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jetii · 5 months ago

Text

Theory of Attraction

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 10,975

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends/squadmates to lovers, virgin!Tech, Tech’s autism rizz, smut, oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, squirting, Tech being a bit of a perv but can you blame him

Summary: It's no secret that Tech has been fascinated by you ever since you joined the team. He's spent months carefully crafting a plan in the hopes of someday asking you on a date, but it all goes out the window with the smallest push.

A/N: *slaps roof* you can fit so much smut inside this baby. That’s pretty much all this is, the feelings are a garnish.

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The heat is cloying, sticking to Tech’s skin in an unwelcome blanket where his armor doesn’t cover. Whisps of hair are plastered to his forehead, sweat dripping down the back of his neck and pooling into the collar of his blacks.

He’s uncomfortable and on edge, much preferring the cold of space to the sweltering heat and humidity of the planet that seems dead-set on torturing him.

Maybe that’s why his body is feeling the way it does. Why it’s so receptive to the image that’s right in front of him. Something so innocent, that no one around except for him is batting an eye.

You, your eyes closed in apparent pleasure, licking and sucking a bright red popsicle.

Tech isn’t sure precisely how long he’s been staring at you, but he knows exactly how much of the treat you’d started with and how little was left on the stick now as it disappeared again into your mouth.

Somewhere between finishing the repairs and watching Wrecker load their replenished rations and potable water onto the ship, you produced the collection of colorful popsicles and offered him one. You, Wrecker, and Omega had already devoured two each on the journey back, gushing over how refreshing they were when you breached the tree line and caught sight of them.

He’d nearly declined, not wanting to add syrupy stickiness to the laundry list of less-than-pleasant sensations he was currently experiencing, but a pout from your slightly swollen lips had him reaching into the box. He devoured his meiloorun-flavored popsicle in a few bites, ignoring the offended looks from the others at his method, and returned to his datapad to study up on the flora of the planet.

Or, he had tried to.

His datapad lies forgotten in his lap as he regards you with slightly shallow breaths falling from his lips. A line of red syrup drifts down your hand, and you slowly follow the trail with your tongue before it reaches your wrist.

His hand clenches on his knee, hoping no one else is noticing the way that his eyes darken at the sight of your tongue disappearing into your shining wet mouth. The popsicle is quick to follow it, drifting in and out between lips stained a very enticing shade of red. His mind is full of cotton as he swallows thickly, and he feels himself twitch in his jeans.

Of all the things to be his sexual awakening, this one has to be the most embarrassing.

Sex had simply never interested him before, at least not in a way that felt like this. He isn’t a stranger to the urges that came with being a healthy human male, and he took care of it himself the same as his brothers in the ‘fresher or in the cover of darkness in his bunk when the need arose. But the idea of being with another person hadn’t been top of mind, well, ever.

Between missions, recovering from said missions, endless repairs and modifications to the Marauder, and satisfying his insatiable thirst for knowledge, it hadn’t ever been a possibility worth spending time thinking about. He preferred to focus his efforts on things that were real and tangible.

He’d spent a lot of time lately thinking about you, however.

And even more time analyzing those thoughts in an effort to tease apart why he’s so distracted by you. Wondering where you are, what you’re thinking, feeling delighted whenever he receives new information about you. That had quickly led him down a path that turned into watching out for you specifically when you were in danger and looking for opportunities to help you when you weren’t.

Last week, you’d been stuck on a lift alone together, and he’d pretended to struggle with fixing it just to spend a few more minutes talking to you.

It’s embarrassing, it’s irrational, but he couldn’t stop it if he tried.

After weeks of deliberation, he’d resolved to set a plan into motion that would eventually lead to him asking you to dinner. Tech never did anything without thorough research and preparation. When the others went to sleep, he went through a long list of romantic holofilms, some less terrible than others, and imagined himself in the leading role.

He pictured himself saying the right things, knowing the right way to touch you to hold your interest. You’d talk over a nice meal about what you always talked about, hold hands on the walk back to the Marauder, and perhaps share a dry peck on the cheek before calling it a night. He thought he’d want to start slow.

The wooden stick nearly disappears completely between your red lips. His hand forms into a fist on his knee. Kark.

Slow went right out the window with the last of his sanity, evidently.

It takes a lot for Tech to admit when he’s wrong, but stars, was he wrong about this.

He replays that moment over in his head again. How your cheeks hollowed ever so slightly as you sucked the stick clean, trying to get every inch of the sweet syrup. He pictures you doing the same action but on your knees, his skin underneath your lips instead.

It’s late, or what passes as late when you’re traveling at light speed through the cosmos. He’s awake as he often is, back pressed into the pilot’s seat while the others are sound asleep in their bunks. But unlike the other nights where he’s alone, you’re there, nestled between his spread legs, your hands softly caressing the inside of his thighs.

You’re wearing that oversized shirt you always wear to sleep and nothing else but a pair of GAR-issued briefs, and he can see a flash of their damp center even from his position above you. Your pupils are blown with lust as you stare up at him through your lashes from where you kneel until they flutter closed when the head of his cock presses into your awaiting mouth.

“Ah, just like that,” he whispers through clenched teeth, his fingers twisting into the hair on the back of your head.

You let out an appreciative moan at the slight pull before sliding forward, sucking the remainder of him into your awaiting mouth. He can feel the press of his tip at the back of your throat as you swallow around him, and his eyes nearly roll back in his head at the movement. He casts his head back until it thumps against the headrest, breathing heavily to desperately stop himself from coming down your throat and ending it all so soon.

You seem to sense his desire and slow your motions to a crawl, leaning away to press kitten licks to his head. He holds your hair gently while keeping one hand tangled in it, his eyes searching your face as he continues watching you suck him off slowly and deliberately, moving up and down at your leisure. But when a hand reaches up to cup his balls, he pulls you off him with a wrenched gasp.

The motion entices you to stand and climb onto his lap, his hands welcoming you by grabbing two handfuls of your soft thighs just before they reach the flesh of your ass. You settle your weight on him, hands coming to wrap around his neck before your lips meet in a vicious and messy kiss.

Somewhere between the meeting of teeth and tongues, he helps you lift your shirt up and over your head, whipping it over his shoulder and the back of the chair without another thought. Your bare breasts heave directly in his line of sight, and he’s mesmerized by their shape and apparent softness. The birthmark above your right breast has always enticed him whenever he catches a glimpse of it, and he doesn’t think twice to bring his lips to it.

You eagerly press into his awaiting mouth as Tech dips his head to taste the skin of your chest. He spends special attention on your nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks as he caresses your bare skin wherever he can reach. You moan, nearly trembling with his efforts while you mindlessly rut against him, just as drunk off the contact as he is. He can feel you practically drip onto him from where your clothed core rubs against him.

Tech moves a hand up to cup the side of your face, admiring the desperate expression he finds there.

“Please,” you beg with a wanton moan as your clit catches the tip of him, sending a shudder down your thighs.

Tech is nothing if not attentive, and he reacts quickly by lining himself up to your entrance, his thumb pushing aside your underwear to bare you to him.

There's a moment of delicious, almost painful waiting, and then he slowly lifts his hips to sink up into you. Your fingers latch onto his forearm - nails sinking into fabric and flesh. It feels incredible, almost dizzying as he stretches you out and fills you to the brim.

He can’t help but dig his fingers into the flesh of your ass as you lower yourself completely onto him. You turn your head slightly and suck his thumb into your mouth, the most incredible sounds escaping your lips as you wrap your lips around him and draw him in to lave your tongue along the digit.

You move yourself up and down torturously slow, but every time his tip nudges against that spot inside of you, you whimper. The motion makes your bare breasts brush against him, and he’s enticed to lean forward and run his tongue along your flesh, sweeter than any dessert —

“Tech, you’re staring.”

It takes everything in his power not to jump out of his skin, mouth snapping shut with a clack of his teeth to hide his surprised gasp. But Tech still startles slightly — only slightly — before his wide eyes are met with the sight of Echo in front of him.

There’s no mistaking the amused expression on his brother’s pale face as he watches Tech fumble to look anywhere except at the woman currently making an absolute mess of him.

Tech is far from the only one who looked at you, he knew that. But after months of traveling together, it became increasingly apparent that he’s the only one who remains flustered by your presence.

His brothers teased him endlessly over it, but Tech had never been bothered by their assumption of his affections, nor made any effort to deny them so long as they didn’t make you uncomfortable.

His interest in you is only natural, after all. A byproduct of forced extended proximity, your objectively admirable qualities, his lack of experience with women, and the way your mere presence seemed to ease the constant buzzing in his brain.

At least, that was the working theory.

Echo clears his throat, bringing Tech back into the present as he shifts to cross his arms over his chest, still clearly enjoying the situation.

“I was not,” he responds with a huff, adjusting his goggles.

The heat that’d already been traveling up his body from his loins diverts to flush his cheeks and ears with red. He’s suddenly grateful for the datapad in his lap — he’s already been caught, he doesn’t need to be caught like that as well.

The look Echo gives him makes him feel chided, but the clone is only struggling to hold back a smile, eyebrows raised. “Sure you weren’t.”

Desperate to escape the teasing — and there’d be no shortage of it once Echo reported back to the others — Tech jerks to his feet. He can feel eyes on him as he retreats, offering a rushed explanation about HVAC diagnostics, but he chooses to ignore them in favor of hurrying toward the cockpit.

Once inside, he throws himself into his chair and locks the doors behind him. His hand is drawing out his hard length from his jeans before the lock kicks in.

Tech can’t sleep, so he does the next best thing by heading to the cockpit, taking over Hunter’s watch with very little convincing. It's quiet there, and it gives him time alone to sort through his thoughts. Not that the ones that are currently racing through his mind are all that productive, but it's better than tossing and turning and waking everyone else.

He settles himself in the pilot's chair, the dim lights and steady thrum of the engine a welcome distraction from the constant replay of the previous day's events. His mind drifts back to the heat, the humidity, the way your hair fell over your shoulders and stuck to your neck with sweat.

And then his brain helpfully supplies the memory of your mouth, swollen and red from sucking on the popsicle, the way the liquid melted in the summer sun and dripped down your arm, and the way you chased it with your tongue.

He sinks lower into the pilot seat and groans, throwing his head back against the headrest and squeezing his eyes shut. This is becoming a problem, he thinks.

“Oh!”

His head shot up at the sound, snapping over to glance at the entrance to the cockpit as the door hisses closed.

You stand still, your hand slightly raised toward your mouth as you catch sight of him in his chair. Your eyes are wide in surprise as they meet his own. He can see even in the dim light that you'd just rolled out of bed, wisps of hair escaping your braid and sticking to your neck.

His eyes travel lower, and he nearly lets out a groan when he realizes you’re wearing the same shirt as you were in his fantasy, legs enticingly bare underneath its hem.

He must’ve been staring for a while because you start to fidget under his attention. Your fingers play with each other in front of your waist as you bite into your lower lip. He tries not to focus on the movement, but there’s something about the air between you that has him entranced by it.

“Sorry, I thought no one’d be in here,” you whisper. When he does nothing, his mind too distracted to form words, you move to turn back toward the door. “Goodnight, Tech —“

He has a split second to make a choice.

“Wait,” he calls out, stopping you in your tracks. “You can stay. If you would like to, that is. I don’t mind.”

“Um, alright.” You still look a little unsure, but you're soon sitting in front of his turned chair in the co-pilot’s seat.

When it comes to love, Tech is far from an expert. Unless you considered an encyclopedic knowledge of courtship rituals and human erogenous zones being an expert, which he does not. Particularly when the breadth of the information stored in his mind seems just beyond his reach every time he looks at you.

He has a feeling you won’t enjoy many of the techniques suggested in his reading, either, such as what one author referred to as “playing hard to get.” You don't seem like the type to entertain mind games, not that he was interested in playing that type of game with you anyway.

