#THEY JUST WANT TO PLAY AND BE LOVED DAMMIT 😭

[electricfied-wolf]

THEY'RE JUST KIDS. THEY'RE JUST LITTLE FELLAS. I LOVE THEM ALL 💖💖💖

[lovinggreeniehours]

i forgot. how exhausting playlist making is. damn. sorry about the tags i have so much to say about playlist making lol

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Thinking plotting scheming of pt, but make it diceyd/ungeons. I think it fits so well; the plot of dd is so cute and its easy to smush existing characters into that universe.

Peppino wishes for his debt to be cleared and for his shop to be successful. Pman wants him and his art to be famous and revered beyond his wildest dreams. Vigi wants Justice or whatever (but hes actually here to be nosy about the ins and outs of the show itself). Noise wants MONEY and FAME. Mysterious man who looks like peppino wants his own shop :). All the pt bosses are dd bosses before going ‘hey, u know what? This gig kinda sucks ass. If u think u can take on the big cheese im jumpin onboard w you’.

Thats all i got LOL i am debating if i still want lady luck to be the boss or let pizzaface be the big bad and just remove the existing dd characters entirely. Pizzahead would always be the jester, and therefore, always be your last die/teammate, which i think is cute heehee hes tired of being a silly little guy no one takes seriously! Hes got silly dreams too!!!! Hes a silly guy w dreams!!!

[unriding]

very messy word dump below the cut + in tags :^) heh

okay it’s officially been a full day since reading this and i’m going to write down everything i remember feeling from day 1! and then in the tags im going to reread this (for the third time within 24 hours) and add thoughts that i didn’t put down here. SORRY FOR THE MESS & NO PRESSURE TO READ ALL THIS SJKDMF IT IS JUST A LOT OF WORD VOMIT BC IM INSANE OVER THIS FIC

okay i should start from the beginning. Wait I’ll use caps so it’s easier to read if you’re reading it bahahhaa OKAY. The way you write alpha / omega!!! It’s different from what I’m used to reading— and I mean it has a lot of a depth. The way you wrote reader being an alpha = being so protective over Aventurine fucked me up so bad /pos. Reader just wants him safe and they’re so real for that.

Going off on that, I LOVE HOW U WROTE THE READER. Understands Aventurine so well. Will literally do anything to keep him safe. Understands what sets him off and what he’s comfortable with. The part where Aventurine was talking about the next mission & reader seeing right through him ): are you serious /pos. WAIT I SKIPPED TOO FAR AHEAD. When Aventurine was trying to get reader to join the IPC? Dead. Evie DEAD. Reader saw right through him omg. Being able to notice the little changes in his scent, the way he tries to mask it etc etc. I love that so bad.

WHEN READER FOUND HIM IN HEAT FUUUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS /pos. Fighting the urge to help him vs waiting to just make it better because reader has the power to ): I loved that so much. The struggle was so real. Literally bringing a doctor just to hear that he needs an alpha to help anyways omg. Lowkey when the doctor said that I was like PLEASE LET US HELP YOU PLEASEEEEEEE. But also. I didn’t want him to be scared either you know ):

I skipped over another scene sighs. THE part where reader said ‘I like your eyes because they’re yours” and then the end. Him saying he likes our scent because it’s ours. Are you serious /pos. Be so serious /pos.

Okay the scent gland scenes actually fucked me up so bad (I unfortunately did not dream about anything but maybe that is for the best because I’m still recovering from this scene). The part where he asks for just the wrist. Reader struggling when they FEEL HIS TEETH GRAZE THE WRIST IM GONNA EXPLODE OMFG. The immediate pulling away because we don’t want to scare him please. + the scent gland scene at the end. HE DIDN’T FEEL LIKE HE HAD TO BE ON TOP. We could lay side by side ): I was so happy that he was okay with that omg. Literally all giddy like aaaaa!!!!!! IM NOT A THREAT!! Actually that’s a lie I wasn’t giddy. I was literally in tears jejdkckckckk Aventurine 😭😭 ughhhhhhh /pos

I won’t comment on the actual scene (I am commenting on it right now actually) because I was literally so sad and my heart hurt so badly for him. I wanted him to see himself from our POV for just one moment so he can understand that we genuinely love him and treasure him & want to keep him safe. ):

ABOUT YOUR WRITING ITSELF : insanity. I will just say insanity. How should I put it in words….. just thinking about this fic again is taking all the words out of my mouth shejdjfjj (I say this as I type a 27738 page essay about it). I love how you write. I really do. Your writing style is so beautiful. I haven’t read the other tags under your fic but I’m sure many others have said the same thing!!! They word it better than me I’m sure bsjsjsjsjsk

I just love everything about it. How you add in little details (oh! Speaking of details— Aventurine’s reaction to reader cozying up to her husband in the other fic) HEJDJJDJDJ omg. But in this fic, the little signs of him being scared. Scared 24/7 actually ): I love how you conveyed his fear so much. And the way he tries so hard to hide it. HIM CRUMBLING DOWN TO HIS RAW SELF WHEN HES IN HEAT. AND THE FEAR THERE TOO. INSANE.

^^ How you wrote him so adamant about not needing help at first …. To him asking for the scent gland ….. to him agreeing to use reader. It was all so real. He didn’t just change his mind like oh okay! It took him a while to be okay with it and I love how real it all felt. You write dialogue & little details so well— it actually drives me nuts (/compliment /pos)

Oh this just reminded me. Your description of how Aventurine smells killed me /pos. And how you describe his scent as sweet. I’m really not okay /pos. It fits him so well. And … for reader…. the scent after rain ? Oh my god ???? I love that smell so much. It’s so comforting…. OMG. COMFORTING????????? BECAUSE. Oh wow. I’m really not okay now. I JUST LOVE ALL THE DETAILS LIKE THAT )))): it’s so clear you put so much thought into all these things because your fic has so much depth. I lowkey yanked out Notibility for your other Aventurine fic to highlight the parts I wanted to comment on ehdjdkkck I was annotating it like a book (I’m so sorry if this is creepy I promise I don’t do this on a regular basis. I don’t annotate fics normally. Actually please disregard this because I’m a bit red admitting this) (I just have the memory of a goldfish and can only remember feelings and not actual content) (That’s a lie because here I am remembering a lot of this fic MOST LIKELY BECAUSE I READ IT WITH MY EYES AN INCH FROM THE SCREEN PROBABLY I WAS LIKE O_O) /pos

NIGHT FLOWER: part i

Your place in the world was one of a tool. This was true of every slave: you were all things to be used. Kakavasha understood this about you, and he understood this about himself. It was how he survived all those years ago, and it’s how he survives now. And so, when Aventurine goes into his first heat in years and decides to suffer it alone, you can only think of one way to get him to accept your help: You offer to let him use you.

written for @/lorelune's spring fever collab & @ficsforgaza

13.5k words of omegaverse, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, angst with an eventual happy ending. gn alpha reader + omega aventurine (they each have both amab and afab genitalia). explicit piv sex, reader bottoms, the sex is consensual but emotionally complicated and deeply sad. cw slavery, racism, gendered violence, including very brief and non-graphic (but direct) references to sexual abuse during slavery. the sa and slavery are not eroticized. dead dove do not eat, mdni.

thank you to @acerathia, @minnaci, @owlespresso for all your help with beta reading and to @kosmiccarma for brainstorming omega aventurine hcs!

“I’ve alw███ l█ved ███, Ka██v█s███”

You knew it from the moment you met him.

Gaunt, pallid, weighed down by heavy chains. Irises that glowed like the auroras back in your world. Delicate features that made every passerby in the market stop to read the description on the placard. (Sigonian, it said, although you couldn’t read at the time. Avgin. Male. Omega. Sixteen years old. Sixty Tanba, no tax.) He had an all-consuming scent that was impossible to ignore—one that possessed you, made your heels dig into the dirt, every atom in your body resisting the impatient jerk of the chains at your wrist. Even through your muzzle, through the perpetual stench of carbon-steel and blood, you could smell it: honey and wildflowers. A fragrance that settled deep within you, flooded you with a warmth that felt like home.

Aventurine is not a spiritual person. He once told you this, his smile cold in the glow of an artificial moon. He'd been deeply religious as a child, but hasn’t since cared for fairy tales about fortune and fate, three-eyed goddesses or merciful rainfalls. Hasn't thought about anything like a destined love. He thinks the idea of a true mate is laughable, that no such bond could ever be forged between an omega and an alpha. That nothing so unconditional could ever exist.

You know differently, of course. You've known it from the moment you met him, from the second you laid eyes on him and thought, I need to help you, and I need to protect you, and I need you to be safe, and you’d never once heard the word ‘love’ in your life—slaves are never loved by their masters, after all, and you'd always been nothing but a slave—but every atom of your being knew that you loved him, that you'd always love him.

And when your master cradled your face that night and crooned that he owned you, that you'd always be his obedient, alpha pet—for the first time in your life, you knew that he was wrong.

You didn't belong to your slaver.

You belonged to him.

To Kakavasha.

These days, Aventurine does not smell like honey, and your jaw is not restrained.

Your muzzle was one of the first things that Aventurine threw away when he bought your freedom. According to the Amber Era system, it had been several months since the murder of your shared master. Ninety-five Star Calendar days after the Interastral Peace Corps had arrested Kakavasha. An entire rotation around the black hole at the centre of your wretched galaxy, all of which had been spent in the captivity of some new mistress. She picked you out because she liked your calming scent and the look of your face, but mostly she used you for the fighting pits just like your old master.

