#the dynamic duo is truly just

[phoenixkaptain]

My favourite part of Dick Grayson as a character is that he is never afraid of Bruce.

Like, Jason has his fear of disappointing him, Tim is a bit intimidated and has his hero worship, Damian fears that Bruce’ll kick him out the way he thinks Talia did, but Dick?

Dick is so unconcerned about Bruce at every possible moment. Even the earliest comics had Dick calling Bruce lame to his face. Dick works with Bruce and his partner for years and they understand each other on a deep level and Dick multiple times calls Bruce a fucking square.

Dick does not tell Bruce anything. He does not write home. If Bruce wasn’t in the room with him when Dick got called to go somewhere, I’m pretty sure Dick would not have informed Bruce that he was even leaving, let alone where he was going. The Teen Titans joined the Peace Corps, they were in Washington for at least a few days being trained, and Bruce finds out that Robin joined the Peace Corps from a newspaper. Dick does not tell him anything.

Dick and Bruce have such a fascinating relationship to me because Dick really doesn’t treat Bruce as his dad so much as he treats him like a particularly obnoxious older brother. Bruce treats Dick like his little baby bird who he cares about and doesn’t want to get hurt, but Dick is over there like “ugh, Bruce is so overdramatic” while he nearly drowns for the fifth time.

In early Teen Titans, there’s no question that Robin is physically the weakest member. Aqualad and Wonder Girl both have super strength, Kid Flash’s speed means that he doesn’t need super strength, but Robin is by far the easiest to capture. He gets caught very consistently through the early issues, albeit people can only catch him if they take him off guard, but it’s a lot easier to catch him off guard in early comics. Robin is the brains of the group, the others look to him for direction and depend on him to make plans that will work and panic when Robin gets nabbed because what will they do without Robin??

Robin gets captured a lot in early Batman comics too. Robin is the ultimate damsel, but he’s never really in very much distress? Like, Bruce and the Teen Titans are distressed, but Robin just looks maybe a bit surprised and bored. Robin never seems to take his own mortality into account when he does things, meanwhile literally everyone else does.

Dick only ever really gets annoyed with Bruce. He bever gets mad at his teammates, even when they question his ability. For the most part, Dick doesn’t even respond when they underestimate him to his face. I have no idea what’s going on in Dick’s head, but he isn’t a part of Aqualad and Kid Flash finding each other and him annoying in their first team ups and he never gets upset when they don’t believe in him.

Then, on the other hand, Bruce calls the music Dick is listening to noise, and Dick immediately is annoyed. Dick and Bruce having a turbulent relationship is more apparent later on in the comics, but Bruce is truly the only one in all the galaxies who gets under Dick’s skin as much as he does.

And it’s funny because fandom likes to paint Dick as bitter that Bruce didn’t adopt him, while I think Dick would have blown his top if Bruce even tried to adopt him. Dick had parents, he never views Bruce as a parental figure. Don’t get me wrong, Dick loves Bruce. Bruce does so much for Dick and Bruce is protective of him and Bruce is open about his affection, but Dick just doesn’t view him as his father.

I really think Dick views Bruce as more like a guard dog than a father. He talks so casually to Bruce, but he’s more formal to other adults. He complains about Bruce not trusting him, but doesn’t care when his teammates don’t trust him either. He views the rich billionaire vigilante who can take down a god in a fight as fucking lame.

Their relationship is amazing. They get along great. They’re a perfect duo, they work in tandem, they’re absolutely unstoppable together. If Bruce talks too much Dick will roll his eyes. They trust each other with their life. Dick is never telling Bruce anything. Bruce says “I guess I can spare Robin for a minute” and Dick is like “I would be perfectly content to never return home for the rest of my days.”

Of all the Robins, Dick is absolutely the one who respects Bruce the least. He loves the guy, but he just canNOT take him seriously.

(Do you think it was the time Bruce sent a box of bats to someone? Or the times Bruce gets captured and has to be rescued by his damsel side-kick? Or the way Bruce is like an overprotective mother, coming this close to reminding Robin to wash behind his ears? Or the way Bruce lets Robin say whatever he wants and never gets upset or offended or even hurt?

Or, maybe, Batman tripped on his cape once, and Dick just can never forget.)

[mcytegg]

Ash: I genuinely don't understand why you left Lala, and then left the Foundation like immediately. It can't just be because Minute killed you, that makes no sense.

Ro: I wasn't wanted.

posting the clip bc it genuinely makes me feel unwell but i also want to yap abt how insane ash and ro's entire convo makes me feel. like in this clip alone, the silence from them BOTH after ro says he wasn't wanted was so loud.

cause like earlier in the vod ro tells zam that although ash was one of his day 1 teammates, it was more against his will then not. like he felt like it was forced and more like ash's underling then his teammate. so him not actually feeling like he was part of the lala legion was obviously an issue that had roots from the very start, and these feelings only worsened and grew until eventually he ended up leaving the team AND the foundation (who only made his feelings of being unwanted and unvalued as Himself worse) to join the players, who actually seemed to genuinely want him on their side.

even AFTER he fucks up massively and ends up accidentally killing bacon w the arrow cannon instead of literally any of their enemies, they still want him there. despite their frustration and anger at him, he is still someone they want by their side. they don't kick him from the team or kill him like the foundation did the moment he fucked up, they accepted that he made a dumbass mistake as Their teammate and they dealt w the consequences of it and figured things out together.

bc he was more than just another person fighting by their side!! hes an idiot but he is THEIR idiot teammate roshambogames who they wanted to fight alongside them and thats what mattered most to him. feeling accepted and cared for by the people intent on ending the server in spite of his flaws and mistakes meant so much more to him then being w the people trying to protect it who only rly saw him as what he could Provide for them as a spare loyal member of the team.

and ro's convo w ash rly only confirmed to him that he was never valued as anything more than another teammate in the lala legion or the foundation bc ash Immediately disregards ro's words and calls it bs. and whats crazy is that ro was incredibly confident and sure of himself during their convo until ash started digging into him— calling him selfish and nothing but a violent person looking for an excuse to kill people and cause chaos. ash never seems to actually Listen to what ro has to say, he hears what he wants to hear, he berates ro yet begs for him to come back in the same breath. it was only after ash began doing this that ro began ro falter and lose some of his confidence, and its after ro begins to sound more uncertain that zam immediately gets clown to message ro to get out of there.

i assume it was zam bc clown was too busy hunting jumper to pay attention to ro's yaps w ash, and bacon nd zam were both watching it go down. and after rejoining the call, ro almost immediately gets his confidence back and all of the uncertainty he began to show bc of ash's words went away. they found jumper very shortly after ro rejoins which is also when zam and bacon start encouraging ro and boosting his confidence as well, making sure that he feels just as valued as clown is in this fight.

which is very 🥹🥹🥹 bc i'm growing attached to the players in general but it also feeds into my love for drastics too bc it rly does confirm to me that zam is probably the person (behind mapicc ofc) who makes ro feel most confident and comfortable w himself bc he understands ro better than most, and makes the effort to support him in the ways he needs to be supported so he feels seen and cared for.

[dearest-darlingest]

long-winded glinda gelphie angst thought ahead.

i just had a Thought™. a very sad glinda gelphie thought.

it's always been discussed how absolutely crushing the finale is; interpretations of glinda's grief driving her to do good, not by her own desire but because it was elphaba's last wish for her, amongst many implications in the finale that i love. however, it's always plagued me how it must be so painful and, to a point, numbing elphaba's absence post-defying gravity to glinda is.

it was never said in the musical how long they were apart (i have not read the book), but i rather think it must be a few years since glinda had to graduate ("we all went to uni together"). so, imagine how desperate she must've been in finding elphaba but not pursuing her search because she deemed it safer for the both of them (glinda with her status and elphaba's everything). how worried she felt in her day to day, wondering if her best friend's even safe, if she's already dead somewhere and no one was able find her body because nobody really knows where she is. all she's ever seen of her are the flashes of black flying through the sky, the sad reality of existing in a world with the one who she loves most but not being able to hold her, not even see her.

and then comes the reunion in the wizard's den.

she hears a commotion, she barges in concerned for whatever's going on in there, she sees elphaba. she sees elphaba. they crash onto each other in a tight hug. she's safe, she's here, she's alive. she holds onto her hand.

but then she realises that elphaba wasn't there to see her. not really. she waited and worried and waited even longer, but elphaba wasn't there for her.

what if she came to the conclusion that elphaba was there to apologise. to make amends with the wizard, so she can be with glinda again. what if glinda thought this was her second chance, a blessed one after she rejected elphaba's idea of flying with her during defying gravity.

she chooses fiyero.

now this is where the Thought™ really sprouted from—

she chooses fiyero and runs away and doesn't even say goodbye. and then the wretched senior citizen duo have the gall, the audacity to plan her beloved's demise right in front of her. but. after she's been brutally chosen over someone else, she bitterly says, "her sister. use her sister. spread a rumor, make her think her sister's in trouble. she will fly to her side and you'll have her."

it works. of course, it does. because that's her sister! her only living family left (though, she wasn't aware of that yet). but what if, glinda started to realise, after being left by elphaba again, that the plan wouldn't work if she were the one in trouble. what if glinda begun to think, how insignificant she must be in elphaba's life. to not be protected by her, to not have her fly over and fight whatever evil that has come to target glinda. to not be priotised by her.

to not even be a choice.

[shorthaltsjester]

taliesin and laura remain truly so fantastic at making characters who… don’t necessarily have something extremely and inherently in common but do have experiences that were caused by similar sources and that lead them to have quite different opinions/ideas about things but in ways that are typically very reconcilable? which is a lot of qualifiers but it’s a through line of vex/percy with nobility, jester & cad with loneliness (and also god stuff but in a different post maybe someday i’ll talk about how actually their god stuff is intensely related to their different experiences of loneliness), and now imogen & ashton with being left behind.

like vex was this character who technically had a claim to nobility due to her blood but at the same time was burdened because of that same claim. and percy who was born into and raised by nobility but that nobility ended up making his family the targets of a massacre. and then vex who lets down her walls and Do I Look Like I Come From Money? and percy giving her the title grand mistress of the grey hunt because it has nothing to do with blood, or his love for her, or anything aside from the fact that it’s something she can prove herself worthy of simply by virtue of who she Is, not who someone makes her. and percy and vex’s conversation about forgiveness and it’s necessity for growth as probably two of the characters most inclined to hold grudges.

and caduceus clay who gets left behind with nothing but his Belief while his family goes off into the world. and jester lavorre who gets shut inside with no company except her Belief as her mother protects her from the world. and they both get the burden of loneliness and the understanding of love’s nonmalicious imperfection. and caduceus having a panic attack on a ship and jester telling him that the world is a lot bigger than his cemetery and that means he has to break out of his comfort zone to find his path. and caduceus telling jester that he doesn’t think she gets as much credit as she ought to and she deserves more pastries. and jester thanking caduceus for showing her how cool it is to actually heal people and caduceus asking if she wants to use his shield while he doesn’t need it.

and ashton who was left broken and dying on the ground and was given inescapable pain as their means of survival. and imogen who was left behind by the only person who could provide true understanding of the pain she’d one day come to feel. and ashton who’s a barbarian, who wields their rage casually and unapologetically and who sees the Shittiness of the world but is unrelenting in his version of optimism. and imogen who is weighed down by pessimism she doesn’t Want to have but hasn’t cracked how to undo and who doesn’t admit her anger until it comes up again and again and again and carries it like a burden or like guilt, who we only see really Grasp and feel Confidence about her anger being something good in front of others when she has those conversations with ashton. and like. ashton who looks at imogen and sees a superhero. imogen venturing through ashton’s mind and holding his bleeding and exhausted head and saying i’m sorry. i’m sorry. and imogen who looks at ashton and sees someone special. and fucking “we got him killed.” and “no, we didn’t. don’t you dare. […] we are not what fucking killed that man. […] we are his eventual victory. we are his fucking revenge.” and “i’ll be his revenge.” and “i have no fucking doubt.”

and in general rp wise they both tend to make some of my favourite characters (also typically the ones i find most frustrating) because they both tend to make flaws that are easy to hate and they make those flaws very central to their characters but i think that’s also what makes their character interactions so deeply compelling because so frequently it’s like. yes yes these two characters have like. a helix of things they have in common but also things they deeply disagree on but they’re going to spider-man point at the things that are the same and they’re going to honour their differences while doing so. and it’s just. i always enjoy it so much and i was psyched when i heard about an imogen and ashton side pit stop in last nights episode and i was not let down when i watched the episode today.

