says softly, with a flatness in his tone you’ve never heard before. Noah looks between you and Kieran like she wishes she has popcorn. “Don’t act like what you sometimes do is any better than our calling card.” Luke kills a monster shaped like two shapely pairs of legs attached at the waist with a metal pipe, and it dies loudly. He stomps on it for good measure. “At least we’re honest about it, and don’t hide behind a shield of so-called legitimacy. People know what they’re getting when they deal with us.”

You look at Kieran thoughtfully. It’s difficult to admit, but he has a point. You know that there are corrupt hunters. The so-called Tenebrae. You also recognize that dark part of yourself, when you’re faced with someone who you know has done terrible things, and the itch to pull the trigger before you can bring them in. You know that innocent people suffer at the hands of criminals and law enforcement alike.

Kieran stares steadily back at you, his normally cheerful face serious. “How did you come to work for Sylus?” you ask.

Luke pauses the game. “We don’t talk about that,” he says in the same flat tone that his brother just spoke in.

“Oh?” you say, because you don’t want to continue to pry, and you don’t know what else to say.

“Boss says it doesn’t matter where we come from. Only where we’re going. So there’s no use talking about the past if we don’t want to.”

“And you don’t want to?” Noah asks, the look of entertainment morphing into something else on her face.

The twins shake their heads in unison.

You think she’s going to say something snarky, but she just nods. “Then you shouldn’t. No one is entitled to your story.”

“That’s what boss says. I see why he hired you now,” Kieran says, smiling at her, the odd stillness broken.

“He hired me because I’m fucking awesome,” Noah sniffs, flicking her braids behind her shoulder. They’re down now, spilling over her back.

You tilt your head. “Are you a new hire?” For some reason you thought that Noah had been Sylus’s driver for a long time.

“Did he not tell you?” she asks, looking at you strangely.

“Tell me what?”

“I’m not gonna do his work for him,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she smiles at you, and it’s unnerving instead of soothing. “Anyway, yeah I’m a new hire. You’re gonna be seeing a lot of me in the future.”

Although Kieran seems to have reached some sort of approval of Noah, Luke still shudders and starts the game again.

You let it go. You’ll ask Sylus about Noah’s weird comment later. Instead of dwelling on it, you sink into admiring the awesome graphics, the atmosphere, your childhood nostalgia rendered in state of the art graphics

When the sirens go off as James is about to enter the Other World, you have a sudden flashback to playing the original Silent Hill 2 with Caleb. You were also too afraid, like Kieran, to play yourself, so you just clutched Caleb’s arm as he held the controller, and you delighted in the safety of vicarious thrills, of Caleb’s reassuring, solid presence at your side as you experienced the story. You suddenly miss him so, so much. The feeling of loss is overwhelming.

The sudden punch of grief leaves you breathless. Everyone else is so focused on the screen, they don’t notice your gasp. You want to watch. You’ve been wanting to experience the remake ever since the developers announced it, over a year ago. You want to experience it with who you are tentatively thinking of as your new friends. But you need a second to ground yourself before you can bring yourself to keep watching.

Your force your voice through your throat. “I’m going to grab a snack. Do you guys want anything from the kitchen?”

“Popcorn!” Noah calls.

“We’re good,” Luke answers, because apparently Kieran is almost catatonic with terror.

“All right, be right back.” You take your time getting to the kitchen, Mephisto following you out the theater room door. You rifle through the fridge, shove some snacks into your mouth. You’re shocked to find microwave popcorn in one of the cupboards. Sylus strikes you as the kind of snob who insists on popping loose kernels on the stove, or over the fire in the fireplace. Nothing so pedestrian as store-bought and in the microwave. You snicker, that feeling of sorrow fading as you engage in everyday tasks, with company to look forward to. You’re not alone right now. You’re excited to see more of what the devs retained from the original game and what they added or changed in the remake. You head back to the theater room, but accidentally drop the bag of popcorn before you can open the door. As you pick it up, you can hear Noah.

“You know you don’t actually have to kill every monster you encounter, right?” She asks in barely disguised disdain.

“You know that you don’t actually have to offer your opinion when no one asked, right?” Luke snarks.

“Oooh, someone’s grumpy because he isn’t going to have an advantage in the bet like he thought,” Noah says through a snicker.

“What advantage? We agreed not to interfere. Boss is gonna have it in the bag even before the two weeks are up even without our help,” Luke responds.

“If he doesn’t fumble it by being too passive,” Kieran adds, thoughtfully.

“What ‘help?’ I bet your help would result in more delay than progress,” Noah taunts. “I probably don’t even have to do anything to counter your nonsense. You’ll do all my work for me.”

“Hey, flooding the guest floor was a good idea,” Luke protests.

This is just met with a cackle.

You stand, frozen. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But what is their boss going to have in the bag without their help? What bet?

Something inside of you already knows. Hadn’t you thought earlier that the twins probably made a bet out of your obvious, pathetic crush?

But they said it was about their boss achieving something. Not about your feelings.

You don’t want to know.

You try desperately to cling to that warm feeling you’ve had since the pool.

Boss is gonna have it in the bag.

You spin on your heel, intending to return to the kitchen without them knowing you heard anything, just to buy yourself time to process. But of course, you promptly knock over another ugly sculpture. It shatters on the floor.

You stand there in your bandaged feet, holding the popcorn, staring down at the mess you just made.

The door swings open and Kieran, Luke, and Noah jostle each other to see what just happened in the hallway.