No, his approach is going to have to be different, and more importantly, genuine.

The problem is, the longer he thinks about how to approach you, the more his mind becomes overwhelmed by the prospect.

At some point, Tech realizes you've been sitting in silence while he monologues internally, and once again, his mouth opens before he can stop it.

“Are you alright?”

You look surprised, and he isn’t sure if it’s because of the question or because he’s the one asking it. He doesn't exactly make a habit out of checking in on the others, figuring that they would tell him what’s on their mind if they wanted to, but he’s been watching you long enough that he can tell the look on your face is solemn. He doesn’t enjoy it.

“I…” you trail off when you meet his eyes, looking back down at the hands folded in your lap. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s stupid.”

“I sincerely doubt that. You are a very intelligent woman.”

His earnest, rapid-fire compliment seems to have caught you off guard, because when you turn to face him, you look bewildered.

He stammers to recover.

"I-I only mean that if you were thinking something that was bothering you, it would most likely be something important."

Your features softened. “Do you…ever wonder what will happen to us?”

The chair turns fully, your knees nearly brushing. You draw your legs up so they’re balancing on each armrest, elbows falling to brace yourself on them. You're looking at him now, and he once again is struggling to know what to say once you clarify, “What you’ll do after the fighting ends?”

Tech sets his datapad down on the console. When he looks into your eyes again, he can see them shining in the dim light, and it makes his heart feel heavy to see you look so lost.

Still, he can’t help but say it. The truth.

“We are clones. War is our purpose. There is no ‘after’ for us.”

Tech knows immediately it isn’t the right thing to say. You inhale sharply and quickly scrub your cheek. “But do you think about what it would be like if there was?”

He hesitates. He wants to say no, to tell you that the thought never crossed his mind, but that would be a lie. Tech has thought about it, at this point quite extensively.

He’s pictured a life outside of running from or into danger, one where Omega could actually be a kid and one where he and his brothers aren’t constantly looking over their shoulders. He’s pictured a home that isn’t a gunship or a lab balancing over a tumultuous ocean, a life that is simple and routine but no less rewarding.

But he’s afraid to say it, he realizes. Not just because it’s an illogical waste of time to consider the possibilities, but because now in every one of those pictures his mind has loosely constructed, you're there by his side.

You had already become part of his routine, your lives inexorably intertwined, and he didn’t want that to change. His ideal future is any future where you're together, whether it’s simply as teammates or friends or something more.

He isn’t sure how he’ll react if he divulges that to you, and you don't feel the same. He reminds himself that he wanted to start slow, his strong sexual attraction to you be damned.

The words are quiet when he finally speaks.

“Yes, I have.”

Your hand reaches out to take his, and the sensation of your bare skin warming his own sends something like a static shock to his system.

You've touched before — to swap tools, pull each other into the safety of cover, and that one time you fell asleep on his shoulder at dinner — but all of that had been through his gloves or armor. This was the first time he’d ever felt you.

It’s thrilling, he wants more of it, and he immediately understands why people get addicted to this sort of thing.

Tech’s hand turns, and he laces your fingers together before he can convince himself not to. When he catches your eye again, tearing his gaze away from where you're connected, you're smiling at him.

It’s small, a far cry from the ear-to-ear grin you wear when Wrecker says something to make you laugh, or when he dips the Marauder into a nosedive, but it still makes him feel warm.

“You deserve to have a life outside of war, Tech,” you say earnestly with a squeeze of your fingers. “You all do.”

“Thank you.” He scoots closer to the edge of his seat, toward your warmth and welcoming smile. Tech’s heart is in his throat, but if there was ever a time to tell you how he feels, it’s now.

“I—“

The door slides open, startling you both into letting go of each other’s hands. Wrecker stumbles into the room with an arm thrown up over his face, the other outstretched and waving wildly.

“Everybody decent?” he asks, then barks out a laugh at his own quip as he lowers his arm from his eyes.

You're both quick to scoot your chairs away from each other and stand, a flustered blush rising to your cheeks and an annoyed one rising to his. Tech opens his mouth to give his brother a piece of his mind, but you speak up first.

You clear your throat. "Yeah, um, I was just on my way out."

When he turns to you, your cheeks are flushed.

“Goodnight, Tech,” you mutter as you stand, avoiding his gaze. “Wrecker.”

You shove past Wrecker without another word, and the two watch you go before Wrecker turns back to Tech with a wide grin.

“Soo?” Wrecker asks, drawing out the question as he looks back and forth between the door and Tech, who has his hands braced on his hips.

Tech is silent for a beat, but when the tension gets too high, he throws his arms up. "So what?"

“What was that all about?” Wrecker gestures to the space you had just been occupying, his smile turning smug.

Tech scoffs and turns away, settling back into the pilot’s chair and picking up his datapad. “We were just talking,” he replies curtly over his shoulder. “Was there something you needed?”

“Aw c’mon, that’s it?” Wrecker whines. When he doesn’t get a response further, he heaves a sigh. “It’s my turn for watch.”

Weeks have gone by since your talk in the cockpit. The mission for Cid went off without a hitch, relatively speaking. You had your cover blown at the last minute, which led to an inevitable firefight and a hasty retreat. While some would consider it a failure, the group was optimistic. After all, you'd gotten the stolen cargo back and then some, and miraculously no one was hurt.

The generous sum of credits that greeted you on your return to Ord Mantell was split the usual way. Cid took more than her fair share before the chits hit the table, and what little amount was left was first pooled together in a fund for food, supplies, and repairs for the Marauder, then divvied up equally among the Batch. Your individual take-home pay was meager, but with the essentials taken care of, it was enough to keep paying your rent. For now.

As soon as the credits were pressed into your palm, you made yourself scarce, muttering something about needing a real shower and bed for once. Tech couldn’t blame you, though he was itching to speak to you again.

The group made their way to Cid’s arcade, Omega half hanging from Hunter’s arm as she fought sleep. Though none of you were eager to spend much time planetside, there was little else to do but wait for Cid to need you again. And if you were going to endure the city and its splendors, a drink was required.

An hour into Cid’s beer reserve, still full price and then some for the Batch, and you finally return. Freshly showered with a new set of clothes, you're easily the most put-together and rested any of them have looked in days. The tight shirt you chose rides up slightly when you wave a greeting, revealing a sliver of the skin of your abdomen. Tech quickly buries his nose in his datapad to avoid being caught staring again.

You settle into the empty stool beside him at the bar, and the others welcome you back. You seem relaxed, a stark difference from the somber mood you were in the last time Tech saw you, and he feels relieved to see you happy.

Still busying himself with his research, he slides over the glass of tsiraki in front of him in your direction. It's your drink of choice, one that he noticed you always seemed to prefer over the fruity mixed drinks Echo ordered for you.

“For you.”

He didn't have to look up to know you’re smiling at him, though he can feel his own lips tilt up when you speak. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“I am always thinking of you,” he says, eyes still on his datapad.

A beat passes, and Tech realizes his mistake. His eyes widen, and his gaze snaps up to meet yours. You're looking at him with slightly furrowed brows, lips parted in a quiet gasp.

He opens his mouth to correct himself, but nothing comes out to correct his accidental confession. One that he meant entirely, but perhaps could have timed better.

His face feels hot, and his mind is racing as he watches the expression on your face soften. You huff out a quiet laugh, closing your eyes and shaking your head as you reach for your glass. He watches you carefully, not wanting to look away for a second, as he struggles to process your reaction. Or lack thereof.

“Is something wrong?” Tech finally asks, setting down his datapad.

You take a long sip of your drink before setting it down and leaning your elbows against the bartop, turning to look at him. A soft smile pulls at your lips. “No, not at all. Don’t worry about it.”

Normally, he would press further. Leaving questions unanswered is never his strong suit unless he is sufficiently distracted. Like now, for example, when the sight of you licking your lips is far too enticing to let him focus on anything else.

If you notice he’s staring again, you don’t show it, choosing instead to throw back the final drink of your glass before setting it aside. You turn your body to face him fully, your knees brushing softly against his leg.

“Have you ever heard of five-blossom bread?”

“It is a pastry from your home planet, correct?” He asks, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise at the sudden question. You nod. “I have only been once to Naboo, and we did not spend much time there to try the cuisine.”

You hum in affirmation, tilting your head at him. He feels as if you're searching for something in his gaze, and his mouth opens and closes as he thinks of something else to say. Fortunately, you speak up first.

“There’s a place not far from here that sells it. Wanna come with?”

You glance away from him awkwardly, but when you meet his eyes again, he can see the excitement in them. It does something to his heart that has him nodding before you could finish speaking.

You don’t talk about your time before the Batch much, but from what little he’d gleaned from you, you hold a fondness for your home that he simply doesn’t feel about Kamino. And it made you happy when you came across any memento of Naboo on your travels, something that never failed to make the rest of them feel happier as well.

“I know you have a sweet tooth. You’ll love it, I promise.” You beam up at him, and he returns your smile with a hesitant one of his own.

“That sounds agreeable. Do you want to leave now? If you are hungry, of course. Or we could wait until the morning, if that would be better—“

Tech is interrupted by your hand covering his on the table, and all thoughts of five-blossom pastries and Naboo leave his head immediately. The feeling of your touch is the only thing on his mind as he looks up to meet your eye.

“Let’s go now, Tech,” you say.

You stand and begin to make your way through the bar, passing by the others on their way out.

“Where’re you two off to?” Wrecker asks with a wide grin, eyes on where you’ve grabbed Tech’s hand to pull him along.

“Out,” you answer before Tech can open his mouth.

He glances over at you, eyebrows raised in surprise by your sharp reply. You tug him forward before anyone else can speak up, throwing a quick “catch you later!” over your shoulder as you quickly ascend the stairs and out into the evening air.

The sun has just started to set, and the streets are alive with the noise and bustle of the city. Tech keeps close to your side, trying his best to keep an eye on the people around you while simultaneously focusing on you. It isn’t as difficult as it sounds; you are a bright point among the chaos of the crowd.

He could have sworn that you were smiling wider, your steps lighter, the closer you got to your destination. It makes him happy too, even though he has no idea where you are headed.

Tech hadn’t considered the fact that you’re still holding his hand until the two of you are forced to stop at a crosswalk. You stand waiting for the signal to change, and he becomes very aware of how closely you’re pressed together.

After you cross the street, a thought suddenly occurs to him, and he stops abruptly, his arm tugging your back.

“Is this a date?” he asks, bewildered.

You turn around, and he can feel your fingers tense in his. He hopes he hasn't said the wrong thing, and the panic is short-lived when you start to smile.

“Do you want it to be?”

His mind is racing, but Tech manages a single word, surprising the both of you by the certainty in his voice, "Yes."

Your eyes are wide as they search his, and when you bite into your bottom lip, he can feel his cheeks heating up.

“If that is also your preference,” he adds quickly.

“It is, yeah,” you say with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “C’mon, it’s just ahead.”

He follows along after you, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. The bakery is a small, hole-in-the-wall establishment, but the smell coming from inside is delightful. The door jingles as you step inside, and the girl behind the counter looks up from the customer she’s helping with a startlingly friendly smile considering the city you’re in. You’re practically bouncing on your feet as you wait in line.

Tech glances over the baked goods in the display case, eyes catching on one that looks familiar. He points it out. "Are those the pastries you mentioned?"

You follow his gaze, a smile blooming on your face. "Those are! How did you guess?"

Tech feels his cheeks warm. "It’s not difficult to deduce. You seem quite excited by their presence."

"I can't help it. These things are the best; I'm telling you."

A few minutes later, you’re seated at a table by the window, a five-blossom bread garnished with syrup steaming on a plate between you. You take a bite, sighing happily as the taste washes over you. He smiles at your expression, and after a moment, you open your eyes again.