Aventurine had been sitting in the audience of your final match, then bought you out right after you won. “I’m in need of a fighter,” he’d said, smiling in his thick furs and jewels. He played the part of a slavemaster perfectly, his gloved hands wandering the span of your aching shoulders, touching the bloodied maw of your mask. “And I’d be willing to pay top credit for yours.”

She protested. You were her most prized possession, one of her greatest investments. Slaves from your planet were hard enough to come by—alphas capable of reproduction, nearly impossible. And you were so well-behaved, so poised, so endearing in a way that was rare for alphas. She was fond of you. Her omega slaves were fond of you too. They would be distraught if you left, and that would complicate her household affairs—and surely Aventurine, as a respectable owner of human capital like herself, could understand how inconvenient that would be?

Aventurine bared his teeth in a gracious smile. (You’d never seen Kakavasha make such an expression before—so disarming, so cunning, a crescent moon beneath snake eyes. He’d never smelt like this either, like an expensive cologne layered with bleach, and it left you feeling nauseous, wondering if he was ill.) He flirted his way into her good graces, made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and then he brought you into the first-class ship on which he’d arrived. You were so stunned by its luxury—the handwoven carpets, the crushed velvet seats, the imported tea from several galaxies away and the custom-ordered outfit he had bought for you—that you nearly missed the tremble in his hands as he punched numbers into the remote control lock for your chains.

He had regained his composure by the time he pulled away your muzzle, though. He threw it carelessly to the ground—your titanium chains, too. Then kicked both away with his shined leather shoes.

“There,” Aventurine said, smiling cheerfully. “Much better, don’t you think?”

“Vasha—” you started, voice thick with wasted grief, and all you wanted to was reach for him, to double check that he was real, but he placed a finger to your lips and stopped you. You stiffened at the satin touch, but he seemed unbothered.

“‘Aventurine’,” he corrected.

You stared blankly. “What?”

“‘Aventurine’. Like the gemstone. That’s my name now.”

“You—” Your voice caught in your throat. You realized that you’d been holding your breath. You always had the habit of holding your breath in the luxurious, private rooms of very rich men, because you never liked what happened in them. Forcing yourself to breathe, you asked, “You gave yourself a new name?”

“No. The IPC gave me a new name. They gave me a job, too.”

“A job?” you asked, voice faint. Now that you were breathing again, you were noticing once more just how bizarre he smelled. Sterile and expensive and completely foreign. “You’re free now?”

“Well, I’m a freedman, but I don’t know if I’d call myself free. I’m a bit… indebted to the IPC, let’s say. But that’s fine. I can’t complain. I mean—look around. This beats the fighting pits, doesn’t it?” He gestured lazily at your surroundings, and you nodded.

“It’s nice here,” you replied, feeling absurd but not knowing what else to say. Once Kakavasha got talking, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise.

“You like it here? Good. This room’s yours. Mine is the next one over. You’ll live and work here, with me. I’ll make sure you’re paid well. Full benefits, vacation, salary, and overtime. The standard pay for your role is seventy-thousand credits per month, but I’ll see if I can get you more. HR is pretty strict about their hiring policies, but—”

“You’re hiring me?”

Aventurine went very still, his smile tightly controlled. His eyes remained fixed on you, but they seemed less snake-like, now. They looked more familiar. More afraid.

“I’m offering, yes,” he said neatly. “You’ll be part of my personal security detail. I don’t have the contract for you to review yet, unfortunately. I didn’t arrange one ahead of time because, well”—he laughed, as if this were polite conversation and he were making a joke about the weather—“I didn’t know if I’d find you alive. But things worked out in my favour. They always work out in my favour. I’ll make sure they’ll work out in your favour too, so long as you’re with me. So you’ll consider it, won’t you? Staying with—working for me, I mean.”

Your eyes went soft. Beneath the artificial fragrance, you finally caught a hint of his familiar scent—more wildflower than honey at that moment, the way it always is when he’s scared.

“Kakavasha—”

“Name your price,” he said loudly, “and I’ll match it.”

You sighed. “Vasha,” you said more gently, and his shoulders relaxed at the subvocal shift in your timbre, at the famed alpha Voice that necessitated your muzzle, “I don’t care about the money. Of course I’ll stay here. But—what happened? Why did you kill him yourself? Why didn't you let me do it? That was the plan. It was always supposed to be me.”

It was my job, you thought then, just as you had thought to yourself every night, curled up in your bed and trying to recall the scent of fresh honey, to keep you safe.

He shrugged and said, “It would have been too risky to involve you.”

“You were caught and sentenced to death. The risk was already too high.”

“But the stakes weren’t,” he replied simply, and before you could ask what he meant by that, he continued, “and it worked out, didn’t it? I work for the IPC. You work for me. We’re freedmen now. Whatever I've lost, it doesn't matter. Our gains far outweigh it.”

“And what have you lost, Vasha?”

He smiled at you, charming and distracting. A crescent moon beneath snake eyes. “Nothing of value,” he reassured you, and even though you could feel the calm of an omega’s voice washing over you, even though it released all the tension in your body, all you could smell was cologne and wildflowers, and you knew that he was lying.

Vasha once told you, curled up and quiet on the basement floor, that he despised his eyes. They were supposed to be a sign of blessing from Gaiathra Triclops, but they'd never brought him anything but trouble. They were the first thing that the slavers always noticed about him, the feature that made him such an alluring commodity. Their aurora glow, their strange beauty, their promise of a rare opportunity: a chance at owning a specimen of an exotic, endangered species, possibly the last of its kind. These are all things that you've heard in the parlour of your master’s house as he entertained rich company, the crowd of them gawking at his human curios.

Avgin are said to make the most beautiful slaves, he'd often say. And Avgin omegas are said to be the most beautiful among them. What do you all think? They'd all hum, peering closely at Kakavasha’s features, and inevitably someone would joke, I think I'd like to borrow him sometime, and then they would all laugh while your pulse ticked up and you imagined tearing at their throats. Vasha would search for your gaze in these moments, giving you a long, pointed look: Don't do anything stupid.

He’d always been so blasé about it, the way people fixated on his Avgin blood. You'll never understand how. He didn't react to any of the comments, the groping, the innuendos. He was, however, distinctly unimpressed at the way that your master liked to play him up as a rare and expensive acquisition, as a sign of his own status. It's embarrassing to watch, Kakavasha had remarked. Everyone knows that Sigonian slaves are uncommon but cheap—people always think we’ll bring them more trouble than our worth. This was how Kakavasha had ended up in the market in the first place: because his last master had been robbed, and he'd been wrongly blamed for it.

The blame, to this day, has never stopped. People—powerful people, politicians, businessmen, socialites—look at Aventurine’s eyes and immediately reach for their pockets. You've seen it for yourself, these spineless despots and scammers feeling for their wallets. Sigonian, you know they're thinking. Liar, cheat, thief, whore, worthless, worthless, worthless. Your hands tighten around your blade each time, a loaded gun with a finger on the trigger.

Alphas are said to be violent by nature. Aventurine has often called you the one exception to this rule: the most docile, good-hearted alpha he's ever met. But this is a lie. You do have a predator instinct, and it comes out in full-force whenever you’re around these particular types of men. These types who notice Aventurine’s eyes and see a thief; these monsters who see his irises and imagine what it would be like to bed him. You’d kill them if you could. It would be so easy, especially now that you are an IPC dog. The Company is already such a violent force; what would be one more murder?

But Aventurine has never ordered you to punish anyone. (Don't do anything stupid, he always tells you with a glance, smiling through every humiliation.) Nor has he ever seemed bothered enough by these meetings to try concealing his heritage.

A fellow Asset Liquidation Specialist once asked why he didn't just hide his eye colour—it would likely be better for fostering relationships, negotiating deals—but Aventurine had shrugged it off. I'm a gambler working with the IPC, he'd said. Do you really think a pair of coloured contacts would make anyone trust me? He'd laughed, and his voice had carried a threatening edge, and his coworker had shifted visibly at it. Being an Avgin is the least threatening thing about me, wouldn't you say?

You think that Aventurine likes being seen as a threat. Sometimes you wonder if this is why he doesn't mind wearing his eyes so much, but abhors keeping his scent. He washes his clothes until they're free of his disarming sweetness and then masks himself with an unsettling blend of ambergris, jasmine, and wood. And he is on suppressants all the time—hasn’t had a single heat since the day he killed his master. Hasn't smelled like himself, either.

At the end of the day, it’s manageable being an Avgin in this business, he often comments, spraying half a bottle of masking cologne on himself, but you can't be an Avgin and an omega. Wouldn’t you agree?

You'd know better than me, you reply, noncommittally—and truthfully.

But you're an alpha, he observes. Don't you have an opinion?

You don't pay me to have opinions, you always remind him, stone-faced. You pay me to stand here and look scary. And Aventurine always laughs at this, and he always wires you money and calls it a bonus as he pesters you for an answer, and he always gets distracted and starts scrolling through all his shopping wishlists instead. I saw this thing the other day and thought of you. And this too. Would you like either of them? Would you like them both? I’m a very generous manager, you know. I'll buy you anything you like.

But even though he always gets distracted, Aventurine never forgets. Sooner or later, he inevitably circles back to these questions—these anxieties about his scent, about his eyes, about his blood. He never cares for anyone else’s opinions, but he's always been curious about yours. Even when he was Vasha, he wanted to know what you thought.