[indifferentinfatuation]

gose 2020 ep 6

gose 2020 ep 46

gose ep 48

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

thinking also about the lines "ephael, get them!"/"uh... okay. (zooms towards the enemy despite the hesitance in his voice)" (toy mansion) and "ephael, why aren't you protecting your weak supporter!" (snow queen) and ephael seamlessly backing hestio up when he falters (reunion).

☝️methinks that hestio is this bossy and demanding firstly bc he's just like that and secondly bc ephael has enabled him all his life by meeting him wherever he stands. hestio has never really needed to be nicer to his friends because they both have the patience of saints. hestio is a little spoiled. he doesn't even have aura.

[sarenderpity]

Writing strong mentor/student friendships is sooooo fun until you try to make a playlist and theres songs with PERFECT lines but there's romantic overtones/sexual undertones UHG

[asinglebluefeline]

The switch from Dynamic Duo's "they know each other so well they can communicate without words" to "they would probably understand each other if only they used their frEAKING WORDS" is just so.

It actually actively devastates me sometimes to think about Bruce and Dick's relationship because they talk and act past each other so much. They're like a walking miscommunication trope. I know Tim was pulling his hair out at the roots in Knightfall when Dick is upset because Bruce didn't ask him to be Batman. Timmy literally says, "Dick, he KNOWS you don't want to be Batman." And the thing is, Dick doesn't!! But here he is saying, "Yeah, but I still would have done it if he'd asked because I know what it means to him! The mission comes first, if he didn't ask me it's because I'm not good enough." And so to him it's about Bruce thinking he's incompetent, while Bruce is over here thinking, if there's ONE thing I can do for my kid, it's not make him put on the cowl.

[wheneclipsefalls]

Swimming Lesson (A Precious One Shot)

Pairing: Adult Ao'nung x Hyperfeminine human reader

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

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

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

Precious Masterlist

Adult Ao'nung photo by Cinetrix

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A bikini.” 

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

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

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

“You know I can’t do that.” 

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

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

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

“You are stalling.” He accuses. 

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

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

“Get in.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well no but-”

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

“No.” You mumble against his shoulder. 

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

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

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

“Ao’nung-”

“No?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She is adorable.”

“Do you want to see her?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you ride them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And yet you didn’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you trust me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry about him.” You sigh. 

“He does not approve.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So naturally he swiped them to bring back here. 

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

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

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

“It is not stealing.” He shrugs. 

“Oh really? Then what is it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s more to it, though. 

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

Whatever you see in him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great Mother above, where did he find you?

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

“Is that weird?”

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

“Actually I was hoping you could teach me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He was just being honest.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want it?” 

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

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

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

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

Different.

Interested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise me.” He demands. 

“I promise.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.” 

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

“I just…don’t want to hurt you.” 

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

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

Because he is yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you are small. And fragile. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah but you’re-”

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

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

You’re trying to mark him.

Claim him as he has claimed you so many times. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a pure shot of electricity. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are absolutely drenched. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There we go. Now suck, sweetheart.” 

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

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

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

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

And so more you will get.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[natandacat]

Claudia talking to Louis while he's having sex with Lestat is still making me insane. How to better represent the complete absence of appropriate boundaries in rue royale. We all laugh at claudia' "two blood fat cocks" comment in s2 but in s1 she was fully having a conversation about how to kill lestat while he was balls deep in Louis. It's just another example of how enmeshed she is in Louis' sexual life despite his efforts to fulfill his protective roll at first (he's righteously upset at Lestat for first crossing that line by bringing her to the cruising spot to hunt and therefore being directly responsible for her sexual awakening).

Claudia's accusatory "which one of you is gonna fuck me" is not just a provocation, it's a sobbering and factually true assessment of her situation. The only times she explores sexuality outside of Louis' relationships (first with Lestat then with Armand), she is severely punished (first emotionally by lestat for Charlie's death then lethally by armand and the coven for the making of Madeleine). In her inability to make a companion or to control herself with humans, she fully depends on Louis for either direct sexual connection (talking to him while he's having sex with lestat or witnessing his fantasies of armand) or for the making of a sexual companion that she can safely engage with sexually (we see that she fears her lack of control around Madeleine's menstruation).

Incestuous dynamics truly are a product of isolation and lack of oversight that plague the nuclear family especially when they are as marginalized as the rue royale (a mixed race vampiric queer family) and later on claudia and louis as a single unit (codependent trauma bonded parent/child duo).

L'enfer c'est les autres, I'd even add l'enfer c'est la famille

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 · 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬

contents: fluff. satoru makes sweet promises about the future with you. 800 wc.

“What would you say if I retired today?”

The words left his mouth so easily—like they’re one of the many frivolous musings that comes and goes, an afterthought when the shared laughter and playful teasing had died down a bit. Behind his loose grin, Satoru carefully studies your face as he weighs the question in your mind, as though they bear no consequence and he wants to hear your answer no matter how serious or unserious he’s being.

“Retire…” You drawl thoughtfully, “You mean put your sorcerer work behind you?” You more than readily welcome the idea than you let on, it’s all you can think about sometimes and keeps you awake at night. You knew about the dangers and the shortcomings that his lifestyle posed, but your love for him outweighs the troubles and the fears and the risks that come with loving someone like him—that is Satoru Gojo.

Not the Strongest Sorcerer, the leader of something, just a normal person who has a fondness for the sweeter things and never lets good humor go to waste if he could help it. If he truly decided to retire from now onwards he won’t have to participate in another dangerous mission again, no more of those dreadful overseas assignments that keeps you both apart for long stretches of time, and you could get used to knowing that he gets to come home to you every night.

“Well, okay. I suppose I could become the breadwinner for once.”

Satoru lets out a pleased laugh. His arm that encircled your waist tightens as he squeezes you with great affection, receiving a small oof from you and quick gentle pats of surrender before he crushes your lungs. He’s sitting on an abundance of wealth for the both of you to lead a comfortable life, and you’re cute for worrying about finances in the foreseeable future. Maybe he doesn’t spoil his precious sweetheart far enough, he thinks.

“I guess you’ll need to work triple time in order to afford my expensive taste.” He teases, pinching your cheek between his fingers. “We can be a dynamic duo. You can work while I stay home.” He mutters softly, letting his hand settle against the nape of your neck while his thumb brushes against your cheek. “Would I be a good househusband?”

“You’d be awful.” You were a little quick to say, almost shuddering at the thought. He feigns a hurt expression with the slightest furrow to his brows and an adorable pout lines his lips. He had an affinity for sweets as shown in your fully stocked pantry but navigating the rest of the kitchen would cause quite an upheaval despite his best efforts. “Maybe at first anyway.”

“You think I won’t be able to clean or cook properly?” Satoru complains dramatically, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. You attempt to push him away between your giggles as the ends of his hair tickles you and he gently nips away at your skin, but his large build unsurprisingly wouldn’t budge. He lays a light kiss here and there shortly after, his voice lowering into a playful whisper. “Giving up on me already, huh? Too bad, that was your only chance of seeing me in an apron~”

Satoru comes up to meet your gaze and he catches your lips for a sweet taste, the warmth of his body sinking into yours and your arms wrap around him to bring him in a little deeper. “Are you saying I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you if I came home to you wearing an apron?” It was your turn to pinch his cheeks fondly and you consider something. “But it’s a nice thought—you wanting to lead a different life.”

“I want to make you a promise,” he begins slowly, and there’s a beautiful look behind his cerulean hues filled with just pure adoration and love that’s reserved only for you. “When my time comes and I’m ready to call it quits, I’ll retire with you by my side. We’ll move somewhere peaceful and quiet—as secluded as you like. We could even travel the world if that's what my baby wishes, just the two of us.”

“That’s a big promise you’re making me.” You raise an eyebrow at him. But you like the dream that he’s sharing with you, no matter how close or how far out of reach it may seem. And so, a warm smile softens your face. “Just me and you?”

“Yes, Angel.” He grins happily, pulling you closer so his heartbeat matches yours and the sound lulls into one under the moon’s gaze. As long as you keep giving him every excuse in the world to keep you within arms’ reach—forever, then it’s contentment and peace and everything else in between he’ll find with you. If you’re there, then that’s home for him. “Just us and the sky.”

꒰ note ᰔ still coping with everything that’s happened along with ch. 261 so hope you enjoyed this something silly and something fluff for our sweet loverboy satoru. ꒱

[robiinurheart33]

Ok ok Johnny but he can’t accept the fact that people love him?

First girlfriend. Went south real fast and realised he was gay.

First boyfriend. Was bi-curious. First heartbreak too.

Second boyfriend. Only wanted him for his body. Self explanatory.

Third boyfriend. Way too emotionally unavailable, felt like they weren’t even dating at a point. Turns out he already has a partner.

You get the gist.

At a very young age, Johnny was aware of his unfortunate personality. School fights, family scoldings, bedroom sobbing, it’s all just a blur to him now. It’s not like he had the worst life out there, no. But he can’t shake the fact that he can’t really remember anything about his childhood. The trauma stuck though, unfortunately.

He could never really seem to shake off that “unloveable” blanket on his shoulders.

It’s not that bad, in retrospect. His friends like him, sure. They tolerate him. He knows he’s loud, he knows he’s brash, he’s a lot to deal with! He understands. So every once in a while, he’ll just…back off. Leave everyone alone and just spend some time alone. The horrors do get to him when he’s alone in his room, clutching the fabric of his shirt and trying to get ahold of his breathing, but it’s basically nothing to what everyone else has to endure! He’s selfish, he knows it already, always needy, always wanting. This is the least he can do to make sure that his loved ones aren’t tipped over the boiling point and actually leave him for good.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself at times.

Then he meets ghost.

Powerful, strong, admirable Ghost. He blew his fucking lid. He’s even bigger than the rumours suggest. He’s professional, clean. He’s everything that Soap wishes to be.

He’s jealous right off the bat. How could he not be?

Honestly, he feels a bit bad for the guy at the start. Soap’s laying it on thick with the touching and the questions. He’s obviously fucking with him a bit, bit to be fair he’s not really doing much to stop him either. As time goes on, it becomes a weird sort of admiration/jealousy thing. He still is jealous of Ghost, but not to an extreme extent that he could be.

Ghost is another very peculiar case, one that Soap doesn’t seem to mind prodding. After a few missions together, he could see why he was so infamous. But still, Ghost wasn’t pushing back. Has anyone done this to him before? Why was he just letting this happen? Ghost might find him weird, sure, but he’s the most curious disturbing motherfucker soap’s ever met.

The army isn’t exactly a place to find someone to get their dick wet, homophobes around the corner at every turn. Soap’s just accepted it as part of life now, not really wanting to think much on it but having that fact lurk at the back of his mind. It’s a bit depressing, sure, to not have anyone get to know his actual self, but then again he was sure that anyone who truly got to know him wouldn’t talk to him ever again. If it’s not the gay thing, it’s the army thing. If its not the army thing, it the personality thing. Whatever. John’s gotten used to it.

However, though some unexplainable force (the SAS and Price), Soap and Ghost had become some sort of dynamic duo now. They’d fought together, lost together, gone through some of the most horrific weathers known to man, and they’d both survived under some miracle. Well, soap survived. He never doubted ghost would.

He got very close though. Way too close for Soap’s liking. They were in some fuck-ass country upside down the earth, down to his last mag and ghost clipped in the shoulder. They were hauling ass just- away. They didn’t know when exfil would get there, or where. Their main objective was just to survive. Ghost was making a very vulnerable wheezing sound from his throat and Soap’s gun was overheating, burning though his gloves.

“Soap- Sargent.” Ghost whispered, somehow always remaining calm in the most chaotic situation Soap’s been in so far. Either that, or he’s just really fuckin tired.

