#exophilia writing

[momolady]

Art the Orc

If you live in a small town, maybe you'll know this place. It's a little art store run by the same family for ages. It's not changed in all that time either. Picture it, feel it, you know it's the only place that sells that one supply you like. Now, imagine an orc behind the counter. Female Reader x Male Monster

The visage of the old place looked like it had once been a gas station. There was one of those big metal awnings and signs that gas pumps had once been outside. But everything else looked like the art supply store it was. The window was painted, done up with flowers and a flourishing font, but it hadn’t been touched in ages and was chipping and weathering away.

The old place had seen better days, you could tell. But you were excited to tackle such a special project with your own two hands.

Inside the place had a familiar smell of paint thinner, book pages, and coffee. You looked around the front as the bells on the door chimed. The old floor had seen better days and was worn out where you stood, even the welcome mat was hard to read.

“Welcome to Greengold Creative Station,” the deep voice came from behind the front desk where there was an open door. ‘I’ll be out with you in just a moment.”

“Take your time,” you replied. You continued to look around, noting the mismatched shelving and thrown together renovations dotting the place.

A moment later, a large orc came from the back. He was wearing thick glasses and had on a corded cardigan that covered a paint splattered t-shirt.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked as he adjusted his glasses.

You approached the front desk again, extending your hand to him. “Hi! You must be Mr. Greengold, I’m from Regency Renovations.”

There was a surprised look upon his face as he shook your hand. “You’re the renovator?”

You smiled, half expecting some reservation based on your appearance. “I specialize in business and storefront renovations. That is what you wanted, correct, Mr. Greengold?”

He fumbled with his words for a moment, stuttering, touching his glasses until he spoke. “Call me Art, please.”

You held it in, but he knew where your mind went.

“It’s short for Arthur, but it's also my dad’s name so my mom calls me Art. Yes, I know, ha ha, very fun. A man named Art runs the art store.”

“It’s an easy target.” You tried to squash your giggling but a few came out.

He sighed and shook his head. “So, you’ll be handling the whole store. I want it updated completely. It was fine for my parents, but I need to bring in a new generation of artists and online shopping is destroying us.”

“It’s a common issue, Art,” you didn’t look at him as you said his name. “I already have some ideas brewing and I would be happy to discuss your thoughts for the business with you.”

He sighed heavily, gazing out at a store that was once his family’s legacy. “I would say I would like to keep some of what my parents did to this place, but I don’t think any of it is salvageable.”

“Well recycling is a thing.” You replied. “Like some of these old shelves, the wood can be reused to create a rustic facade for the front desk here.” You patted the worn out formica top. “And the vintage signage out from can be reused and framed, hung just right behind you there.”

Art made a face. “You can do all that.”

You returned his face, adding a smug smile to it. “I can do lots of things, Art. My father was a carpenter and my mother was a viper. Be careful of what you inflict about me.” You patted your chest proudly. You knew you were small and chubby, not many people expected much out of you, but your work spoke for itself. And that was how you told people off.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I have a lot riding on this so-”

“So you hired the best. That I can promise you. Now I know you said you didn’t have a lot of funds, but I already have my plans made for how to help you with that. I plan on doing most of the work on my own, but for heavy lifting and other things-”

“I don’t mind helping with that,” he said with a shake of his head.

You had planned to bring in your brother for help, he enjoyed the destruction part of your job and he worked for free food. “Well uh…if you’d like Art, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I wouldn’t want you getting hurt on the job. It would be best if I helped out,” he said.

You couldn’t tell if he was being kind or underestimating you again, so you brushed it off and continued. “I would also like to film the process of the renovation. Stuff like that will help reach your new audience.”

He frowned, and his thick brows pinched together. “You must be joking.”

“I am not. You’d be surprised what the kids these days are watching.” You smirked up at him. “I know what I am doing, Art. Have some faith.”

His face read: easier said than done.

Discussion and planning was always the hard bit. You had to convince your employer of what needed to be done. Art was hesitant about some things, after all it was a family business and a place he had grown up in. But for the most part he was willing to go along with some of your ideas.

Art started the clean up process by first putting away his stock and setting most of the mismatched shelves outside. Once that was taken care of you began ripping up the old carpet and ancient linoleum.

“I remember when my dad put that stuff down,” Art said from behind you.

You looked up, eyes covered by goggles and mouth surrounded by one of those thick industrial masks. “Oh really?”

Art gave you a look. “Is all that necessary?”

“You’d be surprised.” You stacked another chunk of the linoleum to the side. “Lots of debris and who-knows-what is under these old floors. Decades of dirty shoes, dust, skin, and life are stored here.”

Art’s grimace deepened. “Skin?”

“Oh yeah, we shed like mad,” you laughed. “If you have dust in your house you can be assured it came from you!”

Art looked perturbed by this revelation but he continued in moving stock to the back and other store property outside.

Once the flooring was removed, you accessed what was underneath. It wasn’t marble or granite, but it was some type of stony tile that had existed when it was a gas station.

“Mom said it was inhospitable.”

You used a dust cloth to clean off a bit of the flooring. “But it’s easy to clean, and it’ll make the whole place appear brighter and bigger.” You turned and looked back at him, taking off the goggles. “It’ll be so much better in the long run. Plus! You won’t have to buy anything new except maybe a rug or two if you wanted.”

Art’s pinched brow was becoming the norm to see, but you could tell it was because the gears behind it were working so hard to process everything going on.

Once the tiles were cleaned and all the old flooring was hauled off to the dump, you started working on the walls, taking down slapdash shelving, and anything else hanging up. The old paint job, or jobs really, were layered on so thick and hadn’t been properly done. They had painted over the trim and electrical outlets, all of which needed to be replaced. The holes in the walls needed fixing too, and there were a few dents and scrapes from the years.

“You’re not hiring a painter?” Art asked one day.

You zipped up your coveralls and turned around to face him. “Not unless you want to shell out twice the money. Besides, I’m a good painter. A great painter even! Maybe not Rembrandt or anything, but I can handle a roller better than most.”

Art looked over your paint supplies. After days of you working on freeing the electric sockets and scraping the excess from the trim you could finally start working. You were painting the wall white, but you had found cheap sticker tiles to create a great accent wall, which could then be used for photo opportunities and special displays. Then another wall would also be painted white and used to display local artists and projects from the art class that Art taught.

“Mom always wanted to put wallpaper up,” Art murmured. “But said it wouldn’t be practical with everything we needed to hang up.”

There was a melancholy to Art’s face and tone as he said this. “What kind?” You asked as you poured your paint into the tray. “We could always find something close to what she had in mind for the office.”

Art glanced over his shoulder then shook his head. “I doubt I could afford it. I tried looking already.”

You put the roller into the paint, sliding it back and forth until it wasn’t too soupy. “Was this place your mom’s idea?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze going all about the store. “I can’t believe how empty it is now.”

“It’ll be full again in no time.” You gave him a reassuring smile when his amber eyes returned to you. “Do you have any pictures of your mother you would want to hang up?” you asked. “I can plan a special place for it.”

He huffed, seeming put off by this suggestion. “Excuse me. The smell of this paint is giving me a headache.” He walked off, stomping his feet a little as he went.

Art came back by the time you were finished with the first coat of white. You were sitting in front of the checkout desk, leaned back against it so your foot propped the door open. He stepped over your leg and looked at your work.

“The white really makes this place look…different,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry, there will be some color back soon enough,” you sighed. “Is your headache gone?”

Art nodded, leaning against the desk. “Sorry if I’ve been…obstinate.”

You waved it off. “I’m used to you.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been questioning and judging everything, all because I never really wanted to do this.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “Then why are you?”

He let out that heavy, burdened sigh again. “Because it was in her will.”

You clicked your tongue. “Oh.”

“She left me money, but only if I used a portion of it to renovate the old store. She said it was mine after all, it deserved to reflect the new generation. Even in death she was still hinting I get married.” He scoffed at this, but he still had a smile on his face.

“Sounds pretty motherly.” You stood up from the ground, standing beside him. Not feeling much taller than you did sitting beside his great size. You motioned to the front window. “Did she paint that?”

Art laughed. “No. I did. That’s why she kept it so long.”

Your smile beamed. “Really? That’s pretty adorable.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “For years upon years I’ve looked at that painting and wished every day she would wash it off and do something different. But I suppose her sentimentality was far too deep for that.”

“It’s a good painting,” you offered.

“I never thought she’d keep it so I barely tried,” he grunted and crossed his arms against his chest. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“Would you like to paint the new display? I was planning on just hanging a new sign and leaving the window clean.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

You patted his arm, and his eyes darted down to your hand, his brows unpinching for that one moment.

“I’ll wait till you decide then.” You stepped away from him, but his eyes still lingered on where you had touched him.

A few days later, as you were working on putting the sticker tile onto the wall, Art came from the back and offered you a ticket.

“A friend of mine has a gallery showing tonight. He gave me two tickets so I thought-” He hesitated and cleared his throat.

“How fancy is the affair?” You asked.

“Nothing too fancy. I mean, dress up, but not like black tie event or anything.” He cleared his throat again. “I was going to get dinner at my favorite restaurant since it was close by if you wanted to come.”

It clicked and you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed and your mouth started to go dry. “Oh. Sure.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “If that’s the case, maybe we should go in together. You know? Save the earth and stuff.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Smart idea. How about I pick you up tonight. Say…around six? Since the gallery is at eight?”

You nodded, biting down on your lip. “Yeah. Perfect. That should give me enough time to get ready after work.”

Art turned awkwardly away then back towards you. “Oh I uh, I guess I should get your address.” You traded info and the rest of the day went by in a jerky, tense sort of way.

That evening you waited in your living room until you heard from Art. You were wearing your favorite dress, and had even gotten your next door neighbor to do your makeup. You got his message and went downstairs to meet him at the front door.

Art was dressed nice in a dark purple suit and he had his long hair slicked back and tied into a bun. He didn’t have on his glasses, which surprised you. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Wow, you look great!” He said, a touch breathless.

You blushed and smiled. “Thanks. You look pretty great too. I’m not used to seeing you without your glasses.”

“Yeah, contacts tonight,” he said shyly. He then took your hand and led you to his car.

The restaurant was nice, the two of you had a clumsy start to it, but eventually you both started having an in depth conversation about color. From there, you both laughed and joked around, having a good time with great food and even better wine.

From there you walked to the gallery, meeting his friend then roaming through the show. Her artwork was lovely, but you noticed Art’s pinch brow had returned.

“A lot more nudes than I expected,” he whispered.

“I think it’s nice,” you replied. “I can see what her intent with the motif is. How it’s classic, it's natural, but also subversive.” You turned to Art, noticing him fidgeting and adjusting himself.

“Yes. I understand what she is doing,” he muttered. “I must have had just a little too much wine I think.”

You smiled at him, chuckling as your cheeks grew warm.

The car windows were fogged over, and in the dark all you could do was touch. His kisses felt rough but intimate. His tusks brushed against your skin, making your shiver. Every so often the darkness was halted by the motion light of the parking lot turning on. You’d still for a moment, then continue on with your youthful antics.

“We should stop.”

“We should.”

“Why aren’t we?”

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You kissed Art and breathed, looking into his eyes while you clasped your hands around his face. Maybe it was the wine or the nudes on display, maybe it was weeks of working so close and holding back so long.

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You smiled at him, kissing him again while his hands moved below. Your panties were pushed aside, his zipper brushed against your thigh. Big. Oh my god it was big!

You gasped softly and he stilled, watching your expression. You eased over him, taking as much of Art as you could stand. You pressed your palms to the roof of the car for balance, his strong hands kneaded into your thick thighs.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for this?” he breathed.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.” Your laughter turned into moaning. Maybe you were both a bit too old for this, but you’d never had so much fun before! He pressed deeply inside you, and his hands couldn’t stop touching your body. He roamed over the soft curves, and plump form, his desire seeming to grow the more he did.

The next morning you came into work, seeing Art standing in the middle of the room. You held your breath, wondering if it was all a wonderful dream. He turned and smiled, his thick glasses back in place.

“Hi” he said breathlessly.

Your smile bloomed. “Hi.”

Art motioned to the desk. “I brought coffee.”

“I see that.” You smiled and took a cup he offered.

He sighed then laughed and you laughed. “So uh…last night.”

“I liked your friend’s gallery. It was very nice. I also liked your favorite restaurant.” You took a sip of the coffee, testing it before you added anything.

Art nodded, his gaze drifted until it fell back onto you. “Is that all?”

You smiled over your coffee cup. “No. Just barely.” You looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate work topic.”

“Not exactly but uhm…I just wanted to check.” His eyes darted over you. “Were we really too old for that?”

You laughed and cupped your hand over your mouth. “A little. But I’m not too sore. Are you?”

“No. But I would prefer somewhere much comfier next time.” he leaned in close and you closed your eyes, accepting his kiss and the touch of his tusks against your cheeks.

“Yes, it would be nice.” You saw he had paints and brushes set on the front desk. “What’s this for?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I thought I’d paint the window. I got a bit of inspiration last night.” He grinned your way. “Plus, I think mom would like to see how I’ve improved.”

You grinned. “I’ll be very excited to see how you work. Outside a car at least.”

#orc #orc romance #orc boyfriend #orc smut #orc x human #orc x reader #monster romance #monster smut #monster boyfriend #tertaophilia #exophilia #teratophilia writing #exophilia writing #monster fuqqer #monster lemon #reader x monster #human x monster #monster fucker #monster lover #momolady monsters #my writing #writing community #writblr #writer #monster writer

[ragdoll-exoart]

Welcome to the Witch’s Hut - II

This fic has mature content. Only read it if you are +18

If you don’t like the theme, don’t read! Check the tags!

Previous chapter

Werewolf x female human

II - Hans

Lily was inside her hut, reading an old book behind the balcony. It was nearly midnight and the witch wasn't expecting any customers at this late hour. Nonetheless, the hanging bell announced a visitor when the door opened. Lily didn't acknowledge the presence of the stranger, slightly annoyed by the interruption, and kept her eyes glued on the book, wanting to at least finish the page she was reading.

The visitor stood in the middle of the room in complete silence, waiting patiently for the tiny woman with unruly purple locks of hair to finish her task. When she finally decided to question the reasons for such a late visit, she was startled to see that the person in question was a male nearly seven feet tall. She felt uncomfortable that the owner of such an imposing figure was able to erase his presence so well. Then she skimmed her eyes over the man and understood what he really was.

A wolf in sheep's clothing... a giant deadly sheep, this one.

She wasn't afraid, of course, he was the one inside a witch's territory. No matter how powerful he could be, the hut was her temple and Lily was like a goddess inside her place.

But there was no need to feel alarmed just because she was caught off guard. She couldn't feel any harmful intentions coming from the werewolf who stood in the room using his human form. As a man he was tall and muscular, his shirt had a few buttons open, showing his chest, hairy like his forearms. A stubble covered his face and his hair was short, with a chestnut color that matched his eyes.

As Lily studied his appearance, he studied her back, and the faint smirk forming on his lips showed that he liked what he was seeing. His canines were slightly sharp even in his human form.

She lifted an eyebrow and stared at him with her best expression of disdain. "Can I help you?" The fact that he waited for Lily to talk first indicated to the witch that he wasn't stupid at least.

He shuffled the hair on the back of his head, sheepishly, showing a small flush on his neck and cheeks. He gave two steps towards her. "I don't know if you can help me," He said hesitantly, looking around. "Truth be told, I don't even know how I came to find this place,"

The witch opened a smirk. For her hut to allow and invite him at such a late hour, it was meant as a gift delivered to her on a silver platter. Obviously, the werewolf wanted something very dirty.

"Just tell me what you've been thinking," She said nonchalantly as she played with a purple lock of hair.

"Oh, I- I—" He turned red as a tomato.

"You, you," She teased. "I'll ask again, what have you been thinking at such a late hour to arrive at my place?" She smirked mischievously. "I warn you that I'm a witch and I'll know if you are lying to my face,"

He averted his gaze and opened a nervous smile. "I was only thinking about having a female company tonight, if you know what I mean,"

She giggled. "Yes, and we both know this isn't all you've been thinking about," Lily said in a flirty voice as she batted her eyelashes at him.

The man let out a breath as if she punched his stomach. Then he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. He gave a few steps towards her until only the balcony was between them. He opened a charming smirk as he leaned closer to the witch, supporting his weight on his elbows. "If you know what I want, why do you ask?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

Lily shrugged. "If you want something, you have to at least have the balls to say it aloud,"

He bit his lower lip as he leered at her with a dark gaze. "It's not about balls, dear, it's about a knot and I doubt someone your size can take it," He said in a way that indicated that he wanted to be wrong about it.

The witch laughed. "Oh I see, Mr. werewolf can be blunt,"

He never stated clearly what he was, but didn’t seem fazed by the fact that she was aware of his condition. After all, as a witch, it was her job to know and notice things that ordinary people usually didn't. He opened a smile full of teeth. "I can be many things, love. I can be a gentleman for you if you are in the mood for some adventure today,"

Lily chuckled darkly. "You can be many things, but a gentleman it's not one of them,"

"We barely met and you already know me so well," He said in a flirtatious voice.

"Not yet. It seems I need to know more about this knot you mentioned,"

"You aren't scared," He declared, clearly amused and somehow relieved. He tickled her under the chin with his index finger and opened a mischievous smirk. "Does this mean that I can be a big bad wolf to you?"

"You can try,"

"Oho! You're bold and talk big, my love, I hope you don't cower when you see how big and bad I can be..."

"I'm a witch, Mr. Werewolf... way older than I appear to be, I saw and heard many things in this life. Do you really think you can impress me?" She said in defiance.

He stared her down and looked unsure for a moment. "You know that I mean to fuck you AFTER I transform, right?"

Lily let out a giggle. "Oh, I expect nothing more! Fucking humans seems too bland for me nowadays... but receiving a werewolf's knot... that would be a first!" She winked at him. The witch had a few friends who had the experience of mating with werewolves and was always curious about how it felt. It was good that she knew a little about what to expect, though it was still a dangerous business.

The werewolf regarded her in silence for a few seconds. "I see... Do you really want to do this or do you just want something in return?"

The werewolf wasn't stupid after all. He was aware that everything had a price for a witch. She smiled. "Can't I have it both ways?"

"Oh, you can, and you will," He said in a flirty tone. "Just tell me what you want from me,"

"At this moment I just want a mean werewolf to make me his bitch and bury his knot inside my pussy,"

"You just read my mind," He said in a breathless voice and got closer to her ear. "I'm Hans, by the way. And I hope to hear you scream my name lots of times tonight," Her eyes were closed and the sound of his voice sent shivers all through her body.

"You can call me Lily,"

Hans followed Lily inside one of the rooms. The hut was way bigger inside than it appeared on the exterior. They walked through long corridors until they finally found her bed chambers.