"Here, try some." You break off a piece and hold it out to him. He eyes it warily, not used to someone wanting to feed him, and takes it slowly between his teeth.

The taste is…not terrible.

"Well?"

"It is adequate, I suppose." He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, taking another bite. "Just say you love it."

"I am not going to lie to you."

You laugh, and Tech feels a surge of pride knowing he was the one who caused it, however unintentionally

"Alright, alright. I get it. Just know, I'm never letting you live this down. You're gonna have to find a way to make it up to me." You grin at him, a look of mischief in your eye, and he finds himself smiling back.

"I am sure I can think of something."

You finish the rest of your dessert quickly, and the two of you continue to talk as the night draws on. You tell him about Naboo and its many charms, the foods and people and sights. He tells you about the many other planets he has been to before you joined the squad, the differences and similarities. The conversation flows easily between you, and before he knows it, hours have passed, and the bakery is closing.

As you leave the bakery, you slip your hand back into his, and he marvels at the simple joy of the action.

The streets have cleared somewhat, and you're able to walk at a leisurely pace to your apartment. Tech insisted he escort you home, as the streets are not the safest place to be even for a trained mercenary. You had tried to convince him you would be fine, but when you saw the look in his eye, you agreed without further argument.

When you reach the entrance, he expects you to release his hand and step inside, but you pause.

"I had a great time tonight, Tech. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure." He pauses. "Perhaps we could do this again sometime."

You smile. "I'd like that."

"As would I."

There’s a moment of quiet between you before Tech looks around awkwardly and takes a step back, dropping your hand. “…Well, goodbye.”

He turns to leave, but your hand on his arm stops him. "Tech.”

When he turns back, you're closer, looking up at him with a soft smile. Your fingers trail down his arm until they meet his. You squeeze gently before letting go, and his breath catches.

“Yes?"

“Generally, at the end of a date, it’s customary to kiss the other person goodnight."

Tech feels his face flush. He swallows hard, his voice slightly strained as he replies. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm," you hum. Your gaze falls to his lips, and he finds himself unconsciously doing the same to yours.

"I did not want to presume—"

Your hands cup his cheeks, and then your lips are on his, soft and warm. The kiss is sweet, short and over far too soon, and when you pull away, his eyes flutter open, his breath leaving him in a rush.

"You weren't," you whisper. He watches your lips move, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Good. That is…good." He leans in to kiss you again, his hands coming up to grip your waist and pull you close. Your lips are soft and yielding beneath his, and when your tongue flicks against his lower lip, he gasps.

His mind is hazy, a pleasant fog clouding his thoughts. All he can think about is the way you feel in his arms, the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body. You kiss him with a passion he has never felt before, and he tries his best to match your fervor.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together. Your cheeks are flushed, and you look as dazed as he feels.

“You’re…you’re pretty good at that,” you say between breaths, chest heaving.

“Your positive feedback is noted,” he replies, just as winded, before adding, “and reciprocated. I’m pleased to know my research has paid off.”

You grin, a blush rising to your cheeks. "Research, huh?”

“Yes. Once I better understood my interest in you, I took it upon myself to learn more about the nature of romantic relationships and affection.” Tech adjusts his goggles. “It is a surprisingly fascinating subject with no shortage of material on the HoloNet.”

You tilt your head as your fingers trail along the back of his neck. The light scrape of your nails sends a shiver down his spine.

“What else have you learned?” you ask, voice soft.

“Many things I am eager to share with you,” he confesses, leaning closer and tightening his grip on your waist. You mirror his movements, your lips parting slightly.

“Did you know it is customary for alpha-bull Crolutes to have a harem of concubines in a breeding colony? They must constantly battle other Crolutes to maintain their status. It is fascinating they are able to sustain such a base culture given their female species’ proclivity for space travel.”

The words fall out of his mouth, and the sudden shift in mood has you snorting, your shoulders shaking with laughter.

He's confused, but he doesn't let it stop him from pressing on. "There was an entire subsection dedicated to the topic. I can send you the link if you'd like to read more about it."

You smile up at him, a look of fondness on your face, and shake your head. “Tech.”

You kiss him again, slower this time, and he can feel his heart skip a beat. You pull away after a moment, your lips ghosting over his.

“As interesting as that is, I was hoping for something a little more…tactile.”

He blinks, struggling to understand your meaning beneath the pleasant haze creeping over him. A litany of possible anecdotes crosses his mind before his train of thought is forcibly interrupted by the feeling of your fingers tapping against his chest plate. They drag downward, following the contours of his cuirass, and suddenly it clicks.

Just as you move to pull away, Tech follows, tightening his grip on your hips. He crowds you against the door, careful not to push too hard as his chest touches yours. With your hand trapped between you, his own travels upward to grasp your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding,” he murmurs. “I am more than happy to provide a physical demonstration.”

When your lips meet again, Tech feels as though a switch has been flipped, his desire for you flaring bright and hot.

His kisses are no longer gentle and tentative but passionate and demanding. He wants to know what you taste like, how you will react if he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between your parted lips. You moan, a low and needy sound that makes him ache.

Tech can feel his body responding to the physical stimulus, his cock already hard and straining against his pants. He groans into your mouth, grinding his hips against yours.

Your fingers clutch at his chest plate, pulling him closer as he explores your mouth with his tongue. He can feel you trembling beneath him, your breath coming in shallow gasps. He releases your chin to slide his hand up to cradle the back of your neck, angling your head so he can deepen the kiss.

Your leg lifts to wrap around his waist, and he eagerly grabs for it, fingers digging into the plush of your thigh. He uses his grip to hoist you further up, and you quickly get the hint, wrapping both legs around him until he fully supports your weight with his arm tucked underneath you.

The new position has your core flush against his, the heat of you obvious through your clothes. Your arms wrap around his neck as you continue exploring each other's mouths. Tech can feel you grinding against him, and he moans, hips bucking instinctively.

His withdraws his hand from your face to reach for the door panel, deftly deactivating the lock, and it slides open with an abrupt hiss. Gasping at the sudden loss of the barrier behind you, your body tenses against him. Tech quickly maneuvers his hand back underneath you to prevent you from falling backward through the threshold, and you let out a relieved laugh into his mouth that turns into a moan as he shifts you to grab two generous handfuls of your ass.

He carries you inside, and you fumble blindly with the control panel, struggling to close the door with his mouth attached to yours. When you’re finally successful, the door sliding shut behind him, he breaks from the kiss momentarily to look around the dimly lit room. “Where is—“

“Door on the left,” you say immediately between open-mouthed kisses on his neck. He nods, making his way to your bedroom as best as he can in the dark.

Just as he’s about to reach the door, teeth sink into his earlobe and tug. He lets out a gasp and stumbles, pressing you back up against the wall near the door as he involuntarily ruts into the juncture between your thighs. You let out a little laugh before he descends on your lips again, forcing them apart with his tongue.

The kisses become increasingly frantic and messy, and Tech finds it difficult to think. All he can focus on is the taste of you, the warmth of your skin, the way your legs tighten around his hips. His cock aches, desperate for relief, and his hips begin rocking steadily into your core.

He can feel you panting against his mouth, the heat of your breath driving him wild. His grip on your ass tightens, fingers digging into your soft flesh, and he groans, rutting against you harder.

You’re moaning now, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his armor. The sound makes his cock throb, and he grinds his hips against yours, chasing the sensation.

Tech wants to see you, needs to see you, but he can't bring himself to pull away from the kiss. Your lips are so soft, so warm, and the way you whimper and cling to him sends shivers down his spine.

You suddenly wiggle out of his hold with a nip to his lower lip, and his hands fall to his sides. He can't help the noise of protest that escapes him as you back away into the dark bedroom, but before he can do anything else, your fingers dig into the lip of his cuirass and tug him after you. He follows your lead, hands roaming over your waist and hips as he backs you toward the bed.

Your hands drift toward the fastenings of his chest plate, and his heart rate accelerates, pulse thudding loudly in his ears.

“Can I take this off?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

He nods.

You make quick work of the clasps, removing his cuirass and tossing it aside. Together, you remove his armor piece by piece until he’s standing in just his blacks and jeans.

When his holster is removed, you drop to your knees before him, fingers moving to the clasp of his pants, and he nearly chokes as he’s reminded of the fantasy he’s been tormented by for weeks.

"Oh, Force.”

The button pops, and the zipper is tugged down agonizingly slowly. You lean forward and mouth his length through the material of his briefs, and his knees go weak. You look up at him, pupils blown wide with desire.

Tech can’t tear his gaze away.

With trembling fingers, he pushes his pants and briefs down, allowing his cock to spring free. He has to resist the urge to touch himself, to fist his aching length and seek relief. Your breath hitches at the sight, your eyes raking over his body.

"Stars, Tech, you're big."

His cheeks burn, and his heart is pounding in his ears. You run your hands up his thighs, and his cock twitches, straining toward your touch.

Tech has never been particularly interested in his size, but the way you said it makes him feel like the most desirable man in the galaxy. Your words and the expression on your face has his ego skyrocketing, his chest puffing out with pride before he sucks in a sudden sharp breath.

Your breath is hot against his tip, your lips so close he can feel them brush against the sensitive skin. He’s aching, the urge to thrust his hips and bury himself in your throat almost overwhelming. But then, your mouth is on him, and his mind goes blank.

The wet heat of your mouth is incredible, your tongue tracing the veins on the underside of his cock and flicking across the slit. Your hands come up to rest on his hips, fingers digging into his skin, and you take him deeper, swallowing around him until he feels the back of your throat.

Tech moans, his eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back. His hips rock forward instinctively, and you make a noise in the back of your throat, one of your hands coming up to rest on his stomach.

He looks down at you, his hand cupping your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek. Your eyes are closed, tears leaking from the corners, and your lips stretch around his girth. He’s mesmerized, his fingers brushing over your features.

You open your eyes and look up at him, and the sight of you is nearly enough to undo him. He bites back a groan, his grip on your tightening.

Tech has never seen anything so beautiful.

"You are so lovely." He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear, and you hum around his cock, sending vibrations through his body. "I have dreamt of this moment, of having your perfect mouth wrapped around me. The reality is even better than I could have imagined."

You swallow around him again, and he shudders, his hips rocking involuntarily.

"You look exquisite on your knees, taking my cock. So perfect. So eager."

A whimper escapes you, and he moans, his hips snapping forward. He’s careful not to go too deep, but the sensation of your throat constricting around him is divine.

Your pace quickens, and you bob your head, taking him deeper each time. He’s so close, his cock pulsing and throbbing.

"That's it. Take it. Take it all."

Your lips stretch obscenely around him, and he can feel the tip hitting the back of your throat. He’s lost, consumed by the pleasure, his words pouring out of him. "You look so beautiful like this. Taking my cock, letting me fuck your mouth. Such a good girl."

You whimper, your hands sliding from his hips to cup his balls, rolling them gently between your fingers. His orgasm is building, a tingling sensation at the base of his spine, and his hips begin to stutter.

"Fuck, mesh'la, I'm close. I'm going to cum. Stars, yes, I'm—"

With one last thrust, his vision whites out, and he’s cumming, cock pulsing relentlessly as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow every drop, licking him clean as he comes down from his high.

When he finally pulls out, you gasp for breath, cheeks flushed. Tech is breathing heavily, his legs shaking, and he collapses onto the bed next to you, his head spinning.

"Force, that was…" He trails off, unable to find the right words. You grin, a sly look in your eye, and he knows that you know exactly what you've done to him.

Tech can still feel the buzz of his orgasm lingering, the tingle in his limbs making his toes curl. His eyes are half-closed, and he can’t seem to stop smiling.

"Do you have any idea how badly I've wanted to do that?" you ask, crawling up the bed and draping yourself over his side.