He’d been sixteen years old and delirious with heat the first time he asked you, face wrinkling with pain as he spilled his thoughts. It was so incoherent, so sad, you thought it must have been about a fever dream. Mama Fenge, he kept saying. Mama Fenge blessed me, She blessed me, I'm blessed, it rained when I was born—did you know that? My luck, I was lucky. The Katicans, they never caught me. They got everyone else, but not me. I was blessed by Her. I'm going to save my people. I will. I'll save my sister. My eyes are proof. My mistress liked them. Said they're beautiful. Worth sixty whole coppers. A blessing. He pulled you close, pressed his scalding face to your scent gland, and his whole body shuddered with relief. This was the first and only time he'd allowed you to hold him, and it was only out of desperation, out of his mind. Do you like them, alpha? Do you like my eyes? Why? Is it because they're beautiful? Because they're from Gaiathra?

“I like them because they're yours,” you'd replied, and Kakavasha had laughed deliriously.

This is when he told you he hated them: I'd close them forever, if I could.

When you were younger—dumber—you had a habit of squirrelling away every spare coin you came across. You collected them in a little purse that one of the omega slaves had sewn for you—a thank-you for always keeping the other alphas away from her—and you hid it underneath a loose floorboard. By the time that Kakavasha was arrested, you'd saved up twenty-nine Tanba. You’d wanted enough to buy Kakavasha’s freedom and then to set him up for a comfortable life.

It had been a stupid plan. An embarrassing one. If you ever confessed it to Aventurine, he'd laugh at you. Slaves can't buy other slaves, he'd say. Leave the schemes to me next time. You’re too good-hearted for it.

You’d already known that, of course. You knew that you didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him, but you wanted to. God, did you want to—you spent every waking moment thinking about it, every sleeping moment dreaming of it. It wasn't even that you desired him, though he was beautiful and fragrant and more delicate than anything that had ever touched you in your life, which was only your master’s hands and your muzzle and your chains. Aventurine would feel so soft in comparison, you’d always figured. It made your heart ache, thinking about getting to hold something so lovely.

But really—that desire came second. What came first was how mated omegas feel safe around their alphas, and you so desperately wanted him to be safe. Kakavasha had looked so frail, so grim, as your master took his chains and led him home from the market, and you could smell the fear coming off him in waves. And you could do nothing to stop it. You had nothing you could use to stop it—nothing other than your hands that could kill for him and your pheromones that could soothe him and your useless heart that wanted to collect sixty Tanba for him. That was all you had.

So you failed in the end. Of course you did. You didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him. You couldn't even do for him the one thing you could have done—which was to kill. And Kakavasha suffered for your incompetence. He had to dirty his hands with blood and gamble his way into wealth and then suddenly he was freeing you, not the other way around.

And now you are comfortable. You'll lead an easy life from now, Aventurine reassured you when he brought you onto his ship all those years ago, and he's kept that promise. What about you? you'd asked him then. Will you lead an easy life with me, if you're working for the IPC? And he had smiled and lied to you: Yes.

It had been a painfully obvious lie. If you were a smarter person, you'd have never believed it in the first place. Aventurine has no interest in leading an easy life, because an easy life would be less profitable, and less profit would mean less safety. And he is always, always worried about being unsafe. It is indiscernible to everyone but you—an alpha (his alpha, always his, even if he doesn't want you) who has watched over him for so long that you can detect every shift in his scent. No matter how much cologne he drowns himself in and no matter how strong his suppressants are, you know when he is afraid.

And here is the bitter truth, the ultimate proof of your shortcomings:

Aventurine is always afraid.

It is a beautiful day on Agnisahr, and you can tell that Aventurine is about to throw up from worry.

You're sitting in the middle of stunning wealth—Aventurine in his feathers and jewellery, you in your tailored jacket—in a lobby made from marble and pale sandstone, with a view of palm trees and rolling, scarlet sand dunes beyond the window. The waitstaff addresses him as Honoured Guest and they keep his crystal chalice filled constantly with water—one of the most expensive commodities on the planet. Aventurine has been drinking from it religiously, which is strange as he typically has the habit of forgetting to hydrate. A faint wildflower scent is drifting from his slender form. These are the only giveaway to his mood: he's otherwise as pokerfaced as ever, smiling calmly as he discusses his plans to sabotage the local government and acquire the planet for the IPC.

“This is a very dangerous mission,” you state flatly.

“All my missions are dangerous.” He takes a sip, one pinky up. “The IPC pays me well for a reason. As they say—”

“‘High risk, high reward.’ I know.” You try not to sound bitter, though you allow yourself to sound tired. “I still do not think the risk is worth the reward in this case.”

“I think over 5.6 million in credits is a great reward, actually. We could do a lot with that kind of money.”

You raise a brow. “What could an extra 5.6 million get you that you can't already buy?” It is—as Topaz would say—‘chump change’ in comparison to his current wealth, which sums to a number so vast that you can't wrap your head around it.

Aventurine pretends to miss the point. “Tons! We could buy a new spacecraft. Get another mansion. Or—we could take a vacation to Penacony. I hear it's quite nice there.” A playful smile. “I could get us a penthouse unit. With a featherbed.”

You frown. Sometimes Aventurine likes to flirt when you're being stubborn—not out of interest, but as a ploy to distract you. He’d developed the habit after he joined the IPC. It used to fluster you, but now it only makes you cross your arms.

“You could die,” you point out.

“You'll protect me.”

“No, I won't. You always find a way to get rid of me when things are most dangerous.” You give him an accusatory stare. “You never let me do my job.”

He's too shameless to deny it. “And it's worked out fine, hasn't it? I haven't died so far.”

“Yes. Just by dumb luck.”

“I beg to differ. My luck is quite reliable.” He sets down his glass. Glances back outside. A microexpression, brows knotting for the briefest second as he studies the sky. “I'm not worried.”

“You're a shit liar.”

That gets him to look at you, letting a small frown pass over his face. “No, I'm actually a great liar. You're just too good at reading me. It's very inconvenient, you know.”

“I can't help it.” You lean toward him, making a show of it as you sniff. An orchid-like scent—faint but unmistakable—has seeped into artificial ambergris and wood. “It's hard to ignore.”

He hums. He isn't frowning anymore—but doesn't look happy, either. “I should change suppressants.” He taps the side of his empty glass, fidgeting. Aventurine never fidgets: it's an amateur giveaway. “These ones clearly don't work well enough.”

“That won't help. I know you too well.” Your eyes soften. He's looking outside again, the blues of his irises distant. “You're worried, Aventurine. More than usual. Let’s back out of this—let Jade handle it.”

“The mission isn't what's bothering me,” he says patiently. “I just don't like this planet.”

“Because you can tell it's dangerous.”

“No. Well—it is, but nothing I can't handle.” He leans back. “I just dislike the weather here.”

You arch a brow. “...the weather?”

“Yes,” he says neatly, “it's too dry here. I'll break out.”

You open your mouth. Close it. It is possibly the most absurd thing you've ever heard, and certainly the worst lie that's ever come from him. For as long as you've known him, Aventurine has had flawless skin, marble-smooth, and ever since being freed, he’s never really cared much for looking handsome so much as looking rich. But he maintains his serious expression: all-in on the farce. “Did you know that outside the capital, this planet hasn't had any natural rain in a quarter of an Amber Era? And the stellar winds are terrible. I don't know how people live on a planet like this.” His eyes narrow at the cloudless sky. “The IPC is going to need to do a lot of terraforming if they want to make this into a merchant hub.”

“Aventurine.”

“It'll be a pain crossing the desert—the elements will ruin my clothes, you know,” he continues. “It won't be so bad while we're on the ships, but we’ve got to go outside from time to time. Can't make any friends otherwise.”

“Aventurine.”

“And there's nothing to do for fun when we’re not working.” He sighs dramatically. “I can't wait to get our 5.6 billion and leave for someplace else. I'm being serious about Penacony, by the way—”

“Aventurine.”

“—though not about the featherbed. I'll get you your own room, obviously. And I'll buy whatever dream experience you’d like. What kind would you want?”

Finally allowed a chance to speak, you say, “One where you retire.”

“Retire? Why would I ever do that?”

“I don't know. Maybe you decide you've made enough money.”

“No such thing.”

“Then you can settle down with someone.”

That makes him smile. It feels mocking. “Me? Settling down? With who?”

“Who knows. Someone who will treat you better than the IPC, I hope.”

“Anyone that nice would run in the other direction. But never mind me. This would be your dream experience. What happens to you in it?”

“I stop chasing after you and get to live out the rest of my days in peace,” you say dryly, and Aventurine blinks. “Please stop deflecting. The IPC gave you a suicide mission. We will both die if we stay here.”

He looks serious now. “I wouldn't let you die.”

“You can't know that.”

“Well, I do. And I've got decent chances at surviving too—at least one in ten.”

You feel like sighing—a deep, aggravated noise is heavy in your throat—but Aventurine doesn't enjoy it when you show anger around him. It's the one omega instinct that he can't ignore, you suppose: unease around an aggressive alpha. Voice tightly controlled, you say, “You’re going to bet your life on one in ten?”

  “Sure. My chances were worse on the last planet, and things worked out great. It'll be the same on Agnisahr.” Aventurine raises a hand, calls for the bill. The conversation is over. You lean back in your seat, watching sourly as he pays tens of thousands of credits just for water.

“You know, they say the royal family is backed by an Aeon,” you can't help but point out, once the waiter is gone. A last-ditch effort. Aventurine smiles at it, amused. Like you're a child.

“So what?” He glances outside, at the desolate landscape beyond the oasis—nothing but red sand, a blue, rainless sky, and two radiant suns shining above it all. “The protection of a god is nothing compared to the schemes of human beings. And gods abandon their people all the time, anyway.”

During your tenth day on Agnisahr, you realise that something is deeply wrong.