They barely reached her bed and Hans was already taking her clothes off, unbuttoning her dress from behind.

"I told you I don't want to fuck a human," Lily admonished him.

Hans grinned maliciously. "As you wish," He said and shoved Lily on the bed. Before she could even start to scold him, there was in front of her a fully transformed werewolf, almost twice her height, all covered in brown fur, with gold-yellow eyes and very sharp teeth. The witch felt her core throb in anticipation.

She asked for a big bad wolf and he gave her that. He ripped her clothes off with his claws and teeth and put her on fours. Hans didn't have the courtesy to lap her pussy a few times to get her ready for him, he mounted Lily without ceremony, sliding his red cock inside her cunt easily, as it was thin and wet at first, engorging in size and girth as he penetrated her vigorously like a wild animal.

Lily screamed his name like Hans predicted she would do, but never asked him to stop. Oh, she enjoyed the rough approach quite a lot and it excited her to find someone who had the balls to act so bold like that, especially under a witch’s roof.

Hans held Lily by the hips with his enormous paws as he rutted her mercilessly, resting his jaw over her shoulder and grunting near her ear. She teased him before that he wouldn't impress her with his size, but he actually did, and the moans she let out were a mix of pain and pleasure as he hammered his cock into her cervix.

When he was near his climax, he buried his cock even deeper inside her pussy and she screamed in pain and complained to him, but there was nothing she could do about it, as his knot got inside her as well and swelled quickly while his cum poured straight into her womb, filling her. The knot locked them together and she just couldn't release herself from him.

Lily cursed out loud, and the werewolf let out a grunt that sounded more like a laugh. His knot was as large as an orange and he continued to release his seed in her body and she knew that it would take a few more minutes until it deflated. But the excruciating pain soon was replaced by immense pleasure as his knot continued pulsating inside her pussy, sending waves of pure bliss near the nerve terminations of her clit. Lily moaned his name as she came around his cock, her inner walls all stretched by him. Hans grunted and locked his jaw as if he had a second orgasm as well.

Another wave of pleasure took over her, followed by another, as the knot was still there and pulsating. It was a mix of pure ecstasy and intense agony like she had never felt before. Her legs were trembling when Hans finally dislodged himself from her and Lily was uncertain if she should hex him or let him mount her once more.

It was easy to settle her decision when his warm tongue lapped her pussy, not only cleaning it but also teasing her so she would take him again as soon as they both recovered.

Hans took his time licking her folds, slowly but in a lascivious way. She shifted her body so she could stay on her back while looking at him pampering her. There was a thrill in watching a dangerous creature taking such good care of her and bringing her only joy and fulfillment. Lily felt her mouth water as she thought about giving Hans oral pleasure herself. She found her release again on his tongue, but before she could say anything, he put the witch on her fours to mount her once more.

Perhaps another day.

She gasped when he entered her again, knowing that it would be a long night since werewolves are well known for their endless stamina. Oh, Lily was pretty sure that she wouldn't be able to walk properly the following day. She almost laughed at the thought, now aware how good and straining it felt to be a werewolf's bitch.

In the end, Hans wouldn't have to give her anything back. He had left enough werewolf material all over her sheets, like semen, fur, drool... she only had to collect them later for studies and potions.

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#werewolf boyfriend #werewolf #exophilia #anthro #teratophillia #terato #creature romance #monster boyfriend #anthro x human #exophilia writing #monster x human #exophilia fic #exophilia fiction #monster smut #monster bf #monster fucker #monsterfucker #monster lover #witch #mating #fantasy creature #monster #creature #fantasy #fic writing #my fic #exo fic #monster romance

[yaut-jaknowit]

YESS I GET TO BOTHER YOU AGAIN:D

Imagine the reader teaching their yautja mates/friends teenager some cool human fighting move you see in movies n shit (also have an awesome day ilyyy)

How to Fight

Pairing: Chopper (Male Reader) x Reader

Word Count: 1171

Summary: With a little luck, you were able to entertain yourself while on the mothership. Access to the internet was the best far from earth. Every night, you took it upon yourself to watch movies. Sometimes rewatching old ones or finding new releases. Until, one night, Chopper's buddies caught sight of what you were watching… It went downhill from there.

Author Note: I love when you come bother me! It's the highlight of my day. I didn't know what to with this one so I started in a random place and ran with it. The ball... well it ended up somewhere else I guess.

Masterlist

Ao3

All it took was one glimpse at a movie you were watching. Worst of all, it was Kung Fu Panda. The whole group was completely intrigued. Within moments, they’re sitting down next to your small frame, elbows on their knees with their chins resting on their fists. All of their eyes were zoned in on the holo screen in front of you.

With some trial and error with the earth’s internet and the Yautja’s network, you were able to figure out how to broadcast movies. As a human on a mothership full of Yautjas, there was a limit of what you could do. Safely. That part was key when it came to staying alive here.

From the rumors that have trailed across the ship, the only reason you’re alive is the fact your mate’s species sees you as his pet. Degrading as it is, you do your best to see the positives in the situation. Your mate, nicknamed Chopper, has lots of friends – you guess that’s the best word for it. They love to come over constantly.

Some of them like to tease you, especially on your size. Due to the translator that sits perfectly behind your ear, just below the skin, you are able to understand them. It’s not perfect but gets the job done well enough. In the end though, you didn’t take it to hard, coming to terms that’s how they are. In a strange, nonhuman way, its their way of showing that accept you. A positive in a situation that didn’t start out all that great. But hey, that’s a story for another time.

Currently, you were happily squished between the hard form of Chopper’s legs. His heavy torso was draped over your own, part of his weight put onto you. An arm as contently wrapped around your abdomen, keeping you secure to him. Chopper’s tresses created a curtain on either side of your head, as if narrowing you down to focus on the T.V.

After a few scenes of Po training and the others showing their skills off, Courtin – a new given to him, stood up abruptly. All eyes were on him. You had to draw the curtain of tresses out of your way to see Courtin. A brow was raised by you.

His mandibles chittered with speech. The translator was quick to start up. “These moves, I must learn them! Could aid us when we hunt, brothers,” he rallied his fellow Yautjas to stand up with him. Even, your sweet, dear Chopper took stand with him. You snorted at the declaration. “Ooman, laughs at me. Why? Think we Yautja can not learn these moves from a flick.” It took you a moment to realize what he meant by that last word. Again, not perfect.

“Courtin, it’s not that.” Now, you decide to rise to your feet and crossed yours arms. Before realizing that was a bad idea. Right, different social cues and body language, for the most part. “This movie is aimed for children, unbloodeds. It is meant to be silly and fun,” you explained to him calmly. The worst thing to do to a Yautja in their presence was to offend their pride and skill.

“You are all talented, blooded and whatnot. But these moves aren’t real. It just for the movie to be filled with action and tension.” All of their eyes were set on you.

Courtin stepped forward, enough to feel crowded within the group of eight Yautjas. Despite the fact he and any of the others were young, he still towered over you. Stupidly enough, Courtin leaned down to be level with you, hands grasping his knees. “You say these moves are useless?” he asks for you clarify.

For some reason, you feel a hair on edge. Though, they would never hurt you, per their honor code, it’s hard to forget they are predators. “In all honesty, yes. They are.” His three mandibles tapped against one another. Courtin stood up fully once more.

“Hmphf.” That made him sound so human. Maybe him and the others were learning a few human things from yourself. One could only hope. “Then, must find other media to consume. Ooman, show more.” Always demanding. You believed that was almost all of their species type.

From one rabbit hole to the next and over countless days, everyone – including yourself – believed they had learned enough. From movies. All from movies. Nothing else. Well, your mate and his friends would have a batter advantage than due to the fact they are trained predators. Yet, here you were, in a private kehrite with everyone.

The heat and humidity was killing you without much movement. Yet, when Jqal-od called upon you to step into the ring – one that reminded you of wrestling, you accepted. Though, they were more focused on the fighting parts of the movie… you focused on a different part. Those who were smaller than their enemies. Cliché, yeah. Guess what though, it works.

Not against someone two feet taller and highly trained. In theory, it works.

Jqal-od placed a heavy paw on your shoulder. You returned the gesture. Together, the two of you shook the other. Then, you two stepped a decent distance away from one another. You and him had your gaze set firmly on the other.

Silence entered the ring as everyone quieted down on their own accord. A deep breath filled your lungs with air before slowly exhaling. Jqal-od’s tongue darted out with a flick before hiding away again.

The next moment, the lean, yet clearly trained Yautja pounced like a leopard. Before you had time to react, let alone think of using a move from the movie, he had you simply pinned. Your back to the mate as he straddled your lower torso. One hand held your two high above your head. Even kicking your knees into his back, trying to hit something of importance did nothing. The Yautja barely reacted to the move.

All you could was stare blankly up at him. The Yautja in question leaned down, tresses creating a curtain. His top mandibles twitched. He was smirking in his own way. “What happened, little ooman?” he teased and snickered down at you.

He finally released you from his hold and stood up. With a hand, he held it out to you. You took it. Jqal-od easily tugged you off of the ground and onto your feet. You brushed off the invisible dust on your clothing and walked away to Chopper. Someone else took your place and challenged the Yautja.

“Well, that didn’t go to plan,” you grumbled and rested heavily on one foot, hips jutting at an angle now. Chopper snickered and placed a hand on top of your head. You turned to look up at him from underneath your brows. “What you laughing about?”

The Yautja just shook his head and patted yours with his hand. The two of you watched the scene in front of you unfold, as hilarious as it was. No one knew what they were doing.

#yautja x you #yautja #yautja x reader #predator x reader #x reader #predator x you #predator x human #chopper #aliens #Exophilia #exophilia fiction #exophilia writing #zenophilia #predator #alien vs predator #yautja x human

[ash-rigby]

A Friend In Need (Ambiguous Alien) [M/?]

Featured Characters: Male human and an alien of ambiguous sex/gender. Both are adults.

Description: Gaige is concerned when his workaholic friend and coworker Syren fails to show up for multiple days. He goes to their quarters to demand answers, discovering a needy alien with an unintentionally self-inflicted backup of eggs that they just can’t seem to release on their own. Luckily, Syren’s problem can be solved with a little hands-on lesson in Nynryll anatomy.

Contains: Ambiguous Alien Genitalia, Ovipositor, Egg-Laying, Fingering, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Multiple Orgasms.

Completion Date: January 22nd, 2023

Word Count: 3862

-

Gaige had not experienced true concern for a long time. In all of the years that he had worked at the repair station, Syren never missed a single shift. So it was strange enough that his work partner had failed to be there for three consecutive days.

Syren was good at their job, easily one of the best. An elite in that neck of the star system. If anyone at the station was dealing with a particularly troublesome craft, they would be the one to come along and know the exact course of action. It was almost scary sometimes. Annoying at others.

They were a talented, devoted mechanic and quick to snatch up any overtime. But there was such a thing as being too married to a job and Gaige figured that Syren was finally paying the price. A little sickness might inspire them to slow down.

That was until he was approached by his boss on day three and told that Syren would be on sick leave for the next little while. Sarah couldn’t give any details other than that they would be leaving for Nynryllad in the morning. Gaige felt his stomach drop then; whatever this was, it was bad enough that Syren was going home.

There was no way that Gaige was letting them go without answers. Without at least seeing them. Not when they could die of whatever illness they had on their homeworld and never return. His heart took up an anxious rhythm as he walked to the worker’s quarters after his shift.

Gaige blew past the entrance to his own room and stopped at Syren’s a few doors down. He was instantly knocking on the cool metal. There was no answer for long enough that an image of Syren splayed unconscious on the floor sprang to mind. But the door finally slid open, revealing the tall alien with a slightly pain-pinched face.

They leaned with one hand on the door frame; not with their whole weight, but certainly bracing themself. Their amber, feline eyes lightened somewhat.

“Hm…room service?” Syren said far too casually. They were shirtless, sweat dotting their neck and chest.

“Syren, what is going on?” Gaige pleaded, severely not in the mood.

“I guess I should have expected you. Come in?” Syren offered, gesturing back into the room with a tilt of their head.

Gaige followed them inside. He paused just inside the door, watching Syren make their way to the bed. Their pace was slow and they moved while curled slightly over their abdomen; which looked noticeably swollen when they turned to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Are you hurt?” Gaige asked.

Syren huffed. “Just my pride.”

“Please, I’m just trying to understand. Sarah said you’re taking sick leave. What for? How bad is this?”

“It’s nothing to get yourself all twisted over,” Syren said with a dismissive wave of their four-fingered hand. “I’m just going for a routine procedure.”

“Proce—surgery?” Gaige’s shoulders sagged. “That sounds exactly like something to get ‘twisted’ over.”

“Routine surgery. Just…embarrassing that it’s come to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I…need to get my eggs removed.”

“Eggs.” Gaige blinked. “You’re pregnant? Who—?”

Syren chuckled. “You know, asshole, I have offered to explain the anatomy of my species to you before. No. No, I’m not pregnant. Nynryll bodies make unfertilized eggs that need to come out at the end of the month whether to make kits or not and it kind of slipped my mind. I’m dealing with a two-month backup and…coaxing them out myself is impossible at this point.”

It was a lot of information for Gaige to process and his face heated once he came to its conclusion.

“By ‘coaxing’,” he began. Syren looked him in the eye and he suddenly had to clear his throat. “You mean…?”

“Jerking off,” Syren supplied plainly.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. Or lack thereof in this case.”

The silence was unbearable.

“So…you can’t get yourself off. That’s the problem?” Gaige finally asked.

Syren nodded. “Because of the backup, everything’s too sensitive. I get weak just from touching myself and have to stop before I get there…hence the surgery.”

Gaige stared at Syren, initially surprised at how openly they spoke of their…personal sessions. But the way their legs shifted didn’t escape his notice. Or the way their hands kept absently tracing over their upper thighs, drawing back from travelling between them as if suddenly remembering that Gaige was there.

It hit him at once was Syren was experiencing. Discomfort, but also something else undeniable. They were horny. He could only imagine; unintentionally edging themself for days trying to get rid of those eggs. An endless loop of unsatisfied desperation. Something stirred inside Gaige and a question burst out of him before he could think about stopping it.

“What if you had help?”

“Maybe. But I don’t have a partner,” Syren said. “On the station or elsewhere. And I doubt anyone here would be willing to—.”

“Me,” Gaige interjected. “What if, uh, what if I helped you?”

One of Syren’s long ears twitched. “You’d do that?”

“I…yeah, I would. So long as you’ll have me,” Gaige said.

Syren sat back on their hands, looking intrigued. They seemed to study the human before them and turn over his proposition in their head. Gaige’s eyes roamed their lithe, grey-toned body and his heart began to pound as exactly what he had just offered sunk in.

He had never thought about Syren this way until that moment, but their stark need was unquestionably exciting him. A desire to touch, explore, and help outmatched any reservations. Whether it was the fact that he hadn’t seen any action for a while or something else entirely, he silently begged them to want him for this.

A smile spread over Syren’s features.

“Worth a shot. Better with someone cute, but you’ll do,” they teased.

“Watch your mouth or I’m out of here,” Gaige warned, relaxing with an easy grin.

“Put yours to use and I won’t kick you out,” Syren said, their hands going to their waistband.

They removed their thin, loose-fitting pants and tossed them to the foot of their bed. Half-lidded, burning ember eyes met Gaige’s as their legs spread invitingly. After only a moment’s hesitation, he closed the short distance to kneel on the floor between them. His hands lighted on Syren’s thighs and he drank in the enticing sight before him.

Gaige knew one thing about the Nynryll. They were all the same sex, each possessing both breeding capabilities. He just hadn’t thought to any length what that might entail. It wasn’t as if the alien’s junk had ever been a consideration before. But now, he was face to face with it.

Syren had a grey, hairless slit, but there was also a sheath at the top of it; a ring of flesh surrounding the tip of what was likely their ovipositor. The round bud throbbed hard and fast, clear fluid glistening in the tight space between it and the inner edge of the sheath. The pulse of it was mesmerizing, seemingly the epicentre of the waves of erotic twitching visibly travelling through their pussy.

“It’s been doing that for days,” Syren said. “Can’t exactly come into work with that…distraction.” Their legs spread a bit further as they heaved a heavy sigh. “Fuck, I need this.”

A bead of slick escaped the sheath and dripped down over Syren’s slit. Gaige swallowed and leaned in to catch it with his tongue, tracing back over its path. The reaction was instant. Syren jolted, a quavering keen escaping them.

Gaige jerked away. “Sorry! Was that too—?”

A trembling hand descended onto the back of his head, digging into his hair and pulling him back towards them.

“Keep going…I’m fine,” Syren said. Their voice was breathy and bordering on frantic. They jutted their hips forward, legs shaking.

Gaige nodded and delved back in. He built up slowly, mindful of how overly-sensitive Syren already was. But he couldn’t stop himself for long from getting greedy; the scent and sheer heat they were giving off drove him to it. He mouthed and sucked at their folds, lapping through suddenly excessive fluids that leaked down his chin.

Syren moaned as Gaige all but devoured their pussy. The hand gripping his hair fell away to rest limply on the nape of his neck. He stayed close and buried his face into soft, wet flesh. His tongue found the tip of Syren’s ovipositor, sliding shallowly into the sheath as he swirled around it.

“There…there…more,” Syren encouraged, panting and tremulous.

Gaige obliged, closing his lips around the rapidly throbbing tip and instantly feeling more slick flooding into his mouth from the sheath. He groaned. Syren’s body was so responsive and he loved it.

Not pausing his mouthy affections, Gaige brought two fingers to Syren’s pussy. He prodded the folds until he found their dripping hole. It took him with ease. He found a pulsating, engorged-feeling bulb inside as he bottomed out to the knuckles. Whatever it was, Syren jolted and cried out the second he touched it. Aiming for it, he began to pump his fingers in and out.

The walls surrounding him were hot, squeezing with every inward thrust of his wrist. Warm fluid ran in rivulets down his arm. His arousal rose with Syren’s moans. He could feel his cock pressing insistently against his pants, seeking that incredible hole that his fingers were hogging. Thoughts of feeling it wrapped around his dick made his heart skip. Would Syren let him go that far?

Suddenly, Gaige felt resistance against his tongue. Syren snagged his hair and pulled him away. He hissed but watched in awe as Syren’s ovipositor began to quickly rise from their sheath. It was dark, ridged and bulbous in places. There was a vertical slit towards the base of the pointed head rather than the tip. The entire length was shiny and dripping as it strained fully erect into the air.

Gaige looked up at Syren. Their eyes were glazed, mouth open as they breathed heavily. He spied a single line of drool that had escaped down their face. They listed to the left, propped up only on a shaky arm. Any moment and they could topple completely.

Syren bit their lower lip. “Come on…suck it.”