“No’ now, L.T, tryna get us to safety.”

“Soap, leave me behind.”

“What? Listen, I’ve got no time for your stupid heroism crap, okay? Just- shut up.”

“MacTavish, im serious. I have nothing waiting for me. I’ll be okay. Just go. Stay safe.”

“Whot the hell did i just say?” He snapped, turning towards him. “I’ve go’ no time for this. You’re coming wit me whether you like it or not.” Soap jabs a finger into his chest, leaning in close until he’s sure Ghost can see the faintest scar on his right eyebrow from screwing around with a razor with his friends, trying to give himself a eyebrow slit.

“You’ve got me, haven’t ya? You’ve got Price, and the people on your team are counting on you. I’m counting on you. So you can die somewhere else, in the bumfuck a’ nowhere, but you’re not allowed to die today, now. Ya hear me?”

Like this, gunpowder and dust making his nose itchy, looking intensely at Ghost to make sure his point is drive home, there’s a look in his eyes that soap thinks he’s never seen before. He- he kinda looks like-

How Soap looks at Ghost.

With admiration.

Oh.

So, yeah. They ran out of there on the air of their asses, Soap laughing as the final hits of adrenaline pulses his heart, Ghost leaning against him with the same look in his eye, and they’ve never exactly been the same after that.

Soap chalked it off as it being in the heat of the moment kinda thing, but he’s been consistently catching Ghost’s eye staring at him from a distance away, just staring, with that strange look in his eye. Not always with the same emotion, Soap guesses, but still. It’s close enough. He doesnt know what’s happening, or what he did, but something changed. And it’s driving him insane. It’s not that Ghost wasn’t already friendly in his own weird ghost way, but now he’s being friendly in a normal way.

It’s so weird.

He’ll be waiting at the gun range for Soap like he knows he’d appear there, toss him an apple when he feels peckish, slap his hand away when he needs to change bandages muttering something about him not doing it properly. It’s weird, and it’s nice, and it’s making soap feel all itchy and hot. he can’t even scratch himself anymore as a soothing tick, Ghost will just slap his hand away and grumble a “stop that.”

It’s weird, and soap can’t help but enjoy it.

He feels a bit selfish, feeling like he’s somehow taking advantage of ghost’s kindness, but for what? He’s feeling guilty but what exactly is he being selfish about? Maybe a mental checkup is in order, he’s losing his mind a bit. They’re friends, that’s all. It’s not…that unheard of that ghost would have friends, isn’t it? He should feel honoured to be his…fist? Again, Soap doesn’t know a lot about him.

Time passes. He dips his toes in guerrilla warfare for the first time, can’t say he’s a fan. Been backstabbed, shot, and survived. Hes earned his nickname, and sticks by it. (Hah) Though thick and thin, Ghost’s been there throughout it all. An angel guiding him to the churches, a leader who he would follow to the pits of hell, a friend when he needed one. After all that, the questions just never seemed to slow down. About his family, himself, his hobbies… to keep him awake, to pass the time, just whenever. Mostly Soap would get grumbles and short answers, proper sentences if he’s in the mood (which is all the time) or drunk enough. He’s flustered under all the attention and he knows it, itching beneath the helmet and the layers of armour. Soap is brash, and loud, and a little bit of a pyromaniac. He knows it. He’s fine with it. All jagged edges, no slowing down in sight. He doesnt know what to do with the change coming. He does the only thing he knows to do. He runs. After all of it is said and done, with makarov in the streets now, not much is to be done other than waiting for further instruction.

Applies leave for a few days, rented a airbnb online, have some alone time. Reset. Easy. Simple. Hes done this all his life. But when he was just about to slip out, Ghost suddenly appeared right in front of him.

“Gah- Jesus, fuck, ghost. What’s wrong?”

“You’re leaving.”

“Yeah, I am. You signed off on the papers.”

“Why?”

“Just…some time. To myself.”

“Is that it?”

“…yeah?” What else does he want me to say?

Ghost looks like he.. squirms a bit, which is weird. Ghost doesn’t squirm.

“Just… the countryside. And stuff.” This is the worst casual conversation he’s ever had with Ghost.

“Um… i got you something.” Then he’s holding something out.

“Huh? Really- this is a rock.” What the fuck.

“It’s a rock from Las Almas.”

“You… kept a rock. From Las Almas. What, you couldn’t have stopped by an actual gift shop just around the corner? I think i saw one right around where i found your knife lodged into-”

“-You done yet?” He snaps.

“Apparently not, sir. You wanna explain the rock?” Soap’s being a bitch.

“Just that… you’re going to be alone… and. Makarov.”

“It’s a legitimate place, ghost. you wont find anyone there.”

“Not just that, it’s like-” He groans slightly and scratches the back of his head. “You’re going to be alone, and the last time you were alone..”

Oh.

“It’s just a reminder that like, I wasn’t going to give it to you this soon but, i was there. With you. You weren’t truly alone, johnny. And.. you’re going to be alone now. Actually alone. And i just….its. I’m here. At Redhill. I’m going to be here. You know where to find me.”

You’ve got me, haven’t ya?

Oh shit.

Soap doesn’t know what to say. He can feel the tip of his ears burning, pricking down his cheeks and flush down his neck. He doesnt know how to stand properly, what to say, how to think. Because everything he;s thinking right now should not be applied to his lieutenant.

This doesn’t mean anything, right? It doesn’t change anything. It’s still the same. Soap knows that Ghost cares about him. He’s his Sargent. He’s his Sargent. But not in that way. They’re friends. The rock from Las Almas. He’s fine. They’re fine. It’s just like the rock is a physical manifestation and real evidence that Ghost may or may not like him. Jesus, he shouldn’t think like that. He’s too quiet. He should say something. His lips twitch.

“Thank you.” THAT’S IT?? SAY MORE.

“I’ll know where to look, then.” Soap gives the most half flustered, half assed smile he’s ever given to anyone. He cant even begin to imagine how he looks right now. His heart pulls. Ghost looks away. He feels like he’s going to be swept off his feet in a bad (good) way.

“Right then.” He clears his throat, disappearing down the corner of the hallway. Soap gapes as he stares after him. What was that? What was him? What? He looks down at the heavier-than-it should-look rock in his sweaty palms, and swallows.

This doesn’t change anything. They’re still working together. They’re the lieutenant and Sargent of the 141 Taskforce. He’s fine. They’re fine.

Everything is okay.

[eternally-racing]

baby steps | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x wife!reader (plus their adorable lil kiddo) 

genre: fluff

warnings: none 

word count: 2.5k

summary: Lando needs a little bit of encouragement to head off to his first race after the birth of your daughter, so what better thing to do than surprise him on race day?

note: this fic can be read as a stand alone or as part of the racer girl series !

---

When you first showed Lando the two lines on your positive pregnancy test, your entire world had changed. It felt like such a whirlwind of excitement, and before you knew it you were 9 months pregnant watching Lando’s races on television. It was pure luck that your water only broke the day after the season ended, which meant that Lando had a cherished couple of months with your baby girl, Piper, before heading back to racing. 

The two of them had become quite the dynamic duo in your household. From the moment that Lando first looked at your daughter, he knew that he was in love. He was an amazing father and you told him exactly that at every moment you could. It was one of the biggest fears that Lando had, being an absent father or not knowing what to do. Before you met Lando he was fully in his bachelor lifestyle, not once even thinking of kids, but now he was the biggest girl dad you’ve ever seen, giving into your daughter’s every whim. It’s exactly why Lando says he wants to give up racing all together once he sees your daughter cry for the first time when he leaves to go to the MTC for the first time since she was born - he would do anything for Piper, he would give up everything he loved if it meant that his little girl would be happy. Luckily, he had you to keep him grounded, and after more than a couple of tearful conversations you had helped Lando make peace with continuing on with his career with you and your daughter there to support him in the background. This was the first week that this was truly going to be tested though, since it was finally time for him to fly to Bahrain. 

“Say goodbye to daddy!” you say as you pick up your daughter’s hand to make her wave. 

You can see the way the wheels are turning in Lando’s head as he stays frozen in the entryway. He’s not forgetting anything, there’s no way he could with your packing lists that he’s used for every single race since you started dating. Even if he did forget something, he knows he could easily get someone from the team to either shop for him or send it over.

“Y/N I - , I don’t know anymore about this,” Lando mutters with his grip on the door handle loosening. 

“Lan, cmon now, I can’t have two babies in this house at once.” you joke as you pinch his cheek. “But seriously, you’re gonna be okay? Just do your best out there. I’m only a phone call away all the time if you need me. You’re going to be great and we’re cheering you on from here. I’ll send you all the pictures and videos and everything so it’ll feel like you’re still with us.”

While Piper can’t talk yet, she still reaches out to Lando to gently pat his shoulder - which only brings more tears to the forefront of Lando’s eyes. He always said his daughter was smart beyond her years, able to sense things even some adults don’t notice. 

“What if Piper can’t fall asleep without me reading her story? What if she learns how to walk before I’m gone? Or what if she forgets that I even exist?” 

“First off, I have memorized “the Rainbow Fish” perfectly from the 7 different times you taught me it. She’s not going to walk because she’s barely 8 months old. And lastly, she’s not going to forget you Lando, I promise you that. Do you trust me?” 

Lando doesn’t miss a beat when he says “always.” 

You hand your daughter off to Lando’s arms in exchange for the carry on that’s currently in his hands. You know that all he needs to do is hold her, to remember that feeling of being with her so he can keep that memory with him for the week ahead. You’re not the only one who’s noticed the way that Piper always immediately seems to calm down whenever she’s in her dad’s arms. There was something special between the two of them, something so unbreakable - which is exactly what you tell Lando. 

“Plus I think she’s in that phase where she’s starting to like you better, so I could use some alone time with our little bug” you tease as you squish your daughter’s cheeks. When Lando sees you cracking jokes it makes him feel a little more at ease - if you were so comfortable with this then why shouldn’t he be too? With one last hug and kiss, Lando finally walks out the door with a promise to facetime you once he gets to the airport. 

Piper starts crying the second she realizes that her dad is really gone, and honestly you shed a few tears too.

 “Don’t worry Pipes, we’re going to see daddy sooner than you think,” you whisper to your daughter as you try to soothe her. Little did Lando know that you had a bag packed in your bedroom for you and your daughter to surprise him at the paddock on race day.

—

The expectations were low for Lando in Bahrain, both from the media and from himself. He had been very upfront about having different priorities this summer than just racing, so he had been a write-off in so many people’s minds. That’s what made it even sweeter when Lando saw the checkered flag first in Bahrain, marking the very first time he had ever won at the circuit. It’s no secret that Lando had become more sensitive since he had become a dad, but when he says “This one is for my girls, I love you Y/N and Piper” over the radio, it brings tears to everyone’s eyes. 

Lando is already over the moon. He gives a big cheer to the roaring crowd before going to hug the rest of the team. It’s absolutely electric and it really seems like everyone, regardless of whether they are a McLaren fan or not, could appreciate how much this win meant to him. 

But the sweetest moment is when he spots you. You’re a little bit off to the side, a couple of security guards standing around you to make sure that nobody would try and trample over you and Piper. Little Piper is wearing a pair of noise canceling McLaren branded headphones on her ears as she hangs out happily in your arms. It’s like she spots her dad at the same time too, since she starts waving her arms in Lando’s direction. Lando immediately stops everything he’s doing to run over to you two. You have a knowing look in your eye, like you were just waiting for him to finally spot you both. 

“Oh my god, you’re here.”  Lando lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Having you both here makes him finally feel complete, like his heart was finally whole again. 

“There’s no way we were going to miss daddy’s first race of the season. Congratulations, babe” 

Lando has questions of course - how you managed to pull this off without him noticing, whether Piper gave you trouble on the plane, and so much more. For now, though, he just wants to spend time with you two. He almost forgets that he’s at the race entirely, let alone that he won it until a team member comes up behind him to ask him if he’s ready to do his interview 5 minutes from now. 