It takes you some time to understand what’s happening. At first you think that whatever political danger you’ve intuited is much worse than you thought, and that’s why Aventurine has been so pale, so discomforted, so exhausted. Then his scent starts changing—he switches clothes two, three times a day (because of all this heat during Agnisahran days, he tells his new business associates) and spritzes his nape with his cologne almost religiously—and you wonder if he is sick with something. If the food in this planet has something that disagrees with his Sigonian biology, or if he has picked up one of the local filoviruses, or if someone’s poisoned one of his meals because they’ve correctly identified him as a threat. Aventurine dismisses every single one of these theories when you bring it up, and—as if in denial—only attributes it to the weather. (I’ve never done well in deserts, he tells you, his eyes on his phone screen. I'm not used to them. It is above 300 Kelvin, and you do not see a single bead of sweat on his neck, and his cheeks are not even a little flushed.)

You only figure it out when he is too ill to get out of bed one morning and forbids all the IPC staff from coming near his hotel room. It sets off alarms immediately—Aventurine, no matter how sick, will work and see through meetings as long as he is mentally capable of it—and so you naturally ignore his orders and check on him, using the spare key to his sleeping quarters that you're given as a policy. And as soon as the door cracks open—as soon as you step inside only to be hit with a violent, cloying sweetness—you realise what’s happening and slam the door shut behind you.

“You’re in heat,” you blurt out, and Aventurine—a shivering, panting mess on the bed—groans in response.

“Why are you here?” He turns toward you, still lucid enough to glare at you through the tangled mess of his hair. His voice is weak, but no less self-possessed: “I was very clear—no company today.”

“I am your personal bodyguard,” you remind him mildly. Your voice is calm—both non-threatening and non-condescending. “Those orders don’t apply to me. If things feel suspicious, I look into it. And they felt very suspicious.” Your brow knits as you study his clothes. Mulberry silk clings to his form, soaked through with sweat. Thin, eucalyptus sheets are tangled up around him. There are only two pillows. No water bottles. No knotting toys.

Nothing.

“You didn't know you'd be in heat,” you realise. “What happened to your suppressants?”

“I don't know.” There’s a quiet, frustrated edge to his voice. Vulnerable too. It makes you think of when you were both still slaves, and Aventurine was confined to the basement of the manor—the one that all omega slaves were made to ride out their heats in. Either they would do it alone or were ordered to spend it with some alpha, usually either a friend of the master or an alpha slave he wished to reward. That's when they're most pliable, he'd tell his guests, or sometimes even you. They get so desperate they'll present themselves to anyone. Then amused laughter from the other party—How obscene!—as you looked away, blood hammering in your ears.

You had been your master’s favourite. His most obedient, most profitable pet—striking enough for his guests to admire, deadly enough for his audiences to bet on, docile enough for him to enjoy. Good enough for him to reward, and he often rewarded you with his most beautiful slave: his Avgin omega. Just don't mark him, he’d said, fastening the muzzle around your mouth. It'll ruin his market value. Who knows if someday he'd sell Kakavasha off to some alpha master who wished to claim him, he said. Though I don't think there's anyone in this star system who'd want a Sigonian for a mate, let alone a Sigonian slave. Then he’d paused, eyes scanning over you. As if contemplating. But maybe they'd try to get Avgin whelps out of him, he added, and you felt like throwing up.

You'd never mate him in those moments, your muzzle always prevented you from saying. You didn't even want to think about touching him, and he didn't want to think about it either. Even in the cruel grip of his heats, with nothing but the thin mat beneath him and his slave’s rags around him, Kakavasha hadn't wanted any kind of contact from you, rejecting any chance of solace. Don't, don't—not again, not again, he'd begged. Then as the nights marched on and his mind grew hazier, he’d start whimpering too: It hurts, alpha. It hurts. Help me. It hurts. Don't touch me. Not again. It hurts. It hurts. Stop it, please stop it.

It gutted you.

It went against every instinct, not to touch him. To let him lie there, in scorching, lonely pain, when all you wanted to do was to dispel it. It would be so easy to press yourself against him and let his skin cool against yours, do the one thing that your body was good at other than killing. But not again, not again, I can't anymore, I don't want it, I never wanted it, and all you could do was sit there, unmoving. Watch as the most delicate, precious thing you had in your life shatter.

And standing here now, watching Aventurine shatter before you once more—it is unbearable. He needs a nest, you keep thinking. He needs a nest and some water and some kind of touch, some kind of relief, but not again, not again, and you’re still a slave, still a worthless and stupid slave, and Kakavasha is still crying on a basement floor and you can't do anything for him.

“You need help, Aventurine,” you say, voice soft, and his whole body tenses. His scent dips, and the scent of florals overwhelms you.

“No,” he breathes, “I don't.”

“You do. You're sick.” You bite your lip. Your heart splits as you suggest it, but you say, “I can call a professional.”

“No,” he spits. The facade is gone. The poker face has cracked. The anger and the pain and the fear are all on full display, and his voice sharpens: “No strangers.”

No foreign scents, you realise he's demanding. A new scent would probably make him feel unsafe.

Then let me help you, you think of pleading, but not again, not again, and you're filled with so much shame at the thought that all you can do is look away.

“Then—can I do anything?” He goes still. “Not—not that, but something to make you more comfortable. I can build you a nest, at least—”

“No.” He takes a deep, shaking breath. “No nests. I don't need one—”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don't,” he says. His voice is wavering now, on the verge of crumbling with fever and pain. “I've never—I’ve never needed a nest, I don't—I don't want to—” He presses his face into his pillow. “I need—I need to be alone, fuck—”

He doesn't mean to whine. The cry for distress is instinct, something that all omegas are programmed to do in heat. You’ve heard that they’ve evolved to make this noise as a way of appealing to nearby alphas for help, but you think this must be a lie as you never once saw your alpha master giving mercy to any of his omega slaves. Still, whether it is your biology or not—the noise that Aventurine makes has your heart aching so much you can't help but step forward. But he shakes his head and inches away, shuddering violently, and then his voice echoes again in that cold basement—not again, not again, and don't touch it anymore, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore, not again, and it's all you can do to back away until your spine is pressed against the door.

“I'm sorry, Vasha,” you say, strained. “I’m sorry. I'll leave you now.”

As the door shuts behind you, you catch a final glimpse him—face pressed into the pillows, shivering.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was crying.

When you were both slaves, Aventurine hated seeing you during his heats.

Kakavasha was normally calm around you. Most of the time, he was even friendly (he was friendly to everyone whom he thought could be useful), but he was different during his heats. Sometimes he was vicious; mostly he was withdrawn. Nearly always, he wanted to be left alone. In those moments, all he could register was your alpha scent and his memories of what other people had done to him during his heats. And while you'd have hated to leave him, despised the idea of him being offered to another alpha—even more than that, you hated violating this boundary of his. Hated that you were allowed to do whatever you wanted to him. Hated being the reason he felt so unsafe.

Hated being an alpha.

Now that you no longer have the orders of your slavemaster hanging over you, it is the least you can do to respect Aventurine’s wish of being left alone. He has every right to privacy, and you have every obligation to give it to him. But instead you have been standing here, outside his door, for a full system-hour.

Every time you try to leave, your body is wracked with anxiety. The thought of other people—other alphas—coming near him in this state makes you seethe, your hands flexing at your side. The predator instinct comes out, and the people around you notice it. Every person unlucky enough to walk down this hall scurries away under your glare, even the other IPC staff wandering about to look for Aventurine: Must be their mate on the other side, they remark to one another, and then they're gone.

It is a hard thing to hear. You are not his mate. You are not even a heat partner. If you were, then he wouldn't be in so much pain. Not now, and not back then.

Aventurine has never had easy heats. You keep replaying your memories of all his past ones, each one a wound in your heart: the aching sweetness of nectar and honey; his withering body as he clutched his abdomen and curled up; the tears and sweat staining the mat beneath him. And above all: the fear. The scent of it, the sight of it, the sound of it in his voice. Stronger today than any other day.

By instinct, you know that he cannot persist like this. That this time is somehow worse than all those other times, and that he will become seriously ill if left alone.

After nearly an hour and a half, you finally open the door, fearing the worst.

“Aventurine?” you say quietly, but there's no response, and your stomach drops as you see him.

His body is pale, listless. If it weren't for the fragrance washing over you or the sweat on his temple, you'd worry that he was dead.

Tentatively, you reach out. Rest a hand on his forehead, and it scorches you. He stirs at the touch, doesn't open his eyes—but the quiet sigh of relief is unmistakable. His fingers twitch, as if wanting to reach for you.

“Aventurine,” you say gently. “Aventurine, I'm going to take care of you. Is that alright?”

He doesn't respond. You grimace, pulling away to fetch things for him: several spare pillows from the closet, an extra blanket too. From his suitcase, you grab a few of his sweaters, all thick cotton and fleece. He’d had a sense that Agnisahr would be cold at night. Deserts always get cold after sundown, since sand doesn’t retain heat, he'd told you while he was packing. Or I think so, anyway. Don't know why. Must have read it somewhere. Then he’d given you a long, unreadable look before saying, Make sure to bring a jacket. The warmest one you have. The elements on a planet like Agnisahr can kill a person—even a person like you.

I’m sure I’ll be fine, you’d dismissed him. I can survive anything. Any kind of weather, any kind of illness, any kind of pain: these are all things your species is known for being able to endure, the trait that made you such a prized slave in your master’s eyes, such a useful agent at the IPC. You hadn’t given Aventurine’s warning any thought and hardly paid attention to what you’d thrown into your own suitcase.