“Sorry,” you say. What the fuck else can you say?

“What happened?” Kieran asks.

“Just me being clumsy,” you say, trying to smile.

Luke squints at you. “Oh shit.” He turns to Kieran. “They’re making that horrible face again.”

Kieran stares at you.

Noah flicks her braids and tilts her head, examining you like an art critic trying to find meaning in a child’s finger painting. “What does that face mean?”

“It means they heard what we were discussing,” Kieran says grimly.

Luke glares at Noah. “What are you even doing here? Now the bet is fucked and boss is gonna be mad because his hunter’s making that expression again. Look at them. We’ve hurt their feelings!” He gestures at you.

She glares back. “Boss told me to report here for duty every day to remain on standby in case the hunter wants to go anywhere. What are you doing here?” she sneers.

“We live here,” he answers, looking confused that that’s even a question.

You take a step back, away from the sharp shards of the broken sculpture. Maybe they’ll be too busy arguing to notice.

That good feeling is gone.

You think about every move Sylus has made since the auction. All of his attention, his gentleness, his kindness, his dogged reappearance at your home, his arranging for you to have sick leave.

Would Sylus do all that for a bet?

Is he that bored? Is he that good of an actor?

How on earth would you even know? You don’t know shit about him. You’ve known him for a few months. In that time, you’ve seen him a handful of times. What the fuck are you doing?

You think about that feeling you had while listening to the Beatles, while listening to Sylus play the piano, of forgetting something really important. You want to throw up.

Yeah, you’re forgetting something all right.

You can’t stand the feeling inside you right now. It’s too big. It’s eclipsing everything you’ve felt up until this point.

You think about what it will take to get out of here.

You think about picking up one of the sculpture’s shards and digging it into your thigh, anything to override this feeling inside you now.

You think about the resonance with Sylus when you woke up. Could he fake that?

His evol is unearthing a person’s deepest desires. But is it more than that? Could he make you feel adored without using his aether core? Did he promise not to use his evol on you because the terms of the bet forbade interference? Your fears send you spiraling.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no,” Luke says, peering at your face again. He takes a step forward, reaching out to you like someone trying to calm a wild animal, his house shoe crunching on the broken bits of sculpture.

You take a step back.

Noah just looks between the twins and you, confused.

“I’m just going for a walk,” you lie. You take another step back, turn, and start to walk down the hallway that will eventually lead to the lift. The lift that goes to the underground garage.

As you round the corner, Luke says,“Get—”

“On it,” Kieran says, with his phone to his ear.

Noah looks thoughtfully down the now empty hallway. “The hunter’s fucked up, huh?”

Luke shrugs. “Aren’t we all?”

Noah frowns at him. “Speak for yourself. You don’t know shit about me.”

“I know that boss hired you after looking into your soul. Which means you’re fucked up too. He isn’t interested in wholesome things or people—too boring.”

“And you?”

“You said it yourself. I really enjoy carving people up.” He shrugs. “Soothes something from our shitty childhood.”

Noah considers him. “Your brother seems to be okay with me now. Are you going to have a problem with me?”

Kieran grins at her. “What makes you think I have a problem with you?”

“You were mean when I suggested you try to stealth around the monsters. And don’t think I didn’t see your reaction when I said I’d be around more often. And acting like the hunter being upset is solely my fault, when we all made the stupid bet.” She counts each piece of evidence on her pretty fingers.

“Who the fuck likes backseat gamers?” He pouts a little. “And I didn’t like being hit on within an hour of meeting you. I don’t like people like that.”

Noah scowls back at him. “You don’t like people like what? ”

“I mean, I don’t like, like people. I get the creeps when people hit on me.”

Her lovely eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh.”

“But boss likes you, so I like you. We’re cool, so long as you don’t hit on me again.”

Noah nods.“I was just giving you two shit since you hauled me in front of your scary fucking boss. But I promised boss I wouldn’t do it again.”

“Then we’re cool. And if you don’t like how I play Silent Hill, then you can play if you want.” He opens the door again, gesturing for her to go in ahead.

“Nah man, I like being in the peanut gallery.”

“Does that mean you’re not gonna shut up?”

“You know it.” Noah gives him a big, feral grin.

Luke grins back at her, equally frightening. “Then I’ll be sure to kill every single monster we come across, no matter how much ammo it wastes.” The door swings shut on Kieran standing in the hallway, looking thoughtfully down at the phone in his hand.

Sylus hums the melody of the music he played for you as he ends the call with Aidan. Luckily the issue this time could be settled by answering Aidan’s questions, and he can still look forward to a mostly uninterrupted day with you. He wonders where you’ll like to go next. Back to the library? To the greenhouse?

He’s in a great mood, despite the interruption. Every conversation with you convinces him that you’re closer and closer to accepting the truth. That you’re his, and he’s yours. He wants to drag you back to the library, listen to you read to him, argue about poetry—the way your eyes flash when you’re making a counterargument, the sneer in your retorts to his needling you—he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you so much it hurts.

His phone vibrates in his pocket again. He clenches his jaw, pauses. He wants to throw the damn thing against the wall and just continue looking for you, business be damned. But he also doesn’t want to leave Aidan in an awkward position. He fishes the phone out of his pocket and accepts the call.

“Boss, your hunter is making a strategic retreat again,” Kieran says breathlessly.

Sylus jerks to a stop.

“Repeat that?” he demands.

“They overheard us talking about the wager,” Kieran explains, sounding pained.

It takes Sylus a second to remember what he’s talking about. “The bet about how long it will take for kitten to realize that I want to date them?”