That Gaige could do. Gladly. He worked his way from base to tip, slowly licking each bulge and ridge. Syren’s legs were quaking. They panted and moaned, their voice cracking to higher pitches. Gaige found their ovipositor’s slit and slid his tongue almost entirely into the surprisingly yielding passage. He stroked them with his hand as he explored, lapping inside the hole.

“Fuck…fuuuck,” Syren cursed, bliss heavy in their tone.

They all but wailed as Gaige closed his lips around their head and brought them into his mouth. The desperate sound spurred him on and he bobbed his head to take them deeper. A weak hand wove into his hair once more as he began to move.

Gaige’s tongue dragged over the line of bumps on the underside of Syren’s ovipositor. It throbbed intensely, leaking down his throat. His nose came close to being buried in their groin with each plunge and a heady musk filled his senses. The scent went straight to his cock, half-hard despite neglect. He was reaching to palm it over his pants when Syren spoke frantically.

“Shit, I’m close! Get off. Don’t ch—oh! Choke,” they said, breathless as they ineffectually tried to pull him off of them.

Gaige heeded the warning and moved back. He replaced his mouth and throat with his hand, vigorously stroking the burning shaft. Syren finally fell back. Their fingers grasped the sheets as they arched. Moans tumbled ceaselessly from them, the only intelligible word being ‘Please’ in near-constant repetition.

Syren’s ovipositor suddenly thickened in Gaige’s palm and the dripping slit gaped open. He saw and felt a line of round shapes working their way up the shaft. Syren cried out, their hips bucking off the mattress as a flood of slick heralded a bright orange, jelly-like orb exiting them. They fucked Gaige’s fist as it was followed by three more.

The eggs thudded to the floor. They were roughly the size of golf balls; no wonder it took so much to pass them. Syren’s body dropped and they lay quietly catching their breath.

Gaige swallowed. “Was that all of them?”

“N-no,” Syren said. “There’s more. I can feel them.”

Rising from aching knees, Gaige stood over Syren. They had their arm thrown over their eyes as their chest heaved. Their ovipositor still stood, its pulse refusing to lessen. Gaige’s hand strayed to his cock.

“Can I fuck you this time?” he asked.

Syren slowly moved their arm, amber eyes gliding into view. They sat up and gave him an impish grin.

“Can’t just be altruistic, can you?” they said. “Not when your dick suffers for it.”

“Is that a turn-off?”

“Hardly.”

Syren turned around, going to all fours. They raised their tail to arch over their back and exposed their pussy. Their ovipositor hung between their legs. Slick dripped in a thin, clear line from their tip to the mattress.

“You’ve more than earned this,” Syren said.

Heart in his throat, Gaige made swift work of removing his shirt and pants. He started to stroke himself to full hardness, his free hand reaching out and groping the soft flesh of Syren’s ass. Their pussy drooled and twitched under his constant gaze, intensely alluring in its silent but evident begging to be fucked.

Gaige’s cock was stiff under his palm in mere moments. He bit back a moan as he guided himself to Syren’s waiting slit, pausing only because the more responsible side of him suddenly shrieked in his mind.

“Do I need…could I get you…?” he asked, more than mildly distracted with the sensitive head of his dick resting on warm, fluttering folds.

Syren managed to grasp what he was asking and shook their head.

“No eggs there for you to get to. I doubt our species’ are compatible anyway,” they reassured. They rolled their hips back invitingly. “And I…I want you raw…do it.”

That was all Gaige needed to hear. He slowly pushed into Syren and bottomed out with ease. It was like silk, soft and inviting. But they were sweltering inside. Gaige could almost sense the deep, needy ache in the walls that were instantly seizing his cock. He could feel slick dripping down his balls as he fully pressed against their backside.

“Shit,” he gasped, breath stuttering as he pulled back.

He made it halfway before being compelled to re-enter; Syren’s greedy pussy practically sucked him in. It clenched around him again and he couldn’t wait to feel it milk him dry. Syren moaned as his hips began to slowly move.

Gaige kept an easy pace, his eyes fixed on the sight of his cock being swallowed up. It was being taken so well. He glided in and out of that unreal hole, his shaft glistening with excessive fluid. The thought that he may not last very long became a concern in his mind—albeit a distant one addled by the desire to cum inside his friend.

Syren panted, their heavy breaths mixing with low whimpers and curses. Their long, quivering tail dropped. It came to rest on one of Gaige’s shoulders, sitting heavily across the back of his neck to touch the other. The tip lightly caressed over the pulse point in his neck before settling.

After just a few more leisurely passes, Syren’s voice took on a more impatient note. They rocked back into Gaige and interrupted his rhythm.

“Harder,” they said. “Harder! I’m not fucking glass!”

Wordlessly obeying, Gaige grabbed their hips and thrust more forcefully. He snapped forward to hit them as deeply as possible. It earned him a series of loud, thankful cries.

“Aaah, yes! Wreck me!”

Gaige moved faster. The dark slate flesh of Syren’s ass bounced and rippled as he collided with it. Slick spilled out around his dick, soaking his groin and leaking down his thighs. He recklessly plunged. Pleasure surged through his every throbbing inch and his unabashed moans rose to meet Syren’s.

“Amazing,” he slurred, fingers digging into heated flesh. He couldn’t remember pussy ever being this good before. It felt conformed to his shape; gripping his cock in a constant, frantic, pulsating squeeze. The supple walls all but burned along his length. “You’re on fire.”

“N-need a big load to put me out,” Syren said, their words wobbling as their body was rocked. “Ngh…how are you s-so thick? Fuck…fuuuck!”

Sweat crawled down Gaige’s face and his heart nearly pounded out of his chest. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up that pace for long. But for the time being, his hips felt puppeted; driving his dick tirelessly.

Syren dropped onto their elbows and their hands scrambled at the sheets. They whined in unstable and cut-off spurts. It came to a head with a single, loud cry.

Gaige stilled deep inside to feel every second of them cumming. Their pussy clenched more rhythmically, clenching in a pattern that ran up his shaft to his tip. A few more heavy plops against the mattress and floor signaled another set of eggs. The wet orbs rolled and came to a stop around his feet.

Syren unexpectedly moved, pulling off of Gaige with a lewd, wet noise. Were they done? While he would stop if they were, his cock still protested, raging and twitching in the open air. His own hand definitely wasn’t going to cut it after that.

“Lay down,” Syren said, reaching out and patting the mattress. “Can’t…can’t have you doing everything.”

Gaige huffed a breath, partially in relief but mostly with incredulity.

“Workaholic,” he said.

“Down,” Syren insisted. “Before you throw out that fragile human back fucking me like a wild animal.”

“Okay, okay.” He gently nudged Syren as he lay down. “You did ask for it though.”

Syren crawled up, hovering over him and fixing their piercing amber eyes on him. They lowered their sopping slit to Gaige’s dick, rocking their hips to rub their folds along his shaft. He watched the fluid motion and shivered as precum leaked onto his stomach.

“I can feel how hard you’re throbbing,” Syren said, chuckling lowly when he groaned. “You were close, weren’t you?”

Gaige cleared his throat. “Y-yeah.”

“Better not leave you hanging, then.”

Syren took Gaige’s cock in their hand and lined him back up with their hole. They sunk down, sighing shakily as they were filled again. After only a moment, they were moving. It was a far cry from the desperate fucking Gaige had just given them; a slow grind on his dick. But it felt just as good. Almost better.

“Mm, shit,” Syren breathed, their straining ovipositor waving with their movements. “So deep.”

Gaige looked up at them and his breath suddenly felt stolen. He watched the way their body moved, undulating in a sensual dance above him. Their impish mouth was cracked slightly as their breaths panted and caught on sweet, little moans. Haloed by the soft lights in the room, their head tossed back slightly to expose their long, kissable neck.

Syren’s thighs shook and Gaige set gentle hands on them.

“You’re…beautiful,” he said.

Time seemed to stop. Syren paused, whipping a wide gaze down to him. There was silence broken only the racing beat of Gaige’s pulse in his ears. Why did he say that? He let out a breath as Syren’s face melted back into that familiar smirk and their fingers lighted on the backs of his hands. Their pussy squeezed around him and they resumed their motion.

“D-don’t get sappy on me now,” they said.

Any rebuttal Gaige had was dashed by tongue-tying pleasure as he was ridden. He laid back, lost in the languid roll of Syren’s hips. Their hands left his and found his chest. They ran over fevered, sweaty skin; squeezing his pecs and teasing his nipples.

Gaige’s breath grew labored, littered with moans. Near-constantly buried to the hilt, his cock pounded. Every however minute stroke of Syren’s tightly-gripping pussy chipped away at his control. Where they connected was a heated, wet mess; each plunge entirely, filthily audible.

Gaige’s head lolled to the side against the pillow as he felt his balls tighten. He couldn’t muster a coherent warning. With rasping cries on his lips, he spent himself. Hot cum pumped out of him and painted the clinging walls. It ran down the sides of his throbbing dick, oozing from Syren’s hole.

Dazed, he registered that Syren had stopped. He caught their gaze as they moved to swipe up some of his release with their fingers. They brought it to their mouth, moaning as they lapped it up.

“So much,” they said, slurred slightly around their extended tongue. “I guess I wasn’t the only pent-up one.”

Gaige reached out with a shaking hand to take Syren’s ovipositor. They gasped as his palm made contact with the hard, aching flesh. He stroked it and they instantly began to profusely leak down their shaft and over his fingers. Their body stayed still, save for ecstatic trembling, but their pussy pulsed with every pass.

“Cum for me again,” Gaige encouraged. “Cum for me, Syren.”

“Gaige…Gaige,” Syren panted, their eyes briefly rolling back.

Just a few more strokes at a quicker pace were their undoing. They cried out as their final four eggs stretched their way from their ovipositor’s slit. Their insides went wild around Gaige’s softening, sensitive cock. He groaned at the sensation, hips giving a feeble buck but settling as Syren’s orgasm tapered and released him from that intense cling.

Gaige grunted as Syren rose off of him. He startled a bit as he felt them laying down at his side and cuddling up to him, but he wrapped an arm around their shoulders all the same. Despite being taller than him, they had situated themself to tuck their head in under his chin.

“Got them all?” he asked.

“We did,” Syren said. “Fucking thank you. I wasn’t looking forward to that bullshit, believe it or not.”

“Well, maybe don’t let it get this bad next time,” Gaige said. He tapped against their soft skin. “Although, if you do…”

“Horny bastard,” Syren admonished, their breath warm on his neck. “But, yeah, I’ll take you up on that…and maybe even outside of those extremes? No strings attached?”

“Oh. Uh, sure. I’d like that…I think.”

Syren laughed, tracing their fingertips down Gaige’s side. “You think?”

“I know.”

“There’s a smart boy.”

The two fell into companionable silence, resting their strained bodies. Just as Gaige thought he might doze off, Syren began to purr. The noise vibrated through their chest into his where it settled warmly next to his heart.

A feeling descended onto him then; desire but situated to the left of seeking casual, physical pleasures. He worked it around in his sluggish mind. Turning it every which way revealed that it was affection—deep affection for his…friend. Syren snuggled further into him and they just fit. Like a piece slotting comfortably into place.

Oh, shit.

End

Masterlist

#text #ash originals #spicy #exophilia #exophilia writing #terato #terato writing #monster love #monster lover #alien #alien lover #alien oc #oc:syren #oc:gaige

[eruden-writes]

Strictly Pleasure - Part 5 (Jek x Heidi)

orc x human age gap paranormal romance 5 of ?

Summary: An awkward fresh-out-of-a-relationship woman and an orc that owns a sex store enter an adult theater together. She, intent on pushing her own boundaries. He, just looking to give her some sense of safety. Well, that and he wouldn’t complain about having a bit of fun himself.

After they inevitably get interrupted, Jek deals with the problem while Heidi flees. Resigned, he believes he’ll never see her again.

Thus begins Jek and Heidi’s sporadic interactions until, eventually, they find themselves fumbling around each other daily at the very place it started: Strictly Pleasure.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

First | Previous | Masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Heidi couldn't believe this was happening. As if being intercepted in the kitchen by her manager - told that Malachai's babysitter had urgently called - wasn't jarring enough, Jek's date was causing A Problem. The chimerakin was not evoking any sympathy within Heidi, either. She recognized the sly look in their eyes, the delighted nastiness.

"Niana, that's a little much." Jek stood, reaching a hand out to his date as he aimed to de-escalate the situation. To his own ears, Heidi's voice had a resonance that sang of danger. "You don't even know what she's going through."

The manager at Heidi's side seemed to give a relieved smile to Jek, but it was short-lived. Niana half-turned to Jek, frowning in an almost petulant way at him as she waved her hand. "Oh, don't give me that! As a businessman, I'm sure you know the customer takes precedence to whatever trifling thing is happening in an employee's life."

By this point, the surrounding tables were becoming aware of the scene. The bubble of quiet conversation around them dwindled, filling the air around them with dead silence. Feeling other people's eyes on him, Jek's skin crawled with apprehension. He couldn't stop his derisive snort or the roll of his eyes as he replied, "Sweetheart, I run a sex shop."

Even though Jek's tone was laden with sarcasm, something about him calling his companion 'sweetheart' knifed through Heidi. It didn't help the cold fury icing her guts. Before she knew it, she raised a hand to Jek, waving him away while keeping her attention on the chimerakin. "No, no, time is valuable. I'll be right back."

Jek's attention jumped to Heidi, watching her sharply turn away. Again, his skin prickled, but this time it wasn't apprehension. It was preparation. Something was going to happen. He just knew it.

"See?" The oblivious Niana smiled broadly, flashing sharp teeth in Jek's direction, before she too retreated back to the table. Daintily, she sat down, taking a proud sip of her wine.

"Right." Jek couldn't keep the skepticism from his tone as he made his way back to his seat. All the while, he kept the manager and Heidi in his line of sight.

The manager's expression did not ease his own concerns. They appeared stricken and, even from the distance, Jek thought he could hear them hushedly trying to talk Heidi out of doing anything rash as they disappeared back into the kitchen. That feeling of danger hadn't abated in his bones, either.

Niana's continued chatter didn't help his heightened senses as others around them returned to their own conversations. She primped at her hair, smugly purring, "It's just a matter of knowing how to talk to people."

Jek was about to argue when the kitchen doors slammed open. His attention - along with the focus of others - snapped to the thrown open doors. Heidi stood there, smiling her own vicious smile as the kitchen doors swung shut on her anxious manager.

She marched to their table, carefully holding a rather delectable looking pie. In Jek's mind, he couldn't help but hear an imaginary ticking of a time bomb with every one of her steps.

"This pie is on me, out of my own paycheck. To thank you." Heidi's eyes narrowed as her smile took on a sharpness Niana should have been wary of. Even Jek noticed how her voice filled with intent that Niana seemingly did not pick up on. Patrons at other tables apparently caught on as well, since Jek could once more feel eyes on them.

The show wasn't over yet.

"Oh! What a sweet gesture," Niana twittered, waving a fluttering hand in a flattered manner. Jek's eyes slid from Heidi to his date, he couldn't believe she was missing all of the warning signs, the tension in the air around their waitress. He couldn't help leaning forward curiously, elbows braced on the table and one hand cradling in chin, fingers obscuring the amused quirk to his lips.

Perhaps Niana's ignorance was thanks to her gaze turning away from Heidi as she reached over to pat his arm. She cast a half-lidded look up at Jek, flirtatiously fluttering her eyelashes as her voice dipped huskily, "You know, Gujek, darling, this is famed cream pie that succubus say-"

Heidi had enough. Something was wrong at home with her son and this chimerakin was wasting her time while trying to put the moves on their own date. Fuck them.

Before the customer could finish their sentence, Heidi shoved the full pie into their face, giving a twist for good measure on contact. While the whole restaurant had been filled with quiet conversation before, it was now dead silent. Not a quiet that faded into existence, but one that slammed hard into existence. More eyes bounced to Heidi, to Jek and his date. A few amused smiles were hidden behind napkins or hands.

The cream plopped noisily off the chimerakin's face, landing messily into their lap. It was the only interruption to the silence.

Heidi leaned close, ignoring how the slow bleed of outrage contorted the patron's face. Somewhere, deep inside Heidi, she knew she should feel bad, be afraid. The concern could not slice through the exhaustion of working two jobs and stressing about her sick child back at home. Despite herself, her cheeks colored under anger and the attention of the whole restaurant.

Keeping her voice low, her gaze locked on those wide golden eyes, Heidi smiled through her words, "Thank you for helping me realize that my time is valuable. I'd rather spend it at my puking kid's bedside than waiting on your entitled ass."

Across the table, Jek hadn't moved. He stared at the two women, trying to fight down a cackle at the scene. Heidi, wearing a pleasant smile so viciously, eyes burning with rage, swathed in a dangerous aura that made her movement precise. Niana, covered in pie, golden eyes bugging and a snarl on her lips that made her sharp teeth flash in the light. It brought an old thrill through his body. He had to fight down the urge to flip the table as it meandered through his thoughts.

As Heidi straightened from her bent posture, she turned to Jek. She was still running on angry autopilot, her face a that polite mask. But she noticed the amusement in his eyes, the hidden smile on his lips. Her lips curled into a smile as something in her softened, her voice sweet as the pie currently dripping from his date's face, "Someone else will be serving you for the rest of the evening. Enjoy."

Then she turned sharply, heading straight for the back. Utter silence followed in her wake, the whole restaurant stunned. Things like that didn't happen here, Jek imagined. This wasn't some low-brow diner or - gasp - a fast food eatery. This was a five-star experience with refined, civilized people. Those sorts always had greater potential to be the worst, in his experience.

He thought Niana would prove him wrong, but she was no different. The challenge of her made him ignore the warning signs.

Wide-eyed with rage, Niana's gaze followed Heidi back until it swung toward Jek. With hands raised, fingers crooked like claws, she shrieked, "Do something about this!"

"Yeah, gotcha." Shoving away from the table and getting to his feet, Jek glanced at the waitstaff that had accumulated with the scene. They were all wide eyed, uncertain of what to do with Niana, the mess, and the now fleeing Heidi. Even the manager seemed speechless.

When he waved vaguely at them, a water nymph with a ponytail clambered closer. "Get me my food in a doggie bag and the check. Separate checks, please.

The nymph nodded, biting their bottom lip to keep from laughing, before heading to the register.

Incredulity colored Niana's voice as she cried from behind Jek, "What are you doing?!"

"The most bodacious thing tonight was that waitress justifiably pieing you in the face. Can't top that." Jek turned back to his failed date, shrugging his shoulders as if she hadn't been thoroughly mortified.

"What are you saying?" The curl of Niana's lip twitched as her pupils turned to slit. If she wasn't already covered in pie, she might look a little scary.

"I'm saying, you were out of pocket for what you said to her. You think your dining experience mattered more than her kid being sick." Jek leaned over Niana, who had remained seated. She tensed as he swiped a finger along her cheek, gathering up a good helping of cream on his digit. It was the only real physical touch they had genuinely had. "Honestly, I hit people for less than that. Be glad her retribution was sweet."