It surprises you, then, that you find one of your sweaters in his luggage. Made from Sedanian cashmere and heat tech designed by the Intelligentsia Guild. Cloud-soft and warm to the touch. Aventurine had bought it for you before you were deployed to Jarilo-IV to collect intelligence for Topaz. Warmest thing in the known universe, he’d commented. One of a kind, too. Remember to wear it, alright? Don't let my money go to waste, now.

You stare at it, kneading the fleece between your fingers. You hadn’t mentioned wanting to bring this sweater. You’d lost it in your closet some months ago and forgot about it. Aventurine must have remembered and gone looking for it, because—why? You aren't sure. Probably because it’s warmer and softer than anything he owns, you guess. Of course he’d want to wear it.

You throw it into the pile of things you’ve collected for him.

You take it all to his bed, the mattress dipping as you sit next to Aventurine. One by one, you scent each item with your wrist, watching him carefully the whole time. You’re quiet as you lay them out around him, leaving him undisturbed as you build a nest. You order water and electrolyte drinks too, and you’re quick about going to the door when you hear room service knocking—with how feverish he is, he probably badly needs it.

Aventurine is awake when you come back. His breathing is still laboured, pained—but calm.

“I said I didn’t need a nest,” Aventurine says, though he doesn’t sound angry. You wonder if he’s too weak to be. His voice is faint, and his eyes are barely open—focused on the pile of blankets and clothing around him.

“You’re welcome.” You open a bottle of water, hold it out to him. “Drink.”

Aventurine pauses, stares at the offering like it's some kind of foreign object. But he accepts it eventually, sitting up and taking it from you. He winces with the movement, which he tries to hide. He ignores your frown as he drinks, and he doesn't stop until the bottle is empty.

“There are more,” you say, pointing at the several additional bottles on the nightstand. “And some food and some painkillers. I don't know how well they’ll work. This isn't a normal heat. If you're alright with it, I'll call a doctor and—”

“Everything smells like you,” he says quietly, and you stop.

“...yes. Unless they’re mated, nests usually feel most comforting to an omega when they smell like an alpha.” You swallow, looking away. “...you don't have a mate, and you didn't want a professional, so this was the only option I could think of. I'm sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says. He picks out one of the sweaters that have made its way into the nest, the Sedanian one. “I don't mind it.”

“Oh.” You let out a breath. “Then—can I call a doctor?”

His grip on the sweater tightens. “No.”

You frown. “Aventurine—”

“I’ve never needed a doctor before,” he says. He sounds unbothered, but he's fidgeting with the sweater now. “I don't need one now.”

A lie. He almost certainly needed a doctor in some of his prior heats, but you don't push the matter. “Maybe you don't need one,” you say instead, “but it would help.”

“I don't need help,” he says, and you look at him in disbelief. He catches your expression, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Not more than you've already done, I mean.”

“I’ve barely—”

“Contact Topaz. Tell her I'm incapacitated. Tell her…” He hums. “Tell her I have food poisoning. The personnel too. It's not time-sensitive, our business on Agnisahr, so it shouldn't matter if I need a few days off.”

“You really need—”

“Give my regrets to our Agnisahran friends. Deliver it in person. They see you as my right hand, so they’ll most appreciate it coming from you. Topaz can help you with the verbiage. And—try to socialise with them a little, won't you? I think that little omega princess of theirs likes you. Some of the courtesans too, and they have surprising influence.”

“I do not want to be around any omega other than you right now,” you say before you can stop yourself, and Aventurine stops, blinking. His expression is blank, if perhaps a little curious—but his scent shifts. You can't identify how. You add quickly, ���I’m not leaving you alone when you’re this sick.”

“Ah. Right.” Aventurine looks away. His voice sounds strange, and his heat must be getting to him again, because it carries a hint of pain. “But you have to. The IPC’s goals take priority.”

You frown. “Your life is more important than the IPC,” you say, and he laughs. Loudly.

“What? This is just a heat. I’m not going to die.”

“You don’t know that without seeing a doctor.”

“I do. I’m willing to bet money that I won’t die.” He cuts you off before you can reply: yes, you're always willing to bet on your life. “And even if I do, that would still be less important than Agnisahr. Do you know how many resources are on this lifeless rock?” His mouth slants. “If we mess up here, I’m dead anyway.”

“I wouldn’t let them touch you.”

“Yes, you would—because they would kill you too.” Aventurine sighs. His eyes close, and his brow creases—a sign that whatever reprieve he was lucky enough to get is about to end. “Go do what I asked. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll… see a doctor if you do.”

You stand immediately. “Alright. I’ll be back to check on you.”

“I know.”

You stop at the door, giving him a long look. Seeing him like this—lying on a proper bed, cradled in a warm nest, with water and food and medicine nearby—you feel a little better. This is leagues beyond what he’d been afforded in his days as a slave, at the very least. Even if he isn’t free, at least he isn’t trapped.

But it still doesn’t feel good, having to step away. The last thing you want to do is talk to other people, pretend to have interest in other omegas. There are an astonishing number of them who are interested in you on this planet—that princess, and some baron’s son, and one of the prince’s favourite paramours—but you can’t bring yourself to care even for business purposes when Aventurine is like this. You can't act as if you are enjoying yourself when you know he is in pain.

You wonder about telling Topaz the truth. You wonder if she’d be worried enough about Aventurine to let you neglect this mission and cover for you instead, without letting Jade or Diamond or anyone else dangerous know. Not that you think that anyone at the Company particularly cares about Kakavasha—it’s only that he’s valuable. Aventurine of Stratagems is valuable. How many worlds have fallen because of him?

But he seemed unwilling to bet on his worth to them. Which is startling, given how often he's bet on it in the past.

“What’s so important about this planet,” you can’t help but ask, “that the IPC would rather you die than lose it?”

He’s silent for a long moment. His eyes are closed—hidden—but you can see his knuckles whiten as he clutches the Sedanian sweater.

“Copper,” he says. “They want it for the copper.”

When Kakavasha first suggested a friendship to you, it had felt like something in between a proposition and a threat:

Go ahead, he'd said. Use me as you wish. You can even stab me in the back if you want. Just be mindful of this: I don't make deals that don't pay off.

It might have been a strange way of making friends in any other circumstance, but in a house of slaves, it was a natural one. You had not been a clever person—still aren't—but you understood that your place in the world was one of a tool. This was the place of all slaves: you were all things to be used. Your body was a thing to be used. It was valuable for its strength, for its hardiness, for its threat in the arena and for its convenience in your master’s bed (or in a dark basement, or within a heat house, or inside whichever omega your mistress ordered you to calm down). It did not surprise you that Kakavasha wanted to use it as well. It did not surprise you that Kakavasha expected you to use him in return.

You never would have, of course. Kakavasha was not a thing to be used—he had always been a mate. Though you were happy to let him use you, because all you were was a tool anyway, so it was really all you could offer him: to be used.

None of this has changed for you. You don't think any of this has changed for Aventurine, either. With each new friendship he makes, he repeats those familiar words: Use me as you wish. And with each person who accepts, this is exactly what they do: they use him, and they use him, and they use him until suddenly they notice he's tricked them and they've got the losing hand.

You damned gambler, they always spit. You Sigonian wretch. All you know is how to manipulate people. Thief, liar, cheat, whore. Despite all these insults, Aventurine always smiles at them. Cry as they might, he’s won his bet and has their world in his palms.

Winner takes all, he sometimes gloats.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. This is all Aventurine knows; these are his great guiding principles in life. (He's told you this point blank, stacking up chips in his favourite gambling dens with a self-satisfied grin.) You often find yourself coming back to these conversations, particularly when you need to convince him of something.

And right now, you very badly need to convince him of something.

Aventurine is ignoring his doctor’s advice. His suppressants are unstable in extreme temperatures, he's been told. During travel on Agnisahr, they'd degraded, and now he’s experiencing his first heat in several years. Of course it's going to be painful, his doctor had said. I can prescribe you some medication to ease the symptoms, but really—nothing will work better than a heat partner. It doesn't need to be a mate. Any alpha will do.

The doctor had been an alpha. You had asked for a beta or omega, but alphas tend to dominate in Interastral Medical Schools, so they're in short supply. Aventurine had been still the whole time, face unreadable, but you could tell he wanted to throw up at the stench of an unfamiliar alpha. You had stepped between the two of them, not bothering to hide the animosity in your voice. We’ll take the medication, you had said, and the doctor had sniffed the air and nodded at you in approval.

Probably won't need it. An alpha like you could sort him out with just a few rounds, he told you, and both of you stayed quiet as he left.

You still aren't talking, or even looking at each other. Aventurine has lay down in his nest again, closing his eyes, while you stand as far away as physically possible—at the door where you'd just shown the doctor out. With the room shut off again, windows closed and door locked, Aventurine’s scent is starting to flood your senses once more. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him shivering.

“What do you want to do?” you ask.

“Nothing.” He swallows. “I'll be fine.”

He's afraid. You can tell he's afraid. And you can tell he’ll be more afraid if you take even a single step closer to him, so you nod and say, “I'll go pick up your medication, then,” and Aventurine doesn't stop you. You can see him curling up in his nest, face pressed into the cashmere sweater.

But he still doesn't stop you.

After a few more days, Aventurine finally breaks.

There is a rare sag to his shoulders when he calls you to the room, along with a taste of dread in the air. You haven't seen him so vulnerable in years. Aventurine is not an open person, so cunning and self-possessed in his wealth—but Kakavasha was more brittle, more powerless, flayed raw and open even though he didn't often get the whip. (It would ruin his value if he ever scarred—his looks were his greatest selling point, your master said.) He was especially defeated when forced to spend his heats with an alpha he didn't want. You wonder, a vice grip of pain around your heart, whether this entire situation is simply an extension of that. Whether he is calling you here against his will, this time compelled by his pain, rather than his master. Whether this luxury suite feels like that wretched basement to him.