“Yeah.”

Sylus thinks. Why would you be spooked by a stupid bet between his henchmen and your driver?

“But they—well, they overheard us talking about it, and they don’t know what the wager is actually about. I am afraid that they might have misunderstood something,” Kieran says carefully, like he’s waiting for Sylus’s wrath.

Sylus immediately realizes what probably just happened.

“I left kitten alone for less than twenty minutes,” he sighs. Just his fucking luck. It’s like the universe or some cruel god wants to create obstacles in his path to winning your precious heart.

“Your bet is over,” he barks.

“Understood.”

Sylus ends the call and pulls up Mephisto’s app. You’re walking quickly, with purpose. He squints, trying to figure out which part of the house you’re in. It looks like you’re trying to get to the lift that leads to the underground garage. Sylus dissipates into red and black mist.

As you walk, you make your way to the garage, not even sure what your plan is. You have that hollow, manic feeling filling you—the feeling that always fills you when you’re hurt like this, when you just need to get out, to outrun your own body and the feelings it contains. This time though, through the noise in your head, you remember your promises to Sylus. About not hurting yourself, but going to him. If you have doubts about his intentions, to go to him. To ask him when you have questions, instead of making assumptions.

But how can you? What’s the point of honoring promises made to a man who thinks your feelings are fair game for a bet?

You need to think. You don’t want to think. You’re hurting so, so much. You need time. Your body feels like you’re out of time. You miss Caleb. You miss your grandmother.

It takes all of your self control to stop moving. You hear Mephisto’s wings flapping behind you. You close your eyes. You resist the urge to punch yourself, barely. If you’re just a bet to him, you should punch him instead. You open your eyes and realize you stopped next to a door with an electronic lock blinking on the handle. You turn and look at it fully, and you hear the lock click.

It recognized your face. Just as Kieran and Luke told you all the locks in this house would. Why would Sylus bother programming your face into his home if you’re just a bet?

You watch your hand reach out, grasp the handle. You pull, and the door opens easily. You slip inside and let it close before Mephisto can follow.

The lights flicker on.

You gasp.

It’s like standing inside an upscale jewelry store, built inside a bank vault. Except instead of sparsely filled display cases, designed to emphasize and showcase a select number of precious jewels, each glass case is stuffed with the things. Diamonds. Rubies. Emeralds. A mind-blowing variety of beautiful stones that you don’t even know the names for. Loose stones, as well as jewelry—necklaces, rings, earrings. Where most of Sylus’s house is the picture of meticulous order, this vault looks like a dragon’s hoard of priceless treasures, casually piled high without much thought.

Why would Sylus trust you with access to such wealth, if you were just a bet?

But more importantly, how much death must Sylus Qin sell, to afford such a vault?

How many lives in exchange for each gem?

You turn in a circle as you slowly process the fact that you’re standing in the middle of a sea of blood diamonds.

What are you doing?

What the actual fuck are you doing?

You were just marveling at the luxury of the rooms he designed, filled with the thrilling possibility that he had built them for you. You had thought about the cost of the heating in the hot tub, the pool. And yet you were willing to overlook such expenses. Why? Because at least the pool, the lovely architecture are useful? Because they provide some value to the human experience, even if only a select few will ever get to experience them at Sylus’s house?

But what value do diamonds have? Shiny clumps of compressed carbon. You can’t burn them for warmth. You can’t eat them. Okay, so maybe they’re used in some industrial processes, but for fuck’s sake, artificially created diamonds could serve that purpose. And you’re absolutely sure that the diamonds Sylus has hoarded in this vault are real, products of millions of years of pressure, and not made in some lab.

You sink to the black marble floor. It’s cold. You draw up your knees and hug them.

There’s too much happening in your brain right now. Your grief. Your uncertainty about Sylus’s intentions—the question of who his beloved is. The bet.

The realization that you’re falling in love with a man whose life’s work is bringing misery to others.

You hate yourself. Here you are, thrown into a tailspin from the idea that Sylus may have spent all this time on you because of a bet with his minions, when you should be in a tailspin about the fact that it’s probably already too late for you to stop falling for a man who not only praises the mutilated world, but is one of the people shoving the knife in deeper.

There is so much you don’t know about him. But what you do know is that Sylus is too busy pouring salt into the wound of the world to dedicate so much time and resources to something as frivolous as a wager about how long it will take for him to get you in the bag. It’s pure, self-pitying hubris to assume otherwise.

You’re focusing on the wrong things, again. You’re forgetting what’s important, again.

What do you want? What can you live with? Why do you feel a connection with this complicated, cruel, ruthless man, as if you’ve known him for more than a few months? What kind of person are you, if despite sitting in a sea of diamonds paid for in other peoples' blood, you still want this merchant of death to come find you, to hold you in his arms, tell you that he wasn't placing bets on how long it would take to have you in the bag?

You begin to rock, somehow resisting all of your terrible urges: to hurt yourself, to run, to set this awful room on fire. You rock, and you hurt, and you wait for the terrible man you’re falling in love with to find you, as he always does.

Sylus finds Mephisto pacing on the floor in front of his gem vault. He caws in distress when he sees his owner re-materialize in the hallway. Sylus finds the fact that you’re in the gem vault, and not currently trying to procure a getaway car, to be a source of hope—a strange feeling for him. What use does he have for hope? He has plans. Plans with contingencies, alternatives, backups. They either succeed because he planned well enough, or they fail because he did not plan well enough.