He blinks, surprised by the admission. "No. But I must say, I am extremely pleased you did."

You giggle, and his arm wraps around you. He pulls you close, relishing the feel of your body against his.

"That was…incredible."

"Mmm, I'm glad you liked it." You press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He sighs happily. "More than liked. It was a singular experience. One that I would be interested in repeating." He sits up, leaning over you. “But first, I wish to return the favor."

He kisses you, slow and deep. His hand slides up your body, caressing your curves. Your breasts are soft under his palms, and he feels you arch into his touch. Tech teases your nipple through your shirt, his tongue exploring your mouth. You pant into the kiss, your hands roaming over his bare chest.

Tech wants you naked, your skin against his.

He breaks the kiss, sitting up. "May I undress you?"

You nod, and he lifts the hem of your shirt, exposing your bare torso. His eyes travel over your body, drinking in every detail.

"Beautiful." He murmurs, fingers tracing the swell of your breast. You shiver at the touch, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. He drags his lips down your chest, peppering your skin with soft kisses. Your breasts are heavy in his hands, and he can feel your heartbeat racing under his tongue before his head dips lower.

His teeth tug at your nipple, and you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Please."

Tech sucks hard, and you moan, your legs spreading beneath him. He continues his exploration, moving to the valley between your breasts. He trails his tongue down your stomach, his hands tugging at the waistband of your pants.

"Take these off."

He hooks his fingers into the fabric and pulls them down. You lift your hips, helping him remove the garment, leaving you bare save for your underwear.

Your skin is smooth and warm beneath his touch. Tech can feel your thighs trembling, your body arching toward him. He traces your hip bones, dipping his tongue into your navel, and you gasp.

"Tech…"

"Patience, cyar'ika. I promise, you will not regret the wait."

He drags his tongue over the apex of your thigh, teasing you with the barest of touches. You whimper, and he feels your legs spread even wider. He moves lower, tracing the seam of your pussy with his finger. You're soaked, your arousal seeping through the fabric of your panties, and the sight of it makes his mouth water.

“Tech, wait—“ He pauses immediately, though his fingers don’t leave you.

“Yes?”

“Have you…done this before?”

He tilts his head. “Intercourse?”

You sigh. “Yes, Tech.”

His brow furrows. He had not. Was that a problem?

“I am admittedly inexperienced in this area,” he says, eyes flicking downward toward the dampened crotch of your underwear and back up. He can feel saliva pooling in his mouth, and he swallows against it. “But I assure you I am a quick study.”

You reach out and run your fingers through his hair, pushing the unruly locks back off his forehead. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing.

"That's not what I meant. I just don't want you to feel obligated. If you aren't ready, we can stop."

“Understood,” he nods, pausing pensively to thank you before his thumbs smooth over your stomach. “Though I doubt I will wish to stop until I have had my fill of you. Lift your hips, mesh’la.”

After a second’s hesitation, you comply with his request, and he drags your underwear down your legs before tossing it aside. His hand is on you in an instant, middle finger gently exploring your slick folds before he dips it inside. He’s pleased to note that your anatomy doesn’t differ much from his research as he gathers the slick weeping from your entrance and swipes upward to catch the bundle of nerves above it.

You let out a soft cry and arch against him, your legs trembling. Tech grins, a thrill shooting through him.

"Is that good?"

"Yes, oh stars, yes." You pant, your hips rocking against his hand.

He continues to move his fingers, exploring your body, watching your reactions. You're so wet, your juices dripping down his hand. His thumb replaces his finger on your clit, rubbing gentle circles while he drags his finger down to your entrance.

He breaches you slowly, searching for the spot he had read about on your upper wall. When he feels a texture different from the softness surrounding it, he presses upward, and he’s rewarded with a loud whimper.

Chasing your noises, he begins to create a rhythm, drawing in and out and focusing on your core with rapt attention. He marvels at the way wetness seeps from your slit, dampening your thighs and his hand, at the sounds you make, at the way you arch into his touch.

He moves his free hand to press down on your lower stomach just as he adds a second finger, earning him a loud moan. Your hips begin to writhe with the motion of his thrusting fingers, wetness squelching lewdly.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” you gasp out between panted breaths, your eyes locked on where his fingers are disappearing inside you.

“I have not,” he says. “But I admit I have thought about you in this position many times.”

You wail as he increases his pace, lowering himself onto his stomach so he can watch your impending orgasm up close. “That’s it, mesh’la. Cum on my fingers."

You shudder, your hands fisting in the sheets, and Tech can feel your walls clenching around his digits. His own arousal is steadily increasing, his cock filling out against the bed as he imagines how it would feel to fuck you.

Your climax hits you hard, your hips lifting off the bed and thighs pressing tightly around his hand. You let out a wordless scream, your body writhing in ecstasy.

Tech watches with wonder, his cock throbbing as a flood of release escapes you, soaking his fingers and the inside of your thighs. He doesn’t let up in his thrusting, eager to see how much he can wring from you.

“Tech—“

He groans at the breathless way you say his name, pressing harder onto your stomach as his thumb nudges underneath the hood of your clit. A choked sob leaves you under the squelching of his fingers deep in your cunt.

Suddenly, you arch and shake with a scream, and a flood of liquid squirts from you, splashing onto his goggles and dripping onto his nose and mouth. He blinks, stunned. It takes everything he has in him to not cum the instant you soak his face.

"Fuck! Oh stars, Tech, I'm sorry."

You sit up, a mortified expression on your face. Tech licks his lips, the taste of you flooding his mouth. He can't hold back the moan that escapes him, his cock aching to bury itself inside of you.

"You have nothing to apologize for. That was...extremely arousing," he says, pulling his fingers from you, though not without marveling at the way the inside of your walls grips him as he pulls out completely, as if they wanted him to stay.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he replies before wiping the lower half of his face. He lifts his goggles onto his head, unable to stop the smug smile from forming as he watches your heaving chest.

“I’ve never done that before,” you say, blushing furiously. Your hand comes up to cover your eyes as he licks his fingers clean, sucking them into his mouth to collect the remains of your release.

“I am honored to have been present for such a spectacle. You are quite extraordinary, you know."

You peek through your fingers, and Tech can see the smile curling your lips. "Flatterer."

“I wonder if you could do that again. Would you like to try?" he asks. Your hand drops from your eyes as you stare at him in utter disbelief. “That was the most arousing thing I have ever witnessed, and I would very much like to experience it again."

He slides his hand between your thighs, fingers sliding easily along the soaked length of your pussy, and he watches as you visibly shudder, a whimper leaving your throat.

“Maker, Tech, you’re going to ruin me,” you groan, throwing your head back. A distinctly male part of his pride preens, filing your words away for later in the back of his mind to repeat when he was alone. “Maybe some other time.”

His brain stutters, and the hand he’s trailing absently up and down your slit slows to a stop. “You want to do this again?”

“You’re not going to be able to keep me away after this,” you warn, and though he recognizes it's a joke, he can see a hint of something else in your eyes. He pushes himself up to his knees, drawing close until he can anchor himself onto either side of your head with his hands.

“That will not be a problem,” he says, pressing his mouth against yours.

You respond immediately, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The movement forces his cock, still hard and aching, to press against you, and he gasps as he feels the precum beading at his tip smear across your skin.

As if reading his mind, you move a hand between you to take him between your fingers. Using your thumb to spread the leaking fluid down his length, you wrap your fingers around and squeeze. He’s still sensitive from earlier, and he can’t help but move his hips to fuck your fist.

“I—kriff,” he swears as he leans his forehead against yours. His eyelids flutter closed. Your thumb presses against the vein underneath his head, and the sentence forming in his mind disappears in time with the needy whine that falls from his lips.

“I want you inside me, Tech,” you whisper, meeting his gaze when his eyes blink wide. He scrambles back to position himself at your entrance, and he’s surprised again when you shakily move as well.

Your hand presses gently on his chest, and he follows the motion to take your place, his head nestled in your pillows. You move to straddle him with your thighs on either side of his waist, and he feels faint with the amount of blood rushing down to his cock.

He can hardly believe what he’s seeing, though he wishes he could see you more clearly. With the lights still off and his goggles resting on his forehead, he can barely make out your silhouette above him.

Your hand goes back between you to guide his cock to your entrance when he stops you.

“Wait!” He calls out, just as you are beginning to lower yourself onto his lap.

You freeze, and he quickly grabs onto his goggles, tugging them off his head. He nearly drops them in his haste to wipe them off on the sheets before securing them back over his eyes. They aren’t perfectly clean, far from it, but it’s enough to allow him a clear view of the way your slick folds open around his length.

“You may continue.”

You huff out a quiet laugh before you resume your descent, grabbing his cock to hold it steady. His hands reach out to grab hold of either side of your hips as you lazily move his erection up and down your folds, his tip catching on your soaked entrance before notching your clit.

You let out a small whine before doing it again and again, and Tech feels like he is about to combust.

You repeat the motion two more times, and he feels a desperate noise tear itself from his throat. He isn’t entirely sure how he is still managing to breathe.

“Please, cyar’ika,” he hisses, staring hard at your cunt. Your folds are glistening, and his mouth waters at the sight. His grip on your hips tightens as he tries to hold you still, and you relent, taking a deep breath. Your eyes lock on his, and the intensity of your gaze sends a shiver down his spine.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You smirk before sheathing his cock entirely, punching a deep moan out of his chest.

Tech feels as though he is being swallowed whole. Your heat engulfs him, and he can feel every muscle and ridge along your walls. He gasps, his head thrown back, and his nails dig into your skin.

The feeling of being inside you is indescribable. You're so perfect, and his brain is melting, his vision is whiting out, and his heart is going to burst out of his chest, and he never wants this to end.

It’s a revelation, an epiphany, a truth he could have gone his whole life without knowing, but now that he does, there is no turning back.

You seem to be having an equally hard time with it, your breath escaping you in tiny pants. You slowly shift your hips, grinding against the nearly trimmed hair of his pubic bone with a barely suppressed whine.

After a few more minutes of adjusting to each other, you start to move. You lean forward and brace yourself on his chest as you rock back and forth, and the motion draws another gasp from you, the feeling of your tightening around him nearly making him choke. You are relentless, using him for your pleasure, and he is more than willing to let you.

A litany of curses and praises pour from his lips as you ride him, and you seem to delight in his vocalizations, speeding up the more he says. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving behind crescent-shaped marks, and the pain only heightens his pleasure.

His hands find their way to your breasts, and he plays with your nipples, twisting and pulling on the hardened nubs. You moan, arching into his touch, and Tech can't stop himself from leaning forward and wrapping his lips around one of the buds.

Your pussy clenches around him, and he groans, sucking and biting and teasing until you are squirming on his cock. Your hips are rocking faster, and you’re panting and gasping, and Tech is sure he has never seen anything more beautiful. He can feel his orgasm building, the tingling sensation returning, spurred on by your movements.

“I will not last long,” he warns you. “You feel so good.”

His broad vocabulary is failing him, but he can’t find it in himself to care as you slowly lift yourself, his cock nearly sliding out before slamming back into your body, and his hips thrust upward to meet you.

He feels his tip kiss the mouth of your womb, and his eyes roll back, the feeling nearly sending him over the edge.

You begin a new rhythm, rising and falling onto him, and he matches you thrust for thrust, driving into you with a ferocity that has the bed creaking beneath him. It’s clumsy at first, but the awkward movements give way to something more rhythmic as you figure each other out.

He can see the tension rising in your body, the way your brows knit together, and he wants nothing more than to watch you fall apart. He releases one of your hips to slide a hand between you, his thumb finding your clit.

The effect is instantaneous. You clench around him, the rhythm breaking for a moment as you try to move faster, to find your peak. Tech can feel the coil inside him tightening, and he knows he won't be able to hold on much longer.