He doesn't look at you when he talks, nor does he sit up. He remains curled in his nest, nearly clinging onto the blankets and clothes.

“That stupid medication,” he pants out, sharp even in his heat, “isn't working.”

“I can tell.” Your brow knots. He’s in so much pain, it is palpable. “I”—you hesitate, voice dropping. “Can I help you?”

He goes quiet. As both Aventurine and Kakavasha, he has always been disinclined to accept help from other people. There is no such thing as unconditional help in his mind—only leverage and weakness. He hates it when people have leverage over him, and he hates being weak. Both are things that can be exploited, and Aventurine always needs to be the one doing the exploiting. He always needs to be in control.

Even like this, the last threads of his sanity about to snap, with every circuit of his omega biology trying to drag him into insensible lust, he fights viciously to be in control.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. Control and being controlled. This is how he's always lived. This is how he's always survived.

This is the only way to let him maintain control when he is most afraid of losing it.

“I don't mind,” you say quietly, “if you use me.”

Even through the haze of heat, Aventurine’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“I don't mind if you use me,” you repeat, voice neutral. Unfeeling. The proposal might sound cruel to someone else, but not you. After all—your place in the world is one of a tool, and this is what you've always done as an alpha and a slave: sleeping with people to take care of their needs, or sometimes just their desires. It did always make you feel strangely hollow, but you think it will feel just fine with Aventurine. All you've ever wanted to do is keep him safe, and surely, this will do that, but—

“I'll only help if you want. I don't want to force it.” You lower your eyes. “But if you do want it, I'll be careful with you. You can lead. I promise.”

“...I know.” Aventurine’s voice is weak, cracks with pain, but you can tell he's speaking with clarity. “I know you will be.”

You look up. “Then you'll let me help?”

Aventurine looks away—a sign that he cannot adopt his usual smile. He’s clutching that sweater again, pressed close to his chest.

“Just your wrist,” he says quietly.

You listen carefully. “What?”

“I just—I just want your wrist.” He looks away. “Your—your scent gland. Only that.”

“Okay.”

You get up, then falter. When it was your job to comfort your mistress’ omega slaves, you were told to enter their nests—no permission needed from them, no permission needed from you, because only her permission ever mattered for anything. The omegas were usually too delirious to care, often had even begged for it with the state of mind that they were in. But Aventurine is different. He's not like you, and he's not like them. He's never bent to any of his masters’ wills. And even if he did, you wouldn't want to have him bend to yours.

Instead of climbing into his nest, you ask, “Can I sit on the bed?” He doesn't answer. “Just the edge of it,” you add, and you hear him exhale.

“Fine,” he says, breathing measured.

“Thank you,” you say, and he gives you a confused look. But then you're reaching out with a hand, offering it, and he is quickly distracted.

Aventurine drops the sweater, grabs your hand almost immediately. He turns over your palms, fingers tracing your heartlines—as if testing you, as if mapping out territory. He runs his thumbs along the veins of your wrists, too, right over your scent gland, and you have to force yourself not to shudder at the feeling. You only stay still, letting him explore the contours of your hands, letting him acclimate to the feeling of your skin. He laces his fingers with your own, a latticework trap, and he finally drags his wrist along yours.

Both of you inhale sharply.

You can't react. You know it'll scare him if you do, but it's hard to keep still. The way his scent blossoms, the way it mingles with yours, the way it all washes over you—what you're doing can hardly be called touching, but you feel like you're going mad. Especially when he flushes like that, his vibrant eyes fluttering shut. Especially when the sweetness of honey overtakes your senses. Especially when you can smell the way his body is reacting, all that wetness and heat and slick dripping between his legs. You don't miss the way his thighs rub together, nor the hard outline of his cock straining against his pants.

Aventurine shudders. He brings your hand up to his face, rests his cheek in your palm. His skin is flushed and burning with fever, and it's no wonder that he's sighing with relief at your touch. You try not to stare at the way his mouth falls open. He looks at you for a moment, his gaze a hazy violet and blue—before he closes his eyes again and presses his lips into your wrist.

Fuck.

“Aventurine—” You have to stop, voice strangled, when you feel the full softness of his lips working against your skin. He’s panting now, laboured breaths sweeping over your veins. Then you feel his teeth catch, a gentle nip on your flesh, and when he groans into your racing pulse—deep, relieved, desperate, a noise that makes your gut flare with heat—you realise you can't do this.

You pull back your hand, and Aventurine startles.

“Aventurine,” you say, voice strained. Maybe we should stop, you want to say, but he cuts you off.

“I need”—a shaky breath—“I need more.”

You watch Aventurine carefully. His pupils are dilated, blue irises nearly eclipsed. His cheeks are rosy, and he can't stop panting. You can fully smell his arousal now, even through his silk clothes. He's desperate, needing to be filled.

But he also looks torn. His brows are knotted, and you can taste a faint hint of fear in the air now. His knuckles clutch at the sheets, almost white, and he stares at them. He can't look up. He can't look at you. His whole body is tense, like he wants to bolt—and if he weren't so weak, you think he might actually.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He doesn't nod. He also doesn't shake his head. His arms clutch at his midsection as he winces. He doesn't look like Aventurine. He looks like Kakavasha. It makes your heart ache as you watch him give into his body’s demands, wearing the same expression he did on the day your master bought him.

“...don't use your Voice on me,” Aventurine—Kakavasha—says quietly.

It takes you a moment to realise what he's asking. “I won't.”

“And”—his eyes somehow grow even more evasive, hidden by his long lashes— “don’t touch my commodity code.”

His commodity code. His commodity code that is seared into his scent gland. His code that, if you kiss, will ease his agony instantly. His code that, if you bite—will chain him to you irreversibly.

“Of course I won't,” you say instantly.

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

“And—” Aventurine looks away, jaw tight. His voice is quiet but wrought with tension: “—I don't like when people put things inside me.”

Something claws the walls of your heart.

“That's fine too,” you reply. “I don't mind doing it the other way.”

Aventurine’s sigh is nearly inaudible, but unmistakable. His scent shifts a little bit, the wildflower fragrance fading ever so slightly. But he doesn't come to you. He merely sits there—waiting. Expecting. Maybe dreading. Even in the senseless daze of heat, he’s too anxious to move.

You approach slowly. Though you're overwhelmed by the bouquet of his scent, though you feel a curl of heat in your belly in response to it—you are slow. Alphas are supposedly victims of insatiable lust whenever around an omega in heat, absolved of every action they take, but you are convinced this is a lie. You have never once wanted to handle Aventurine with such cruelty. You think that inflicting violence on him, more than anything else, would go against your biology. Every molecule in your body would reject putting him in such pain or inciting such fear. So you are careful when you approach him, slow as you inch up to him—but you do not think it helps.

Aventurine lies down, his face turned away from yours. His eyes squeeze shut, like he's expecting this to hurt. Uncertainty gnaws at your gut as you lean over him, draping your body over his—the only position you've ever taken an omega in, other than mounting them from behind.

(You do not want to mount Aventurine. You never have. It is an impersonal position, a position that omega biology supposedly would force him to enjoy, a position that alphas have likely dictated him to enjoy. You think there is nothing you would hate more. In your weakest, most selfish moments, in your worst ruts, when you’ve allowed yourself to fantasise about mating Kakavasha—you are always facing each other, and he is always looking at you with his eyes you've always loved, and it always feels intimate. Never impersonal. Never dictated. Never forced.)

Aventurine is so honeysweet beneath you. More fragrant than any omega you’ve ever been with. You glance at his commodity code, trying to ignore the scent of his branded skin, then lean down to press your face against the other side of his neck, where a faint scar mars the otherwise flawless slope of his nape. Like every other omega slave you've ever slept with, the scent gland there has been excised: a precautionary measure to reduce the risk of an unwanted mating bite.

(Not unwanted by them—the wants of a slave never matter—but unwanted by their owners. A mating bite would ruin the code seared into their neck, claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. It would hurt their resale value. Only owners are allowed to claim slaves in such a permanent way—and the wants of a slave have no relevance there, either.)

It's a funny thing, this surgical scar. Even with their gland missing, you've noticed that most omegas like having their neck scented by you anyway, probably from some vestigial instinct. You guess that Aventurine won't be any different, that maybe it will comfort him. But when your lips skim the scar left on him by his owner, his entire body stiffens beneath you. His fragrance cuts into your lungs, sharp.

You recoil, as if burned by the touch of him.

“Sorry,” Aventurine is quick to say. He tries to glance at you, but his diamond pupils quickly avoid you again. “Don’t worry about me. Just do whatever you need to do.”

“But you're scared,” you point out, and you see his brow twitch. “You’re scared when I touch you.”

“Not scared,” he lies. “Just…”

When his eyes finally look at you—land on your lips—you understand.

A bite would claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. If you lost your mind—give into the insatiable lust of an alpha whenever around an omega in heat—you might bite him, and then you would own Aventurine.

And Aventurine would rather die than be owned by anyone again.

He doesn't need to finish his sentence. You already know what you need to do.

“It's okay,” you say gently, and his brow knots. “I have an idea.”

Aventurine is always afraid.

This is a fact that has haunted you since the day you met him. You've wondered about how to fix it—the bare minimum as his mate (always his, even if he doesn't want you)—and you’ve never quite pinned down how. Because when someone has spent their life in perpetual fear, how do you make them feel safe? When their life is constantly at risk, how do you ever make them feel calm?

You still aren't sure of the answer. But after seeing Kakavasha become Aventurine, you now have a good guess.