When Piper reaches over with her little grabby hands for Lando, you of course give into her whims as you pass her over to the sweaty driver. It also gives you a second to pull out your phone and capture the moment for yourself. Piper is playing with the visor on Lando’s helmet, learning a new form of peek a boo that you know that she’s going to want to keep playing when you get home. You’re the one who helps keep Lando on track, giving him one last kiss on his helmet before you tell him to head off towards the hoard of media personnel eagerly awaiting his appearance. When you go to take Piper back from him she refuses to budge, and with both Piper and Lando giving you their classic puppy dog eyes, you know you’re outnumbered. 

“Keep her safe, Lan, okay?” It’s a rhetorical question. You know that Lando wouldn’t let anything happen to her - but it’s still a big crowd, the biggest you’ve ever been since you gave birth, and it’s a little scary to not hold onto her here. 

You don’t think anyone has ever seen Will Buxton this happy as he pulls Lando aside for his post-race interview. 

“I have to say, congratulations on an absolutely brilliant drive from you today, Lando - and would you like to introduce the special guest you’ve brought with you?” Will asks with a grin. 

Lando can’t help the similar smile that is etched on his face as he looks at his little girl. “This is my daughter Piper, and she’s just the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I can’t share enough praise for my beautiful wife Y/N too - words can’t describe how much she means to me.I really wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today without her support.”  Lando looks back at you with a smile and kisses Piper on the cheek to end off his sentence, but Piper seems to be more interested in the texture of the mic than her dad at the moment. 

“What does it mean to you to have this be your first win as a father, Lando?” 

“Oh man, this little girl is everything to me - I just want to do my best on the track so that Piper can look back and always be proud to have me as her dad.” 

The moment is made extra sweet as Piper tosses and turns in Lando’s hold so that she can cling to him like a koala bear, pulling herself further into Lando’s chest. She is starting to like the microphone just as much as Lando, so she pulls her face right onto it before she says her very first word - “dada”.

At first Lando thinks he’s hallucinating - there’s so many people around and there’s so much noise that he can barely hear himself think. But then Piper says it again and he can’t help but start to cry.

“She -, she- called me dada, oh my god I can’t believe it,” Lando’s in pure disbelief as he stares in awe at his little girl and looks back at you watching in the crowd. For a minute he forgets that there’s a full corral of people watching him until he hears a collective “awww” from the crowd.  “Sorry it’s just -, wow, she’s never done that before.” he says sincerely as he wipes the tears from his cheeks.

It’s now Piper’s turn to cry as she gets overwhelmed with all the eyes that are staring at her, pushing the microphone away from her as she buries her head into Lando’s shoulder. She is just a little kid, after all. Lando wraps up the interview as fast as he can, apologizing as he whisks Piper away to try and lift her spirits. 

Luckily it’s time to head into the cooldown room, which proves to be the perfect place for Piper to calm down from her outburst. The antics continue there as Lando bounces Piper on her lap, pointing to the TV screen to show her all the highlights. 

“Look at daddy about to overtake uncle Charles! And there’s uncle Alex, and uncle George...” Lando continues to retell the story of the last two hours as the other two podium sitters, Max and Oscar, chime in intermittently. Sometimes Piper’s gaze falls to Lando’s new hat instead of the screen, but he’s happy to have her in the room with him to share this moment. 

You have to really bargain with Lando to get him to hand Piper back to you so he can head to the podium by himself - it’s only at the rational explanation of not wanting your baby covered in champagne that he finally gives in to reason. Piper loves seeing the celebrations on the podium, adding in some cheers of her own when she sees her dad jumping up and down with joy on the podium. The little girl is addicted to the shine of the Bahrain trophy in the sun and you and Lando both later joke that she likes the piece of metal better than the both of you combined. 

It’s no surprise that Piper falls asleep on the car ride home - you do the same next to her as the jet lag catches up to you both. Piper still keeps one hand firmly on the trophy, having barely let it out of her sight since Lando brought it to her. Lando can’t help but feel so lucky as he looks through the rearview mirror at the both of you. 

It never gets any easier - leaving. The next weekend Lando heads to the United States and Piper cries the whole day once she notices that he’s packing a suitcase. You’re honest with Lando when you tell him that you’ll see him once he gets back, there’s no way you and Piper would be able to handle all the time changes and long haul flights that would come with going to every race.

You still watch every race though, throwing sleep training to the wind as Piper often stays up at all odd hours to watch with you. There are so many moments where you wish that you could be there with Lando, especially with the season he’s having. As the journalists would say, Lando’s “dad powers” have brought him his best ever start to a Formula 1 season, as he has yet to finish outside the top 3 so far. 

“What do you think is going to happen when I don’t come home from a trip with one of those?” Lando jokes as he sees your daughter absolutely enamored with the newest addition to her trophy collection. It’s the Australian GP trophy, which proves to be the perfect vessel for Piper to put her cereal pieces into. The little girl has taken to yelling as her new favorite hobby, and she shows it off every time she squeals with joy when Lando walks through the door after a race.

“I don’t want to find out, so you’ll just have to keep getting podiums, Lan” you joke back as you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

----

author's note: oh man, this has been sitting in my drafts FOREVER as i tried to perfect it but i really wanted to share it with you all. Thanks for all the love - asks are open if you want to say hello or make a request! Until next time! - Em 🤍

[mylovesstuffs]

Objection, Your Honor ! – Lee Chan

Genre: Non-idol au, legal au, detective-prosecutor au, workplace romance and enemies to lovers

Pairing: Dino × fem!reader

Content: Office romance, crime-solving duo/trio, tension, banter, flawed characters, detective/prosecutor dynamic, explicit sexual content MDNI! strong language, intense arguments, suggestive comments, making out, lotssss of kissing, Dino is cocky, reader loses her patience 99% of the time

Word count: 8657 words

A/N: Had to add the word razor every chance I got, lol. I expanded this picture of him with ai since it didn’t fit before. I changed his hair strands, skin, and stuff—and even his eye lenses myself meticulously (not ai). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and please reblog :( and happiest birthday to our Dino! He’s amazing just the way he is—so full of energy, talent, and charm that he never fails to inspire us all. I hope this year brings him nothing but happiness, success, and moments where he feels truly proud of everything he’s accomplished. He’s one of a kind, and the world is brighter because of him. I’m still waiting for him to give me a chance, though...

The slam of the file against your desk was so loud it nearly toppled your coffee mug. You flinched but didn’t look up immediately. No, acknowledging theatrics only fed the beast. Instead, you calmly capped your pen, setting it down with deliberate precision. He hated when you did this—acted like you had all the time in the world when he came storming in.

“You’re welcome for the heart attack,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You exhaled slowly through your nose before finally glancing up. There he was, Detective Lee Chan—better known as Dino, the human embodiment of caffeine and stupidity. His tie was undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he had that same infuriating smirk plastered on his face, as if he’d just solved the mystery of the universe.

“Detective,” you said with a polite nod, lacing your voice with as much fake sweetness as you could muster. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this… unexpected visit?”

“I brought you a gift,” he said, sliding the file closer to you. “A slam-dunk case. You’ll love it. All the evidence is right there. Can’t miss.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Last time you said that, I spent three weeks untangling jurisdiction issues. Do you even know how many late nights I had to pull because of you?”

Dino wasn’t actually an idiot no matter how many reckless decisions he makes. His instincts were razor-sharp, his record impeccable, and annoyingly enough he was usually right when it mattered. Last month, for example, his so-called ‘gut feeling’ about a drug ring being connected to a string of convenience store robberies was spot-on. His lead cracked open a case that had stumped everyone else for months. But damn if his delivery didn’t make you want to strangle him sometimes.

Dino, unbothered by your skepticism. “Yeah, but we nailed that drug ring, didn’t we?”

You hated when he was right and he knew it. “Fine,” you muttered, pulling the top file toward you and flipping it open. A mid-level burglary case, nothing too flashy at first glance. But as you skimmed through his notes, it was tight, methodical, and annoyingly thorough—you spotted the potential for something bigger.

“This better not be a ‘just trust me’ situation,” you said, glancing up at him. “If I’m staying late over this, it better pay off.”

He grinned, pushing off the desk. “Relax, Prosecutor. You know I don’t miss. This one’s airtight.”

And the thing that frustrated you most was that, you knew he was probably right. Dino didn’t swing unless he knew he’d hit the target. But it didn’t mean you had to let him bask in the glory without making him sweat first.

Now you opened the next file flipping through the pages. But this time the further you read, the deeper the pit in your stomach grew. And not in a good way. This wasn’t a slam dunk. It wasn’t even a half-hearted layup.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, shaking your head as you thumbed through the mess of paperwork. “You interrogated the suspect without a lawyer present?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t ask for one.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “You didn’t inform him of his rights properly, did you?”

“Details, details.”

“And this eyewitness? The one who conveniently claims they saw the suspect fleeing the scene? They’re twelve, Dino. Twelve.”

“Kids are observant!” he protested.

“They’re also notoriously unreliable in court. Oh, and let’s not forget this,” you said, holding up a grainy surveillance photo that looked like it had been taken with a potato. “Is this your so-called smoking gun? Because it could literally be anyone.”

Dino, arms crossed, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just presented you with a flaming dumpster fire disguised as a case. “You’re missing the point.”

“Am I?”

“Yes!” He sat up, his chair scraping against the floor. “The point is, this guy is guilty. I know it. You know it. Hell, even he knows it. Why are you so hung up on the technicalities?”

“Technicalities?” you repeated, your voice rising despite your best efforts. “You mean the law? The thing we’re both supposedly here to uphold?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, spare me the lecture. Do you even care about justice, or is paperwork your true love?”

Your jaw tightened. “Do you even care about rules, or is your brain just made of air?”

The words hung in the air like smoke after a gunshot. For a minute, neither of you spoke, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

There was a reason the firm always paired you with Dino for the cases no one else could touch, the ones buried under decades of dust or tangled in enough red tape to suffocate an entire department. It wasn’t because you liked each other—oh, God, no. The mere sight of Dino’s cocky smirk had you fantasizing about slamming his face into your meticulously organized desk. And you were pretty sure your obsession with the rulebook made him consider hurling you off the nearest courthouse steps.

No, the firm didn’t stick you together because you worked well; they did it because you got results.

Dino was a wildcard in the courtroom. He was reckless in a way that somehow always paid off. He’d bend every rule in the book, dive headfirst into risks that no sane professional would take, and then, just when everyone thought he was about to crash and burn, he’d pull off a result so airtight it left no room for appeal. To him, the law wasn’t some sacred structure but a weapon to be wielded, a chessboard where his unpredictable moves kept everyone including you on edge. But then there was you: the polar opposite. Where Dino thrived on improvisation, you thrived on preparation. Every motion you filed was flawless. Every precedent cited, every objection raised, was calculated. You built cases brick by brick, layering facts, timelines, and evidence until there was no room for doubt. You didn’t gamble, didn’t deviate, didn’t take risks. You didn’t need to because your method was bulletproof.

So, of course, throwing the two of you together was a recipe for war. You didn’t just clash; you collided like two freight trains on a collision course. Dino would rush into a strategy meeting late, armed with some half-baked plan, reeking of coffee and audacity, while you’d already drafted three versions of the closing argument. You’d roll your eyes at his recklessness; he’d scoff at your obsession with boring technicalities. It wasn’t just your approaches that set you off, though. It was the way he got under your skin. Dino had this uncanny ability to needle you in just the right way. He’d make some offhand comment about your obsession with color-coded spreadsheets or the way you probably alphabetized your sock drawer and you’d feel your blood pressure skyrocket. But you weren’t innocent, either. You knew exactly how to press his buttons, whether it was calling his brilliant-but-illegal idea juvenile or quietly rephrasing his arguments in court to make them admissible without giving him credit. And yet as much as you hated each other, the firm couldn’t stop throwing you together. Those cases where everything was on the line, went to you and Dino. Why? Because for all the throat-slitting arguments, for all the nights you spent slamming doors and trading insults that could scorch earth, you delivered. Together.