He popped his finger in his mouth, making a satisfied hum as he tasted the meringue. Spicy and sweet and tangy. What a pity the pie was covering a rancid woman. He might have actually liked licking it off a certain someone, slowly and languorously. Quickly, Jek pushed the thought away before it became more apparent.

"You asshole!" Niana's decibel climbed higher, making the water on the table ripple.

While other patrons winced at the scream, Jek just snorted. He'd heard worse, honestly. "Yeah, well, don't treat the waitstaff like shit."

"What do you care!?" She continued, half-standing before she realized it made pie plop from her dress in an undignified way. Almost at once, Niana returned to her seat, fuming as Jek turned away toward the assembled waitstaff.

"Hey, can one of you tell your colleague that I'll pay for that pie, too." He nodded to Niana as she scrubbed her dessert from her dress. A nameless waiter glanced at the chimerakin, lips pressed together tight to keep from grinning before they nodded.

By the time the nymph and other waiter returned, with both the receipt and packaged food, Niana had managed to ensnare the hapless manager into aiding with cleaning her dress. Jek ignored the howlings of rage and blubbering apologies as he took the ticket holder. Everything seemed to be there. His drink, the meal, the pie. He inclined his head to the nymph. "Tips go to the waitress, right?"

"Yes, xir." They nodded, their gaze flickering away from the scene of Niana and their manager.

"Cool, thanks." Jek nodded, finishing signing the receipt before retrieving a $100 bill from his wallet. As he handed the folded receipt and money over, he leaned closer to the nymph, peering over his glasses. He caught the waiter's name and pronouns before he let his voice drop low, "Make sure Miss Heidi gets all that tip for me, will ya, Miss Periphoia?"

"Yes, xir." The nymph nodded once more, like a bobblehead with eyes wide and a flush staining her cheeks.

A smile curled at Jek's lips as he relieved the waitress of his bag of food, turning to leave.

Once out in the parking lot, waiting for the valet to retrieve his vehicle, Jek caught sight of Heidi in her car. Expectedly, she was already too far for him to get her attention. Sitting at the exit of the parking lot, waiting to turn out into the street. Even from the distance, he thought he could see her face twisted from residual anger and stress.

As her car turned onto the street, he sighed to himself. There wasn't anything he could do. It wasn't like she invited him into her life at all. The best he could hope was that the generous tip he left actually got to her.

Well, maybe she'd return to Strictly Pleasure. To thank him for the tip, even if that's not why he left it.

With a snort, he shook his head at the very thought just as the valet pulled up with his car. If she did walk into his store after all that, she probably would've seen his little good deed as something with strings attached. That was the last thing he wanted.

No, he thought as he gave the valet their own gratuity and got into his car, he'd rather her never return than return assuming she owed him anything. It wasn't like he did much, anyway.

x x x

Jek could not say the next twenty-four hours were necessarily pleasant. His phone blew up with texts and calls from Niana, running the whole gamut of grief from anger to bargaining. She never reached acceptance. He had only spoken a little to her, to reassert he was no longer interested, before blocking her number and what few social media handles she had shared with him. Not that it seemed to sway the chimerkin from using other numbers, email addresses, or handles.

A little voice in him sighed in relief. She had been a problem thankfully sidestepped.

Now that his phone had finally quieted down, though, his shift at Strictly Pleasure beckoned. As he trudged through the door of his shop, carrying a tupperware filled with the generous meal Coriander Tiger had prepared for him, he jolted as Gnadi crooned loudly, "Hey boss, how'd the date go last night?"

"Poorly." Nudging his glasses up, Jek pinched the bridge of his nose. After all the rigamarole with Niana, he hadn't even prepared for Gnadi's onslaught of teasing and taunting. It was going to be a long night.

A stricken expression flashed over Gnadi's features as Jek made his way to the back to store his lunch. The faun followed after him, ears drooping in woe. "Shit, I'm sorry."

The overblown disappointment was just as bad as the ribbing, Jek thought. It made his skin itch uncomfortably. He didn't want pity. Besides, it wasn't as if he was sad. He was very, very relieved to not have to speak to Niana again. After her actions last night, he wasn't sure anything would salvage her picture in his head.

As he entered the breakroom and opened the door of the fridge, shoving the tupperware in, Jek added with a flippant tone, "Niana was awful to the waitstaff to the point a waitress pied her in the face."

"Wait, for real?" Gnadi's bummed expression melted into one of delirious glee.

Their excitement was far better than the gloom. Relieved at the change in atmosphere, Jek hummed an affirmative as he closed the fridge door. Letting a crooked grin tilting around his tusks, he decided to push Gnadi's buzz further. "It was Heidi."

The reveal didn't have the result Jek expected as confusion pulled over the faun's features. "Who?"

Shit, Jek forgot that Gnadi probably didn't remember her. They had barely interacted and it wasn't like she had her mouth on their private bits. At the same time, the realization sent a flash of embarrassment through him. He didn't want to focus on the reason why he remembered Heidi, while Gnadi had not. "Our waitress was Heidi - that nervous woman who wanted to go into the theater awhile back - and she pied Niana in the face."

Gnadi's eyes grew wide, a smile splitting across their lips. Their ears pricked up, twitching with delight. "For fucking real?"

"Yeah. It was actually pretty stellar," laughed Jek as he made his way back to the front. Early evening was always rather slow, thankfully. Customers didn't usually come streaming in until twilight or night. Something about entering an adult sex store seemed something to save for evening hours.

Like a dog, Gnadi followed at Jek's heels. "Did you get her number or anything?"

"No, she took off after the pie incident." More than once over the last day, Jek wondered if Heidi had returned to the restaurant. Did she ask what happened after she left? Would she get the tip he left for her? She knew where to go if she wanted to thank him.

Remembering that she left to tend to a sick child sent a flash of guilt through Jek. He shouldn't be hoping she'd come to his store, even if the thought pleased something inside him.

As if reading Jek's internal conflict, Gnadi chuckled, "Well, maybe you're fated to meet again."

Jek threw his head back with a loud laugh, trying to shake the stubborn hope in his chest. "Hah, doubt that! It was just a coincidence."

Gnadi remained quiet, watching Jek with an expression the orc found grating. A mix of knowing and amusement and skepticism. The faun hummed noncommittally and shrugged their shoulders, before easing into their own chair behind the counter.

Once more, Jek rolled his eyes as he too settled into his chair. Oh, to be young and full of romantic daydreams. Jek had learned long ago to not linger on such fancies. It often led to disappointment and dashed hop-

With a jangle of bells, Strictly Pleasure's front door opened. Jek straightened on his chair, a warm sensation flashing up his back. Immediate pictures of a particular woman danced in his head. Eagerness swelled a little in his chest before the group of regulars registered in his head.

When it dawned on him what he was doing, Jek cursed to himself and eased his straight spine into a slouch. Without looking at Gnadi, simply feeling the radiating smirk from the faun, Jek grumbled, "Shut up."

"Wasn't going to say a word," cooed the faun, amusement coloring their voice as they stood straighter and greeted their patrons.

While Gnadi handled the customer service, Jek tried to focus his attention on ordering new product for the shelves. Anything to keep him from jolting every time the door opened. He just hoped that this time it wouldn't take weeks for Heidi's presence to dissipate from his thoughts.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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#orc #orcs #exophilia #paranormal romance #exo writing #exophilia writing #monster lover #monster boyfriend #orc x human #monster x human #orc romance #contemporary fantasy #fantasy #strictly pleasure #jek #heidi #sp #is Heidi going to come to Strictly Pleasure to thank him one day? #Guess you'll have to wait and see #:3c #as of right now #part 6 is nowhere close to ready #i mean I got tons of dialogue just need to write the middle bits

[love-and-monsters]

Dating a Hive Mind Pt. 2

M/GN aliens X F human, 6.996 words (nice)

I had some trouble wrangling this one and there was some worldbuilding stuff I ended up cutting, so I may revisit this someday. But for now, here’s the conclusion to the story! Missed part one? Read it here.

The twisting, winding tunnels of the hive are, in my mind, a maze. They branch off each other in seemingly random ways, leading off into hundreds of potential directions. Esthell never makes so much as a misstep. They clamber over rocks and around corners with the sort of pinpoint precision of someone who’s done this a thousand times before. And, I suppose, they probably have.

After enough sharp bends and twists to make me dizzy, Esthell emerges into an enormous antechamber. It’s not as big as the spaceport, but it is larger than several studio apartments I’ve been in. It’s decorated with those strange crystal things that Uru had in his ambassador room back at home. They form elaborate patterns across the ceiling and walls. Some of them, I notice, are carved in a variety of shapes. Some of them look more like impressionist art, while others are near-perfect replications of plants or animals on the planet. My gaze drifts, absently, and falls onto a particular shape.

“Is that a cat?” Esthell turns their head in the direction I’m pointing. Out of glittering, almost pearlescent crystal, there is the unmistakable shape of a little cat, small enough to fit in my hand. It rests in a curled-up position, eyes closed, a perfect little statue.

“Indeed.” They approach and delicately lift it up toward me. “Do you recognize it?”

I don’t, when they initially put it in my hand. But after a moment of shifting it in my fingers, something occurs to me.

“Oci!” The word bursts from me both as a stunned exclamation and a burst of laughter. “This is Oci, isn’t it?”

Esthell smiles, though I am almost too busy staring at the little cat to notice. Oci was my childhood pet, the first cat I ever owned, and one that I tended to sneak into all of my works. Nearly every book I’d written had, at some point, a little mention of a gray tabby with a slightly crooked tail. I’d shown Uru pictures when he’d asked me about Earth pets and mentioned the story, but it had been offhand. I’d hardly expected him to remember it.

“Do you enjoy it? Several members worked together to provide it for you,” Esthell says. “Their recreation is as accurate as they could manage.”

The longer I look at it, the more details rise to the surface. The crystal is streaked with opalescence in a way that initially looks random. And yet, as I examine it, I realize that they are patterned. Each little streak of opalescence represents a single tabby stripe. And the longer I look, the more miraculous it is. The detailing is tiny, intricate, and stunningly accurate. The cat’s tail is slightly crooked in the way Oci’s was. There is a cinnamon-bun-like swirl on his side formed from his tabby stripes. Peering quite closely down at his little face even shows the tiny white spot on the right side of his muzzle, the tiny bit of asymmetry that made him all the more adorable.

I don’t get much further in my examination because my eyes start watering and everything blurs a bit. Esthell cranes their neck around to look at me. Their face is almost as inexpressive as Uru’s was at first, but through blurry eyes, I can see a little bit of panic in their eyes. “Are you all right?”

“How did you even-” My voice hitches and I stop, embarrassed. The little cat is cool and smooth beneath my fingers and I start stroking it in an effort to calm myself down.

Esthell presses their side against mine, supporting me. “It was created using the crystal structures. Sculpting through chemical process- encouraging growth there and certain mineral formations here.” They tilted their head. “I am sorry this has upset you. We thought-”

“No, no!” I cut them off, adding in a quick swipe under my eye. My hand comes away wet. It’s been a long time since I actually cried, and I feel weird to be blubbering over a little cat statue. “It’s not- I mean, I’m not upset. I’m happy. It’s… thank you.”

Esthell shifts their feathers, smoothing them back down. “Ah. Good.” They watch as I rotate the little cat in my palm, sniffing every few seconds.

Crystal sculpting- I remember Uru mentioning it vaguely to me at one point. It’s a time-intensive process, and one that is increasingly complex the more detailed a sculpture is. It requires high levels of collaboration between members of the hive. The more artistically inclined guided the shaping of the sculpture, while the scientifically minded worked to create chemical compositions that would inhibit or encourage crystal growth in the right areas. It required work near-constantly, with those who worked on it switching in and out on shifts. The complex work was really only capable because they worked together, sharing their process and ideas directly with each other through their minds.

The tiny cat in my hand probably took months, and at least ten (probably more) members working around the clock. It is a delicate work, a marvel of art and science together, and the tiny details are all the more wonderful for knowing exactly how delicately it must have all been shaped.

And it was made for me. A gift, just to make me happy. So much work, just to create a tiny treasure to make me smile.

I dissolve into tears. It might be that I’m more emotional from the incredible jet lag I have, or maybe my nerves are still acting up and making everything more intense. But regardless of the reason, the fact is that I am still slumped against Esthell, almost hyperventilating and wailing like a toddler.

They shift a little, lifting one of their forelimbs to cradle me against them. Tiny, delicate kisses rain along the side of my face, brushing away some tears. They chirrup gently, making soothing little noises until I am calm enough to breathe steadily.

“Sorry,” I mumble, though I don’t remove my face from their feathers. It’s soft and comforting in their embrace, and I’m a bit too embarrassed to try and face them. I can’t imagine I look all that good.

“You do not need to apologize,” Esthell says. They press their cheek to the top of my head. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. I really do like the gift.” I retreat a little from his embrace. “I guess I just got a little overwhelmed.”

“As I said, there is no need to apologize,” Esthell murmurs. “You’ve been anxious lately, and quite tired. I expect that wouldn’t help your mood.”

“I’m sorry-” I start, before catching sight of Esthell’s expression. They’re looking at me with an unimpressed expression. I manage a little giggle. “Uh. Right. No more apologizing. I just, uh, was worried about not being… enough for you, I guess?”

Esthell laughs at that, a gentle sound. It ripples around the room, with the other hive members picking it up in turn. It’s a strange, but slightly warming sound. I can’t help but laugh myself, and it is comforting. Esthell crouches down in front of me, offering me their back once more.

“Perhaps you are more tired than we anticipated,” they suggest. I have to stifle a yawn and they give me a knowing smirk.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep. I just got up, you just started giving me a tour,” I protest. Another yawn practically cuts me off midsentence. Esthell cranes their neck back to give me a chastising look.

“We can do both,” they say. Before I can ask what they mean, they take off at a steady gallop. I have to lean over their back, clinging to the saddle to avoid grabbing handfuls of their feathers.

We snake hurriedly through the tunnels. This time, while we’re still going in all kinds of directions, there is a definite downward slope. There is a little bit of a panic that stirs in me- I’m not claustrophobic, but the idea of being trapped underground is unsettling. To take my mind off it, I watch the walls as they whizz by.

There are designs all over the walls, symbols that act sort of like an internal map. There’s no writing, but the designs are all slightly unique. From what Uru’s explained, there’s some sort of pattern to what symbols mean what, but I don’t know it. Apparently having a bunch of interconnected brains improves memory to the extent that everyone in the hive can remember it without even trying.

Esthell slows to a near stop and I stop looking at the patterned walls to pay attention to our destination. It’s another massive, open room, but much smaller than the other two we’ve been in. Several others are spread out on what looks like enough pillows to fill several home supply stores. Most of them seem to be snoozing, but a few seem to be grooming or eating or- oh. I avert my gaze. I wasn’t really expecting to see that.

Esthell lowers themselves to the ground, allowing me to slide onto the pillows. “Where are we?” I ask. My voice comes out hushed. It feels wrong to speak loudly in here.

“Close to the center of the hive,” they reply. Their voice is hushed too, but I’m not sure if that’s because I was right and we should speak quietly here, or if they’re just following my lead. “Part of the breeding caste chambers.”

My spine stiffens automatically. This is the most precious part of the hive, their center. Breeding caste members are the members of the hive who mate and carry the eggs, caring for the young ones in the earliest stages of their lives. It’s a revered position, and to be selected for the position is an incredible honor. Uru has told me about them before, in reverent tones. All castes are important, from the guardians to the agriculturalists to the caregivers. But the breeding caste are the only ones who bear the responsibility of directly continuing the hive. They are protected, almost sacred. Outsiders are never allowed in here. The idea that I’m in here with them makes me almost dizzy.

Several of the resting caste members have raised their heads, looking toward me. Now that I’m paying particular attention to them, I can see that some of them are clearly pregnant, bellies swollen, A few others appear to be nursing tiny, featherless babies, which are swaddled against their stomachs.

“Is it okay for me to be here?” I whisper. Esthell nods immediately, not even a moment of consideration.

“Yes. This is the safest place in the hive, a place for precious things.” They give me a meaningful look, and I don’t miss the implication that I am one of those precious things. I feel abruptly hot and flustered all over.

Esthell nudges me over toward the center of the room. “Rest,” they suggest, lying down next to me. After a moment, I lower myself to the ground. Almost instantly, several of the other caste members around us shuffle closer. Within seconds, I am surrounded on all sides by warm, feathery bodies. Esthell settles right behind me, exactly as Uru does when we’re sharing a bed at night.

The room is silent, expect for the slow sounds of breathing and the occasional squeaking of the babies. I can tell why Esthell wanted to being me here. It’s the most peaceful place I’ve ever been by far. Everything is soft and warm and cozy. Without any conscious realization, my eyes close and I slip into sleep again.

My waking is slow, drowsy, the sort of comfortable waking that can only happen without alarms. I doze on and off until, finally, I feel awake enough to open my eyes.

I am in the center of a massive cuddle pile. It reminds me of penguins huddling together for warmth, and I am directly in the middle. As I shift, the hive members closest to me move. One of them, a brilliant blue one that I haven’t spoken to before, opens their eyes.

“Hello.” Their voice is sleepy, but content. I can recognize the expression on its face immediately, because it’s the same one Uru gives me every morning. It’s almost uncanny.

“Hi.” I push myself up a little, stretching my limbs. They’re that sort of stiff that you get when you’ve had a really good sleep and haven’t moved for a while. “Um. I’m, uh-”

“I know who you are.” They laugh a little and shift their position. I notice that their stomach is distended and they shift around carefully, trying find a position that isn’t uncomfortable. “We all know you, dear one.”

“That’s…” I trail off, uncertain how to put it. It’s weird that they all know me without me knowing them, but I don’t know if that’s offensive or hurtful to say.

“I am pleased to meet you in the flesh,” they continued. “Are you enjoying your time here so far?” Their gaze is intense. I have the feeling that I could say anything in complaint and they would be changing it within moments.

“It’s different than back home,” I say. “But I like it.” I lie back down fully, stretching out on the cushions around me. “I was worried about it, but you’re all really nice.”

“Of course,” they say with a serene nod. “We all adore you.”

I flush, feeling awkward and a little embarrassed. “I feel… weird about that.”

Their gaze focuses on me a little more intently. “How so?”

I don’t say anything for a few moments. “You’re all treating me like I’m something important.”

They blink very slowly and tilt their head to one side. “You are.”

“No, but…” I pause for a moment, trying to find the words. This would be easier if my brain was connected to theirs. Not for the first time, I envy their ease of communication. Words often feel so clumsy compared to their Knowing. “I’m not actually important. Like, Uru told me about this place. It’s practically sacred, the future of your hive, and you just let me in here. I’m just some author, and I’m not even that good at writing. I don’t deserve this. It should be, I don’t know. Someone actually important and impressive and-” My voice starts to choke and I realize that I’m embarrassingly close to tears. “Sorry.”