"That's it, mesh'la, come for me," he growls.

You let out a keening wail, and your body goes rigid, your back arching. Tech watches in wonder as you throw your head back and scream his name, your pussy clamping down on him. He can feel your release seeping out of you, coating his thighs, and the sound of his name on your lips is enough to send him over the edge.

He can only manage a few more thrusts before his own climax overtakes him, his muscles locking as he comes with a shout. His vision whites out, his mind goes blank as he empties himself inside you. He feels as though his soul has left his body, his entire being centered on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock.

It feels like an eternity before he can think straight, and when his senses return to him, you're slumped over him, your face pressed against his shoulder. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close. He can feel your heartbeat through your skin, and the weight of you is surprisingly comforting.

You stir after a moment, leaning back to look him in the eye.

He raises a hand, cupping your cheek. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you in any way? Do you require anything? I was aware that you would be dehydrated and—”

"I'm fine, Tech." You giggle. "Just a little sore. But, I'm really good."

Tech breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing further into the bed.

"I'm glad," he says, moving his hand down to brush your sweaty hair from your face. “Is this an opportune moment to tell you that I love you?"

You stare at him for a moment, your mouth dropping open.

"What?"

"I love you," he repeats, suddenly feeling apprehensive. Perhaps you don’t feel the same? He thinks back to the moments leading up to your coupling. He’s almost certain he hasn’t imagined you returning his feelings. "Do you not feel the same way?"

"No, I do. I mean, I love you too, Tech," you rush to explain, sitting up.

His softening cock slips from your body, and he’s mesmerized by the way your combined releases trickle from your folds. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his.

It’s a short, sweet kiss, and he can feel his lips pulling up into a smile when you pull away.

"Well, in that case," he begins, "I think it would be appropriate to suggest that we make this a recurring activity."

You laugh, burying your face against his shoulder. "Definitely. We have a lot more of your research to verify."

"Agreed." Tech nods before his brain catches up to his mouth. His ears turn pink as he processes what exactly you're saying. "Oh."

You shift, lifting your head to smirk at him. "I suppose you should get started."

He doesn’t bother with a reply, rolling you over to pin you beneath him.

#tech x reader #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #x reader #the bad batch #clone wars #the clone wars #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #clone x reader #roy writes

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in-death-sacrifice · 16 days ago

Text

Healing Word

Lucanis Dellamorte x GN!Rook (Mage)

Warnings: Injuries, Mentions of blood, NO Spoilers :) Summary: Lucanis gets injured as is too stubborn to ask for help with it. Hope you enjoy! Requests for Dragon Age are open

You spotted his limp almost immediately after the battle. The fight was a tough one, adding a few more scars to your already growing collection, no thanks to the Venitori. You watched as he limped through the Eluvian, whispering curses under his breath when his daggers would accidentally hit it. The group filtered out towards their rooms, getting ready to shed the armour that began to pinch at their skin after a long day. Magic hummed around them as they were greeted home.

The meditation chamber hummed in greeting when you walked through the doors. The sound of armour clattering on the ground as you peeled yourself away from it. You stood at the mirror examining the new collection of bruises and small scraps you had gained today. Your magic soothing the aches and pains away as the minor ones began to fade. Part of you wanted to join the others for whatever was for tea, the lingering exhaustion had finally caught up. You sighed as your body hit the chair in the center of the room, the cushions moulding around your body perfectly as you fell into a nap -praying that Solas would interrupt this one this time.

The sound of the door opening made you shoot up, your hair messy and sticking up all over the place. You rubbed the back of your hand over your eyes as you turned to face the intruder only to find Lucanis standing at the entrance. "Is everything alright?" You grumbled out. His posture was stiff even though he was hunched over, and a purple glow surrounded him to let you know that it wasn't him. "Spite?" You questioned again, sitting further up as you watched him walk around the chair in front of you. "The fool is injured and bleeding everywhere...help him" Spite gritted out before releasing his hold on Lucanis. You barely had time to catch him as the man fell forward collapsing half on you and the sofa. Then you could see the large patch of blood on the side of his leg. The blood had seeped through enough it lingered on your fingertips when you gently pressed it trying to find the wound.

"Maker Lucanis" you muttered as you manoeuvred him to lay on the chair. You knelt on the floor next to him, sending your healing magic to gently probe the area only to find that he had half wrapped it in a thick padding of bandages. You paused before, groaning loudly as your fingers began to undo the ribbons of fabric that held his trousers up before shimming them down to his knees. Your cheeks flushed at the intimacy of the situation; it had only been a few months and your constant flirting hadn't really got you anywhere besides lingering gazes and unspoken emotions behind his eyes. You cursed your fingers being so cold as you began to slowly unwrap the bandages on his legs, his body flinching as you accidentally made contact with his skin. The air between you both began to glow a light green as your magic had finally found its target, you watched carefully as the skin started to fuse together, the blood stopping its flow down his leg.

You moved from his side to grab a couple of washcloths and water before you began to gently clean the area. When you gazed back up at him, you were met with his eyes open watching you. The two of paused as you waited for him to speak first, you watched as his eyes flickered towards the light scar that lingered on his leg and then back to you. "Spite bought you here...He asked me to help" You spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as you waited for his reaction. "Of course, he did" Lucanis grumbled. You removed your hand from his leg, backing up away from the chair to give him room to move about. You eyed up the small whisps of hair that led to his underwear as he stood to dress himself. "I'm sorry for stepping in the wound was still bleeding and he asked me-"

"It's fine, Thank you"

You nodded as he stood up to leave. Your eyes lingered on his retreating form. Lucanis turned again, his fingers barely touching the door handle. "Hopefully next time I'm like that it won't be because of a injury"

He left you standing in the middle of the room like a blushing idiot, a grin on his face as he made his way back towards the pantry of the lighthouse, no limp in sight anymore.

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #lucanis dellamorte x reader #lucanis dellamorte x rook #lucanis x reader #da4 #da4 lucanis

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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months ago

Text

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, describing a man’s size, brief alcohol, non-descriptive mentions of sex, intimidation

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Part Twenty-One of Ink & Needle

The past resurfaces. Simon's enemy shows his face.

Chapter Twenty

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Three Years Ago

“Confess, bitch. Give us the details.”

Sam takes a towel to a bottle of prosecco, the cork popping as she dislodges it. Jade collects four tumblers from the mini-bar and sets them out on top of the low dresser the television sits on.

“Don’t leave anything out,” adds Jade, tossing her blue hair over her shoulder.

All of you are freshly showered and wearing the fluffy hotel provided robes. The softness is absolute heaven. Like wearing a cloud.

You sigh heavily and fall onto your back on the plush hotel bed, hands pressed over your eyes. There is a pleasant ache between your legs—a reminder of your wraith. His scent still lingers even though you stood under scalding water and scrubbed the day away. There is a hint of mint. Of black tea. A whisp of smoke.

Maybe it’s in your hair.

Maybe it’s embedded into your skin.

Thorns that have burrowed and only time will push them out or leave them to fester and infect.

“What do you want to know?” you groan, rubbing your temples.

Already, the alcohol is beginning to creep from your system, leaving a tension behind that signals an oncoming hangover. It’s not piercing yet. Just a nuisance. Sam tops off the glasses and the prosecco is distributed. The bubbly drink burns your nose a bit but it drives off the blooming headache.

Begrudgingly, you push up to a more seated position, your three best friends staring back expectantly. It’s the moment of truth. You’re facing the jury. This is your judgement.

“Was it good?” asks Sam, one eyebrow arched in question. She takes a sip of her drink, leaning slightly to the right, adjusting the front of the robe.

“Yes,” you reply slowly.

“And?” she prompts, waving her hand in a signal to go on.

“Do we have to talk about this right now?” you mutter, staring down into your dwindling glass of prosecco. If you’re going to get through this conversation, you’re going to require more.

Jade sets her glass down on the side table between the two beds. She goes up on her knees, excitement buzzing through her bones. “How big was he?” she asks. “What did it look like?”

“Jesus Christ, Jade,” you groan.

Yes. More prosecco will fix this.

“Just say when,” interrupts Jade. She brings her hands flat against each other, and then slowly starts to move them away.

Sam snorts, and then chokes on her beverage, nearly rolling off the bed as she goes for a tissue. You stare dumbly at Jade, not saying anything.

“Just say—seriously? Seriously?” Jade’s hands are unrealistically far apart. “This is impossible. I’m starting over.”

“Stop,” you laugh, grabbing her hands. “He was…decent?”

“Decent?” snaps Sam. “We don’t get any details? Color? Length?”

“Girth,” adds Jade. “A prominent vein?”

Sam rolls her eyes. “Girl. Give us something!”

You glance over at Evie. “Are you going to help me at all?”

She shrugs and sips on her prosecco. “I’m curious too,” she says softly.

You down the rest of your prosecco and immediately regret it. A wave of indigestion hits you and you swallow down a burp.

“Okay,” you concede, holding up one hand placatingly. “Fine.”

The three women settle onto the bed, all their attention on you. It takes a moment—a deep inhalation before you begin. But you do, and you tell them most of it. You talk about Ghost’s proposition out in the alleyway and of where he took you to. You describe the positions he put you in, and how damn good the man was at tonguing orgasm after orgasm out of you.

They sigh and swoon. They giggle or simply stare open-mouthed.

There are some things you don’t say. You don’t tell them how you felt in your heart when you left or the circumstances of why. The sense of needing to run was insistent and strong, but looking back—you now feel shame.

You regret not staying even for a few extra minutes.

“Damn,” sighs Sam, leaning back on one elbow.

Jade just blinks, her mind still trying to process the information.

Evie smiles behind her glass, and you know that look. “What?” you prompt, lightly smacking her thigh.

“Sounds like you had fun.” She lightly smacks your thigh back. “Aren’t you happy we went?”

Now

“Bag packed?”

“I think so. How’s Lillian?”

Evie takes a bite of her sandwich and glances down into the bassinet. “Asleep. For now.”

“How are you feeling?” you ask softly, walking around to the side of the bed. Sitting down on the edge, you lean back slightly, staring at your friend.

It’s been over a week since Archie’s parents came to visit. The rest of the day and the following, Evie was a mess. But her cheeks have color to them now, and the bags under her eyes are almost non-existent. She’s always been the mediator, but it doesn’t seem like she’s willing to the mediator in this anymore. Her fuse no longer sparks.

While Evie hasn’t spoken it out loud, her actions indicate her willingness to separate from Archie’s family completely. It would be better for everyone, but mostly for her mental wellbeing. She’s dealt with too much of their bullshit, and it’s time that she breaks away from them for good.

It’s their own fault. Their own behavior that has caused all this. It never had to come to this, and now they likely won’t see their granddaughter at all.

“Better,” she sighs. “A bit nauseous.”

“Headache?” you ask.

She nods. “I just need a little caffeine. Maybe something carbonated.”

“All the paperwork signed?”

“Yep. On the table in the kitchen.” Evie takes another bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s fine, Evie. I’m happy to do it.”

“I know,” she says quickly. “And I know I keep thanking you, but I do mean it. Having Amelia around is wonderful, but she wouldn’t be able to do everything you’re doing for me.”

It’s true in a way. Amelia has been integral in helping with Lillian, but it is you that has spent all your time taking care of the financial end. Mister Grant calls you. The estate agent contacts you. You are Evie’s voice at the moment, and you’re more than happy to do it.

“I’m not the one packing anything up,” you laugh, throwing up your hands. “All I have to do is point and Jennifer’s assistant will label it.”

“That’ll be easier,” sighs Evie. “I can’t imagine trying to go through all our belongings by hand.”

You shrug. “I get to eat lots of takeout in the meantime. I’ll be fine.”

Evie reaches out and squeezes your hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Evelyn Green.”