It wasn’t pretty. Your fights were the stuff of office legend. Once, he stormed into your workspace at 2 a.m. after you’d rejected one of his leads as ‘inadmissible garbage.’ You’d stood toe-to-toe, voices raised to the point that security came by to check if someone was being assaulted. Another time, you’d shredded one of his witness strategies so thoroughly in a meeting that the room fell silent. Dino didn’t speak to you for three days after that which, honestly, was the most peaceful stretch of your career. But whenever you were on a case together, something just clicked. Dino’s instincts and risk-taking cracked open doors that no amount of careful planning ever could. Meanwhile, your meticulous follow-through turned his madcaps into something actionable. It was maddening, really. He’d drag you into situations so precarious they felt like career suicide, and you’d spend hours, sometimes days, pulling everything back from the brink. But in the end it always paid off.

Take the Serrano case, for example. A cold case involving a missing heiress, dismissed as a dead end by everyone else. Dino had dragged you into some dilapidated motel off the interstate to interrogate a retired cop. The guy’s statement wasn’t even admissible, and you told Dino as much, several times, in increasingly colorful language. But damned if Dino didn’t come away with a critical piece of information: the location of a long-abandoned storage locker. The locker led to evidence, which led to a confession, which led to a headline-making conviction. And as much as you hated to admit it, the case would’ve gone nowhere without his reckless brilliance. Of course, Dino never let you live it down. “You’re welcome,” he’d say, that shit-eating grin plastered across his face as if he hadn’t nearly given you an ulcer.

The truth was, you couldn’t stand Dino because you saw what made him dangerous: he was too smart for his own good. He didn’t play by the rules because he didn’t need to. He could charm his way out of trouble, think on his feet, and pull victories out of situations that should’ve been unwinnable. And that terrified you, because it made you question everything you believed about the law, about order, about the system you’d built your entire career on. And Dino couldn’t stand you because you represented everything he hated: authority, rigidity, rules. He thought you were too stuck in your ways to see the bigger picture, too concerned with ticking boxes to actually fight for justice. He saw your meticulousness as a cage, not a strength. You didn’t see eye to eye, you barely saw each other as human but when it came to the job, you were a fucking force of nature. And that’s what made working with Dino so antagonizing. Because for all the fights, all the late-night shouting matches, there was a small, annoying part of you that knew you wouldn’t want anyone else by your side in the trenches. You both respected each other. You wouldn’t admit it out loud but deep down, you knew Dino wasn’t just reckless; he was brilliant. And he knew you weren’t just a stickler for rules; you were a goddamn powerhouse in the courtroom.

So, the firm kept throwing you together, because when you weren’t busy trying to rip each other’s throats out, you were unstoppable. And that was the most infuriating part of all.

“I care about catching culprits,” Dino said finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “That’s my job. And I’m damn good at it. So maybe you could try trusting me for once instead of nitpicking every little thing I do.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something about the way he looked at you, equal parts frustration and something you didn’t want to name or maybe it was just you. “You think I don’t trust you?” your voice low. “This isn’t about trust, Dino. We need to do it the right way. Because if we don’t, the culprits walk. And that’s on you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, just held your gaze, his dark brown eyes searching yours. It was maddening, the way he could make you feel like the bad guy when he was the one who barged in here with his half-baked case and his cocky attitude.

Finally, he stepped, grabbing both files off your desk. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped. “You want it done your way? Have it your way. But don’t come crying to me when this guy slips through your fingers.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in your office with nothing but the sound of your own ragged breathing and the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

God, you hated him.

…Right?

Two

The crime scene smelled like damp concrete and stale cigarettes. The flickering fluorescent light overhead made the whole place feel like a bad noir film except the lead detective was a walking disaster, and you were too pissed off to even pretend to care about aesthetics.

You arrived late, thanks to traffic and Dino conveniently forgetting to send you the exact location until the last minute. When you finally pushed through the throng of officers, there he was, doing exactly what he wasn’t supposed to do.

“Are you kidding me?” you snapped as you stormed over, heels clicking sharply against the cracked pavement.

Dino was leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, arms crossed, smirking at the suspect he’d cornered—a wiry guy with a nervous tic and shifty eyes. The kind of guy whose lawyer would have a field day with this.

“Prosecutor,” Dino drawled, straightening up when he saw you. “Glad you could join us. You missed all the fun.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you bit out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said, gesturing to the suspect, who looked like he wanted to melt into the wall. “I’m getting answers. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “You’re not supposed to be interrogating him yet! We don’t even have his lawyer present—”

Dino cut you off with a dismissive wave. “Relax. He waived his right to a lawyer.”

You turned to the suspect, your voice controlled but wanting to cut throats. “Did you actually waive your right, or did he pressure you into saying that?”

“I—uh—” the guy stammered, his eyes darting between you and Dino like he was watching a tennis match.

“Don’t answer that,” Dino interrupted, stepping in front of the suspect like some overprotective guard dog, which you kinda agree with since he is a dog. “You’re not his lawyer.”

“And you’re not a fucking prosecutor!” you almost shouted, stepping closer, practically nose-to-nose with him now. “Detective, do you have any idea how much you’ve jeopardized this case? This isn’t some TV cop drama where you can just rough someone up and hope it sticks!”

Dino’s smirk widened, which only made you angrier. “You’re so uptight, I’m surprised your shoes don’t file complaints against you.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who probably keeps a bail fund in his back pocket,” you sneered. “And for the record, I’m shocked you haven’t been arrested for stupidity yet.”

He laughed, low and irritatingly amused. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You felt your face heat up, though whether it was from rage or the way his voice dipped just slightly on the word cute, you refused to analyze. “Don’t,” you warned, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you dare try to turn this into one of your pathetic jokes. This is serious, Dino. You’ve completely screwed my angle for the prosecution!”

“And what angle would that be?” he shot back. “Letting this guy lawyer up and walk out the door before we can get anything useful? You’re too busy playing by the rules to actually win.”

“You think winning means cutting corners and breaking the law?”

“I think winning means putting culprits behind bars,” he said, his voice hard now. “But hey, maybe that’s just me. What do I know, right? I’m just the reckless idiot who actually works the streets.”

Oh, God, you hated him. And right now, you hated him even more for standing too close, for taking up too much space in the already suffocating air between you. Your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out reason, a deep, thrumming beat that you were sure he could hear. You prayed he couldn’t, but Dino always noticed things he wasn’t supposed to. It pressed against your skin, heated and unrelenting, until it felt like the walls might cave in from the sheer force of it. He didn’t move, of course. He never did. And you couldn’t decide if you wanted to step back to get some air or close the too-small space entirely, if only to finally shut him up. It was never just about the law with him, never just about his tendency to play fast and loose with the rules while you meticulously dotted every i and crossed every t.

You glared at him, the tension crackled between you like a live wire, sharp and dangerous. For a split second, you wondered what would happen if you closed the already too-small space between you.

Would he flinch? Would you?

His eyes darted to your mouth for the briefest of moments, a flicker, gone almost as soon as it happened. But it was enough. Your breath caught, and your stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with anger.

Fuck.

No. Absolutely not.

You took a deliberate step back, breaking whatever the hell that was. “We’re done here,” you said, your voice clipped. “And don’t even think about pulling this kind of shit again, or I swear to God—”

“Relax, babygirl,” he said, holding up his hands to mock. “I’ll play nice. Scout’s honor.”

“Like you were ever a Boy Scout,” you muttered, brushing past him. As you walked away, you felt his gaze linger on your back, heavy and unrelenting. It made your skin prickle in a way you hated.

-

The precinct’s parking lot was quiet except for the muffled sounds of traffic in the distance and the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead. You had barely made it halfway to your car when you heard footsteps behind you, quick and purposeful.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Dino called out, his voice carrying easily through the still night air.

You stopped, gripping your bag tighter before turning around slowly, your expression set in stone. “What do you want now, Dino? Haven’t you ruined enough for one day?”

He strode up to you, hands in his pockets, that damn smirk plastered across his face like he had all the energy in the world to piss you off. “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe, Prosecutor. Wouldn’t want you tripping over your own self-righteousness in the dark.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Touching. Truly. I’m overwhelmed by your chivalry, Detective”

“Yeah, well,” he said, stepping closer, “someone’s gotta look out for you. You’re too busy being uptight to notice when you’re walking into traffic.”

You glared at him, your pulse spiking as he invaded your space yet again. “Funny coming from the guy who bulldozes through cases like a goddamn wrecking ball. Do you ever stop to think, or is ‘consequences’ just not in your vocabulary?”

Dino smirked, his voice dropping to a cocky drawl. “You’re good at running your mouth. Maybe someone should put it to better use.”

The words hit you like a slap, heat rushing to your face before you could stop it. “Excuse me?” you snapped, stepping closer, practically daring him to repeat himself.

“You heard me,” he said, tilting his head, his eyes dark and glinting under the streetlight. “Look at you—so sure you’re in control. So convinced you’ve got everything figured out. But you’re just begging for someone to put you in your place.”

Your breath hitched, fury, sharper and hotter—coiling in your chest. “You think you’re that someone?” you hissed. “Please. You couldn’t handle me if you tried.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “You think you can handle me?” He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the faint trace of his cologne, something woodsy and infuriatingly intoxicating. “You’re cute. I could bring you to your knees before you can even blink. And I’d love to see you there.”

The audacity of him, the sheer arrogance, sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through your veins. “You’re delusional,” you spat, shoving at his chest, though it felt more like swatting at a brick wall. “I wouldn’t kneel for you if my life depended on it.”

Dino grinned, sharp and predatory. “You talk a big game, but you’re all bark and no bite. Face it, you hate that you can’t control me.”

“I hate that you exist,” your voice shaking with anger.

The space between you crackling with an energy that was equal parts infuriating and magnetic. His eyes bored into yours, daring you to look away, to back down, but you refused to give him the satisfaction.

Finally, you stepped back, breaking the spell. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest. “Stay out of my cases, Dino. This is the last time I’m cleaning up your mess.”

He laughed, low and unrepentant. “Sure thing, babygirl. Whatever you say.”

You whirled around and marched to your car, your hands trembling as you unlocked the door. As you slid into the driver’s seat, you could see him pulling his middle finger up at you. That bastard was going to be the death of you.

Three

The morning was already too early, and you were fighting the urge to strangle the first person who dared speak to you. The courtroom smelled like the stale coffee that had long gone cold, and the air felt thick, like it was waiting for something to go wrong. You had a long day ahead, one that started with you walking into the courthouse, still wiping sleep out of your eyes trying to make sense of the case that had already given you a goddamn headache.

You reached your desk, scanning the papers in front of you, mentally prepping for the battle ahead you were about to step into. Not today though, today you were placing your trust in your colleague, Prosecutor Jeonghan.

"Morning, hotshot!" Seungkwan's voice cut through the haze, a little too chipper for the crack of dawn. Your bestie aka the only person who could somehow manage to brighten the darkest corners of a place like this. He grinned as he plopped into the chair next to you, tossing a coffee your way. "You ready to face the disaster that is Dino today?"

"Is anyone ever ready for that?" you muttered, rubbing your temples as you took a sip. "I don't even think I can handle his nasty face right now."

Seungkwan's eyes gleamed. "Oh, come on, you love it. You just won't admit it."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond. You both knew it wasn’t that simple, but for the sake of today, you weren’t going to unpack the mess that was your relationship with Dino. It had enough layers to rival an onion, and right now you didn’t have time to cry over the metaphorical scent.

"Alright, you two," Seungcheol, the chief officer assigned to the case and both of your close friend, chimed in with a grin as he entered, stretching his arms. "Get ready for some fireworks. Dino's already pissing off the defense lawyer out there. And honestly, Jeonghan looks proud."

Jeonghan was a menace, no doubt about it, but he was also a goddamn genius. He was the kind of prosecutor who could make you question your career choices every time you shared a courtroom. He wasn’t just a menace; he was a finely tuned madness wrapped in a tailored suit, armed with a smirk that said, I know something you don’t. And he probably did. If there was anyone you’d trust to handle something when you couldn’t or just flat-out refused—it was him. He had the kind of street smarts you couldn’t teach, an instinct for reading people that felt almost psychic at times. Jeonghan wasn’t loud or brash like Dino, but his calm, almost predatory confidence was just as hot. He wasn’t just clever, he was deviously resourceful. If evidence didn’t align perfectly, Jeonghan would find a way to weave it into a narrative that made the jury sit up straighter, lean in closer and eat out of his hand. He didn’t play dirty, not technically, but he’d push right up against the edge of what was permissible, flashing that gremlin smile like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Witnesses loved him, judges respected him, and opposing counsel fucking feared him. And rightly so. Jeonghan didn’t just know the law—he understood the game behind it. He could charm the pants off a room full of skeptics, make them see the story he wanted them to see, and by the time they realized what he’d done, the verdict was already sealed. It wasn’t just skill, it was an art form, and Jeonghan painted masterpieces every time he stepped into the courtroom.