Hope has no place in his world.

People suffer and die. Deals are made and broken. Fate is cruel, inflexible. He knows this all too well, no matter how much he’s struggling against fate this time around.

Hope has no place in his world.

But.

You could have kept running. You could be in any one of his vehicles right now, trying to break land speed records to get the fuck away from him, convinced that he was involved in a bet about the biggest gamble of his life.

But you’re not. You’re in his gem vault, for some reason. You strange, unpredictable, delightful creature.

He finds himself hoping that this misunderstanding hasn’t just caused you to retreat beyond his reach again.

Your fingers in the dip of his clavicle.

The yearning look on your face, that he doesn’t think you even knew you had, when he bit your lip—the closest he’ll allow himself to a kiss until he’s one hundred percent sure you’ll welcome him while awake.

He opens the door.

He pauses, struck with the strange sensation of viewing his greatest treasure surrounded by so much of his material treasure. You belong here. The value of all of these precious stones nothing in comparison to you, shining like a beacon to him at the end of a long and winding road from the marble floor, dimming everything else in this room by comparison.

His house shoes whisper along the cold marble floor where you’re sitting, curled in on yourself.

He has watched you take down wanderers the size of an elephant. All that strength, contained in your huddled body. You look so small to him. He wants to protect you from all the horrors of the world. But of course, he’s the biggest horror of all. Is it any wonder that he keeps hurting you instead?

A better man might keep his distance in an effort to protect you. Like your partner. A better man might know when to quit. Like your dandy artist friend. A better man might be content with loving you from afar. Like your fucking doctor.

But Sylus is a terrible man, because he’s not going to stop trying to get it right, even as he hurts you in the process, until you order him to stop and mean it.

You don’t look up at the sound of his footsteps, but you also don’t retreat as he approaches.

He sits on the floor next to you, wraps an arm around your shivering shoulders. He pulls you into his arms, feels the rush of hope when you let him.

He cradles your head in his palm.

“The twins bet on everything. Which snail is the fastest on a leaf. Whether it will rain or snow tomorrow. How long it will take someone to bleed out. Whether the traffic light will change in five versus ten seconds,” he says softly into your hair.

“About how long it will take to get your pathetic hunter in the bag?” Your voice is small, just as your body feels in his arms.

“About how long it will take for my beloved to realize how I feel about them,” he sighs.

You stiffen, and he feels a moment of paralyzing fear, before you melt into him. He breathes again.

“What did you bet?” you ask, and Sylus feels the sorrow in your voice like a gunshot in his chest.

You ran, but you stopped. You assumed, but you’re asking questions now. You’re allowing him to touch you, to hold you. The hope in him surges again.

“I didn’t place a bet in this particular wager,” he manages through the unfamiliar feelings. “But if I had, the gamble would be my whole heart.”

“Does a man who has a dragon’s hoard of wealth, bought with the blood of the guilty and the innocent alike, have a heart?” you ask, finally looking up, your eyes hollow in a way that he doesn’t like.

Sylus is a terrible man. He has never lied to himself about this, or to you. He showed you the worst of himself, the day you met. He has to hope that the fact you’re still here, still asking him questions, means that he hasn’t lost you yet. An unpleasant feeling of doubt slithers through him. Is it the bet upsetting you, or something else?

“Even dragons have hearts, darling.”

You close your eyes. He wants you to open them again. He wants you to look at him. He never wants you to look away from him. Even if you’re looking at him with doubt, or hate, so long as you’re looking at him, that means you’re not leaving him.

“What do you want?” he asks.

You open your eyes again. He is terribly tempted to use his aether core on you, because for once, he can’t read how you’re feeling.

“You offered me time.”

He leans forward, rests his forehead against yours. “And I will give you time.”

“I want to see your favorite part of the greenhouse.”

“And I will show you my favorite part of the greenhouse,” he whispers, breathing, breathing. He can’t tell how you’re feeling, but you smell like home, a door at the end of a long road. The hope grows.

“I want to see Luke and Kieran and Noah play the remake of Silent Hill 2.”

The hope shifts, dissipates. There is no need for hope, once it is fulfilled. You want to stay, for now. He can work with that. Whatever damage learning about the bet caused, he can work with your willingness to stay. If that look in your eyes isn’t about the bet, he has more time to dismantle your walls, to pull it out of you. Just two nights ago, you were running barefoot through the dark. Tonight, you stopped yourself and waited for him to find you. “You’re in luck. They’re still playing.”

You watch him, as if you’re weighing something behind your hollow eyes. “Will you watch with me?”

Of course, he thinks. Of course. You could ask for so much more, and the answer would be the same. “Do you want me to watch with you?”

“I want you to want to watch with me.”

He smiles, his mouth a breath away from yours. You smell like popcorn. He wants to throw a piece in the air, catch it in his mouth, feed it to you. “Again, you bring me luck. We have a win-win deal.”

He stands. Carries you out of his gem vault.

“Why do you have so many jewels?” you ask, quietly.

“In case the authorities freeze my accounts, physical currency will be useful. A sort of insurance.”

You gaze at his face, and he wonders what you see when you look at him. “You’ll escape with a truck full of precious stones?”

“Something like that,” he says.

“No other reason?”

He tells the truth. “I’ve always been fond of shiny things.”

“Do you have a favorite stone?”

He laughs softly. “Whatever stone you’re wearing.”