Her grin is infectious as you push up from the bed and snag the backpack you packed. Hefting it over one shoulder, you salute Evie and walk out of the room backwards. You hear her giggle all the way down the hall.

Once the paperwork is in your hands, Amelia drops you off at the train station. You spend the entire trip hunched over the paperwork and reviewing the list you made of all the items Evie wants to keep. She’s giving you liberty to make the final call on most things, but you know it’s because she’s doesn’t want to deal with any of it.

It’s understandable. Everything in the home reminds Evie of her dead husband, and she’s already emotional delicate. If she doesn’t want to look at or deal with any of it, you’ll carry the burden.

When you arrive in Cambridge, it’s a quick taxi ride to the house.

The quiet is almost ominous, and the dark rooms seem bigger without anyone here with you. For a moment, you consider calling Simon to ask if he’d like to come out here and join you. But the idea is quickly dismissed. Simon has work. He has a job to do. Already he’s made numerous changes to his schedule just to accommodate your needs.

It’s not like he wouldn’t come if you called. You know that if you picked up the phone right now and dialed Simon’s number, he wouldn’t even hesitate. Simon would come like a moth to a flame.

But moths are often consumed in fire.

You think better of it.

The estate agent, Jennifer, and her assistant are supposed to arrive early in the morning to start the pack-up process. There isn’t time to dwell on your feelings or how much you wish Simon was here with you.

On the kitchen island, you set out the paperwork, organizing it now so you don’t have to deal with it in the morning. You just want to sleep—to have as much quiet as you can before the work begins. Lillian keeps Evie up, but the little one keeps you up as well. The lack of sleeping is starting to eat away at you.

It’s a fresh start in a way. You sleep deep and you sleep hard. When Jessica and Mollie arrive, you’re refreshed.

“Evelyn wants these packed?” asks Jessica, gesturing toward an array of kitchen appliances.

“Yes,” you confirm.

Jessica nods and Mollie writes “pack” on a sticky note before attaching it to the mixing bowls. Plenty of things are going into storage for now—at least until Evie is confident enough to find her own place that is uniquely hers.

You haven’t broached the subject explicitly. It’s only been mentioned in passing, and Evie agreed that she didn’t want to sell everything off only to have to replace it later. What she truly wants is for the house to be sold. To create a space that doesn’t constantly remind her of her dead husband.

You and Jessica walk around the entire house and garden with Mollie trailing behind, her arms loaded with tape, paper, and sticky notes. It takes several hours to go through everything, and by the end you’re starving. The coffee and croissant you ate for breakfast are out of your system entirely.

Jessica taps away at her phone, a frown on her face. “I swear. I’ve been having issues with this thing all morning,” she grumbles.

Mollie shrugs. “Want me to reach out to them?”

“Please,” sighs Jessica. “They’re supposed to deliver the boxes for us. Find out from John what time.”

Mollie nods and grabs her tablet, her fingers tapping away furiously. She gives her back, one arm clutching the tablet while her other hand unloads the pens from her coat pocket.

Jessica turns to you with a bright smile. “I’ll find out when the boxes are supposed to arrive.” She lifts her phone in the air. “If this will cooperate. Bloody technology.”

“It’s fine,” you laugh. “They’ll get here when they get here. I can manage until then.”

“Too true,” she beams. “At least you have a few to start with.”

“But the rest will be boxed up independently?”

“Yes,” confirms Jessica. “Just take the things that Evelyn wants. Leave the rest. I have the keys. When the team is ready, I’m meet them here. We’ll take care of everything else.”

“Wonderful,” you sigh, as you say your goodbyes and escort Jessica and Mollie to the front door.

The boxes do arrive, but so do an endless parade of people. Mister Grant stops by to review the paperwork before handing over more for you to take to Evie when you return to London. The appraiser comes to evaluate the house, and several different contractors arrive to assess potential fixes that Jessica suggested during the walkthrough.

It’s an avalanche of faces—and the only one you want to see is Simon. It’s the face you think about when you slip into bed that night. It’s the face you imagine when the ache between your thighs grows and you need some sweet relief. It’s the face in your dreams that night, and the one that lingers when you wake.

You need Simon like plants need the sun. He is your light. Your sustenance. This love blooming in your chest is a twisting beast that intends to devour you whole. It is lovely. It is consuming.

All you want is him.

When you return to London, the first thing you’re doing is heading for 141 Ink to spend an afternoon in his shop. Watching Simon work is a pleasure. You’ve only witnessed it a few times, and it was hypnotizing when you did.

“Really?” you mutter, staring at the text message on the phone screen, stuffing the rest of your breakfast into your mouth.

It’s Jessica! New phone! Sending the assessor out to you today! One last walkthrough!

“They were just here,” you groan, staring around at all the empty boxes. “Why is this necessary?”

The boxes were delivered, but they were all flat. At least packing tape came with. Otherwise, you’d be out of luck. Evie wants some things to come to Amelia’s and those are the items you’re supposed to be collecting. That is supposed to be your focus at the moment.

And a new number for Jessica is annoyingly inconvenient, but you’ll deal with it. Her phone was acting up yesterday.

“Whatever,” you say to the ceiling, updating your contact information for Jessica.

You continue to pack, taking breaks every so often to check work emails. You’re in the zone—a flurry of activity—so when the doorbell goes off, you nearly flinch at the sound.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, sealing a box with packing tape.

Pushing up to standing, your knees pop. The doorbell rings through the house again and you sprint to the front door, legs a bit achy from crouching.

You open the door, a little breathless. “Hi!”

A man in his mid-thirties stands on the other side. His dark hair is cropped short and he wears a polo with khakis. On the left side of the polo is a little logo that says “Heisman Consulting.” He clutches a clipboard in one hand and has a utility belt hooked around his hips. Behind his right ear is a sharpened pencil.

“You must be the assessor Jessica mentioned,” you greet.

“That’s me,” he says, presenting his hand. “I’m Jack.”

You take it, giving him your own name. It’s a firm, strong handshake. His eye contact is intense. It’s a bit strange actually. You’re not sure why he’s staring like he’s trying to see into your soul.

“We just had the assessor here yesterday. Did Jessica give a reason for another visit?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

Jack just grins and it’s disarming. “Second opinion.”

“I see,” you say slowly, not understanding at all.

What’s the point of a second opinion? Did the first one already come back? That seems unlikely. These things don’t happen overnight. But you’re not the expert on real estate. This is out of your depth.

What you want is to leave this conversation as quickly as possible and return to your task. “I have a few things to take care of. I’ll make sure to stay out of your way while you walk around the property.”

“That won’t be necessary,” replies Jack, his smile still in place.

“I’m sorry?”

“Jessica wants you present for the inspection.”

You laugh, the sound awkward as it leaves your lips. “No she doesn’t. I’ll be around. Just come grab me if you need something.”

Jack shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders casually. “Jessica isn’t happy with the last assessment. Wants someone else observing.”

“Like a witness?” you ask.

He shrugs his shoulders again, and the unease only grows. Why does he want you to stick around so bad? If anything, you shouldn’t be in his way at all.

“Fine,” you concede, attempting to give him a smile. “Not sure I’ll be of much help.”

Jack glances down at his clipboard and removes the pencil from behind is ear. “S’all good, love.” He winks and notes something on the clipboard before his gaze scans the room.

Love.

In Jack’s mouth, it sounds like an insult. It doesn’t sit right. The only person you enjoy calling you that is Simon.

You try to smile, but it falls flat.

There are too many things to do, and you only have a few days to complete them. You’re supposed to be in Cambridge for the weekend—returning at the latest on Tuesday if necessary.

“Where would you like to start?” you ask, taking a cautious step back, edging toward the paperwork sitting on the counter.

Jack takes another gander of the kitchen and living room. It’s strange, really, how he’s observing the space but not really looking at it. It almost appears passive, like he’s not interested in it at all.

You tuck the loose paperwork into the binder Mister Grant left and lean against the counter, arms crossed over your chest.

“Let’s cover the outdoors first,” Jack finally says. “Weather is all right for now. Never know when it might rain.”

“Sure,” you reply. “Let me grab my coat.”

You quietly excuse yourself, heading for the guest bedroom. It’s at the end of the hall. Tucked away. Even though you don’t sense a presence at your back, you keep checking, glancing over your shoulder like Jack will suddenly appear.

It’s silly, really. Why are you uneasy about all this? Jessica sometimes gets back to you last minute on things. It’s just a little tight. A little odd. But it’s not completely unusual.

Grabbing your coat, you return downstairs, finding Jack near the patio door. He’s hunched over a bit, blocking your view of the handle.

“Want to start in the backyard first?” you ask loudly, tugging on the coat.

He turns sharply, his mouth a firm, flat line before morphing into a smile. He’s still blocking your view of the handle.

Reaching behind him, he slides the patio door open. “Sounds great.” He moves with it and stays there. “Ladies first.”

You slowly approach and brush past him. Jack is far too close and you wrap your coat a little tighter around you as he exits after you. With clipboard in hand, the two of you begin walking the perimeter of the house.

Jack never removes any tools from his belt. He doesn’t measure anything. He only observers and makes notes on his clipboard. There are no questions asked. Nothing. The silence is excruciating, and while you’re itching to break it, you don’t dare do so.

There is a chill beneath your skin, and it’s not the cool December air. It might be cold out but it’s not that cold—not like it can get in the States. This is a creeping chill. One that starts at a point in your chest and slowly spreads outward until the tips of your fingers and toes feel numb.

Jack isn’t wearing a coat, but perhaps he’s simply used to the weather. He doesn’t appear bothered by it.

“Anything I can help with?” you finally ask once the two of you make it back to the patio area.

“Just keep close,” he winks, stepping inside the house.

You stand just outside, unsure if you want to go in at all. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. The urge to call Jessica is intense—nearly stifling.

You step inside, glancing back the interior handle. The screws are gone. And the lock is clearly broken.

“What the fuck,” you mutter, whirling around to find Jack standing nearby, a hammer clutched in his fist.

Jack isn’t smiling. His frown is deep. A scowl. Your gaze darts to the hammer in his hand and then back up to his face. He’s between you and the front door. The only way out is through the patio door. It might be directly behind you, but you still have to run along the side of the house to make a break for the road.

If you’re fast, you could do it. But you’ll have to give Jack your back. And he’s wielding a fucking weapon. Even if you’re out of swinging distance, he could still hurl it at you like a javelin.

Slowly, you slide your foot backward.

Jack remains utterly motionless.

“I’m calling Jessica.”

Again, Jack doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

You take another slow step backward.

Without taking your eyes off of him, you fish out your phone, holding it up in the air. With Jessica at the top of your message list, it’s not difficult to hit the “call” button. There is a pause before you hear the muted ring coming from your phone.

But that isn’t what unnerves you.

A ringer goes off. Loud. Near.

It’s not Jack. He still stands there in the middle of the room with hammer in hand. Unfazed.

It’s coming from behind you.

The muted ring from your phone and the loud, audible one sync together. Jack’s gaze slowly shifts from you to a point over your shoulder.

Your eyes burn and you don’t realize that you’re crying until the salt of them sting your cheeks.

Jack isn’t looking at you anymore. His gaze is beyond. Absorbed elsewhere.

Twisting, you glance over your shoulder and find a man standing just outside the patio door. He holds up a ringing cellphone and half of his face is covered in burn scars.