Pairing him with Dino was like setting a match to gasoline. Dino’s reckless energy, combined with Jeonghan’s calculated cunning, created a dynamic so volatile it was a miracle the courthouse hadn’t burned down yet with their play. And of course they got results—high-profile convictions, airtight arguments but working anywhere near them felt like trying to wrangle wild animals while they smugly watched you struggle. Jeonghan was a brilliant menace.

Opposing counsel hated going up against you, Dino, and Jeonghan—a nightmare trio they couldn't outrun. And your firm adored the chaos you three brought to court because, no matter how unconventional the methods, you always delivered wins. You were the dream team they loved, and everyone else feared.

Of course, Dino was already making waves and teaming up with Jeonghan. But now it was only a matter of time before he turned this courtroom into his personal wrestling ring, but the last person he wanted to tangle with? You.

The doors to the courtroom slammed open with a force that could’ve been felt from a mile away. Dino walked in and right beside him was Jeonghan. You could already hear the sound of your blood pressure rising just by the sight of him. He had that look in his eyes, the one that meant he was about to do something ridiculous, something reckless, something that would make you regret ever agreeing to work with him in the first place.

"Morning, sunshine!" he called out as he passed by your table. “Hope you’re ready for this shitshow. You sure you don't want to be the one to put this case to bed?”

You shot him a look that could’ve frozen hell over, narrowing your eyes. "You're not gonna win this case, Dino. Not if charm’s the only thing you’re bringing to the table. Leave it to Jeonghan"

“Oh, don’t drag me into this,” Jeonghan chimed, “I’m just here to look good and clean up your messes later.”

“Careful," he smirked, leaning forward on the back of your chair, his breath hot against your ear. "I might actually win this case with my charm alone. He trusts me."

Jeonghan snorted. “I trust you to do one thing, Dino. Create chaos. Which is great for me, really. Makes me look even better when I swoop in and save the day.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you gritted your teeth. “Maybe if charm was evidence, you’d be a star witness. And Jeonghan, let’s not pretend you’re not just here for the applause."

Though the snide remark hung between you and Dino like smoke, thick and suffocating as he flashed that cocky grin of his, god, it was maddening how much you wanted to punch it off his face. But there was no time for that. You were in a courtroom, surrounded by a crowd of people who didn’t give two shits about your personal grudges. They were just waiting for the show to begin. And right now, the show was all about Dino and his charming ass.

The judge entered, and the room fell into a hush as the proceedings began adjusted to the presence of authority. But that didn’t stop the tension from simmering, especially at your table. Jeonghan handled the case with the precision of a surgeon. Every argument he made was razor-sharp, every point calculated to perfection. Watching him in action was like witnessing a masterclass in courtroom strategy. You felt a swell of pride, not that you’d ever admit it out loud, of course. Jeonghan didn’t need the ego boost. Then there was Dino. While Jeonghan worked the courtroom with elegance and finesse, Dino seemed hellbent on bulldozing his way through the defense with pure, unfiltered madness. Subtlety? Restraint? Professional decorum? Not Dino’s style. Instead, he was practically throwing barbed comments that bordered on outright insults. The poor defense counsel looked like they were ready to crawl under the table. And the judge was not having it. Dino had already earned himself two warnings within the first twenty minutes, and judging by the way the gavel slammed down after his latest stunt, he was this close to being thrown out. But did that stop him? Of course not. This was Dino we’re talking about—a man who seemed to thrive on walking the razor-thin line between brilliance and complete courtroom anarchy.

You sat back, arms crossed, watching the spectacle unfold. Jeonghan remained the picture of calm, seamlessly pivoting between making his case and finely cleaning up Dino’s messes, all while maintaining that smug composure. It was clear why you trusted Jeonghan to handle things when you weren’t in the mood or the mental space to deal with the circus. Unlike Dino, Jeonghan knew how to work a courtroom without turning it into a WWE match.

-

The courtroom cafeteria was unusually crowded today. You sat at the corner table, papers spread out in front of you, pretending to focus on work but really just avoiding small talk. The last thing you needed was to deal with someone interrupting your already thin patience.

That was, until Jeonghan slid into the seat across from you, his signature gremlin smile firmly in place. He looked too smug for someone who just wrapped up a grueling morning session in the courtroom. “What?” you asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in your tone.

“Relax, I’m here to bask in my own brilliance,” he replied, helping himself to the coffee you had been saving for yourself. You watched as he sipped it like he’d earned it, the audacity rolling off him in waves. The worst part was that he had earned it. Jeonghan was the only person in the firm who could win a case and steal your coffee in the same breath, and somehow, you wouldn’t want to slap him for it. Well, not entirely.

Just as you were about to retort, Seungcheol appeared, dropping a folder on the table with a thud. He looked like someone who had been wrangling a circus all day, because that's exactly what working with Dino felt like. “You’re welcome,” he said without preamble, flopping into the seat beside you. “I just spent the last hour keeping Dino from getting held in contempt.”

You snorted, finally peeling your eyes away from your notes. “That’s a full-time job.”

“He’s a trouble,” Seungcheol muttered, running a hand down his face. “And somehow, I’m the one who gets roped into damage control every time.”

Jeonghan leaned back, clearly amused. “Oh, please, as if you don't bully him enough.”

Before Seungcheol could argue, Dino appeared for the briefest moment, swaggering past your table. He shot you a grin that was one part arrogance, two parts trouble, and called out, “Don’t miss me too much!” as he disappeared into the crowd.

You didn’t even bother responding. Seungcheol groaned. “See? That’s what I’m dealing with.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, shaking his head before turning back to you. “Anyway, how’s your prep going? Or are you too busy glaring at Dino to focus?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your notes into a folder. “Prep’s fine. Unlike some people, I don’t need to cause a spectacle to win.”

Jeonghan just grinned, and Seungcheol, despite his exhaustion, chuckled. The dynamic was exhausting but damn, did it work.

The case in front of you was messy, layered with too many moving parts. Fraud, bribery, and a corporate paper trail so convoluted it felt like the legal equivalent of untangling Christmas lights. But somehow, between you, Jeonghan, and, yes, even Dino, things were starting to click. Slowly. Painfully

Jeonghan had already pointed out the glaring inconsistency in the timelines. The CEO of the accused company had claimed to be in Beijing during a key transaction, but Jeonghan’s eye caught a discrepancy in a hotel invoice. The CEO had, in fact, checked out two days earlier than he’d testified, meaning he was likely back in the city, orchestrating the whole thing. It was the kind of detail that could unravel a defense if played correctly. You had pieced together a pattern in the financial documents. The bribes weren’t direct transfers, too obvious for someone this slick. But they were funneled through fake consulting fees paid to shell companies. Shell companies you’d traced back to one of the CEO’s close associates. And Dino, well, credit where it’s due, the guy was a bloodhound when it came to witnesses. He’d managed to corner a junior executive who had been ready to deny everything until Dino dropped a few too-specific details about her involvement. Turns out, she had been the one handling the encrypted emails. Dino had gotten her to crack, and now she was teetering on the edge of flipping. Honestly, his ability to charm, intimidate, and outmaneuver people in the same breath was too impressive.

Seungcheol leaned back, rubbing his temples as he reviewed the stack of papers in front of him. Even he had to admit it was a strong case, and Seungcheol rarely handed out compliments. “This might actually work,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You glanced at Jeonghan, who was already scribbling something onto a legal pad, his mind a thousand steps ahead as always. Across the room, Dino was on the phone, probably sweet-talking the junior exec into handing over more details.

Four

The precinct always smelled like stale coffee and paperwork—if paperwork had a smell, that is. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. Or, at least, the kind of home where you constantly wanted to throw someone through a window. And today that someone was Dino, like he wasn’t a full-grown ass man but a goddamn trouble magnet with a badge.

The day had already been a shitshow. Another interview, another suspect who thought they could outsmart the system or worse, you. And it didn’t help that Dino, of all people, had been in the room, throwing in his little side comments like he was auditioning for a buddy cop movie. By the time you stormed out of the interrogation room, you were one bad comment away from losing your badge and your mind.

You headed straight for the coffee machine, the ancient beast that churned out something vaguely resembling caffeine. The cups were paper-thin, the sugar was always clumped, and the cream, if you could call it that, came in those little pods that looked like they expired sometime in the 90s. But it was coffee, and you needed it.

God, you needed it.

Just as you finished pouring your first cup and reached for a sugar packet, he appeared. You didn’t even have to look. You felt him like a storm cloud rolling in, all smug energy and shitty cologne.

“Rough day?” Dino’s voice was way too cheery for someone who had spent the last two hours watching you get stonewalled by a suspect.

You didn’t even glance at him. “Fuck off, Lee.”

Dino laughed, that low, grating chuckle that made you want to slam the coffee pot over his head. “That’s no way to talk to a teammate.”

You turned to glare at him, your hands still gripping the coffee cup like it was the only thing keeping you from committing a crime. “Teammate? You sat there and let me handle the entire interview while you played with your pen like a goddamn child.”

“I was observing,” he said, slanting against the counter. His first two buttons were unbuttoned, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and yet he still managed to look very confident. “You had it under control, right?”

“I had nothing under control, thanks to you, Detective.” you snapped. “Next time, maybe try contributing instead of sitting there like a pretty little statue.”

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” Dino smirked, and you wanted to throw your coffee at him.

Before you could fire back, Sergeant Mingyu walked in, a towering figure with an easygoing grin. He took one look at the two of you and burst out laughing.

“Jesus Christ, you two are at it again?” Mingyu said, grabbing his own cup and shaking his head. “It’s like we're watching a rom-com, except way more violent.”

“There’s no ‘rom’ here,” you said through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes at Dino. “Just an idiot who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“What can I say? I’ve got a thing for dangerous women.”

“Dangerous? The only thing dangerous here is you trying to do your job,” you about to fist up.

Mingyu nearly choked on his coffee, laughing so hard he had to set his cup down. “God, Dino, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But seriously, she’s gonna bite your head off one day.”

Dino shrugged, unbothered. “Eh, I can handle it.”

“You think you can handle it,” you muttered, turning back to the coffee machine to pour another cup.

Mingyu leaned closer, still grinning. “You know, watching you two is the best part of my day. You’re like fire and gasoline.”

“Yeah, well, one of us is about to get burned,” you said, shooting a pointed look at Dino.

That stupid smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off. For now.”

“Good,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee and praying it would be enough to get you through the rest of the day.

Mingyu’s voice broke. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two actually like each other.”

You glared at him. “Drink your coffee, Sergeant, before I throw it at you.”

He just laughed, shaking his head as he walked away. And you just finished your coffee, trying to shake off the heat rising in your cheeks. It’s just caffeine, you told yourself. Definitely just the caffeine.

-

It was late. Too late. Everyone else had cleared out hours ago, leaving you with a mountain of work and the ghost of Detective Lee Chan's incompetence haunting your every move. You stared at the stack of reports in front of you, each one messier than the last. Half of them didn't even make sense. Who wrote "suspect maybe had a knife, or maybe it was a gun, unclear" in an official report? Oh, right-fucking Dino. If he spent half as much time actually doing his job as he did annoying the shit out of you, you might actually get some sleep tonight.

But no. Here you were. Alone. Stuck cleaning up others' mess like always.

The door opened, and you didn't even have to look up to know who it was. That air had a very distinct energy, and it was currently barreling toward you at full force.

"What the fuck, Prosecutor?" Dino's voice cut through the silence, relentless. "Why the hell haven't you signed off on the reports?"