Instead of looking at him with suspicion, a helpless look crosses your face. Like you’re in pain from his admission. He doesn’t like it. But then you lean forward, press your face into his neck. He tells himself that he has time. He’ll figure out what’s bothering you, and he’ll fix it.

Outside the theater room, he pauses. Looks down at the pieces of shattered sculpture. "If you didn't like it, darling, you could have just said so."

You just mumble that you're sorry.

"We've talked about your apologies," he says, frowning down at you in his arms.

You huff. "Fine. I'm not sorry. That sculpture was edgy and ugly. You should replace it with something beautiful."

"Deal. But only if you come with me to choose something," he says.

"Deal," you say softly, and he still can't tell what's going through your head.

When you enter the theater room, Luke pauses the game. “We’re really sorry for hurting your feelings and shit. The bet was about boss’s rizz, not about you. Please don’t leave.”

Kieran nods in approval, as if he had helped Luke compose this little speech.

Noah just looks at you, face unreadable, as you rest your head on Sylus’s shoulder.

“I had planned to give you a lot of shit. But I think I would’ve lost anyway,” she says, not looking apologetic at all. “It’s only been two days and you’re practically merging into one person.”

Sylus carries you to a loveseat next to the twins, with Noah on their other side.

“Thanks,” you say. “No worries.”

Everyone is awkwardly silent for a moment after your brief response. You seem to notice, and smile a little. “Can we hang out while you play?”

“Fuck yeah,” Luke says, and Kieran groans as the game is unpaused.

After a while, you, Luke, and Noah start discussing the difference between the remake and the original. What everyone likes, what they don’t. Sylus leans back, draws you onto his chest. His relief remains intense as you let him. The discussion moves on to which Silent Hill games are the best in the franchise, which are the worst. Luke and Noah have a good-natured clash about Silent Hill 4: the Room, with only a few insults flung at each other. You and Kieran share your admiration for Bloober Team's Layers of Fear, which Kieran liked because he didn't think it was scary, and which Luke hated, because he thought it was boring. Sylus doesn't give a shit about video games, and certainly not horror games. Life itself is already horrific enough, he doesn't have the patience for manufactured terror. He just listens, feeling your heartbeat against his chest, breathing in your comforting scent.

A feeling of wholeness settles in him, as unfamiliar as hope. As unfamiliar as the happiness from your movie night, just last night. You, Luke, and Noah have moved on to animatedly arguing about some character’s outfit changes between the original and the remake.

He feels like he’s been standing, left behind in the dark for so long, and he’s finally being allowed home. Whatever is bothering you, he’ll fix it. He’ll destroy the world if he has to, to preserve the scene in front of him, so that he can offer you this, so that he can experience this with you, again, and again, and again. His gentle light that strays and vanishes and returns.

End notes: I had planned shenanigans for the twins and Noah to increase their odds in winning the bet, but this story is already out of control with how long it is, and some of the things I thought of were really manipulative and fucked up even if I personally thought they were hilarious, but my brain is craving a softer vibe for this story I guess (lmao if this can be considered soft), so I hope this isn't too much of a let down for the resolution of the bet subplot. I've given up hinting at what's coming next because it turns out I'm very bad at guessing what's next.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #my fanfic #hope it's enjoyable despite the somber tone

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sunrisecaminus · 16 days ago

Note

can I ask for sweet aftercare from Megatron to his femme conjux? Maybe like cuddles and praises from him plsss

Message - This is adorable! Of course you can ask for such a beautiful thing!

Megatron x Conjunx Reader NSFW

Summary - Cybertronian Reader comes back from a mission and Megatron takes care of you after everything you went through~

Warning - NSFW

Everything was so, hot. Your servos clenching the birth. You couldn't see anymore, as you were blinded by pleasure. Everything around you was nothing, do you even remember where you were? The feeling of being slammed inside your valve, over and over again, has to be the best thing you have felt in a long time. The friction of the spike going in and out of you was making your frame weaker by the minute, the rough servos grabbing at your hips pull you closure to your conjunx.

This all started from Megatron feeling nothing but rage. Desks were being throne, soldiers were running like cowards, Starscream betraying the crew and leaving the ship before he gets beaten again. The only person that could really save the Decepticon ship, was you. His conjunx has been gone for three days. You had a really hard yet important mission and it could save everyone from energon losses, but Megatron gets in mood swings when you leave. He has nobody to talk to on an equal level and doesn't trust anyone else with his emotions except for you, so when you leave, he goes in crying fits of anger when something small happens. Everything was over in his mind, the last energon mine was finally harvested down to the last food sources. Starscream was trying to calm him down by stating that they could go the next mine like they planned, but Megatron knew it was a smaller mine and it could decrease their soldier counts by the week.

Throwing everything around him, Megatron could sense someone behind him and he points his canon at the person. Seeing your face the second he aimed the weapon, his eyes grew in shock from seeing you here and lowered his arm down. "Y/n…" He sees the soft smile growing on you as your servos gently slide up on his chassis, feeling all his dents and cuts that Knockout hasn't got to yet. "I'm back, you alright dear?" The feeling of your gentle love was all he wanted, his own servo grabbing yours and pressing his other servo behind your back. Everything stopped for him; Time, blood, and atoms at that moment froze. You were here earlier than he anticipated and it gave him nothing but pure joy that no one else could give. "…Yes of course, now that your here." You giggle from his romantic tone, leaning your helm on him.