“Hello, love,” he says, voice gruff like he’s smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. “The name’s Kit.”

taglist:

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sourholland · 7 months ago

Text

Guilty as Sin

CHAPTER ONE ; azriel x fem!reader

summary: the lost princess of the dawn court finds herself brazenly escaping her own personal living hell. seeking refuge, as well as peace to plot in the city of velaris—she meets azriel shadowsinger and through the throws of disdain and discomfort they are forced to work side by side, intertwined through their shared scars.

a/n: ok so this first chapter is literally all exposition and world building within this world, i’m so sorry :( i promise that it will very much so pick up. this series is mainly about me exploring different aspects of my writing, i’ve never written a long series before. my longest is 50k and each chapter was about 2k words so this is something i feel really proud to put out, even if it is just the first chapter. if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!! this fic isn’t necessarily inspired by, but is a lot like taylor swift’s new song “guilty as sin?”. feedback always appreciated:)

warnings: strong language, mentions of trauma regarding men, heavy themes of ptsd and suicidal thoughts

spotify playlist (unfinished)

wc: 5.4k

Run.

The word cut through your mind, slicing through each and every thought you possessed as you gazed downwards at your bloodied hands. There was so much blood. Hot, thick blood ran down your forearms, coating your face and the inside of your mouth. Your stomach lurched, however by the grace of the Gods, you fled.

In over fifty years, you had not left this camp. Since you were just a girl, at twelve years old, you had resided within the hidden stone of the warrior camp. Now you had no choice but to utter a quick prayer to the Mother and run fast and furiously forward without looking back. Only the knife you had just used remained sheathed at your hip as you felt the ground beneath your boot-clad feet. There was a cloak pulled around you, it covered your face well and kept you concealed.

What was that saying, you thought silently to yourself in between painful dry heaves. ‘Feet don’t fail me now.’

It was nightfall and you ran tirelessly through the forest you had been warned to never brave on your own. As a child, your mother had warned that you must not meet what lurks after dark. She told you that not even those beasts would mind slaying the Princess of the Dawn Court. To them, the title was useless and your blood was just the same. Blood. You reeked of those warriors' blood and sweat and desperation. It was clad to your skin like a layer of oil or grime, the taste of iron making you spit.

A part of you wondered if you would die out in this forest, no idea where you were or what place Cousin Thesan had brought you so many decades ago. Stopping to lean against a tree, you panted and let the silent tears flow at once. Where were you? For all you knew, he had dropped you within the Continents and only used very good wards to keep the camp hidden. Why had you let them take you? What hadn’t you fought harder against Thesan’s word as Amarantha began exercising power among Prythian.

You had no answer, but only began to run once again. There was no choice, unless you planned to slit your own throat and simply give up. No. You are a warrior, you are a fighter and nothing would keep you from finding your cousin and demanding answers for his crimes. That’s what his actions were to you, criminal and inhumane and you would not be surprised if in the end–you adorned his blood on your hands as well.

“Who dares enter this part of my forest?” A voice drawled from nowhere in particular, causing you to flinch and raise the dagger shakily in defense. “What is your name, girl?”

The voice came from the trees, you swore to yourself. It came in whisps and wind, the blackness of the forest making it impossible for you to determine where exactly the source was. If there was a source. It omitted what you swore was a chuckle, an unfamiliar sound to you for so long. Sweat collected at the nape of your neck and temples, hair stuck down to your forehead and your skin blazed as you continued to rotate in full circles with your dagger pointed at nothing.

“Y/N, Princess of Dawn and Bringer of Light. What is your business in dwelling here? This is no place for a young Fae girl. Especially one so sweet as yourself, and you wear the blood of ten men. It is as if you hope to die tonight,” the voice whispered, a hot, invisible breath on your neck. “Do you hope to die tonight?”

“No,” you finally spoke into the abyss. “I hope to locate my homelands, I am in search of the High Lord of the Dawn Court. Show yourself.”

The voice ignored your demand, “leave this forest, Princess. For the ones hunting you are far worse than those warriors you slaughtered miles back.”

The stiff cloth of your dress began to itch beneath your robes and you stood taller than before as the voice surrounded you. Perhaps you would die tonight, at least you would have gone out thrashing and fighting until your final breath. There was a mild ache behind your brow and the night sky showed no signs of daybreak.

“And why have you refrained from killing me?” You finally asked, shifting back and forth and contemplating whether or not to begin running again.

“I possess no body. I am nothing but the wind and the trees and the breeze against your skin,” it hummed, cynically. “Cross the river up ahead and veer left, the path will lead you out of the forest and into the countryside where at least you will not be hunted for sport and strewn up and cut open for the creatures that dwell here to eat you alive.”

A cold chill ran up your spine and left your fingers to form fists.The spirit-like being was gone as fast as it had stumbled upon you. How did you know, you wondered idly for a moment. Its presence was absent, the air feeling more desolate and empty than it had moments before. It could very well be a trick, a way to lure you into its very trap and do exactly as it said.

You continued on to the river and went left, just as the being had told you to, as it had cooed into the shell of your ear. It was only about a mile later and you were coming into a dark clearing where animals lay sleeping along large acres of land. There were cows and sheeps first, then you saw pens of pigs and chicken coops further. Looking back, you saw how truly terrifying the forest was in comparison to the moonlit field.There were a set of yellow eyes staring out at you, but as soon as you blinked they were gone as if they were never there to begin with. While you knew you would never know, you threw a prayer up to the Mother regardless and hoped that the breeze-like thing that had most likely saved your life was at peace.

There was very little you could do besides walk along the outskirts of the land and hope to find some inclination of where to locate your court. Your court. The Dawn Court was filled with your people, people who had not seen you in five decades. The memories of your childhood were like knives in your gut, twisting and turning until finally you expelled them from your mind and breathed in deeply. The trek was long and you walked all through the night with no direction of where to go or what to do with yourself. There were not exactly any signs pointing you towards your home, or once home. Now you had no home, the camp was much more like a prison than a home to you.

“Are you lost?” A little Fae girl spoke, taking in your appearance as she found you still walking along the countryside that next morning. She did not appear to be scared, however she was very young and held a basket of wildflowers in her hand.

“Yes,” you almost cried at the sight of her, another human and a female at that. It had been fifty three years since you had encountered someone of the same sex. “Where am I?”

“I live just beyond that hill. You are in the Dawn Court,” she said wearily, pointing over and beyond the hill that sat a few hundred yards away. “Should I fetch my father to help you?”

“No,” you said, knowing well what you had done the night prior and how you appeared. “I am looking to get to the Dawn Court Palace, do you know where I might be able to find it?”

The girl, no more than nine, looked over you once again and it was as if she was assessing your soul. She drew her lips into a fine line and set the basket down to begin spouting off some directions. You nodded, taking in all of them with careful consideration and noting that the spirit had led you onto the right track for some odd reason. Once the girl had finished, she merely bowed her head and turned back towards her house.

.·:*¨☆◦✦◦☆¨*:·.

The Palace was nothing like you had remembered it. It was so much brighter and broader than you recalled within the narrow escape of your child-mind. The Dawn Court Palace gleamed under the beaming sun that had been burning your skin for hours as you followed the little girl’s instructions.

It was so vast and yet it seemed to call out to you, there was a long way to get to even one of the many stairs leading up to the Palace and so many guards standing tall at every entrance you could see. There was no way in, you thought. Not when you look as you do. Would any of these men even know who you are, you wondered.

“Who goes there?” A loud voice bellowed, bringing you away from your thoughts.

Who says who goes there, you thought. Prick.

Well it looks like Cousin Thesan spared no expense in making sure no one went in unnoticed, you rolled your eyes internally and spun on your heels to meet the look of the brooding male who wielded his weapon against you. He did not recognize you, as you had expected. His eyebrow had a long scar going through it and he held a blade in his hand, waiting for an explanation.

“Stand down!” You matched his tone, standing tall while the male practically laughed in your face.

“You are lucky that I have not already gutted you for crossing into our territory–”

The sound of you swallowing hard could be heard from even where he stood. You planted your feet and let all of those lessons on looking the part of royalty run over you. The guard was cut off by your sharp and fierce voice, “I am Y/N, Princess of Dawn! Stand down or don’t. I can’t say that I really care either way, but you very well might when I cut out your tongue and feed it back down your throat.”

The man went rigid for a moment and he took in a sharp breath. He seemed to be assessing you, his eyes scanned your frame while his weapon remained as it was. A part of you wondered if he thought you were bluffing, however the dried blood seemed to tell him everything he needed to know. He maintained his authoritative stance, only drawing back to call over some of his men. He whispered something into one male’s ear and his face went blanche. He looked over you with such careful consideration and shock, his eyes wide open and doe-like from where you stood.

“You claim to be the Lost Princess?” He finally spoke, tilting his head to the side to expose a long, fleshy scar across his neck.

“Well the last that I checked–I am the only Princess of the Dawn Court, however I am most certainly not lost, sir. I do wish to speak to my cousin, though,” you requested, earnestly. “As soon as possible.”

The Lost Fucking Princess. Who even comes up with this bullshit?

One of the males who adorned guard-like clothing brought you into the Palace wearily. He did not lay a hand on you, but motioned you to walk in front of him as if you posed some sort of threat. Perhaps you did, killing Thesan had crossed your mind once or twice. The idea of watching him writhe excited you quite a bit. The thought nearly brought a smile to your lips, only managing to suppress it when you began climbing the steps.

.·:*¨☆◦✦◦☆¨*:·.

The male brought you to a throne room, sunlight dancing along the walls and spilling onto the floors. Everything was so magnificent, the aura of the room was nothing short of golden. Blood boiled within you as you recalled all of the years you had wasted away to nothing, hidden in that rotting, despicable camp where all you ate was leftover meat scraps and watered-down soup for over fifty years.

Thesan sat at the forefront of the room, he wore a crown and spoke to the male at his right in a hushed whisper. It was almost as if he did not know you were here, like he was uninformed of your arrival in his court. When the male who brought you in nearly tripped over his feet to murmur into Thesan’s ear, you had your answer. Your cousin’s eyes snapped towards you in an instant, he rose to his feet immediately and you swore you could feel the blood pumping in your ears. With a hot face and white knuckles, you barreled towards him with the intent to kill.

“You promised me! You promised me!” Your magic rippled across the room as you shouted, pure rage causing the ground to shake. “You left me there to rot like vermin! How could you?”

With tunnel vision, the two men who had been holding you back were nearly invisible as the ground continued to shake violently. Thesan was silent, his eyes were wide with genuine revelation and disbelief. Thrashing and clawing and screaming was all you could do. He had taken years from you, good years that had been ripped away and stolen from you as a child.

“You’re nothing but a fucking liar, Thesan. We share blood! I am your family and you threw me out to the wolves. I was twelve years old and you abandoned me. I trusted you with my life. My life!” you cried and flinched at the guards’ hands. “Get your fucking hands off of me!”

The two men who held you were sent flying backwards by an invisible force, your magic had been provoked and was now rippling off of you in waves. Thesan approached with his hands out, he still had not spoken a word. With a wave, he cleared the room and it was only the two of you left standing.

“Y/N,” he said in a soft hush. “Please just allow me to explain–”

“Explain? Explain how you brought me to your sick fucking camp when I was a girl and lied to everyone under the guise of my protection? Explain how after three months, your letters and visits stopped? Oh, perhaps you plan to explain how you left me to live with ten cursed warriors for over five decades and I have to find out six days ago that Amarantha was defeated by a human girl years ago as I still sat by idly waiting for my dear Cousin Thesan to retrieve me from my own personal living hell?” The words were like knives, piercing Thesan one after another as you resisted the urge to rip out his throat. “Explain, go ahead.”

Thesan could not believe his eyes, nor the venom spewing from your lips. He surveyed your too-thin figure and cold eyes, how they had changed so much since he had last seen you as a small girl. Everything you said was true, to some degree. He could not deny any of it, however he had not realized how the camp had treated you. He had not banished you, but relocated you for reasons of his own before Amarantha could rise to full power. When Thesan caught word of what had begun under the mountain, he made rash decisions and sacrifices that he was not proud of and would have to live with for the rest of his immortal life.