They shift closer and tug me into a one-armed hug. Their lips tickle at my ear as they kiss, focusing their attention on spots Uru’s noticed I like. It’s strange how natural everything feels with them. They’re not Uru- they feel different, larger, and they’re a little less natural at the motions than Uru, but it’s a similar feeling. “You’ve been fretting about this for a while now.”

I slump back against them. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

It’s a weird question. I twist in their grasp to look at them. “I just told you why.”

“No,” they say. “You have told us that you feel unimportant, uncertain of why we treat you so well. But you have not told us why you feel that way.”

The questions has not become less weird. I open and close my mouth a few times. “Well- because it’s true? I’m not anyone particularly important. I’m just… me.”

They consider that for a few moments. “Does not being important mean that people do not fall in love with you?”

“No,” I say. “But important people tend to fall in love with other important people. You’re incredibly important. All of you. And I’m just… me.”

They sway a little, their head bobbing back and forth. “You consider us to be important?”

“Obviously.”

“We are not.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re part of an alien ambassador project to humanity.”

“As are you.”

“Not officially! It was all happenstance! Uru just happened to see my books because they just happened to be thrown into a pile of books for him when he asked for Earth literature and he happened to take a shine to them! It’s not anything particularly special about me. It could have happened to anyone.”

“Our hive only ended up being a part of the ambassadorship program because we were among the first three who located the human probe, and that only happened because the planet happened to be tilted at the proper angle at that time and we were looking in the right quadrant of the sky. It was as much happenstance for us to encounter humanity as it was for you to encounter us.”

I turn that idea over in my mind. “So, you’re saying that I don’t need to worry because we’re both technically unimportant?”

They laugh. It’s a strange, chirruping noise, but one that almost seems to tickle me until I’m laughing too. “I am telling you that importance is relative, and that all of life is happenstance. Perhaps it was all by chance, but such is life! We find the good in the opportunities life presents to us. And you are certainly the best that this opportunity has presented us.”

Fire. I’m on fire. Embarrassment suffuses my entire body and I hunch in on myself, hands pressed to my face. It’s hot to the touch. Apparently, enjoying seeing me embarrassed is a hive-wide trait, not just something Uru likes.

“You do not need to hide.” I feel the person behind me shift a little, tucking me against their body. They rock me a little, waiting for me to come back out. “Importance is a silly concept. Which member of the hive would you say is the most important?”

I peek out from behind my fingers. “You? The breeding caste, right?”

“And what makes you think that?”

It feels a little like I’m being guided toward the right answer by a patient teacher, but I take the bait. “You’re the most protected of all the castes, the future of the hive.”

“Because our survival ensures the continuation of the hive,” they agree. “That does not make us the most important.” I give them a blank look. “All of the hive’s members are vital to us. Each has a job to complete.”

“But some jobs are more important than others,” I say.

Their eyes narrow, the only movement on their normally inexpressive face. “Incorrect. There is no job that is more important than another.”

“But the breeding caste is specifically cared for, specifically chosen- how are you not more important?”

There is a long pause. They observe me with an expressionless face. I can’t read anything from them. Their tail flicks back and forth. “Your cells,” they finally say. “Which are more important- your reproductive cells or your white blood cells?”

My mouth opens. Then closes again. Then opens. “The… uh.” I frown. “I don’t think they’re more important than one another. They just do different things.” The metaphor is obvious already, but they smile at me beatifically and explain.

“Precisely- the guards are as important as what they are guarding. Without them, we would be vulnerable. Every guard who falls in their duty is just as important as those they protect. The idea that they differ in importance is a human concept, one created by your individuality. We are all connected. We all see each other and our importance. There is no such thing as an unimportant hive member. By existing, they improve the hive. By existing, they become important.”

My eyes are stinging and there’s a lump swelling in my throat. I swallow hard. The lump does not dislodge. They continue. “The children within me now are important because they are the future of the hive. The eldest workers are important because they have served the hive and now give their wisdom to the younger ones. Every caste is important because they serve a vital function of the hive. The hive is important because it provides a home and community for each member.” They reach out and slip a taloned finger under my chin. The point tilts my head up so I have to look them in the eyes. “You are important as well.”

“I’m not part of the hive,” I say, though my voice wobbles alarmingly. They shake their head.

“No. Not in the sense that you have been born to this. But you are part of the hive now. You give us joy, new perspectives, a sense of comfort. Your existence is important. You could spend the rest of your life here, simply resting and speaking to us, and we would find it beneficial. Your relative importance compared to others is meaningless. We enjoy you, and so, you are important to us. Simple as that.”

My eyes are still stinging and I’m not sure I fully believe what they’re saying. That doubt and worry seems lodged into my chest, and the comforting words only softened its sharp edges. But their words do make me ache all over in that sort-of-relieving way. I let out a shuddery breath. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” they say. They recline back onto the soft, cushioned ground. “Lie with me.”

Their tail curls around me and tugs me against their body. I recline against them. I can feel the swell of their stomach under my head. It’s a strange, alien feeling; I’ve never really touched a pregnant person’s stomach before, and it’s really weird to feel the shifting under their skin. But it’s also humbling, in a way. I feel awed by it. New life, right under my hand.

They let out a satisfied groan as I run my fingers over their belly. Several other hive members near me stretch and shift contentedly. It’s quiet, peaceful, and I feel enormously cared for. Not tired, exactly, but that sort of contentment that makes you feel lax and restful.

There’s no way to tell the time in the hive, so I don’t know how long I lie there. Other hive members come in and out of the room, caring for the breeding caste by bringing them food and grooming them. Every now and then, a breeding caste member will shuffle out of the room, going off to do something in another part of the hive. I suppose they’re trying to find something to do. As relaxing as the room is, there isn’t much going on.

My stomach growls a little in complaint. Oh, yeah. I’ve been in here for a while. My legs are actually starting to feel a bit stiff from just lying in one position. I roll over and my stomach gives another snarl. God, I’m hungry. Now that I’ve noticed it, it’s actually bothersome.

“You are hungry?” I turn. Esthell is sitting up, looking at me with sharp attention.

“Yeah, a little,” I say.

“We could have food brought to you,” Esthell says. “Or I could continue the tour of the hive and we can stop in the agricultural section next.”

“Would I be getting in the way of you, if I was in the agricultural section?” Uru always made it sound like the busiest part of the hive, which I suppose makes sense. It must be difficult trying to feed everybody.

Esthell laughs, that little chirruping noise. “Certainly not. I’m sure the agriculture caste will be delighted to see you.” They fold their legs underneath them and indicate their still-saddled back. “Climb aboard.”

Within moments, we’re streaking through the tunnels of the hive. There are surprisingly few others in the tunnels- I don’t know if Esthell is deliberately taking less traveled paths or if others are avoiding the paths we’re using to not make me uncomfortable, or a combination of both.

This time, instead of sloping downward, we’re traveling up. It’s mostly a gentle slope, but there are a couple areas that are steep, and even a couple areas that Esthell had to climb up. I have to cling to their back to keep ahold, though their tail does come up to help secure me.

All of the sudden, the tunnel brightens. I squint my eyes shut just as we burst out onto the surface.

The sun is burning high in the sky, which is tinged a darker blue than Earth’s sky. It is a yellow sun, but it is larger than ours, and it feels brighter. My skin grows warm almost immediately, and sweat starts to bead on the back of my neck.

Stretched out in front of me are rows and rows of farmland. I’ve only been on a farm once, when I was a child, and that was a small, family-owned affair. I suppose, technically, this is a family-owned business too, but it is much larger. Large enough that the rows of plants stretch too far into the distance for me to see their end. Enormous, barn-like structures sit on either side of the fields. Some of them are paneled with glass, and I can see flowering plants sprouting up against the walls. Other appear to be storage for equipment and food, with hive members flowing in and out of them constantly.

“Careful there,” Esthell murmurs from underneath me, and I realize I’ve been leaning forward so much that I’d nearly slipped off his back. His tail gives a tug at my waist to secure me back into place.

“Can we get closer?” I ask. The plants look strange, but I can’t make them out from a distance. They’re just as green as Earth plants, with just as much variety, from scrubby little bushes hunched near the ground to towering, woody stalks that look similar to bamboo. There’s a riot of colors in some areas, with enormous blushing flowers swaying on thin stems.

Esthell carries me toward the fields. From a distance, the plants looked fairly similar to most of the plants I see on Earth, but up close, I can see the differences. The flowers have thicker, almost aloe-like petals, several of the leaves in shadows are oddly curled in on themselves, like little tubes, and most of the plants have rusty, reddish-brown stems. The fruits and vegetables they’re growing are even stranger. There’s something that looks like a pumpkin, but squishes like a balloon full of water, something that looks like a pale pink banana with little curving spikes coming off it, and a deep purple fruit growing from the bamboo-like stalks that’s surprisingly heavy for its size. Several hive members pause in their work as we pass by, and a few dig the largest, prettiest morsels out of their bags to offer them to me.

“Is it safe?” I ask, inspecting one of the berries I’ve been handed. They’re really similar to raspberries in shape, but a lot firmer.

“For human consumption, yes,” Esthell says. “There is nothing in them that is toxic to humans. An allergic reaction is possible, but unlikely, given that you have only shellfish allergies on record, and the compounds are dissimilar. However, Uru brought a great deal of medical supplies when they returned, so even if you do have an allergic reaction, we will be able to assist.”

“He did?” I ask. “I didn’t know that.”

“We wished to be prepared,” Esthell says with a shrug. “We have supplies for many possibilities, from allergic reactions to broken bones to emergency surgery.”

“Emergency surgery?” My voice shoots up in alarm. Several of the nearby hive workers, Esthell included, bristle. The others shuffle a little closer to me while Esthell makes a soothing little noise.

“It is precautionary, of course,” they say. “We are not expecting something like that to happen. But obviously, we lack medical supplies that are sufficient for usage with humans, and medical emergencies are always possible. You have not had your appendix out, and it would be a long trip back to Earth.”

I chew my lower lip, trying not to focus on the unsettling sensation crawling through my stomach. “I hadn’t even thought about that,” I say. It makes sense- they wouldn’t have medical supplies that are approved for humans on a completely alien world. But it’s unsettling to think about- they were stockpiling medical supplies just in case and I hadn’t even considered it.

Esthell shrugs. “It does not matter. We considered it. And you will be safe here. We ensured this.”

There’s a weird feeling in my chest, one that I can’t quite identify, a mix of strange emotions that I can’t quite discern. Maybe I’m just overwhelmed. Esthell carries me along the fields, but I’m not really paying attention. They imported medical supplies on the off chance something would happen to me. It’s… bewildering.

Esthell cranes their head back toward me as we approach a different entrance to the hive. It smells slightly spicy here, enough to make my mouth water. But Esthell pauses. “Are you all right?”

“Huh?” It takes me a couple seconds to refocus on them. “Uh, yeah. Everything is fine.”

Esthell considers me for a long moment. I wonder if they’re consulting with the rest of the hive and trying to analyze my expression. Or maybe they’re just thinking. “You have been quiet.”

“Uh huh,” I mumble, not sure what else to do. Esthell narrows their eyes ever so slightly.

“You often get quiet when you are unsure of something,” they probe. Dammit. Uru’s always been perceptive with my moves. I guess it would make sense that the rest of his hive is similar in that regard.

“I’m not unsure of anything,” I say. “But I guess it’s a little strange that you’re all so… attentive to me. I didn’t even think of the medical supplies thing, but you already had it in hand. And everyone seems so eager to meet me. It’s…”

“Overwhelming?” Esthell suggests when I’m silent for a few moments.

“Not overwhelming, exactly. Strange, maybe. I don’t dislike it, I’m just not used to it.”

“You are rarely cared for, back at your home, often by necessity,” Esthell says. “You are not kind to yourself with any real frequency.”

“I’m not that bad,” I sputter. Esthell makes that chirping laugh sound.

“You continually refer to yourself as a mediocre author, despite your books attracting the attention of our hive.” They turn their neck back so I can see the sardonic expression on their face. It is a strange sight, given how usually expressionless they are, and I can’t help but give a little snort. “We all quite enjoy your writing. Why can you not admit that it may just be quite good?”

I shift on their back, tightening my grip on the saddle. “I… don’t know. I don’t want to be arrogant.”

“You are not. But you could stand to be,” Esthell says. “I do wish you could see yourself the way we see you. As our darling treasure.”

I feel hot all over with embarrassment. “It’s not- ugh, it’s so weird being fussed over by so many people! I feel like you’re all making too much trouble over me! I’m just me, I can handle things on my own, you know.”

“You enjoy fussing over Uru,” Esthell says. “I fail to see how this is any different.”

“I can fuss over Uru, but I can’t fuss over all of you! I feel like I can’t return the favor.”

“If you fuss over one of us, we can all feel it. And we expect nothing in return. We do this because we enjoy it. Because you being us joy and we wish to return it.” I groan and lean forward until my head rests on the saddle in front of me. Esthell shivers all over with little chirps of laughter. “Enjoy being cared for, dear one. We all enjoy you being here.”

With they, they take off again, plunging down into the tunnels. The smell gets stronger as we get deeper underground and it’s making my stomach growl. Esthell turns down a smaller path and I duck closer to their back to avoid hitting my head on the ceiling.

We come to a stop in a small room. There are several other hive members there, creating something that looks a little like a bunch of entremets. There’s a lot of careful layering of different foods, from custards to cake to fruit syrups. Watching them work is fascinating, like watching a well-oiled machine. They move around each other without a single hiccup in motion, without the slightest bit of fear in spilling boiling sugar. One will stop working and another will pick up where they left off with no hitch in their speed. I feel like I could watch it for hours, just being soothed by the motion.

As soon as Esthell enters the room, two of the workers break off from the rest. Esthell follows them to a human-style table in the corner of the room. It’s got several cakes on it, all of them decorated in a simple, but elegant way. Esthell slides me off their back and all of them look at me expectantly. It takes a minute to process that they’re expecting me to eat.

“This is all for me?” I ask.

“You don’t have to eat all of it,” one of the chef hive members says. “We picked some flavor profiles you might like.”

“It’s more of a taste test. Uru can try to recreate them when you return to Earth with human flavors,” Esthell says, picking up from where the chef had left off. Their sentences flow into each other like it’s the same person speaking. I pick up the utensil they’ve given me (it looks vaguely like a fork, but like someone who’s never held a fork tried to make one) and take a bite of the dessert nearest to me.

Their flavors are surprising. A couple of them do have typical dessert flavors, but there’s one that tastes strangely savory and another that reminds me of eating just a block of cheese. Esthell is the only one watching me, but whenever I bite into one and react positively, I can feel the ripple of relief that goes through the room.

Given the amount of food, it doesn’t take long until I’m stuffed. Esthell lifts me back onto their back and I give thanks to the chefs before we depart again.

Esthell gives me a very brief tour of the actual kitchen areas of the hive- apparently the place we were just in was more for experimental or recreational cooking. We only take a brief pause at one of the more massive kitchens, and I immediately realize why we’re not taking a longer stop. It’s busy, wildly so. Hive members slide around each other, moving between dishes with ease in a sort of organized chaos. Esthell seems to be able to navigate fine, but I realize that if I were to step in there, I would be very in the way.

Once we leave the kitchens, Esthell takes me to a few other areas of the hive. There’s not enough time to see everything, obviously, but Esthell pauses in the botanical gardens area and a sort of art gallery- it’s not like a human art gallery, in that all the exhibits are interactive. Apparently you’re encouraged to add your own art to it. Esthell nudges me toward it like they want me to add to something, but all of the artwork is ridiculously elaborate and I feel awkward trying to add anything of my own in there.

The last place Esthell takes me is the nursery. Or, at least, one of the nurseries. There are a few caretakers there, nuzzling and caring for tiny, chubby creatures whose feathers haven’t come in. They’re cute, in a strange sort of ugly way.

“The new members are kept separate from the rest of the hive for some time,” Esthell says in a soft voice. “It limits infections when they’re young. But we surround them with our minds and ensure that they feel loved.” One of the caretakers moved closer, several babies cuddled into a sling on either of their sides. “Would you like to hold one?”

I hesitate but slowly extend my arms. The caretaker places one of the littlest ones in my arms. It squirms a little, then cuddles close to me.

“Is it safe?” I whisper. “I’m not going to give it any human diseases, am I?”

“If it was not safe, we would not have given the child to you,” Esthell says. I shift it in my arms, letting it nestle fully into my grip. It makes a tiny chirping noise before burying its face in the crook of my elbow.

I’ve never been one for children, but there’s something about holding this little baby that makes me feel… special. It trusts me, completely. There’s no struggling or squirming or crying even though that’s been most of my experience with them. I wonder how much it knows about me, how much it can gather from the rest of the hive. One of its little hands fastens on my shirt with an iron-tight grip. It’s so trusting. Adoring. Is this how they all feel about me, filtered through the innocence of a baby?

I have to hand the baby back. I don’t feel super safe holding it in trembling arms.

Esthell carries me up toward my little room. I protest a little, but they insist on dropping me off. “Take a break for a bit. We can continue our tour later.” They kiss my forehead, letting their lips linger on my skin for just a bit longer than usual. Then they turn and gallop away down another tunnel.

As I step into the room, I notice a familiar yellow and blue shape lounging across my bed. “Uru!”

He lifts his head. “My dear. How was your tour?”

“Don’t you already know?” I ask.

“I know what the others saw. But I’d like to know how you feel about it.” I hesitate for a long moment, standing uncertainly in the room. Uru hooks his tail around my waist and tugs me closer to the bed until I’m sitting next to him.

“You can tell us. We’re all eager to know how you feel. We only want to make this the best experience for you.”

“I don’t want you to make a big fuss about me,” I say. “You don’t need to be, like, go nuts trying to make everything nice for me. I’d be happy with whatever.”

“Perhaps we enjoy fusing over you,” Uru says. I snort. “Come now. Remember when I returned from a particularly long ambassador trip and you spent half the night waiting up for me and making foods I’d enjoyed just so that I would have something nice to come home to? I would have been happy just to see you, but you wanted to do something nice for me because you wanted to see me happy.”

“I like you being happy,” I mumble. “And it wasn’t that big a deal. I don’t do that all the time.”

“So why can you not accept that we enjoy making you happy as well? We’re trying to pamper you. Just allow us to do so.”

I lean against him, hiding my face in his feathers. “You’re sure it’s not too much trouble?”

Uru shifts his position and lowers his head so it’s right in front of my face. “To us, the hive is paramount. Our lives revolve around maintaining the hive. But you? To us, you are just as important as our hive. Anything we would do to maintain the hive, we would do for you.”