Soldiers slowly came in to see you too leaning on each other, so they get back to work. Cleaning out the ship, they were able to finally get back to their screens to do their duties and not have to fear about their liege killing them for no reason. Megatron hates that his affection is being seen, so he takes you over to one of the ships balconies. He doesn't want to show how much of a romantic nerd he is, but what he will never tell you was the balcony was specifically positioned on this side of the ship to always be pointing to where Cybertron lies. It was one of the most geeky things he could ever do and if anyone found this out, he would murder them on the spot. "Y'know, it was pretty rough out there. It can be a thrill to go back in action, but…sometimes I miss being held by you when I go back to stasis." Megatron looks back at you with his colorful optics, loading in the information he just heard from you. No one has ever really "missed" him. After the relationship was created, Megs has had to learn a lot from you and Soundwave. It has been millions of years since he ever got into a relationship with someone and has forgotten about the good things that can come with it. He leans against the railing and lets his servo being supported up onto your hip. "Well, you can come back early no matter if you get something or not. You always can see me no matter where I am. No one usually gets the privilege to even be in my quarters." You knew he was always a cocky one, his ego was massive; Becoming his conjunx made you be able to share some of that ego with him. "Awe, you are too sweet." Staying still with him in the peace and quiet, you try to let go of the stress that has been leaning on your soldiers from the mission you went on. You don't want to tell him how the Autobots found you.

It was a horrible mission. You did find a massive energon mine, but the Autobots got to you a few minutes later after you reported it to Soundwave. Optimus and Ratchet was a scary duo to mess with, and fighting even one was hard enough. They only thought of you as an elite soldier, never even thinking you were Megatron's Conjunx. If they knew, they probably would've tried to capture you. Being able to fend off for a while, they retreated to go get more of their allies later. You don't know when they would attack again, but you had to go back in two days to defend the mine once more. You didn't want to fight them again alone, the stress has been building the closure you got to the Decepticon ship. You didn't want to stress your Conjunx out more than he already was, so you didn't tell him. Speaking of which, as you were looking at the stars, you feel his hand sliding down to your aft and staying there. Blush started to grow onto your face plate and looked over at him. He had the most…evil smirk you had ever seen.

Aaaaaaand that it how you got to this point, in Megatron's room, being rammed like no one could hear you. It was like you were dreaming, but this was real. You were chosen by the lord himself, and you must respect his wishes for him to treat you like a queen. You never had an argument before and it should stay that way in your mind. His servo grabs one of your servos, motioning to you that he was ready to release. Closing your eyes, you lean into his spike and let his full shaft inside you. Feeling him fill you was something no one else in the universe could feel. You were his, and no one else's. After laying there limp for a few minutes to catch your breath, you feel yourself being carried off somewhere. You were still blinded by pleasure and couldn't see that well. All you could feel was your body being picked up bridal style and the lighting changing to a dim light, showing that you were being put in a different room. Megatron gently put your body down on some nice towels on the floor, and turning on the hot water in the bath. The water noises were nice to hear, as your body is picked up again and slowly put inside the tub. This was when Megatron could see your battle marks clearly. He knew something was wrong ever since he saw you come back…but he knew you weren't wanting to make him even more mad at the time. He isn't an idiot, something happened to you on that mission and he wanted you to understand that you are now home. Megs wanted you to stop worrying about everything, washing your body off from not only his juices, but the dirt wedged in your plating you couldn't get.

After he massaged your body with a towel, he takes your clean frame back in the birth and laid you down on the bed. You whine from not feeling his presence and tried to see with your hands where he was. A few seconds went by and you feel his weight being pressed against the bed as his body lays behind yours, spooning your frame and putting his arms around you. "I ordered Soundwave to replace you for the mines. You are stuck with me for two weeks." Your eyes widened, did Soundwave tell him? Of course he did, everything he knows that should not be a secret he tells his liege. If it had to do with you in great risk of being beaten, no shit was he going to go to Megatron to see if they could do something about it. The feeling of the work being lifted from you was amazing, peaceful, and even scary. Tears formed from your optics as you clench on his arms a bit. "…I'm sorry. I wish I was stronger."

You hear nothing for a while until his servos slid to your face, wiping your tears the best he could from behind you. "You are able to do things 95% of my Soldiers can't do. You are one of the only soldiers that seemed to give me bad news without cowering in the shadows or on the intercoms. You fought off a Leader and his little pet Medic by yourself. Being damaged is part of the job, nothing you could have done to look perfect and clean afterwards." He massages your stomach plating and puts a bit of pressure on it. You feel him smiling a bit behind you as he leans into your helm. "I am very proud of you~" You didn't know what to say, such lovely things being told to you by the Leader of the Decepticons, no, lovely things being told to you by your own conjunx. It was something that really wasn't uttered to you before, but you will never forget this night if it was going to be the last. You smile with nothing but love, closing your optics and slowly you were going into stasis mode. "…I love you, Megs."

#maccadam #tfp #transformers #transformers prime #transformers x reader #transformers x y/n #megatron #valveplug #megatron x reader

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wsoc-gay · 1 year ago

Text

World Cup Results

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: It seems as though you and Ona make big decisions after big matches.

(This was originally going to be longer, but then it became too long. So, instead, I am breaking it into two parts, second will be out soon.)

You and Ona had met during her time playing at Manchester United while you were still at Arsenal. Arsenal was your childhood club you had made your way through the youth system until you finally made your full-team debut at 16. As growing through the Arsenal ranks you also were an up-and-coming player in the England youth system making your international debut at just 17.