It is clear from his scent that Aventurine does not feel remotely safe right now. Not when you leave to fetch something from your own room, and not when you return. The anxiety thickens when he sees, in your hands, a very familiar muzzle.

Aventurine stares. He is not smiling, but he also does not reveal his discomfort on his face, even as beads of sweat line his temple. But his voice is too controlled, too calm, when he asks, “You kept the mask.”

You nod.

“I told you to throw it out,” he points out, “when I freed you.”

“I know. Sorry. I don't know why I kept it.” You remember how tightly you clutched it before the incinerator, thinking about how strange it would feel, discarding something that you'd worn everyday since you presented—but you don't tell him this. Instead, you say, “But it’s convenient.”

Before Aventurine can say anything, you toss him the remote.

“You’re afraid of my bite and my Voice, but you don't have to be with this,” you explain. Your tone is gentle, soothing. Probably disarming coming from an alpha, with how he is in heat. Perhaps that's why he’s studying the remote rather than chucking it away. “You'll be in full control if I wear this.”

Control. Mere seconds after you say it, you can smell his fragrance change again, mellowing. It's only a brief moment of calm that fades when you latch the mask onto your face, but he doesn't smell as nearly as stressed before.

Aventurine watches you carefully as the carbon steel swallows your maw, its old and familiar edges biting into you. For the first time in years, you cannot tell what he is thinking—truly poker-faced even to you.

“You aren't bothered by wearing that thing while we do this,” he says—asks?—and you shake your head. The muzzle was part of you for years. You were wearing it when you killed someone for the first time. You were wearing it when you went into rut for the first time. You were wearing it when your master had sex with you for the first time. It doesn't bother you that you’ll wear it when you have sex with Aventurine.

If you could speak, you would ask him, Why do you think it would bother me? But all you do is gesture for him to sit up. To switch places with you. You lie down—something you've never done with an omega—and wait for him to get on top.

Aventurine stares at you for a long, quiet moment. It's followed by a sigh of relief. Disarmed, he—for the first time in any heat you've witnessed—finally relaxes. His scent wafts over you as he climbs between your legs, and you can feel the heat radiating from his hands as he parts your thighs, almost scalding.

He doesn't bother getting you ready, too needy to think rationally, but he doesn't have to anyway. You've been wet ever since you felt his mouth touch your wrist, hard ever since you heard him groan into it. You're equally desperate to get some relief as you feel his cockhead sliding against your opening, leaking all over your entrance as his slick drips onto your thighs. His breath shakes as he enters you, and he can't hear it with how you're muzzled—but you groan just as deeply as him at the tight stretch.

You hear him swear when you clench around him, watch him lean over you. His arms shake as he supports himself, refusing to succumb to his heat even as he chases his relief. You seek out his gaze (just as in your dreams, facing each other, intimate), and his neon eyes catch on your eyes for a brief, breathtaking second—

—before he looks away.

There's a flash of—you don't know what, maybe pain? Or fear?—in his irises as he does. A twitch of the brow, a tell he'd normally rather die than let slip. You have the realisation, as Aventurine moves inside you, that even while you're muzzled, even while he has complete control over you—he still can't stand having sex with you. Probably because he can't stand being in heat in general, you tell yourself. Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore. He'd have this reaction to anyone.

Still—you didn't expect him to have this reaction to you.

Your hands twitch, possessed by an old instinct to cover your eyes. But you'd probably scare Aventurine if you moved your arms, so all you do is dig your fingers into the sheets and squeeze them shut. You tell yourself again and again that he'd hate having sex with anyone in these circumstances—not just you. And then you tell yourself, as a desperate, broken moan leaves his branded throat, that he would also come inside anyone in these circumstances, caught within the cruel grip of his heat.

Aventurine stills inside you as he finishes. He pants, sweat dripping down his temple as he shudders in his ecstasy, his spend hot and thick inside you. You can feel his fever break as he comes down from his high, the heat coming off his body easing into a manageable warmth.

Do you feel better, you try to say, but you can't move your mouth while your mask is on. So you wait patiently for Aventurine to come back to himself, watching him carefully as he pulls out and rolls onto the mattress beside you. He finally glances at you then. His eyes narrow once they land on you, confusion flicking through them. Then displeasure. He reaches for the remote.

To your surprise, he immediately punches in the code to unlock your muzzle. Aventurine has apparently remembered the numbers after all these years, as if the moment he freed you has been since seared into his memory.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing you say, and Aventurine gives you a confused look. He’s still panting, dazed, so you ask, “Can I check your temperature?” And when he nods, you confirm your suspicion: he's still much too warm.

There is an ache between your legs and a strange hollow in your gut (because you aren't very experienced with receiving, you think—your body likely just isn't used to the feeling of it), but you quickly forget them. All you can think of is Aventurine, and how he’s still unwell, and how you need to comfort him. The instinct is so strong that you don't even say anything as you get up, straightening out your clothes.

“Are you leaving?” Aventurine asks. His voice is neutral, completely unbothered, but the thought is so horrific to you that you turn back to him with wide eyes.

“Of course not. I'm going to get you water and medicine.” A beat. You stare at Aventurine’s eyes, then think about how he hid them from you during sex. The hollow feeling comes back, but it's mostly eclipsed by your anxiety at the next thought: “...do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to?”

“I—” I'd rather die, you think. Being forced to leave him right now would feel like tearing out a piece of yourself. You don't know if there's an alpha in this world who could leave their mate in the middle of a heat. And even if he is unmarked, unattached to you—you still think of yourself as his mate. (His, always his, even if he doesn't want you.) “I would prefer not to. I am your heat partner. I'm supposed to take care of you.”

You hear a quiet breath. “Right. Of course. You're always so conscientious.” Aventurine nods, as if convincing himself of something. “Try not to take too long.”

“I’ll come back soon,” you promise, and the air sweetens. Encouraged, you add, voice gentle: “I’ll bring that medication, and then we can have sex as many times as you need after I come back. I'll make sure you're not in any pain anymore.” You pause, studying him. “Is there anything else you need to feel better?”

His fragrance changes once more, this time in a way you don't totally recognize. “No.” His voice sounds strange. His scent is still foreign, fluctuating, possibly hinting at some kind of pain. The heat must be getting to him again—and of course it wasn't enough, what you just did, what you can provide. He likely needs to be filled to get any kind of lasting relief, but you left him empty. “No, that's all I want.”

You nod, forcing yourself to look calm. Ignoring the emptiness in your gut. It didn't feel bad, but you hope it'll feel better next time you have sex. You think it will. Alphas are supposed to be filled with an insatiable lust near omegas in heat, after all. And even though you’ve never felt that before—never felt anything sleeping with all those omegas in your mistress’ house—you are sure you'll eventually feel it around Aventurine.

But the feeling never comes. Even though you can tell that his heat has returned by the time you're back—sweat beading his temples, laboured breaths at his lips, his bottoms now discarded, with full evidence of arousal between his legs—you don't feel much of anything as you reach for your mask again.

“Don't,” Aventurine says, before it can clasp around your face. You give him a curious look. He explains, “Don't. I don't want to have sex again. Not yet.”

You stare at him, shifting. Uncomfortable. Uncertain. Not knowing how he wants to use you. “What can I do?”

He gives you a long look. “Come here. I… I want your scent gland.”

It's a sensible request. If there's a way to seek relief without fucking someone—without fucking you, which he clearly hated doing—you're sure Aventurine would prefer it. So you climb into his nest, holding your wrist out for him, and—

“No.” His voice is quiet. “I want the one on your neck.”

“...oh.”

You stand there, not sure where to move. If he wants you in his nest again, or if he’d rather do this standing. You’re relieved when he demands, “Lie down.”

You expect him to get on top of you when you do. Assume that he wants complete control—but he instead lies down beside you. Presses his body into yours, and then his face into your neck. His nose and lips brush against your scent gland, a full-body shudder running through him, and—

—and now you know for a fact that it is a lie that alphas want nothing other than to fuck an omega when they're in heat. Because even like this, with his lips sweet on your neck, with the sheets soaked with his slick, with his spend leaking out of you—you do not want to have sex with Aventurine. You only want to hold him. You only want him to keep scenting you. You only want to scent him back.

You only want him to feel safe.

You breathe in deeply, lungs flooded by honey. You think of what it felt like to hold him in that cold basement, when he was delirious with fever and pain, and you think about how different his scent is now. How much sweeter it is. How much calmer he feels.

“Do you feel better?” you ask, and he doesn't respond, but you know the answer. His hands come up to dig into your shirt, and he presses into you like you're a sweater in his nest. Silence blankets over you both, calm and warm. His laboured breath starts to improve.

He does eventually speak.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he says, “what you smell like?”

You stare at him. Your master used to say that you smelled good, but he'd never elaborated, and you hadn't wanted him to. “No.”

Aventurine breathes in.

“You smell like—” A little sigh, shaking and feverish, leaves him. “You smell like rain.”

Your eyebrows tick up. “Rain?”

“Yes. Or not just rain, but”—he pauses, next words quiet—“more Iike after it rains. You smell like the desert after a rainfall.”

“Oh.” You don't know what to say to that. Feeling distinctly like it's a silly question, you ask, “Is that a good scent?”

“Some would think so. Especially to people from the desert. You probably smell like a blessing to them. Although…”

Aventurine goes quiet again. You stare at the chandelier above you, all crystal and white gold, and wait.

“Although?” you prompt.

“...although I wouldn't really know,” he says. “It’s just a hunch. I bet it's why so many omegas on this planet like you.”

You couldn't care less about those other omegas. All you care about is Aventurine. “And?” you say. “Do you like my scent?”