“Y/N, I did send you away for your protection. Do you believe that my brother would have let me live if I sent his only child away to live in squalor while we all reside in a palace? I sent you away because my people were being ripped from their homes and your mere existence puts a target on your back,” he said, steadily. “A Princess, the sole heir to the Dawn Court. It is unheard of. When my brother’s mate–your mother–birthed a girl, our people were ecstatic. As years passed and Amarantha began her show of power, everyone grew antsy for my heir. I tried, I remain trying to produce an heir to this court.”

You shook your head, hot tears running down your dirt-crusted cheeks. “Not good enough,” your voice cracked.

“Please, just hear my words,” he begged you. “When you were twelve years old, I assumed tensions were at their height and our people grew restless. Amarantha had begun slaughtering innocent Fae across Prythian and with no heir, whispers surfaced of the Princess of the Dawn Court. A female heir, one who reeked of power at that. Males who would never kneel before a female began to place bounties on your head, terrified that I would be slayed and there would be no one but you to resume my place.”

Thesan breathed deep, but continued. “I told my brother that the safest option would be to make you disappear. We would claim that you were hunted by Amarantha’s loyal subjects, nowhere to be found. I gathered some of my strongest men who had committed wrongdoings within my court and banished them to the camp where they would be tied until I liberated you.”

“You locked me away with criminals!” You seethed, already knowing but surprised at his willingness to utter the words freely. “How do you think your filthy, touch-starved, vile men acted once I had first bled?”

“This is where I have committed wrong,” he whispered. “It was only supposed to be a year, maybe two while I gained footing and figured out a way to take back what Amarantha had stolen from me. Three months after I sent you away, she captured the entirety of this court. Every court, save for Spring, went Under the Mountain. You were concealed, hidden so well by my wards, that she never even bothered to go looking for you. She believed that her own subjects had killed and discarded you. That was the extent at which things had gotten, she merely trusted the death of the Princess of the Dawn Court was another insignificant casualty to her reign. Everyone believed you to be dead. My letters stopped because I was trapped, my power basically nothing compared to what it once was.”

The truth washed over you slowly, blinking away tears but staying put and shaking your head at him. It was still not good enough, it would never be good enough. For fifty-three years you had known nothing but scraps and gangly men and the dirt underneath your bleeding fingernails.

“It has been years since Amarantha was defeated,” you gritted out. “Defeated by a human girl–”

“Feyre Cursebreaker, High Lady of the Night Court and human no longer. Myself and the other High Lords used our power to bring her back from death as High Fae,” he told you. “I know you will never forgive me for not retrieving you immediately, however we entered a gruesome war against Hybern and have only just begun to recover and rehabilitate. It is no excuse, I know this. I hoped by now that I would have an heir, nothing has changed in regards to how your existence might be received by this court.”

He had left you there while everyone rejoiced in their freedoms, fought on the frontlines of battle, and then even still once we had won. Nothing but pure, unadulterated rage consumed you and yet all you could muster up was a pathetic noise straight from your throat. He had done all of this because he simply was not capable of bearing a child and assumed that you’re suffering was all the more worth it if he could fuck his way to the ideal future High Lord of Dawn. All men are the same, you thought with a sickness churning within you.

“You are a sick excuse for a man,” was all you spat. “Where are my parents?”

“Dead,” he lowered his head. “They died swiftly, soon after we arrived Under the Mountain.”

The gift that just keeps on giving, you thought whilst holding back a near sob. He gazed upon you with pity, finally taking you in wholly. The blood. There was so much blood and he could tell from the scent that it did not belong solely to you.

“What of the men at the camp?”

“Dead,” you replied, just as he had. “I cannot say they went swiftly, as I slaughtered them all.”

The images of blood spewing and spilled flashed across the forefront of your mind, the way that some of them went quick and others went begging for a semblance of mercy. You looked down at your palms, flexing your fingers and feeling the energy throughout your entire body. It pulsed at the tips of your fingers, throbbed in the heels of your feet, and thrummed at the backs of your eyes. Over the years, there had been no one to teach you to manage it so more often than not it consumed you whole.

You could kill him, you let the idea wash over you. Or at least you could try. In his home with all of his warriors, it would prove difficult. He was the High Lord, your High Lord–no, death was too swift and simple. You would need time to plan out your next steps, you pondered whilst maintaining a stone cold facade. You would have to play your cards right, he would deal with you based on how you acted as you stood before him. Truthfully, the idea of living with him puts you on the brink of physical sickness. You would rather die than be forced to stay under the same roof, lips curling slightly with disgust as he gave you another look filled with shame and guilt.

“I will not stay here,” was all you spat at him. “Not here, not in this court with you, I wish to be sent elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere? Do you understand what will come of your sudden return to our lands?” Thesan’s eyes were fixed on you, his voice near hoarse. “Y/N, I know that–”

“I will not stay here. I ask this one thing of you. I will not spread word of your pathetic sterileness, nor my title to the Dawn Court if you will simply offer me this one thing. Do you not owe it to me?”

While the immense grief and pain in your voice was authentic, you made sure to create the illusion of your complete and utter wreckage. Mustering up tears, you had to get out of this place. There was no possibility of your survival if not, not even at the hands of these so-called people out for your blood–but at the hands of yourself. Every bit of you was exhausted, conveying complete and utter devastation into your eyes as he debated your request.

Do you not owe it to me?

Thesan rubbed violently at the bridge of his nose and nodded to himself, he squeezed his eyes shut and for a moment you remembered the admiration you once felt for him. Admiration turned into blazing resentment and rage that had nearly created an earthquake. He wouldn’t force you to reside here under him, would he?

“I will do my best at making other… arrangements,” said Thesan after a few moments of tense silence. “I make no promises, as we may very well be approaching the brink of another war, however in the meantime you should wash up.”

A breath of relief escaped you, “what of the guards who know who I am? I told them.”

“I should like to call in a favor from Rhysand,” he murmured, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

.·:*¨☆◦✦◦☆¨*:·.

“Leave me, please” you said to the servants gently, thanking them for the filled tub and fresh gown that was laid out for you within the spare bedroom and adjacent bathing room.

Everything was so prim and proper and doused in sunlight, it made you nostalgic for a life that once was. The water was steaming, layers of blood and grime covering you as you sunk down into the tub. The magic of the tub was forced to refresh itself almost as soon as you sat, growing murky immediately as you began to scrub your skin raw.

Would it be easier to drown yourself, you breathed a shallow breath. No, someone was posted outside of the bedroom door listening in. A guard, most likely. He would hear, putting an end to your pathetic excuse of a suicide attempt and then Thesan would never let you leave. Or maybe he would, perhaps your untimely death was just what he hoped for in order to rid himself of the problems you presented him with.

Getting clean felt impossible, even with the tub enchanted to replace its filthy water. Your hair was oily and your skin remained covered in a film of grease. It took over an hour just for you to feel somewhat clean. At the camp, there had thankfully been a tub with running water and an enchantment of certain supplies so you never went without. Food, however, was hunted for you and everyone else. As the only female, every night you received what was left on the bone of whatever animal they had slaughtered in the nearby woods, eating last time and time again.

One of the servants came in to help you dress in the gown custom to the Dawn Court, it fell to your ankles and glistened with what you could have sworn was pure sunlight. The tall woman braided your hair back and applied rogue to your cheeks and an oil to your lips. As you gazed into the mirror before you, you could hardly recognize yourself for the first time in five decades. There was something so regal about you, a light cascading off of you like an aura of gold. Thesan possessed the same coloring, the light pouring out from him in bouts of power.

The woman knew who you were, you could tell that much from the way her eyes danced across your reflection. She said nothing, though. You thanked her, smiling softly as if she had not just seen you covered in days old blood and filth. The Lost Princess, you recalled what the male had referred to you as outside. She has no idea what to think of you, it seems. Maybe that was for the best, perhaps you were better as the shadow of a girl who once was but no longer existed. Instead, some sort of killer prowled beneath your now eternally crimson stained skin.

“The High Lord has called for you,” the woman said softly, pulling you from your thoughts and causing your eyes to drift to meet her gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

Once you had begun your trek back to the same room as earlier, the sun had begun to fall and the sky was painted endless shades of pink and orange. There was so much open space, all of the windows gaping to allow for as much sunlight as possible during the daytime. You had never felt so exhausted, eyes burning from the lack of sleep you had acquired on your journey and the use of power earlier on in the day.

When you entered the room, Thesan was in conversation with a man that you could only assume was Rhysand. He was attractive in an almost inconceivable way, like one of the Gods. None of the males at the camp had resembled anything like him, no one in the Dawn Court resembled anything like him. Lucky High Lady, you thought mindlessly. Rhysand seemed to chuckle at nothing, turning to meet your gaze.

“Princess,” he greeted you with the friendly upturning of his lips. “Welcome back from the dead is in order, I suppose. I’m Rhys.”

“Funny,” you huffed a stiff laugh at him and extended a hand for him to grasp. Power ricocheted off of Rhysand in a way that caused your stomach to flip. “Y/N.”

His eyes simmered with something like pity mixed with amusement, he was not blind to the fact that you still had not looked Thesan in his eyes. Rhysand had been steadfast in arriving at the Dawn Court, his solemn look told you that he had been briefed on some of what was going on. How much, though? What had Thesan deemed important enough to share and what was determined as insignificant. Clearly as you had been cast away as insignificant, he could not be trusted to relay information.

“Rhysand has consulted with his High Lady and they have agreed to offer you a place to stay in the Night Court for as long as you should require it,” Thesan informed you.

“At what cost?”

“No cost,” Rhysand assured you at once. “Thesan has… told me of your circumstances–”

“What circumstances?” You demanded, cutting him off. “What did he tell you?”

There was a tense silence as you grew flustered and aggravated by your cousin. Thesan knew nothing of your circumstances, he knew absolutely nothing of what you had endured. Rhysand had strangely given you a look of understanding, it was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. Like he had been inside of your mind, reliving the experiences with you.

“He told me of your power, he told me you have yet to learn how to wield it as well. He says that he senses you may have inherited more than just his healing gifts, but that the nature of your identity is sensitive. I admit that I do have to agree with him in concealing your return, Princess–for now, at least,” Rhyand only looked to you, his words carefully chosen so as not to upset you. “I have a house in Velaris, the city where I live, it houses three people as of late. My two brothers, Azriel and Cassian, and my mate’s sister Nesta. You would stay there, it is secluded enough that you will have as much privacy as you desire. I spoke with my healer Madja, she has agreed to allow you to work under her in an apprenticeship of sorts. She’s one of the best, not just in Velaris but anywhere in Prythian. I feel you both may be able to benefit from each other, her experience and your magic. My cousin Mor has offered to train with you once she arrives home from Vallahan on business, until then one of my brothers–”

You cut him off again, “Training? I do not wish to offend you, but why should I need your family to train me?”

“Y/N,” he began, assessing how honest he should be. “You have no muscle built up whatsoever and considering the fact that you have no hold on your own power–I suspect that your ‘training’ consists of the intent to kill and luck. In Velaris you would learn to fight and hopefully hone some of that power.”

It was this or nothing, you knew that. Either you would remain in the Dawn Court, or you would go with Rhysand and figure it out from there. Thesan’s face was now unreadable as you looked between both of the High Lords.

“All the while I hide away so that no one knows my true identity?”

“No,” Rhysand responded. “You have matured, when you left this court you were only a girl. No one in Velaris will question you once I dim some of that power coming off of you. My inner circle knows your true identity, however to everyone else you will be ordinary High Fae. This is partially why you’ll work under Madja.”

Nodding slowly, you consider your options or lack thereof. Rhysand seemed genuine enough, you thought to yourself and could have swore he smiled slightly. Giving Thesan a once over, you met those violet eyes and nodded slowly.

“Alright, I’ll go to Velaris.”

#azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader

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