A shiver wraps its way down my spine. “I don’t- I don’t deserve that-”

He shakes his head. “It is not about what you deserve. Our love is given, not earned. And we give it freely to you.”

I remain silent for a minute. Uru sighs. “If only you were part of the hive. You could feel the extent of the love we have for you and you wouldn’t doubt so much.”

“Do you want me to be part of the hive?” I ask. I won’t lie- it’s crossed my mind. I don’t know if it’s even physically possible. I doubt it. But that level of connection and belonging… well, it’s tempting.

Uru considers that for a few seconds. “No. We fell for you because you are distinct from us. We love that we know each other so deeply, but we also love that you are, in some ways, a mystery. Something to discover. To learn about.”

I lean against him. There’s a steady beating under my head, the pounding of his heart. He settles around me, making those little chirping noises again. Something wells in my chest, a feeling of affection and love for the hive. All of them. They love me and I love them back, even if I don’t understand it. Even if I don’t feel as if I deserve it.

Maybe that’s enough.

“Uru,” I ask. “Where do other hive members sleep?”

He takes me to the largest room I’ve been to so far. The floor and even the walls are cushy and pillowed, but there are no blankets. Instead, hive members drape themselves over each other, cuddled up in an assortment of people piles. As soon as we enter, several of the still-awake ones lift their heads. Uru leads me to the center of the room and sits, watching as I lie down next to him. “You’re sure you want to stay here?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “I love you all. I want to be with you.”

There’s a shuffling and several hive members huddle in around us. It’s warm and cozy in the middle, like being wrapped in a gentle hug. Uru’s chest rises and falls under my head. I can hear his breathing echoed in the room by all other members. Slowly, my breathing falls into rhythm with theirs. I’m here. I’m safe and loved. And I love them in return. I don’t need to deserve it. It just is.

And it’s wonderful.

#exophilia #exophilia writing #monster lover #alien #alien lover #alien boyfriend #monster x human #monster x reader #male monster #gender neutral monster #my writing #polyamory

[sio-writes]

A Dragon Prince

Tags: None! It’s all fluffy sweetness as Cyhon tries to court his human princess

Upon seeing Princess Eima for the first time while attending a wild hunt, Prince Cyhon of dragonkind, crown prince to the Zetran throne, was astonished beyond belief. The princess carried herself with a stately presence born of years of practice, drifting in and out of conversation like a beautiful specter in a green day gown. Her smiles were light and easy, her laugh carried over the crowd and drew his ear like a songbird. He vowed from that day on to make her his.

The first step in a proper courting ritual is to prove his wealth. So he sends a convoy. Crates and crates of individually picked jewelry, yards of cloth brocades, and the rarest of spices from his homeland; with it he sends a letter, speaking of his country's alliances, imports and exports, everything as if to say, Look at how I can provide for you, my dear. 

She sends back a convoy of her own, and a letter lamenting on the generosity of her neighbors, assuring their trade agreements are as strong as ever.

Prince Cyhon tries not to sulk, as that would be very unprince-like behavior. But he does simmer, just a little.

He needs to show her that he's serious about this, about her. So he hunts the wildest game in his land, nearly losing his life in the process. But it's worth it to see the wide-eyed look on her face when he kicks down her door, kill slung over one broad shoulder.

"Witness my strength and judge my character!" He shouts, hands hovering over the great beast and triumphant smile on his face.

She is silent for a moment, the two of them sharing a long look that Cyhon desperately wants to read more into, before she smiles demurely and orders the beast be prepared for their guests as part of a celebration. She invites her overly generous neighbors, and prepares a small festival in their honor.

"You should just talk to her," his sister says, bumping their shoulders together.

The festivities are in full swing, with food and alcohol freely flowing. It's a chance to relax, unwind after a maddening hunt.

Cyhon looks across the room to where the princess sits on her dias, overlooking the festivities. She catches his eye and raises a small hand in greeting, the sleeve of her long formal robe falling away to reveal a slender arm. He returns the gesture, then hastily turns back towards to refreshments table and attempts to look busy. Too often he'd imagined pressing a kiss to that arm, but he's been too busy being an absolute coward to do much about it.

"What would I say?" he asks, peering at his sister who has the slyest grin on her angled face.

It's not like him to be so shy, so awkward. But he's never courted anyone before, this is uncharted territory. He's the prince of dragons, for gods' sake, he shouldn't be afraid of a lone human, no matter how beautiful she is. He shouldn't be sulking by the refreshments table, yet here he is.

Sending a letter would be the most straight-forward way to confess, but the moment he tries to pen his feelings to paper, words abandon him like dust on the wind. And a letter alone, it rings of unoriginality, an informal method too easily intercepted and misinterpreted.

No, he needs to do this the right way. Lady Eima deserves the very best.

"Dunno," his sister says around a mouthful of food. Graceless. "But you'd better figure it out fast," she cryptically says before darting off. Cyhon barely has a chance to ask after her before the soft sound of a throat clearing freezes him to the spot.

"Your majesty," Cyhon whirls around, voice cracking. "What an honor." He's not a complete barbarian and manages to offer her a short bow.

She waves him off, her laugh sounding like the peal of bells. "Oh please, none of that, you are a guest."

She's small, the top of her head barely coming up to his shoulders, but she carries herself with all the airs of a future queen. She demands respect, drawing the attention of the entire room wherever she goes. She cuts an intimidating figure, half-plate armor over a brocade gown, longsword resting at her hip. The metal is ornate, etched with the crest and flowering designs of her kingdom in gold, the ensemble more decorative than functional.

Cyhon clears his throat again, remembering he is in the presence of the princess. "How may I help my lady?"

She picks a berry off a large serving tray, holding it between manicured nails before popping it into her mouth. "I simply wanted to thank you for your shipments these past few weeks." She plucks another berry and gives him a pointed look, dark eyes glittering. "I'd love to discuss trade with you in further detail if it's no trouble."

Cyhon tries not to deflate. "It's no trouble at all."

Eima opens her mouth to say something else, but is cut off by a loud crash of plates and a round of laughter.

"Come, let us talk somewhere more private," she says, hand outstretched. Cyhon offers her an arm and she leads him away from the table, across the hall and into the corridor. He's acutely aware of her arm wrapped around his, the small band of contact sending his heart racing. 

Just before turning the corner, Cyhon sees his sister across the room looking directly at him, smiling wide and making obscene gestures with her hands. Cyhon returns the gesture over his shoulder, taking care the princess doesn't notice.

"Tell me of your trades," Eima prompts the moment they step outside. 

Cyhon recites his country's trades through memorization alone. He really should be trying to convince the good princess of the virtues and benefits of such things, but his heart isn't in it. Truthfully, he'd rather be talking about anything else. He wants to ask about her day, how she enjoys the spring weather, if she'd be receptive to his courtship. 

Eima leads them outside to the gardens, a sprawling maze of flora containing specimens from all the Six Realms. They pass the roses of the Elven Highlands arranged in multicolored spirals, the fruit trees of the Orcish Forests just starting to bloom, the tabaxi herbs trimmed into geometric designs. And all around, in between the trees and herbs and fruit, rest every type of flower found in the Human realm. They come in every shape and color, pale against the moonlight but no less striking in appearance. 

The scent of the greenery is nearly overwhelming to Cyhon's sensitive nose, and he's thankful when Eima steers them into a stone footpath under a series of willow trees. 

It's much quieter out here, Cyhon thinks. Almost romantic, were they not talking business.

Eima disengages her arm from Cyhon's and he misses the contact immediately. She takes a seat on a low stone bench and then looks up at him as if to say, Well? Sit down.

Cyhon takes his seat next to her, trying to remain respectful and maintain distance between them, but his size makes it impossible, and his leg presses into hers. Embarrassed at such contact, he looks down at his hands on his lap. 

He's a prince damn it, he needs to be acting like one. But being in Eima's presence is like basking in the sun. He's warmed by it, heated almost, and can only stare in awe as she shines. 

Eima tucks a strand of rich chestnut hair behind one ear and peers up at him. "I admit I pulled you away for multiple reasons," she says.

He frowns, confused. "And what reasons are those, my lady?" 

Cyhon turns his head to her, breath held in his throat. Eima is impossibly close, he can see the shadows cast by her eyelashes on her porcelain cheek. 

"I have done some reading," she says with a smile. "On dragon courting rituals." 

Cyhon's blood turns to ice. "Oh," is all he can say. 

Eima searches his face for a moment before breaking into laughter. "Please sir, please don't look so afraid! I'm oh so flattered." 

Cyhon tries not to sound disappointed. "But not receptive?" 

Eima's cute smile turns impish. "Now, I didn't say that." 

His heart flutters in his chest, hopeful.

"I must confess," she continues. "I was rather confused at first. We have so little to offer compared to your vast resources."

"That's not true!" He says, scooping her hands up in his. "Your perfumes are the best in the Realms, and your metalwork goes unmatched!"

She gives him a look of delighted confusion. "Hardly comparable to textiles and food stores."

Cyhon rolls his eyes, feeling relaxed for the first time all night. "Spices and cloth, very valuable."

Eima laughs. "If you wish to remain warm in the winter, I'd say so."

Hit with a sudden boldness, Cyhon gathers her hands against his chest. "I'll keep you warm during the winter, my lady. And all the year through. Allow me the courtesy of providing for you."

She opens her mouth as if to respond, then closes it again. She glances down at their hands, still joined and gathered against his broad chest, and looks back up to meet his gaze. A small smile plays at her lips as she says, "I'd like that very much."

And then she kisses him, short and sweet under the light of the moon, but no less magical.

#my writing #monster boyfriend #dragon boyfriend #exophilia writing #terato writing #i return bearing gifts #something light and cute while i work on botanists guide #i want to continue this but i also wanted to post something after being away so long #so we'll see how its received and go from there #also i know i'm off my normal sunday schedule #consider this a late post for last sunday #Fantasci

[monstergalsbeingpals]

this blog has been on hiatus for so long

lowkey I do want to get back into writing but I stuck by the fears of

I won't be able to keep up

it won't be good

i will run face first into writers block immediately

lowkey I also want to write more general smut

#writing #exophilia writing #writer problems

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 17 (Tabaeus x Reader)

paranormal fantasy vampire x human eventual triad (x werewolf)

Anonymous asked:

For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

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Part 1 – Masterlist – Previous

🦇 🦇 🦇

Get early access to Part 18, when it’s ready, on Patreon!

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

Also, my inbox is always open for asks, so don’t be shy!

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Lachlan Barrett. Your brain swirls, trying to place the name with some snippet from the journal or some other odd place you've heard the name before. It feels strangely familiar but, at the same time, unfamiliar.

As you're thinking, Lachlan takes a step toward your group. Immediately, Ewan tenses, growling so low in his chest that you can feel the vibrations in your stomach. Simultaneously, Tabaeus hisses from behind you, quiet and soft and sharp. Sandwiched between your companions, you hardly feel threatened, but the predatory air - plus Ewan and Tabaeus's reaction - piques concern in your gut.

"Please, try not to kick up too much of a fuss," Lachlan chuckles, though he does not take another step closer. He inclines his head to Tabaeus and Ewan, flashing them a look over the edges of his sunglasses with a pointy-toothed smile. "We are in a library."

The meaning was clear. You look around at the other patrons of the library: children and teenagers and people just minding their own business. People that are likely unaware of the two vampires lurking in their midst. Glancing back at Tabaeus, noting their stricken look, says enough.

A sudden thought crests your mind, overcoming the shock of the moment. Given this man had just lightly threatened a whole library, was it too hard to imagine he'd kill a town? Or a doctor?

It was a shot in the complete dark, but you had to ask. Tabaeus admitted to blacking out the name, so perhaps Lachlan would fall for your question. "By chance are you the same Lord Barrett who worked with Dr. Kieran Bennett in the 1880s?"

"Ah, Kieran! Yes. That is a blast from the past, as the young ones say." Something in Lachlan eyes glow, but not in a pleasant way. It reminds you of the iridescent shine of a predator's gaze. In a theatrical way, as if he were playing for the nosebleed seats, Lachlan rubs at his chin in a thoughtful way and leans toward you. He ignores Ewan's warning growl. "I did know my pet showed you to one of the vaults, but to think they gave you that information. That is such a surprise."

"I am not your pet," hisses Tabaeus, low and soft. As if they were not entirely certain they wanted to be heard.

"Are you not? Let us think about this," purrs Lachlan, his gaze shifting to Tabaeus. His voice takes on an irritating singsong quality as he counts off on his fingers, "You are pampered and cared for entirely. You need not hunt nor stalk the nights, need not risk being caught by a hunter. You are beloved among covens all over the world and gifts of clothes and food are showered upon you."

The description doesn't overly surprise you. And the longer Lachlan speaks, the more Tabaeus bristles behind you. Glancing back to your vampire, you press a hand to their arm, but it does nothing to ease their upset. Their red eyes remain pinned to Lachlan, afraid to let the other creature out of their sight.

"In return, all you must do is what you were created for," chuckles Lachlan, a vile gentleness to his voice that sets your teeth on edge. Underneath his words, there's an implication you can't quite put a name to.

As your gaze bounces back to Lachlan, Tabaeus spits out, "And what was I created for?"

The other vampire takes another step forward, ignoring Ewan's bristling snarl and how Tabaeus flinches behind you. Lachlan's arms spread wide, as if for an embrace, as he smiles like a television evangelist. "For memories."

Your brain sputters for a second, before a slew of awful imagery comes to mind. Bacchanal and violent and not all to the consent of Tabaeus. Weren't those always a trope in vampire media? They would drink and have sex and be cruel? Something about enjoying the world in excess while being undead. Or perhaps trying to feel something in their dead nerves?

Before you can stop yourself, you wrinkle your nose and blurt, "Excuse me?"

"I won't explain myself to a foodbag or a fleabag." A brief darkness flutters over Lachlan's features at your question, pinched at the edges. He doesn't glance to either you and Ewan, but waves a hand in your direction. "Tabaeus understands, deep down."

"Tabaeus?" Once more, you turn to look at your vampire, hoping to prompt more revelation. They refuse to look at you, at Lachlan, at Ewan. Their gaze has gone distant, averted. Something strains in their expression and you wonder if they've been accosted by triggering memories.

"They get this way whenever I mention their purpose," sighs Lachlan, shaking his head as if he is speaking about an ill-behaved child. "Now, I'm not a cruel master. I will give you time to say good-bye."

"And then what?" Enough suspicion was evident in Tabaeus's voice, you could picture them squinting their eyes critically at Lachlan.

That irritating smooth smile widens across the other vampire's lips. "And then we leave."

You hear Tabaeus swallow and their tone seems to lack confidence as they murmur, "And if I refuse to go?"

"Well, that will be such a pity, seeing as you live with two liabilities." Lachlan tapped a finger against his chin, eyes flickering to you and Ewan. You never realized how long and black his nails were before. His unwavering smile made your skin crawl. "Who are you willing to sacrifice first?"

Tabaeus snarls at the question, making you jump. You can feel their rage prickle along your back. In the short span of time it takes you to turn, a breeze passes by and you are shoved forward, away from Tabaeus. Their snarl is cut off in a choke. You gasp, stumbling only to be caught single-handedly by Ewan. As you turn, catch the sight of Lachlan backing Tabaeus to a far wall, hand around their throat.

The people around you don't even blink, don't even falter in their actions. You wildly wonder if Lachlan has some sort of cloaking power or if he managed to hypnotize all present with his mere presence. Vaguely, you sense Ewan's arm curl tighter around you, keeping you close.

One question resonates as you stare, frozen at the vampire: How old, how powerful, is this man?

"A good owner disciplines their pets when they misbehave." You hear the hiss-laden words even from the distance. Lachlan gives Tabaeus's throat a squeeze, another sound choking from your vampire's mouth. "Do not make me discipline you. That gets rather messy, doesn't it?"

Tabaeus glowers at Lachlan, before their gaze can take no more and they turn their face away. They refuse to look at you or Ewan. Shame rolls off them in waves as the other vampire pats their head with his free hand. "There's my good darling."

You and Ewan barely take a step forward, before Lachlan moves again. He bites his own free wrist with a sickening rending of flesh, and holds the dribbling wound to Tabaeus's lips. "Now, so your memories of me are fresh."

At first, they refuse to drink, turning their face further away from the offering, smearing strangely dark blood across their cheek. But Lachlan is not having that. His grip moves from Tabaeus's throat to their hair, knocking aside their bucket hat as he forces their mouth to his bleeding wound.

It doesn't take long for Tabaeus to succumb, to eagerly feed on the oozing blood. They lick the streams up first before latching onto the bite. Their eyes flutter closed, their hands reach to grip at Lachlan's arm, holding him close.

You're frozen in place, watching with nausea rolling in your stomach. Desperately, you look to Ewan, hoping he has some idea or answers. Heavy breaths make Ewan's chest rise and fall, his eyes scanning the area and the vampiric scene. Feeling your eyes on him, his gaze flickers to you and his expression is akin to a fearful dog in the face of a greater predator.

The silent look makes your skin crawl further, your stomach lurch.

"That's enough," Lachlan finally purrs over the grotesque slurping sounds of Tabaeus feasing on him. When Tabaeus refuses to let go, Lachlan yanks them by their hair with a snarl. "I said enough."

A pained gasp escapes Tabaeus as Lachlan hauls them away, blood oozing down his arm and down their chin. That sound seems to spur something in Ewan and he launches himself at the other vampire. You barely had a chance to jolt, a chance to raise your hand. As soon as Ewan makes contact with Lachlan, mingling snarls erupt just before the werewolf flies backward, across an aisle, into a shelf of books.

Books clattering around him, you can hear the wind escape Ewan's lungs. He isn't down for long, scrambling to his feet and baring his teeth, half-crouched and prepared for another strike. Despite the tension and adrenaline, he hasn't gone full wolf, though you're sure his stubble is thicker and his eyes far too inhumanly green.

Your attention flickers to the surrounding people. They still haven't seemed to notice anything and, if they had, Ewan was still human enough to not cause a stir.

Tabaeus, too, is back on their feet, swiping a hand over their chin. Their sunglasses sit askew, their red eyes alight and the whites of their eyes darkening at the edges.

Both fall still as Lachlan's arms suddenly clamp around you, his hand curling around the front of your throat. He was too fast to see, too fast for you and your shock-stricken brain to register. Or perhaps he has you enthralled as well, just less-so than the other unaware bystanders. His ice-cold touch burns and is unyielding to the point you, too, freeze in his grip. You barely even breathe.

"I can see you need time to understand your situation. I will give you a day, twenty-four hours, to say good-bye to your consorts." Disgust swirls inside you as Lachlan bends close, nosing along your throat. Tucked against Lachlan, it's strangely quiet and cold. No heartbeat, no breaths, no body heat. It's worse than Tabaeus, you muse as you hold your own breath.