You met Ona when you were 18 after she had first arrived to United, one of your best friends from the National team, Alessia, introduced you two after a match. From that day forward you two were nearly inseparable. For your years in England, it was a relationship full of afternoon drives after training and early morning goodbyes to be back to London in time for the next, but nevertheless you two did it because you truly fell for each other fast.

It was three years later that Ona decided she wanted to return to Barcelona, she wanted you to come with her, but you were hesitant at first. Your whole life was in London all you ever knew was Arsenal, but also you two weren’t public and you weren’t sure about the swarm that would come from it. Your families and friends knew about your relationship, but with how young you both were you wanted to keep it out of the spotlight, you didn’t want the media focused on your relationship over your football. However, after a year of playing in two different countries you decided you had enough a followed her to her home.

You were one of the best players in the world at the time, so it did not take a lot for you to get a contract from the Catalonian club. While you still weren’t saying anything about your relationship to the public fans quickly started to notice the undeniable connection between you two, the walks into matches, the looks during training, Ona always being your first hug after scoring, and everything in between. You slowly started to be less secretive about your relationship until the only thing keeping fans from knowing you were dating was a kissng photo.

It now was the 2027 World Cup final; you and Ona had been together for 7 years and were now meeting for the second time in a World Cup Final. You hugged and placed a kiss on the short Spaniard’s temple during the prematch pitch inspections, but then went on your way as you both were here for business.

You scored early into the match, just a mere 15 minutes in is when you broke the deadlock. It was a brilliant through ball from Kiera that you were able to calmly finish past Cata, you immediately ran towards the corner flag to celebrate in front of your country’s fans as your teammates chased after you.

It wasn’t long after that Aitana scored the tying goal and brought the game even going into halftime. The speeches weren’t long, both teams knew what they had to do going into the second half. It was tight for the majority of second half, Spain doing what they do well and passing around your team, but you and Kiera used what you’ve learned there to hold them.

It was the 87th minute that La Reina, herself, scored the winner for Spain. The English team and fans could do nothing but tip their hats to the Spanish captain as it truly was the perfect goal to win a World Cup with, a beautiful passing display starting with their backline which found their captain sitting alone at the top of the box and hit a first time shot perfectly into the top corner.

As soon as the whistle blew you fell to the ground with your head in your hands sobbing, severely disappointed for now the second time. So close to being on top of the world but failing right at the summit.

Ona knew better than to come comfort you right away, in the years of you playing together and against she learned that more than comfort at first you simply needed time to yourself. If she were to come over to you now you would’ve just shoved her away and told her to go celebrate.

It was after the medal ceremonies when she came and found you sitting on the turf knees tucked tight against your chest. She sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you against her chest, “I’m so proud of you, mi amor,” She kissed your head.

Whenever you lost to the brunette, she always followed it up with this comment. She knew better than to apologize for winning as you would never take this from her. You let out a light chuckle, clearly still emotional, “Still can’t quite beat you, can I?”

Ona let out a breath when she heard you laugh, she was hoping to lighten the mood a bit, but didn’t expect for your comment to be the one that did it, “You’ll get to try again in four years, don’t worry.”

You sat up straight and turned so that you were facing he Spaniard, “You know if I can’t win them, I’m glad you’re the one beating me.”

She smiled and her cheeks reddened slightly at the comment. It was true if you weren’t the one winning you were glad the love of your life got to accomplish what was both of your dreams, “I take home the World Cup medals you bring home the Ballon D’ors.”

You laughed again, “I’ll see what I can do about that.” At just 26 years old you had won the last two Ballon D’ors, but you knew as well as anyone that after a World Cup year it would almost inevitably go to one of the winners.

“I think I know what could make you feel better,” You gave her a suggestive look, she leaned into whisper in your ear, “Vamos a tener un bebé.”

You couldn’t believe what you just heard and leaned back in shock, “What did you just say?”

Louder and in English this time, “Let’s have a baby.”

The comment was dropped slightly to the Spaniard’s own surprise. She wasn’t expecting to say it at this time, but she had been thinking it for a while now. It slipped out in the moment of pure joy for her, and she couldn’t imagine a time better than coming off a World Cup win to start their family.

The topic has come up many times throughout your relationship, but always ended on saying that it was something for the future. Ona knew she wanted to carry for you both, but you always settled that it was something for the future, you didn’t want to interrupt the Spaniard’s career. However, there simply was nothing more than either of you wanted than to have a family one day, to get to see your love encompassed into a family. Both of yours love for family was one of the reasons you first fell in love, nothing came before family for either of you and that would one day include a family of your own.

The conversation on the field quickly was pushed aside as you joined Ona and some of her Spanish teammates on their post-World Cup holiday. It was a vacation full of boats, sun, and many, many, drinks. You all had all agreed it was one of the nicest holidays and breaks from football you had in a while.

After returning from you holiday you both returned to your normal lives of training and preparing for matches. The topic still hadn’t been brought back up until one day after returning from training you noticed Ona was a bit quieter than usual at dinner.

“Is there something bothering you, mi amor? You’re quieter than usual.”

“No, nothing is wrong,” Ona looked down at her plate as she spoke, in the tone reserved for when she was upset over something. It was quiet, slower, and slightly sharper causing her accent to come through a bit more in her English words.

“Babe, I can tell something is wrong, please tell me,” You were nearly pleading with her now, as your eyes searched her expressions for any details and as your mind raced through the contents of your day in efforts to find what had upset the short brunette.

She continued to look down at her plate, “It’s nothing I promise.”