You didn't bother looking up. "Maybe because they're a fucking disaster, Detective."

He stalked over to your desk, his presence looming, anger radiating off him in waves. You could feel it, hot and suffocating, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking rattled.

"They're fine,” he snapped, planting his hands on the edge of your desk and leaning in. His scent hit you, the lingering smoke of too much coffee. "You're the one holding up the case.”

You finally looked up, meeting his glare head-on. "Fine? Fine? Half of these reports read like they were written by a drunk toddler. Did you even try?"

Dino's jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might actually explode. "You know what, Y/N? Fuck you. I've been busting my ass on this case while you sit here with your red pen, nitpicking every goddamn detail like it's a fucking college essay."

"Fuck me?" You shot out of your chair, slamming your hands on the desk as you leaned forward to meet him halfway. "Fuck you, Dino. Maybe if you spent less time playing the charming jackass and more time actually doing your job, I wouldn't have to clean up your mess."

His eyes narrowed, his mouth curling that only fueled your rage. "You love cleaning up my messes, admit it. Gives you something to bitch about."

"Oh, I hate you so much," you hissed.

"Not as much as I hate you," he shot back, his words a challenge, his tone daring you to push further.

You were too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, see the way his chest rose and fell with each angry breath. Your heart was pounding, your blood boiling, and suddenly—

You kissed him.

It wasn't planned. It wasn't even conscious. One second, you were glaring at him, ready to rip him apart in chicken shreds, and the next, your lips were on his, hard and unforgiving. He froze for half a second before kissing you back just as fiercely, his hands flying up to grip your waist as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.

"What the fuck are we doing?" Dino muttered against your mouth, his voice breathless but laced with that same infuriating cockiness.

"Shut up," you snapped, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.

He kissed you harder, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your stomach flip. "I'd rather kiss a cactus than deal with you, but here we are."

You pulled back just enough to glare at him. "You'd deserve the cactus."

"Yeah? Well, I'll shove that cactus down your throat if you keep talking," he shot back as his hands slid lower, gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

"Try it," you countered. "And I'll bury you six feet under."

"God, you're insufferable," he growled, but his lips were back on yours before you could respond, hot and demanding, his fingers digging into your sides.

The insults didn't stop. Neither did the kissing. It was a mess, angry, chaotic, and so satisfying. Every argument, every moment of pent-up frustration, every goddamn thing you hated about him poured into each kiss, each bite, each touch. And for once, Dino wasn't the only disaster in the room. But as your back hit the desk and his hands tangled in your hair, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So this is what it feels like to lose your fucking mind.

You barely registered the edge of the desk digging into your lower back as Dino's lips worked against yours, rough and demanding. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your spine, tugging you closer like he couldn't stand even the fraction of space between you. And you were just as bad. Your fingers clawed at his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan, a deep, guttural sound that sent a shiver down your spine. His groan vibrated against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. You pulled his hair harder this time, relishing in the pained sound he made. But it wasn't enough.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath hot. "You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

You didn't even hesitate. "Right back at you, Detective."

His laugh was low, dark, and entirely too cocky, but you didn't have time to bite back because his mouth was on your neck now, teeth grazing your skin in a way that had your knees threatening to give out. You hated him. You really did. But god, he was good at this. Too good.

"You're killing me," he moaned against your neck, his voice filled with desire. "The fuck kind of witchcraft are you doing right now, huh?" His lips moved up to your jawline, teeth nipping slightly.

"Is this what you do with all your coworkers?"

Dino pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Only the ones who drive me fucking insane."

You rolled your eyes, but it was hard to keep up the attitude when his hands slid under your blouse, his palms aggressive and warm against your skin. He kissed you again, slower this time, but no less intense. Like he was savoring the moment or maybe just savoring your complete and utter loss of control. Bastard.

"God, I can't believe I'm doing this with you,” you muttered, breaking the kiss long enough to catch your breath.

"Trust me, sweetheart," Dino said, his voice low and teasing as his thumb traced lazy circles against your clothed nipple. "The feeling's mutual."

You opened your mouth to retort, but whatever snarky comment you had died on your lips as he leaned in again, his hands tightening on your waist. There was something about the way he kissed you—messy, desperate, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to fight you or devour you whole.

The desk creaked beneath you as he pressed closer, his hips slotting between your legs like he belonged there. You could feel his hard cock through his pant, could hear the hitch in his breath when you tugged at his tie to pull him even closer and pressed yet another kiss. He moaned into the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened it fervently. His hips rolled forward instinctively, grinding his hardness against you. The desk shifted under the force of his movement, scattered papers fluttering to the floor. Breaking the kiss abruptly, Dino's hands slid down to grip your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the desk. He then again stepped between your spread thighs, intentionally pressing his clothed erection firmly against your core. He unbuttoned your shirt one-handed, pushing the material off your shoulders. His mouth dropped to capture one peaked nipple while his hands unzipped your pants slowly, pushing them down your hips along with your lace panties. He spread your thighs wider, settling between them. It was too much and not enough all at once.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow," you said, your voice shaky but defiant as you pull him into another kiss.

Dino smirked, his lips swollen and pink, his eyes dark that made your stomach squirm. "Probably," he admitted, his fingers brushing against your clit, "But right now? I don't give a fuck."

The honesty in his voice caught you off guard, and for a second, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumline. But then his lips were on yours again, and whatever rational thought you'd been holding onto was gone, swept away in the chaos that was Lee Chan.

And honestly? You didn't give a fuck either.

Five

The morning after was a mess. Not because the office was chaotic, although it was but because every time you looked up, Dino was there. And every time you looked at him, you remembered.

His hands on your waist. His lips on your neck. The way he smirked at you, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and it was driving you insane.

You hated him. You really did. Except, you didn’t.

He didn’t seem fazed at all. He waltzed into the precinct, throwing out cocky smirks and one-liners like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been pressed against your desk, fucking, the night before, completely at his mercy. Bastard.

“Morning, Prosecutor,” he said, leaning against the edge of your desk in the common shared office with your colleagues, with that infuriating grin. His tie was slightly crooked, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. You refused to notice how good he looked. Absolutely refused.

“Detective,” you replied not even looking up from your papers, your tone colder than the coffee you hadn’t had time to drink.

“Sleep well?”

Your pen snapped in half.

Seungkwan, strolled by at that exact moment, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow. “Am I interrupting... something?” he asked, his tone dripping with implication.

“No,” you said quickly.

“Yes,” Dino said at the same time.

Seungkwan looked between the two of you like he was watching the world's most entertaining soap opera. “Right,” he said slowly. “Carry on, then.”

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Dino, your glare sharp enough to cut glass. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just saying good morning. Is that a crime now?”

“Don’t push me,” you warned.

“Or what?” he countered, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’ll kiss me again?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, you saw it—the implication behind his smirk. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cocky grin, and you wanted to murder him all over again.

“Go to hell,” you muttered, shoving past him.

“See you there, sweetheart,” he called after you.

The tension only got worse as the day went on. Every time you crossed paths, it was like a live wire sparking between you. He’d brush past you in the hallway, his hand grazing your arm just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Or he’d lean over your shoulder to look at a file, his breath warm against your neck, and you’d have to fight the urge to deck him or kiss him.

By the time the case finally wrapped up that evening after three months of struggling, you were ready to explode. The courtroom had been a war zone, with the two of you throwing out arguments like grenades to the defense. But it worked. The case was a win, and you should’ve been celebrating.

Instead, you found yourself alone in your office, staring at the note on your desk.

File this under: cases where I was right (and you were hot).

You crumpled the paper in your hand, your jaw clenching, but a smile still crept through your cusses. Of course, he’d leave something like this. It was so... Dino. Cocky, smart, provoking, and always managing to get under your skin. Before you could even think about what you were doing, you stormed out of your office, the crumpled note still in your hand. You found him sitting in his office, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Seriously?” you snapped, holding up the note.

He looked up, his grin immediate. “What? I thought it was cute.”

“Cute?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You think this is cute?”

“Admit it,” he said, now standing up and stepping closer. “You smiled when you read it.”

“I did not,” you lied, your pulse racing as he closed the distance between you.

“Liar,” he said softly, his voice teasing but his eyes deadly serious.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you. All you knew you were pressed against the wall, his lips crashing into yours.

It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was messy and desperate, all teeth and tongues. His hands gripped your waist like he was afraid you might pull away, and maybe you would’ve if you weren’t so darn tired of fighting this. Fighting him.

“Still hate me?” he asked against your lips, his voice breathless.

“So much,” you managed to say, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Good,” he said, kissing you again. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the dynamic.”

And just like that, the war raged on.

The end.

[koinotame]

idolatry

word count: 3.1K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, half self indulgent reader insert fanfiction half character study, unreality, religious undertones, possession is discussed abstractely, hypothetical harm to reader, the yandere is subtle but it's there

summary: you've somehow been reincarnated into a version of genshin impact where all the playable characters are self aware and seem besmitten with the player. the problem is that they can't make up their minds about whether you're their player or not...

a/n: aether vs your many fake fans

the flow of time has never felt steady to aether. despite how important it was to humans wherever he and his sister have traveled, there has always been a disconnect from it for him. You disappearing for months at a time is nothing out of the ordinary. time flows the same with or without You. like the sea's waves, it recedes and pushes. when he's used as a vessel by You, weeks can pass by in the blink of an eye and hours can feel like years spent in Your embrace. years have passed since You first started possessing them, and yet it's only been a couple of months at most. nothing moves forward in Your presence, nothing stays in stasis in Your absence.

so when he suddenly truly understands how humans experience the passage of time during another one of Your disappearances, aether immediately knows something is wrong. filled with dread and a harrowing heaviness deep in his gut that something has happened he can never take back, he finally understands what it means to be desperate for more time. have You abandoned him at last? has he not been enough, not quick enough to uncover this world's secrets and find his sister as You desired? finding you, clearly not from this world and trying to backtrack when you call him by his name—aether, his name, not Your sacred name he has been passing off as his own ever since Your arrival in teyvat—before any of Your other undeserving, fanatical vessels do seems nothing short of a miracle to him.

overjoyed at not having been abandoned after all, he clings to you and promises to protect and guide you through this foreign world—this time not as Your vessel, but as your first and most devoted follower. he doesn't need to be his own person, not when he can exist within the context of you.

paimon is less convinced. aether has turned even more immoderate and unnerving ever since your appearance, and she's not a fan. she… kind of understands. how important You are to aether, to the many others You've met through them during their journey. but does he—do any of them—really need to devote their entire being to You? she doesn't mind you, as a person, she really doesn't. but she doesn't like what You as a concept do to aether.

these days, she barely feels like she's part of the group, the one she formed with aether what seems so long ago, anymore. your arrival has completely overshadowed her presence. where she was previously part of a duo with her travel companion, she feels like little more than an afterthought now. she misses him. he calls her silly for it. she has only ever known him through Your command, so there isn't anything to miss. he's the same as he has always been. she just doesn't understand because You never graced her with Your embrace, and now that you have seemingly lost that ability perhaps she will never understand.

she says nothing, but she finds herself a little glad. better to never experience Your embrace, whatever that means, than lose herself completely in devotion to someone who clearly wants none of it.

the first archon they approach with you, venti, is apologetic but firm in the notion that aether is simply confused. he can understand how aether came to the conclusion, desperate and unused as he is following Your disappearance, but Your presence is simply unmistakable. he bids the two of you farewell amicably, but you find it impossible not to notice the difference in his demeanour afterwards when you run into him around the city. his smile is deftly crafted and practiced, his voice level and fingers steady as they pluck the strings of his lyre, but something about his eyes betray his own growing desperation.

if even aether is faltering like this, perhaps You really have abandoned them this time…? if he shows You how well mondstadt is faring, how much they've rebuilt and grown and thrived since You helped him quell dvalin's anguish, will You be proud of him and return? even if not to him, at least to the city? will You ever have Your vessels dance in the city square's fountain, or make the hike up the skyfrost nail to gaze upon the beauty of the unabating grey and white landscape again?