"You should already be aware of the levity of the situation. But if not..." Lachlan yanks your head to the side, exposing your neck further. Sharp pinpoints dig into your throat, a threat that doesn't yet break skin. Your eyes snap shut as you steal yourself, feeling his amused breath play over your neck, "Well, I do enjoy the screams. Twenty-four hours, Tabaeus."

And like that, Lachlan is gone. Dissipating into shadows or just misting from existence, you're not sure. It is only after a few breaths, you realize the library's ambient sounds are returning along with heat and sunlight from the windows.

How did you not notice how quiet and cold it had gotten near Lachlan? Had it been that way in the diner? Your mind whirls, as if it has been electrified with jumper cables. Was that a powerful vampire's ability? Or was something else at play?

As your thoughts churn, Tabaeus - re-hatted - and Ewan crowd around you. Both ask you questions, visually check over your body, but you can't find enough words to answer them. You stare at the two for a long moment, before you realize you are shaking.

"Hey, it'll be okay, alright?" Ewan whispers, looping an arm around you. His head dips toward you, pressing his fluffy hair against you. His body heat is a blessing, cutting through the ungodly cold that has sunken to your bones.

You don't have a chance to respond as Tabaeus gathers you in their arms, as well. The odd cool-warmth of them easing Lachlan's cold from your body. Their grip on you is firm and fearful, almost quaking. Something holds them back from allowing themselves to tremble though. Some need to appear stronger than they feel.

Your heart lurches as the very thought crosses your mind.

"May we go home?" They ask quietly, still holding you close to their chest. You're crushed so tight to Tabaeus, you're not even sure if Ewan still has an arm wrapped around you.

Still unable to find words, unable to connect synapses to work your mouth, you nod with a noiseless whimper. The three of you are quick to leave the library, huddled close as you return to the safety of home.

#exophilia writing #exo writing #exophilia #vampire #monster boyfriend #vampire x reader x werewolf #monster fucker #monster x human #monsters x human #paranormal romance #second person pov #second pov #2nd pov #reader #ewan #tabaeus #room & board #room and board #r&b #rab #werewolf

[demigoddessqueens]

in the wood

Pairing - male satyr x human

Also here on ao3

Summary: before a tournament, you go to seek the attention of your lover

Writing prompts - “sometimes I worry about you too much” + “it’s never too late to spend time with you” + running thumb over other’s hand + hello/goodbye kiss

You knew every inch of your family’s villa, which is why it didn’t take you long to find him. Bastet’s children pounced about the garden to keep mice away. Making your way through to the tree where you two regularly met, you paused for a moment.

“Sometimes I worry about you too much.”

You smiled in familiarity at Titus’s voice. Turning to face him, your heart never ceased its beating at his kind smile.

Quickly closing the space between you two, you hugged him tightly along with a deep kiss. The nerves for tomorrow’s tournament subsided just for a bit as he held you.

When you pulled away for air, both of your hands were still joined. You cupped his handsome face with them, thumb reassuringly brushing against his hand.

“You have nothing to worry about. Fortune favors my odds tomorrow, and I will return to you a victor.”

“I know, but still—.”

A cheek kiss near the corner of his mouth that only silenced him for a moment.

The imploring look in those hazel eyes were enough to almost make you reconsider, but you remained adamant.

“Trust me, I will look for you first. It’s never too late in the day to celebrate with you.”

#exophilia #my writing #satyr character #monster x reader #exophilia writing #monster/human #fanfic #writeblr #monster x gender neutral reader #satyr/human #monster x you #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster/reader #monster x y/n

[love-and-monsters]

Nuclear Spring pt. 1

GN reader X F harpy X M sea monster, 7,256 words.

Trigger warning: depictions of a nuclear apocalypse, radiation sickness, death, bodily injury, starvation, etc. 

It is the end of your world. Everything is over. You are going to die. Until a window to another world opens and you stumble into a strange land where humans are a myth and magic is a law of physics. 

You know you will die even before you crawl through the portal. You know there is nothing left that can be done to save you. Death comes, implacable. It doesn’t matter if you find help. They could give you water, food, medicine. And you know, regardless, that you will die in a matter of weeks.

You did find help. About a week and a half back. A medical camp, made out of the ruins of a gymnasium. They gave you a black hair tie, to wear around your wrist. A marker, they said. To determine how much medical attention people needed.

You knew what black meant. A morbid fascination with natural disasters meant you’d looked into FEMA guides and instructions before the end. Black: Soon to die. Do not waste medical attention.

So many people had them.

You left. There was nothing for you there. At best, they could extend your life in increments. Give you morsels of food, drips of water, when there was some to spare or when someone was feeling unusually compassionate. Give you a place to shelter in so the elements didn’t kill you.

It had just seemed so stupid.

You had been there and you had seen how many had those black bands. How many others were injured, screaming in agony because there was no anesthetic left, and infections needed to be carved out with knives. How doctors, wan and exhausted and staggering between patients, dumped rubbing alcohol on burns and stitched wounds with dulled needles and threads salvaged from clothing. How the pile of bodies outside grew and grew with each hour because nobody was burying them anymore. How soldiers with guns watched the clean water and food supplies, and how many bodies on that pile were from starving people who rushed the guards, desperate for something to eat, and were shot dead.

Death throes, you’d thought as you watched two people scramble for a hunk of bread. It fell in the dirt and one finally managed to shove the other one down. The one still standing snagged the bread and ate it in two quick bites, then bent to the ground and put their mouth to the dirt. It took you a moment to realize they were trying to eat the fallen crumbs.

The one who’d fallen remained in the dirt. Alive, for now. You could see their sides moving as they breathed. But they wouldn’t rise again. The fight had stolen the last of their strength. They would die where they lay and maybe someone would drag their body over to the corpse pile. Or maybe someone would eat them. Maybe even the person who shoved them down.

You watched the skirmish and all you could think was how ridiculous it was. The man who had won the bread, how long would he live? Days? Weeks? Maybe a month? Scrambling and fighting for tiny scraps of edible food until he was lying on the ground as well, too weak to move.

The doctors were even more ridiculous. You watched as they bent over patients, stitching and sawing and bandaging. Most of them were going to die anyway- if the infection was cleared, if their burns healed, if they managed to claw themselves back to health- then what? Then they could starve or dehydrate or die of radiation sickness or get eaten by starving animals or humans or freeze or inhale smoke or any one of the other myriad ways to die. There was no life, not for anyone. The world was over, irradiated and sick and in the last convulsions of death. No hope. Only waiting to die.

So, you left. You didn’t have a place you wanted to go when you did. You just wanted to go anywhere else.

And then, the portal.

It looks like a paper-thin rip in the world. The area around it shimmers gently, like heat rising off pavement. The shimmers grow in intensity around it until they hit the edge of the rip and beyond that-

It’s green.

The color is saturated enough to almost hurt your eyes. You haven’t seen green like that in… two weeks? It’s hard to tell time anymore. The sky is so thickly blanketed in debris that it’s dim by day and black at night. You don’t remember what phase the moon is. You don’t remember the last time you looked at the moon. You wish you looked more often.

Everything looks gray or brown or black, or some combination thereof. The air is smog-filled; in the worst areas, it’s impossible to breathe. Sometimes, in the distance, you can see fires, still burning, even weeks after the attack. There are no more fires where you are. Maybe because this areas was just far out of the blast radius enough to avoid the wall of fire. Maybe there’s just  nothing left to burn. The grass is gone, the only buildings still standing (in a loose definition of the word) are brick or stone, and the few remaining trees are blackened and leafless.

But beyond the rip, it’s green.

There are trees, swaying in a gentle wind. Moss and grass and even flowers grow in scattered patches along the ground. Yellow beams of sunlight dapple through the soft, green leaves that fill the sky. And beyond those leaves, you can see the perfect, crystalline blue of a clear sky.

You stare. It’s beautiful. Beyond beautiful. Your chest hurts from looking at it.

The rip is a few feet wide and twice as tall. There’s a point where it intersects with the ground, where blasted heath become lush greenery. A person could fit through it.

You stagger toward it.

It’s not real. A hallucination, most likely. But you don’t care. If you can just touch it…

The air grows warmer as soon as you step through the rip. Sunlight heats your skin. The air smells, not of smoke and burning and death, but of a nice summer’s day. You collapse and the grass tickles your forearms when you catch yourself. Something rustles through the trees above you. A bird gives a warning call. Nearby, there’s the sound of running water.

Your legs won’t carry you anymore, so you crawl, dragging yourself with your forearms. Just over the hill you’d found yourself upon, there’s a river.

You half-crawl, half-fall toward it. Your arms are too weak to stop you from falling partially into the river, but you don’t care. You plunge your face into the water and drink.

There’s grit in it, from where you’ve stirred up the riverbed, but it’s sweet and clean compared to the near-mud you’ve been drinking for days. You swallow several mouthfuls before your body convulses and you’re retching it back up.

You fall over sideways, barely propping yourself up so your face stays out of the water. Your limbs are weirdly heavy. It hurts to move. Your vision blurs. For a moment, everything goes dark, and you panic, before you realize your eyes had simply fallen shut without your noticing. You peel them back open and stare at the ground. There’s a flower sprouting a few feet from your face. It’s purple.

This is death, you realize. You’re dying, right now. Your body is too sick and too weak to go on any further. You cannot escape it.

At least, you think as you focus your eyes back on the flower, I am dying somewhere beautiful.

Something loud splashes nearby, but you don’t even have the energy to feel startled. You stare at the flower until your vision goes dark.

You don’t quite pass out, but you aren’t entirely conscious, either. It feels more like you’re in that dreamy, semi-conscious state that happens right before you fall asleep. Sometimes, you’re aware of motion, of someone touching you. There’s even a brief time where a swooping sensation in your stomach makes it seem like you’re flying. When you come closest to waking, you can hear voices.

There’s no way to tell how long you’re asleep for. Sometimes, you are conscious enough to register that you’re in some kind of bed before slipping back into sleep. Sometimes your dreams mix with reality. You keep hearing the whooping of early warning sirens, but you can’t get up, you can’t move your legs, you can’t get to the shelter in time. Sometimes, your screaming is loud enough that you can hear it over the sirens as everything burns and burns and burns…

At one point, you feel a hand stroking your head. It’s the most pleasant touch you’ve felt in weeks. The tiniest scrap of comfort. You cling to it, even as the world burns and chokes and dies.

Time is slippery and weird, but it feels like you’re in that half-waking nightmare for ages before you return to true consciousness. When you open your eyes, you’re staring at a ceiling. A normal ceiling. A beam of yellow sunlight slants across it. You let your head fall to one side, tracking the sunlight until you find its source. A window.

There’s a garden outside the window. It’s not very big, but you can see rows of greenery. There are even a few poles sticking out of the ground for some of them to climb. Beyond that, there are several trees, the start of a forest. The sky is mostly dark blue, but it’s turning pink-red at the edges in the light of the rising sun.

You watch the sun as it lifts from behind the horizon. It stings your eyes a little. You stare anyway. It’s beautiful.

Somewhere behind you, a door opens and footsteps enter the room. You can hear the person breathing, muttering to themselves, shuffling objects around. You don’t turn to look at them. They’re unlikely to hurt you, given that they’re likely the one who saved your life, but your caution is bone-deep.

The other person in the room shuffles around for a bit. You can hear them walking back and forth. They let out a heavy sigh and the footsteps start to approach you. “All right. Let’s see what we’ve got here…”

Before you can register what’s happening, the person has taken hold of your face and turned it toward them. Your open eyes meet theirs and they recoil in surprise. “Oh!”

The surprise is mutual. Clearly, they were not expecting you to be awake. You, for your part, were not expecting them to look anything like they do.

Their skin is blue. A deep, sapphire blue. For a split second, you wonder if you’ve somehow stumbled across some very dedicated cosplayers. But no- beside all the other reasons that couldn’t be true, it doesn’t look like a cosplay. Their skin has too much natural variation. You can see little imperfections and darker spots along their face, the purplish tinge to their lips and even the inside of their mouth, and when they lift their hands, you can see the lighter blue on their palms. There’s no evidence of dye or powder. That’s just their skin color.

Their hair is colored as well. It could be dye, though given that their skin seems to be natural, you suspect it isn’t. It’s a deep indigo color, tugged into a loose ponytail. Emerging from just behind their hairline is the most convincing evidence that this is not a cosplay: a set of horns, curving back over their head.

“It’s all right,” they say. Their voice is hushed, gentle. They offer a smile, making lines stand out at the corners of their eyes. They look about middle aged, maybe older. “Can you understand me?”

You hesitate, then nod. Their expression relaxes a little. “Good. Can you speak?”

You open your mouth and the first breath you pull in triggers a coughing fit. It hurts your chest and every time you inhale, it makes the stinging sensation worse. Your chest convulses and you dry-heave once before you manage to stop the coughing. Cramps run along the muscles of your chest. Your throat is so dry that swallowing is difficult.

“One moment.” The person rises and hurries off. Moments later, they return holding a dripping cloth. “Here. Open a little.” They tap your cheek until you open your mouth. As soon as your jaw parts, they slip the cloth past your lips and push your mouth shut again.

Cool water drips down your throat. It’s clean and cool and it nearly hurts how good it is. You suck eagerly, sputtering a bit when the water catches in your throat. The person tugs the cloth out of your mouth before you can bite down to stop them.

“You can have some more in a bit. Though I’m glad I tried with the cloth first- you definitely would have choked if you had been drinking from a cup.” The person reaches around you to adjust the cloths stacked behind your head. They handle you as easily as a ragdoll, repositioning you until you’re sitting upright. You’re embarrassingly weak; without being propped up, your abdominal muscles can’t hold your sitting position. It takes effort to even prevent your chin from resting on your chest.

“It’s good you’re awake.” The person gets up and paces across the room, rifling through the cabinets for something. “I was beginning to worry. You were in quite bad shape when we found you. Very weak. I can’t imagine what could have left you that way. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You file away that ‘we found you’ for later reference, but something more pressing occurs to you. Your clothes are gone. Your bag. You’ve even been scrubbed clean. You were covered in dirt and grime and, most likely, radioactive debris.

If they’ve kept your things anywhere nearby- if they’ve been handling them- these people have brought you here to nurse you back to health and the dust and dirt you’ve brought to them will poison them as surely as it poisoned you.

Unfortunately, your voice cracks like glass when you try to speak and you bend double in a coughing fit.

“It’s all right.” The person hurries back over to you and pats your back. “You’re all right. Breathe.” It takes a few coughs to dislodge the muck of disuse, but as soon as you can manage the words, you start sputtering.

“Radi- radiation! Bad- need to-” You dissolve into another coughing fit.

The person stares at you. “I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”

“Radiation!” you sputter out again. The person frowns and shakes their head.

“I’m not sure I understand. Radiating? Radiating… pain? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“No!” The word doesn’t even seem to process to them. Do they not know what you’re talking about? Maybe they don’t. The coughs seizing your chest become more violent as they’re joined with sobs. You’ve brought contamination and they don’t even know what you’re talking about.

Half-panicked, you try to get up, but the person easily maneuvers you back into bed. “It’s all right. Calm down. You’re safe.” You attempt to fight past them, but you might as well be a kitten. “I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but you’re safe now, you don’t need to panic-”

“Dondii!” A door slams open hard enough to impact the wall behind it. “What’s going on? Is everything all right?”

You turn, distracted and a little startled. Across the room is a door you didn’t notice before that leads to the outside. A woman is standing in the doorway, her wings tense and bristling.

Her wings. You have to stare at them for a few minutes before your brain fully processes that they’re really present. They’re deep brown with some kind of white patterning on the bottom, sprouting from her shoulders like an angel. There’s a lot of musculature built up around them- even from a distance, you can see the lines of muscles along her shoulders and the side of her ribcage. She’s rather short, though, maybe around five foot one, barely. Her skin is a pretty shade of dark brown, her hair twisted into rows of braids that have been coiled into a bun.

You’re not sure if a winged human or a blue-skinned, horned person is weirder, but it’s all pretty surreal. At least enough that you stop struggling.

“I’m all right,” the blue person says. “Something’s just upset our guest- not sure what it is. It’s okay. Just relax.”

They try to push you back into the bed, but you resist. You need to communicate in a clearer way. “Bag,” you say. The word still rasps in your chest, but it’s clear enough. “Clothes.”

The blue person’s eyes light up. “Oh, the things they arrived with. You want them?”

“No!” The word comes out so sharply that you start coughing again. You struggle to catch your breath for a bit. “No- get rid- get rid of-”

“Get rid of it?” the winged woman guesses.

“Yes!” You suck in some air and cough a few more times. The woman lifts her wings slightly in a sort of shrug.

“I can burn it, I suppose,” she says.

“Don’t burn,” you choke. “Bury- away from anything-”

The winged woman gives you a strange look. “Why do we need to bury it?”

“Perhaps whatever made them sick is in it,” the blue person suggests. They’re surprisingly amiable about you bringing a toxic compound to their house. You nod vigorously. “Use gloves when handling it, then. And bury them as well.”

The winged woman nods and vanishes from the doorway. You slump back against your bed. If they touched it to get it off you, they were already exposed to radiation. Maybe it was a low enough dose that it won’t hurt them. Hopefully by burying it, the radiation will fade before anything else gets hurt.

Hopefully. You’re not sure.

It’s about at this point that the obvious finally occurs to you: you’re not dead. Clearly you were aware of not being dead since you’ve woken up, but now it’s really hitting you. You’re not dead.

That’s not right.

You’re not exactly a radiation expert, but you know that people don’t survive radiation sickness. That’s why they gave you the black band- the one that is, you notice, still on your wrist. If you’re already visibly sick, there’s not much they can do. You should be either dead or about ready to die.

But you’re not. You are, in fact, remarkably healthy. Well, not THAT healthy. You feel pathetically weak and there’s that weird malaise in your body, like you feel when you’re on the tail end of the flu. But you were quite literally dying when you blacked out. You’re pretty sure you should feel worse.

So… how in the fuck?

You don’t cure radiation sickness. Even if they, somehow, miraculously, stopped you from dying from dehydration and starvation and whatever else, you shouldn’t be feeling okay now. You should be internally bleeding and semi-conscious at best. How are you okay?

“If you’re able to talk, I’d like to ask you a few questions,” the blue person says. They sit down and you notice, for the first time, that they have a long, thin tail tucked in dark blue hair, just like the stuff on their head. Wild.

Maybe you’re dead, you consider. Maybe you did die and this is the afterlife. Somehow. The blue person could be a demon, and the winged woman did look a lot like an angel. On the other hand, you feel pretty awful, which seems kind of unfair if you’re already dead. Shouldn’t you at least be free from the constraints of a mortal body or whatever?