Ona stood up from the table and collected the plates before walking into the kitchen and over to the sink. She began washing the dishes as you followed her to the kitchen. You stood a few feet away leaning against the counter, you didn’t want to startle the smaller girl by touching her, “Talk to me please, I want to help.”

She kept her focus on washing the dishes and spoke softly as if she was worried for your response, “I just thought we would talk about starting a family soon, but you don’t seem like you want to.”

Ona didn’t look towards you, but saw you freeze as soon as the words left her mouth. She was worried about your response so continued cleaning the dishes as if she hadn’t just dropped the one thing that hadn’t left your mind since the final.

You walked over to her and gently reached for her chin to turn the Spaniard to face you, “What did you just say?” You said hushed, but sternly.

Ona’s cheeks flushed under your hand, “It’s just that you seemed excited at the final when I brought up having a baby, but you haven’t mentioned it since and I seriously meant it,” She began rambling when you suddenly cut her off with a soft kiss to her lips.

You leaned back slightly enough that she still felt your breath against her lips, “Sounds like were going to have a baby then.”

The shorter woman placed a hand against her chest and leaned back slightly with a big smile plastered against her face. Your free hand found its spot wrapped around her waist you hold her upright, “Really? You want to have a baby?”

You moved your hand holding her chin to the small of her back and pulled her flush against you, “Of course I want to have a baby with you, I didn’t want to bring it up because I didn’t want it to seem like I was pushing you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to put your career on hold for this.”

Ona’s hands found their place around your neck as she leaned into place a kiss to your cheek, “I don’t want to tell our kids stories of us playing, I want them to be able to be there, to be able to experience it themselves.”

You leaned in to passionately kiss her then pulled away with a gleaming smile, “Sounds like were going to have a baby then.”

You began the reciprocal IVF process almost immediately, both of you getting tested and screened to make sure that you both were in good enough health to begin the process. These thankfully all came back with positive results allowing for you to continue forward.

There was worry and stress looming throughout your house during the early stages of the process. Many nights spent talking through fears and uncomfortable conversations which always ended in you both feeling more optimistic and hopeful.

Ona was there to hold your hand for every injection you took, and you were helping her with everything in the house to give her as little stress as possible. For every appointment she had you were sat right there next to her just as she did for you. You both knew that no matter what you were there for each other, and you’d be okay.

The egg retrieval day was stressful, you were worried about the procedure and weren’t quite fully sure what to expect, but as always Ona was right there for you calming you down as your leg bounced in the waiting room. Once you were in the room and the doctor walked you through what would happen you were much less stressed and more excited than ever to get further in the process.

After the first implantation you had to wait two weeks for the blood test to find out if it had stuck. It was a very anxious two weeks for you two full of trying to find ways to distract yourselves, and of Ona claiming she had symptoms even though you both knew it was too early for that.

On the fourteenth day you were sat in the waiting room with your knee bouncing like there was no tomorrow. You wanted to be strong for Ona, but you knew you both were just as nervous as one another. The Spaniard was brough back alone at first to get the blood draw, but then was led to the room where you’d wait for the doctor.

Once you were brought back into the room you walked beside the bed your girlfriend laid on and took a hold of her hand.

You brough the back of her hand to your lips to lay a kiss before you stood to look at her, “If we don’t get the news, we’re hoping for we’ll be okay. I’m still so proud of you and it won’t be your fault.”

Ona had a slight pout on her face and looked up at you with those deep brown eyes you had fallen in love with all those years ago, “I really hope it worked.”

You let up a small smile at her as you leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, “Me too baby, but it’s rare it sticks on the first try. We’ll be okay no matter what, we can try again whenever you’re ready if we have too.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you-”

You cut her off before she could finish, “You could never disappoint me, mi amor. I love you no matter what and I’m right here through it all.”

You both felt like you were drowning under the weight of the anxiety in the room but knew that no matter what either of you would say in that moment nothing could quite calm the nerves you both were feeling.

You could’ve sworn time had never moved slower, as you stood there waiting for the doctor. There were so many times in your life, on and off the pitch, that you have wished to be able to freeze time and stay in those moments forever, but now more than ever you wished time would pass by sooner. You both wished to escape the anxious feeling deep in your bodies and for the doctor to come in and tell you the words you’ve been awaiting since beginning the process.

You were beginning to zone out, imagining a future with Ona and your family, when suddenly a slight knock on the door led in a woman dressed in a white coat holding a folder, with what you assumed were the results.

You were stood there trying to read the expressionless face of the doctor standing before you, trying to gauge any sense of what she was about to tell you both. “Are you both ready?”

Ona looked up at you, “God, I don’t know if I’m ready.”

You moved your hand to rub it along the side of Ona’s face when the doctor spoke again, “Trust me you want to know.”

Ona’s head whipped around back to the doctor, you swear she could’ve gotten whiplash, “What?”

“Congratulations, you’re officially two weeks pregnant.”

Ona collapsed back onto the bed as tears immediately filled both of your eyes. You had a hand covering your shocked expression, and Ona had one covering her tearful eyes.

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple, “You did it, mi amor, we’re going to have a baby,” You whispered through tears.

She looked up at you with matching tear-filled eyes, “Lo hicimos, hay un bebé ahí adentro,” You hand found its place on the side of her face as the other one still hasn’t let up its grip on her hand.

Once you both were recovered enough to refocus on the doctor, she explained further into what expect for the coming weeks and advice on keeping Ona as healthy as possible for the baby.

You listened as closely as possible as you knew you were going to do everything you could for them both, starting now.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine

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