over time, even venti wavers and starts seeing what aether has seen in you. it is equal parts acceptance and desperation that drives him to you, to the one Your faithful traveler has placed his belief in, to feel Your embrace again, even if it can never be the same as it once was. he survived thousands of years without Your grace, to fold for it now that he knows what Your benevolence feels like is nothing short of shameful. the thought gnaws at him all the while until it has consumed him whole. in the end, he has not grown at all; still that little wind spirit desperate to not lose another he holds close. somehow, when you hold him, he can't seem to mind.

while the two of them have never discussed the matter of You explicitly, aether is perceptive enough to realise zhongli is one of the most reverent of the whole… of any of Your vessels. you called them cast without thinking the other day, whatever that meant. of Your cast. so he goes to him next, telling him that You've made Your way to this world permanently, that he's found You. his first instinct is anger, anger at your lying, anger that aether, who You have blessed with Your presence more than anyone else, who You picked as Your primary vessel, would fall for such mockery. aether was astute to not bring you along when he announced this, or perhaps you knew and chose not to yourself. it matters not. he knows he has proven himself to You, that the real You would never hesitate to reveal Yourself to him. instead of expression his righteous fury, he does his utmost to reign it in. if anything, this works in his favour. he almost feels sorry for aether, wrapped so tightly around the pinkie of a fraud.

upon meeting you properly, he realises perhaps he misunderstood the situation a little. zhongli isn't a fool (when he's not blinded by momentary rage, at least), he can see how uncomfortable you are with the whole situation. while you are not blameless for continuing this facade, aether has deluded himself and cast You aside entirely on his own—and when You finally grace them with Your real presence, zhongli is certain aether will be the first to fall from Your grace. that drunkard too, falling into temptation out of loneliness like that, will get what's coming to him.

until then, all he needs to do is keep his distance and stay as he is, as Your most loyal and dedicated devotee. until then, all he needs to do is send the two of you off. there is no need for him to get violent, not when Your punishment will hurt aether all the more. he thought he was long past such childish emotions, but he supposes that even now You breathe new vigor into him.

you shy either away from visiting inazuma entirely. seeing how the previous archons have reacted to you, you have little doubt that the raiden shogun would be the first to get violent. it's a dilemma you would rather avoid altogether, if possible. just in case. maybe your worry is misplaced, but… aether, of course, can never deny You, and the raiden shogun, of course, would meet your expectations without a proper thought.

the puppet has learned since, but much of the framework of logic she used to enact the vision hunt decree and rule over inazuma in the past several hundred years remains and is hard to completely make away with in such a short amount of time. imposing ei's will on a whole nation is wrong, but arresting and doing away with someone making a ridicule of You is a completely different thing. ei remains a little more hesitant, but even she cannot bring herself to completely disagree. You are the pinnacle of eternity, of control, of life—for some mere human to be impersonating You is unacceptable. hearing the traveler, Your closest companion, has put his trust in you would give her a bit of pause. he was right last time, so maybe this time as well… but then it was You who was right through him, not him in and of himself.

ultimately, your instincts would have turned out to be correct, and she buries herself in her plane once again, leaving the shogun to continue cleaning up inazuma. on her own, she imagines herself meeting You—the true You—and what it would be like to welcome you to her nation in earnest. she wonders if You would be proud of her.

nahida knows You immediately. she is the archon of wisdom, and weak as she may be, that title is not for nothing. your presence feels a bit differently from how it did when there was much more distance between You and her, but it pushes and pulls in a similar way. she doesn't feel she needs to, but should it come to it, she could always take a quick peek at your thoughts… and she would just get confirmation that she was right from the start. now that she's free—largely by virtue of You and the traveler—her word has much more weight than before. sumeru will always welcome You with open arms. if you prefer to live more privately, she understands that. but know that you can always come to her. for anything. she really, really means it.

it's only a small, selfish part of her, and she doesn't like thinking this way or how the other archons, the ones who should recognise You right away, are treating you, but a tiny part of her deep down finds herself feeling almost proud that she's the only one to recognise your grace. whenever you're around, she finds herself spending all of her free time with you. she wants to hear everything—your thoughts, your opinions, which weather or meal or nation you like better, your experiences, your home world, what it was like handling your vessels, everything and anything you deem fit to share with her. from how you indulge her, she's glad she also seems to bring you a similar comfort to the one You give her.

she wonders if Your embrace feels similar to when she possesses others' bodies. the warmth and absolute serenity that overtakes all of her senses when You control her can't compare to anything else. it's nice to be in at the helm of herself too, of course, especially with her newfound autonomy. but if You were to offer her that comfort permanently, she wouldn't be able to turn down Your offer.

when furina looks at you, she sees a reflection of herself. she might not recognise You, but she cannot bring herself to disdain someone in such a similar position to herself. she cannot imagine that You, kind and benevolent and goodhearted as You are, would want her to be cruel to you. whether that is her genuine belief or an attempt to redeem herself to You, after deceiving not only Your vessel but also You directly, does it matter?

Your presence has been a fairly recent entrance in her life, but she has been hearing about You for hundreds of years. she cannot remember a single conversation she ever had with her mirror self that did not feature You as a point of dialogue, of ambition. with only her and You to cling onto for hope for five hundred years, the only natural outcome was to develop such a strong faith and dependence on You. perhaps not as fervent as some of the other… archons, but not something that should be underestimated. Your presence in fontaine, even if through the traveler, had given her renewed hope at the time. as soon as she saw him for the first time, she knew.

your presence is… completely different. there's hints of You—likely residue You've left in the traveler—but not much else. she cannot believe in false idols, she tells the two of you, but she will see about providing some lodging for you. even if the traveler—even if aether is wrong about this, his service to fontaine deserves some merit, so she's sure this can be overlooked. it's what You would want, she hopes to herself. and if she finds herself seeking you out more and more, what difference does it make? when you smile so sweetly at her and praise her for holding on for so long, that you're proud of her, her resolve cracks.

neuvillette has always known of You. it is only when the traveler shows up in fontaine with Your presence in tow that he understands with certainty that You do exist, that he truly understands how wonderful Your warmth feels even at a distance and in these circumstances. You take Your leave for a while, and he thinks he is alright with that. even just knowing Your comfort so intimately (because this is already so much more than most are permitted), however brief, is enough for him. perhaps his returned authority also has an impact, but he is certain it would not have felt this invigorating without Your help.

and then You return, and he finds himself actually understanding what it means to be embraced. no sooner is he experiencing what it feels like to be whole for the first time before he finds himself in sumeru's desert, where he remains stranded for a week. Your presence fades until his punishment—for what, he remains uncertain—is complete, but Your hold on him does not, and something keeps him in place there the entire time. You do not use him much after that. he cannot deny Your judgement, even if he does not quite understand.

he learns of your arrival in teyvat through chance, by way of some opera gossip which happens to mention that furina has found herself a close friend. when he catches a glimpse of you… he cannot say he feels Your presence. none of you breathe a word about the subject to him, and it is only much later he learns of what you're hiding. if Your every loyal furina and Your first and most important vessel recognised You when he did not even so much as suspect it, where does that leave him?

of course childe would recognise You. that piece of the abyss that clawed its way into him so deeply it will never separate from him again would recognise You anywhere, even should ajax not. long before your current descent, he recognised Your strings of control much earlier than most of Your other vessels did. while he's never really given much thought to whether others have recognised You as well, he noticed the way Your presence lingered on aether in particular right away.

it's part of what drew him to the traveler in the first place—what's so special about him? why not childe? why did this outlander get to be Your vessel and he didn't? has he not proven himself enough for You? his mission aside, he felt a more personal disdain at the traveler. after he embarrassed himself in front of You and the truth came to light, he tries his hardest to redeem himself to the traveler. to You. so, naturally, when Your favourite little traveler comes to him with You in tow, he recognises You right away, as he always has. he's a little bitter, if anything—why did it take aether so long to come to him? does he not trust him? is he controlling You and Your actions? or—and he tries not to think about this too hard—is it You who doesn't trust him?

it doesn't matter. You're here now, and he's here for You now, and he'll do everything in his power to help You. You won't have to be alone any more, he promises, You won't have to hurt any more. nobody will harm You, ever again, not when he's here now. (he ignores how aether has easily stopped any harm from coming Your way so far without his help.)

it is you who thinks to approach albedo. the link is weak, but as soon as aether shows up at his makeshift lab in dragonspine with You in tow, he knows. it's as if he has no other option than to recognise You, however faint Your aura has become, as if there was never another possibility. it makes sense—after all, he was made for You. so were all the others, in a way, as was the whole world of teyvat, but not in the same way his master crafted him for You. to appeal to You. to be used by You. to find out the truth about You, though it's possible she just left him with that mission (to find out the truth about "the world"—You are the world) to keep him busy after she threw him away when he did not yield the results she was searching for. it doesn't matter. he's found You now, and he can't let you slip away. especially not to Your other, faulty vessels, those who couldn't recognise You at first glance.

thankfully, you seem fond of the area of the mountain and don't mind staying. you even take interest in his work, though you seem to not enjoy the constant sketches and pieces of art he produces of You for you as much. it's not the same as when You fill every molecule in his body and bend it to Your whim, but this is also nice.

one day you ask him about alice; she's been to different worlds, so you wonder if he could ask her about her methods. you seem hesitant, and you waited specifically until aether had left to collect some food for the next couple of days. it's a logical choice, Your favourite vessel would not take Your request well. albedo can't find it in himself to either. even if it's you asking, he cannot just let You leave, not after all this time. he promises you he will ask, but is honest when he tells you alice might take a long, long time to pass by mondstadt again, so… in the meantime, let him know if there's anything he could do to make Your stay here in teyvat more comfortable. anything at all. You're going to be here for some time, after all.

[tubes-and-dice]

I fucking love the dynamics between the ‘people’ and the ‘avatars’ in NSBU.

G13 is using Usha, because he’s a hacker and a manipulator, and she’s exactly the kind of person who can be easily scammed. Haunting. Spine-chilling. Cool as fuck, truly unbelievable storytelling, and it’s developed so organically!

On the other hand, Vic is mentoring Wendell in a way, and we got to see them really sync up this episode, working together to advance the narrative and protect their people. Wendell totally gets the kind of person that Vic is, and I think that helps him take Vic’s advice as the more experienced person- but also know that he’s not always going to be right.

Paula and Jack are sort of… misaligned. She keeps trying to find guidance from him, but they’re almost too similar? Jack so far that we’ve seen is very hands-off, and doesn’t seem all that worried about Paula- or his own family. Whereas Paula of course cares deeply about Jack’s family already, because she’s much more involved and familial minded than what we’ve seen of Jack.

Liv and Kingskin are, I think, the most compatible duo. Liv has settled nicely into her role in some ways, the control and power it grants her suits her well, and it feels like Kingskin likes her because of that? But at the same time her compassion for others is making such a notable difference in the way that she’s able to interact with people in Kingskin’s circles that it feels like he could learn as much from her as she’s learning from him. They feel like the most balanced pair, with the most mutual respect.

Dang doesn’t match Stocks’ vibe at all. He’s trying to do the cool action movie things, he’s playing into the role really well at times- but who Dang is, really, doesn’t sync up. His morals and priorities are very different from Stocks’- for good and bad alike. There’s very little connection between the two, it feels like- to me it reads as Dang just trying to fill the shoes of this Bond-like character, more than anything. Sometimes he’s really able to pull it off, and sometimes it just… doesn’t work. Stocks isn’t helping him. He’s on his own- which it seems is perhaps a norm for Dang.

Then of course, Russell. Russell and Jennifer are not a team at all- what Russell is learning from this experience, he’s learning from simply being Jennifer, not from communicating with her. He’s a man who we know is used to being attractive, used to being complimented and unused to being told off for the way that he behaves. I love the way that Ally’s taken his character as Jennifer- because he isn’t Jennifer. He’s Russell. He doesn’t want to wear a skin-tight bodysuit, he wants to get a baggy shirt to hide this form that he’s not used to, and work with the new skills that he has.

Idk I just think it’s super super cool that all of the players are working within the mechanic so differently, and I think every single manifestation of this dynamic makes so much sense for the characters that it’s just astounding. This last episode was such a good show of these dynamics and the impact they actually have on the plot.