“Are you up to answering a few things?” the blue person says. You focus your attention back on them. They’re picking up a jug of water and pouring its contents into a shallow bowl. Slowly, you nod. “Good.” They adjust you so you’re in a mostly-sitting position and carefully tilt a little water toward your mouth.

It’s so incredibly good. You instinctively try to gulp it, but after a few sips, the blue person removes the water. You whine piteously. “If you drink it all at once, you’ll get sick again,” they say. “We’ll go slow.” The cradle the bowl in their lap and focus their gaze on your face.

“I’ll try to keep the questions simple,” they say. “What’s your name?”

You tell them. Their expression shifts a little, like they’re surprised, but trying not to show it. “Interesting. Where are you from?”

That’s… harder to answer. Given the context, they’re almost certainly not going to know the names of Earth countries. Should you tell the truth? Say you don’t remember? Do humans even exist here? You’re at a significant disadvantage here, not knowing even the basics of the world. If you bluff and get it wrong, you’re going to be caught very easily, and that might make them suspicious. On the other hand, the truth sounds completely ludicrous.

You’re so busy thinking that you don’t realize a full minute has gone by until the blue person delicately coughs. “If you’re unwilling to tell me, you don’t have to.” You give a tiny nod. “All right.” They pause, then sigh. “This is indelicate, but. What are you?”

Okay. They do not know what humans are here. Good to know. It doesn’t really clear up what you can tell them, though. Can you tell them you’re human? They’re not going to know what that means. Do they have elves? Can you tell them you’re an elf with rounded ears or something?

The person is still watching you, waiting. You take a risk. “Human.”

The person lifts their eyebrows a little bit. “Hm.” You can’t tell if they believe you or not. “Interesting. I’ve never heard of humans before.” They fold their arms over their chest. “How did you get here?”

That’s a very good question. You wish you had an answer for them. When you say nothing, they give a small sigh. “You’re not certain of that either?” You shake your head. “Hm.” They are silent for a few moments. “I’m glad you ended up near us at the very least. You were in terrible shape when Aether found you. If he hadn’t managed to alert Seersha and they hadn’t gotten you here as fast as possible, you wouldn’t have made it.”

“How did you heal me?” Your voice grates against your throat as you speak.

“Ah, it was a simple healing spell. Despite the damage, it was quite easy to reverse. Although it was fairly extensive, and your dehydration and malnourishment will take longer to fully recover.”

You process that for a few minutes. A healing spell. Well, that explains why you’re not dead. Probably. You’re not totally convinced you’re not hallucinating or in the afterlife or something.

“The thing’s buried!” The front door opens again, this time less aggressively. The woman takes a couple steps into the room. “I put in one of those little metal healing kits and buried it in the field. No one goes there.”

You’re not one hundred percent sure if it’s going to cause some kind of ecological disaster or not, but it’s better than nothing. The winged woman looks at you curiously. You stare back. Those wings are sort of shifting a little, the feathers twitching. She scratches at one absently, readjusting some of the feathers. It’s incredible to watch- you’ve seen pretty good CGI in movies, but this time it’s real and right in front of you and very much something no technology could replicate.

Your staring is disturbed by motion from behind her. There’s someone else peeking around the doorway. They’re quite tall, which makes the fact that they’re clearly trying to hide behind the short, winged woman very funny. It’s hard to see them, but you can make out that they have grayish-blue skin, hair that flows from sky-blue to radiant orange, and a long tail with similarly-colored fins. For a moment, you catch sight of their face, but they see you first and duck back out of sight.

“Thank you,” the blue person says. “And I see you found Aether.”

“I told him the stranger was awake and he wanted to come see them.” The winged woman glances behind her. “Not that he’s doing much looking right now.”

The man behind her makes a motion like he is both trying to get a better look at you and retreat further behind her in the same moment. It resolves itself into sort of a jerky wiggle.

“This is my daughter,” the blue person says, gesturing to the winged woman. “Seersha.”

The winged woman waves. “I’m the one who hauled your ass back here. You were in pretty rough shape. Wasn’t even sure if Dondii could save you.” She strides toward you. The man behind her freezes, glances to the door like he’s considering running for it, then he skitters after her. Up close, his efforts to duck behind Seersha fail even more, and he settles for just standing behind her, peering down at you with pitch black eyes.

Seersha leans close to you. Her eyes are heterochromatic, you notice. One is light brown, while the other is a sort of deep gold. The effect is subtle enough that you can only really see it up close. “Aether thought you were some kind of harpy with your wings cut off, but you’re not, are you?”

“Harpies have far more musculature around their chests and shoulders to support their wings,” the blue person says. “And if their wings had been cut off, there would be some extensive scarring. Regardless, I believe you called yourself a human?”

“Human?” The shy man, probably Aether, straightens up. “Really? But that’s not-” He cuts himself off and ducks down a little, like he’s trying to scrunch down behind Seersha again.

“You’ve heard of humans?” the blue person says.

“Er. In the old library, back home. But I’ve never seen one. Or thought they were real.” His tail swishes back and forth, fins flicking against the floor. “The books don’t say anything about how they get here, though. Or anything else, really. Just that people have seen them before.” He seems to realize how much he’s been talking and goes quiet again, lips pressed together.

You open your mouth to speak, but a wave of dizziness hits you so hard you feel like you’ve been smacked over the head. You slump back into bed, losing the little muscle tension you were able to maintain. Your eyes fall half-shut and it’s a struggle to get them open again.

“That would be about their limit,” the blue person says. They’re already standing, a stern, focused look crossing their face. Both Seersha and Aether are staring at you with alarm.

“Are they okay?” Seersha asks. Her wings are up and bristling and you can see exactly her muscular her shoulders are to support them. It’s taking up a surprising amount of space in your mind, considering your situation. Aether just looks anxious.

“Healing spells can be incredibly exhausting, and they have several passive ones working now. They’ve simply reached their limit.” The blue person waves their arms toward the other two. “Shoo. I need to work.”

You make an effort to keep your eyes open, but it’s a bit like trying to stop a car already doing fifty- you just kind of get steamrolled. The world swims, dims, and finally goes dark.

Your wakings after that are sporadic and mostly short-lived. Usually, the blue person is there- Trest is their name, you learn- but sometimes Seersha is there in their stead.

“Dondii had to go out for a bit,” she says when you manage to stay awake long enough to actually ask. ‘Dondii,’ you’ve gathered, is more or less their gender-neutral equivalent of ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad.’ “They’ll be back soon.”

“They’re your parent,” you mumble, trying to make some kind of conversation. Your head’s been so muddled that it’s hard to really focus on anything, but you’re also bored out of your mind and desperate to take your mind off the shit that comes up whenever you’re not occupied.

“Adoptive parent, technically. Mom married them…” Seersha pauses, mentally adding up numbers. “Like, seventeen years ago? I was only five, so I really only remember the wedding a little. But yeah, they’ve been my parent since I was little.”

She does not ask about your family. That’s good. You have been very deliberately not thinking about it, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it up for.

The front door opens. You turn your head just in time to see Aether making his way in. It’s the first time you’ve seen him not trying to hide behind Seersha- he’s very long and willowy, as befits a water-based creature. Little fins sprout along his arms and probably along his legs and back, though he’s wearing loose clothes that don’t show those areas.

He makes it a full five steps into the house before he notices you’re awake and freezes. “Oh,” he says. His voice manages to go up two octaves on a one-syllable word. “You’re awake.”

You haven’t been able to get a read on him so far, at least in part because he’s not been around very much. He’s either shy or anxious that you’re apparently a member of a mythical species, or something else entirely. He seems comfortable around Seersha, at least.

“Don’t be so freaked out,” Seersha says. “They’re hardly going to attack.” Aether carefully steps closer to your bed. He is still watching you like you’re going to jump at him. “Sorry. His parents drilled the fear of assassins into his head since he was a hatchling. He’s skittish around new people.”

Aether’s face flushes a little, but he doesn’t say anything else. He crouches next to Seersha’s chair and she reached down to stroke his head. “He’s the one who found you, by the way,” she says.

“Thank you,” you say. Aether ducks his head a little bit.

“Mm.” He glances away. “Seersha was the one who carried you back here, though.”

“You helped,” Seersha says. She looks at you for a moment, hesitating, then says, “so what happened to you?”

“Er.” You pick at the blankets. Somehow, you’ve lost a couple of your fingernails. For some reason, your brain focuses on that. You don’t want to think about it. You turn to stare out the window. Seeing the greenery soothes your mind.

“Maybe they don’t want to talk about it,” Aether says. “They were really in bad shape when I found them. Whatever they went through…” He trails off, shrinking down like he wants to merge himself with the floor. Seersha frowns, but she doesn’t say anything else. You take a deep breath and force words from your lips.

“Nuclear war.” Both of them look at you like they’re surprised you’re even speaking. You clear your throat. “There was a war. A really awful war. Everyone died.”

Seersha puts a hand on my arm. Her fingernails scratch lightly in a comforting manner. “I’m sorry you lost your people.”

“Not just my people. Everything. Everyone. All the people. The animals. The plants. Everything was gone. There was no world left.” The words come from you are trance-like. They don’t shake. There’s no emotion. Seersha and Aether stare at you with slowly-widening eyes. “I don’t know how I got here. There was just a… I don’t know what to call it. A tear, I guess. And it led here.” You snuffle. Your eyes sting terribly and there’s a lump in your throat, but you suddenly can’t stop talking. “I didn’t think I was going to live. I just wanted to die somewhere that wasn’t dying with me.”

“Well,” Seersha says after a few minutes of silence. “Shit.”

“How could that even happen?” Aether looks like he’s either about to be sick or pass out. “There are wars, but they’re never- They can’t be that big.” He looks between you and Seersha, like he wants one of you to say that you were joking. Neither of you speak. “It’s not- How could a battle be big enough to kill everything?”

You shake your head. “Nuclear war.” Both of them look blank. “It’s… hard to explain. It’s like… massive bombs. They can wipe out cities. And then there’s the radiation- it’s like poison. And it spreads and that can kill anyone who wasn’t caught in the blast. And it sends so much debris into the sky that it blocks out the sun, like permanent cloud cover. Crops die, animals die, everything dies.”

Aether stares for a moment, then scrambles to his feet and all but flees the room. The front door slams behind him, but not before you catch the tail end of a sob.

Seersha blinks after him for a moment, then she stands as well. “I should go get him. He’s always been kind of a softie.” She hurries after him. The door opens and closes once more, and you are alone in the house.

It only takes a minute more before you start to cry.

You sleep most days, out of sheer exhaustion. Initially, your dreams were fevered, twisting and nonsensical, but terrifying. Eventually, as you recovered, you didn’t dream at all. Apparently, your brain was too tired to even come up with anything. Or you were too tired to remember it.

You could tell when you were really starting to get better because the nightmares were back.

They were always variations on the same theme- a blasted, broken Earth, sometimes enveloped in flames, always sick and dying. Sometimes you’re wandering in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes you’re crawling across piles of bodies, your hands sinking into their flesh. Often, they were in strangely good shape. The insects and worms that helped start decomposition had died of radiation before the people.

In all the dreams, you walked, stumbled, crawled toward a shimmering rip in the fabric of reality. It’s green, clear, beautiful. You drag your limbs, force your screaming muscles to continue. No matter how far you crawl through the choking air, no matter how fast you move, the tear is always just out of your reach.

When you wake up, the sunlight filtering through the windows seems unreal. You have to wait for several minutes before you’re convinced it won’t vanish.

It takes ages to convince Trest to let you go outside. “You’re not supposed to be stressing your body. It’s not conducive to healing.”

“Aw, let ‘em go outside,” Seersha says. She’s sprawled across a chair, flipping through one of the thickly-bound books Aether brought. “How’s sitting in the indoors any different than sitting out there?”

Trest looks at you like you’re going to start doing sprints the second they take their eyes off you. “I’m trying to ensure that you don’t overstress yourself. It’s been a week and a half and you’re still only awake for a few hours out of the day.”

Seersha lowers the book. “Dondii, you need a break anyway. I’ll be there anyway. I can keep an eye out.”

Trest runs their fingers through their hair. “Twenty minutes,” they say, finally. “And stay in the garden. And I’m going to disinfect you when you come back in. I don’t want to risk you catching anything.”

You wrinkle your nose. The disinfecting is a spell immediately followed by a dousing in some kind of weird, stinging substance. It makes your skin tingle like you’ve scrubbed it raw for hours.

“Cool.” Seersha hops out of the chair and walks over to you. “Ready to get up?”

Walking remains a bit of an ordeal for you, though you’re grateful that you can walk at all. For the first five days after you arrived, you might as well not have had legs. As it is, you can only walk with the help of a crutch.

Seersha half lifts you out of bed and props you up until you can get your legs under you. She’s impressively strong, though it’s probably not terribly difficult for her to maneuver you- you’ve lost quite a bit of weight. The crutch you have is made out of study wood, aggressively sanded until its surface is completely smooth.

You brace the crutch under your armpit and Seersha tugged your other arm over her back. You can feel the muscles of her shoulders and wings ripple as she takes your weight. Together, you make your way outside.

The sun is high in the sky, sending warm light down through patches of white, fluffy clouds. You tilt your head back to look at it. The light’s not as painful as you remember it being- you can look at it for a while without any pain in your eyes.

The garden is much more impressive than the sun, though. It’s rich and green with splashes of color from fruits or flowers. The smell of rich earth and growing things soothes something in your soul, though it also makes your eyes sting.

Seersha guides you over to the pile of pillows and books that have been haphazardly arranged on the ground for you. You’d thought it was weird leaving them in the outside, in case it suddenly decided to storm, but she’d just looked at you weirdly when you’d mentioned it.

“Rain’s not scheduled for another week,” she said. “We’ll bring it inside before then.”

Just as you are settling down on the pillows. Aether trots out of the woods. He is wearing several bangles and some of the tightest fitting clothes you have ever seen. Seersha takes one look at him and bursts into laughter.

“Shut up.” Aether’s fins droop on either side of his head and his tail drags on the ground. “It’s not that funny!”

“I can see your nipples!” Seersha says, collapsing backward in giggles. Aether jerks his hands up to cover his chest. Beneath his blue skin, you can see red rushing to his cheeks.

“I didn’t pick the outfit!” He snags a pillow and sits so it’s clutched firmly in front of his chest. He glances at you cautiously, but he relaxes when he sees that you’re not laughing. “It’s ceremonial.”

“The ceremonial titties,” Seersha chuckles from her sprawled-out position on the ground. Aether buries his face in the pillow.

“Stop! I hate this outfit enough already!”

“Why are you wearing it?” you ask. Aether groans.

“My sibling is getting inaugurated in three days, so there’s a whole bunch of ceremonial stuff I have to do. These outfits are traditional,” he says, plucking uncomfortably at the material.

“Inaugurated?” you repeat.

“Aether’s a lordling. Kind of like a noble or something. Their sibling’s going to be the ruler of the colony for the next…” Seersha squints her eyes. “Six years?”

“Six years,” Aether agrees. “Which means about six years of needing to wear these stuffy ceremonial clothes.”

“I’m sorry,” you offer. Aether gives a tiny smile.

“At least someone’s sympathetic.” He glares at Seersha, who shrugs.

“I have to wear armor half the time. I’m not going to be overly sympathetic when you have to wear tight clothes.”

“Armor?” you ask. Seersha nods.

“I’m technically his security detail when he comes up onto land,” she says, nudging Aether with her elbow. “So, when he needs to travel somewhere, we go together.” She rolls over so she’s looking more directly at Aether. “Speaking of. If your sibling just got inaugurated, we’re going to have to go on a diplomatic trek for a while. You’re supposed to represent your family to the land-folk.”

Aether freezes for a moment, then flings himself backward onto the ground. “Nooo! I forgot! Depths take me, I hate diplomacy tours! Why can’t Mells just write letters?”

“I’m sure both of us would prefer that, but you’re supposed to do the formal introduction, make connections, be a liaison for your sibling.” Aether groans. “It won’t be that bad. You haven’t been to some of the cities on the circuit before. It’s a vacation.”

“What’s a diplomacy tour?” you ask.

“When a new leader gets sworn in, their aids or family or something goes to all the local governments and introduces the new regime. Usually, you spend about a week in each capitol city. It’s a formal thing, but because Aether’s next in line for his family, he gets that task.” Seersha nudges him again. “He hates it because he’s terrible at talking to people.”

“You aren’t that much better,” Aether mumbles, rolling over so he can bury his face into a pillow.

“Yeah, but I don’t have to talk. I just have to stand there and stop assassination attempts.” Seersha leans over so her elbow is resting on his back. Aether shifts, trying to dislodge her, but she stays firm, laughing all the while. Eventually, he all but pounces on her, bowling her over. His tail comes up and smacks you squarely in the chest, knocking you over and the air out of your chest.

“Ah!” Aether scrambles toward you and, before you can really process what happened, he’s sitting you back up. “I’m so sorry, are you all right? Should I get Trest? Nothing’s hurt?” His hand patted frantically along your sides, fingers tickling gently at your skin. You feel rather hot all over.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you say, though you don’t try to stop him from touching you. Seersha sits up and scoots closer, giving you a quicker once-over.

“Yeah, you’re fine,” she agrees. “But if you start feeling bad, we can get you back inside. No need to push yourself.”

You nod, but you’re thinking about something else. “When are you going on the tour?”

“Couple of weeks, probably?” Seersha looks at Aether for confirmation. He nods. “Yeah, enough time to get the diplomatic stuff together. Then we’ll head out.”

You hesitate for a moment. “Can I come?”

There’s a long pause. Seersha and Aether look at each other. “Uh. You want to come?” Seersha says eventually.

“I really don’t know that much about this world,” you say. “It seems like a good way to learn.” You don’t mention that you would also be lonely if they go away for some unspecified length of time.

“Is that a good idea?” Aether asks. “You’re still recovering. If you get sick or hurt…” He looks stricken at the thought.

“I’ve been through worse,” you say. “I’ll be all right.” Aether does not look comforted by that.

“Well,” Seersha says thoughtfully, “a third person would be nice. Aether can’t always practice his diplomat skills on me. And I’m terrible at correcting his speeches and stuff.” She shrugs. “We can ask Dondii. If they say you’re recovered enough, then I wouldn’t be opposed to having you come. Good learning experience and all that.”

“I don’t not want you to come,” Aether protests. “I just don’t want you to be hurt.”

You pat his shoulder. “I’m okay, really. Trust me. I need to start learning about things here eventually.”

Seersha spreads her wings so they’re folded around both your shoulders. “Then we’ve got two weeks to get ready.” She promptly tugs you both down as she falls backward, her arms settling around you. “And part of that means resting up.”

The sunlight is warm and you can feel Aether’s fins on your leg and Seersha’s feathers on your back. Everything smells like life and peace. Your eyes sting with tears and something in your chest swells and swells until you think it might burst. It hurts. But it’s a strangely good feeling nonetheless.

Want part two? Find it here.

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