His reply never comes. He just breathes deeply again, seeking relief from your neck—not intimacy. Any alpha’s scent would work; that doctor told you so. Any alpha’s touch would work, too. There are no special feelings involved here. Your place in the world is one of a tool, and tools are never especially liked nor disliked. Their value exists only in how they can be used.

You don't know why you even bothered to ask the question.

But then something strange happens: Aventurine curls against you, pressing even further into you. His lashes flutter against your pulse again; it ticks up in response, beating fast against his lips.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I do like it.”

You swallow. “But I guess that's because you're in heat. Any alpha would smell good to you, wouldn’t they?”

“No.” His fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt. “No, I like it because it's yours.”

You know better than to read too much into his response. Aventurine had already said it earlier: No foreign scents. He's only tolerating this whole arrangement because you don't smell unfamiliar to him. Only able to use you because you are the least threatening option.

But the words break something in you—break the thing that made you unable to throw out that little pouch of copper coins that you were saving up for Kakavasha’s freedom, the part of you that made you wear that carbon-steel mask for him. It is this part of you that has your eyes squeezing shut and your arms wrapping around him. You know he’ll recoil, reject you, but just this once—you need to try.

Aventurine doesn't push you away.

He melts into you instead, inhaling deeply. Your scent gland tingles with the warmth of his breath, the feeling of his lips. He seems—comfortable.

You can't fathom why he’s staying in your arms. Perhaps he's simply desperate for some kind of relief from his heat, just like when you held him in the basement while he was delirious from pain. But Aventurine had spoken to you with clarity just now, and his skin doesn't feel scalding so much as warm, and his scent is so different than from that moment. So sweet and so gentle, without a trace of fear. It makes your heart squeeze. As much as you've always wanted Aventurine to feel safe, you'd never imagined that his scent would be so beautiful when he is.

It makes your heart ache. You've never held anything so lovely before, and you’ve never felt so warm before, and it all makes up for how badly it hurt to let Aventurine inside you. How hollow it made you feel to let him use you. How none of that matters as long as you can keep him safe like this, because you belong to Kakavasha. You'll always belong to Kakavasha, in a fate that was chosen for you on the day you met him.

You're his, always his—even if he’ll never want you.

end part i

thank you so much to lore for hosting a fantastic collab and to my sponsors who funded this fic and got it over the finish line! please go check out @ficsforgaza to find other amazing hsr writers you can sponsor in order to help fundraise! here is my own wip list, if you are interested in seeing more from me!

and thank you most of all to YOU! I appreciate you so much for reading this chapter. thank you so much for sticking it through.

additional end notes

[the-moon-files]

Man, I love the trope of aliens being terrified of humans, and I've seen some fics of human!reader reacting differently to stuff like posions/plants in hyrule, but this is in another level! We are indestructible! I mean, I could live on Death Mountain! With the Gorons! It's literally a dream come true!

Also, the urge this would give me to give them all the hugs and piggy back rides whenever it gets cold/windy/whatever extreme condition.

If Hylians would be surprisingly light, would they be light enough for me to pick up Time? Just get that big ass man with a bunch of armor on my back? Because new need unlocked.

NEW NEED UNLOCKED INDEEEEDDD. (touches my fingertips together like a villain up to no good)

CREDIT FOUND!! (Who did it first!):

IDK who it was but someone mentioned in a rlly old 2023-2022? LU x human reader post abt the hylians being lighter in comparison to humans!! If i find who it is, or if u recognize u wrote abt smth similar pls leave a comment so I can @ you!! /gen

@wayfayrr :D ive been in humans are space orcs fandom (is it a fandom? More like endless AU idea ppl wrote abt on tumblr) for Years, and ofc i never thought to put with Loz this past year or 2 getting into this fandom dammit - UR WORKS AMAZING THANK YOU SM FOR MERGING MY 2 FAVS AND LIKING/REBLOGGING THIS HOT MESS 😭😭

GOD i NEED to play TP bc u can hold cats like this?? and u get to see LINK do it??? 😭😭

Sun: technically Masc! Reader but not explicit (you/he/him), coule be Gender Neutral, Human Reader

Orbit: headcanons-ish

Stars: The Classic Chain of Links

Comets & Meteors: Content: in Four’s desc. mentioned “diving into chest”, & Triggers: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

A kinda 2nd part/expansion to this post!

no bc the “i can live wherever tf i want” was secretly part of why i wrote that post (so sue me, i wanna be able to follow wild around his hyrule w/o getting nuked)

OMFG SO GLAD SOMEONE WANTS TO TALK ABT HOW AFFECTIONATE YOU’D GET BC OF THIS TOWARDS THE LINKS (anduseitasanexcusehahai mean what? whatd i say??)

There’s only 2 types of Links in this hyrule(s):

Who’s already down with being cuddled at the slightest/not so slightest inconvenience??:

Wild

(unsurprisingly, also if anyone teases him he just teases right back that not only is it “for survival”, but also look he’s “getting Guide Cuddles™️ and You’re Not” lmao,

would sleep right up against ur bedroll every night if u let him, likes when you commit to the cuddle (even if he goes a little red), like wrapping arms + legs around him, adores fireside cuddles, has said on multiple occasions that nothing makes him feel safer than holding onto you, and how he can’t go back to doing things like this on his own anymore 😭😭😭

his favorite cuddle is whatever you give him LMAO u can always count on Wild if your ever feeling like u need to cuddle smth blonde and cute lol - he constantly offers or initiates it himself <33 )

Sky

another unsurprising one, his favorite time to cuddle is when it’s cold outside, or windy, and he can just get under a blanket and take a nap with you,

esp if it’s both and he can convince you to lay partially on him for heated + weighted human blanket purposes, he’s literally staring at you with sparkles in his eyes as soon as a breeze goes by lol

his Loftwing/Crimson wasn’t rlly able to fly u long distances u find out!! :( Hylians are just so light that ofc that explains why they can ride these pelican/ostrich creations for hours, whereas the bird can only rlly manage 20 minutes of low flying with you (+ Sky) on its back, but that’s fine, bc u figured out how to “shield surf” rlly fast down slopes to keep up with Sky flying low, and by “shield surfing” i mean, shocking Wild into jaw-dropped silence as he watches you fly by completely barefoot 👍

(after all, ur skin has to be pretty tough/thick to be able to handle the weather/environmental conditions, and finding out u can withstand lava? yeah this is nothing turns out)

secretly loves piggyback rides, but never asks, u just see him get this look in his eyes, and shuffling in place just behind you lol

Wind

touch starved, but what Link isnt lol

his favorite is piggyback rides, since he was raised by his grandma, and there weren’t a whole lot of close, young adults to pick him up as a kid

so now, he takes FULL advantage of u being able to easily pick him up lol

one time u guys were going uphill while a pleasant breeze was blowing-

actually it was gale force winds.

but ur you, so it took Wind flying backwards into you to realize. he also screeched at you for “ABANDONING ME- YOURE GONNA MAKE ME, A LITTLE GUY LIKE ME, CRAWL UP THIS?? HOW COULD YOU-” you give him piggy back rides whenever it’s windy.

will treat u like his own personal ship whenever ur both in the water, which consists of him yelling sailor terms like “turn starboard! raise the sails!” while sitting on ur shoulders while u get slammed (gently buffeted, really) by waves

Hyrule

shy, shy, shy, shy-

the quintessential:

“👉👈 🥺 is it okay, if we maybe hug rn?? I'm just rlly cold, and i know u said you didnt mind, and I saw Wild and Sky just laying on you, sorry if this is weird-”

Hyrule, sweets, you literally love him more than life itself, of course you’ll cuddle the fairy boy

the more excited he gets = the more likely to jump on ur back/wrap his arms around ur waist happily, esp since he’s an extra cutie patootie and will subconsciously seek u out if the environment gets a little rough

Sets an Amazing example for the other Links, not too clingy when ur busy, great at latching onto ur back when things get tough for him, asks politely and thanks you everytime he gets down <3

Hyrule is eternally fascinated by whatever u do, u just walk thru flood waters like it’s nothing and while the rest are used to it by now, he’s the only Link looking at you like your some kind of god 💗💘💖💕🙈

accidentally squeezed ur arm muscles one time when he saw u doing that thing where u curl ur arm and Wind/Wild were able to hang off of it,

you both just stared at each other for a solid minute before his ears turned down and he went completely red and apologized profusely for 5 minutes, before you just scooped him up too lmao (his face after tho)

Four

depending on the cuddle he gets shy sometimes, even worse if more than 1 Link is looking at you two, in which he will attempt to escape ur arms.

keyword being attempt.

you just wrap ur legs around him and trap him instead lol

likes to cuddle you somehow where he’s not in the way but you can keep doing whatever it is you were busy with

if he splits, then u can fucking bet Red is the first to dive into ur chest- unless there is literally, actively, a threat right in front of him, he’s going for it lol, Green loves to wrap his arms around one of yours and just hang off u all day, Blue will wait until ur sitting somewhere and flop on ur legs to purposely trap u there, the little shit, and Vio just likes hugs. he’s such a sweetheart, he just loves being wrapped up and wrapping you up 🥺

And who must be Convinced. (most to least)

Legend

fully expected,

silly man thinks he’s above love and cuddles, and all the good things in life LMAO came for ur throat again

it'll be below-freezing temperatures, in a cave with a barely there campfire, a blizzard outside, the other heroes complaining at him to just get under the blanket so you’ll get under the blanket,

bc you two are just doing that thing where 2 characters have like a table between them and are fake-out dodging left and right to try and catch the other lmao

is most susceptible to cuddles when he’s tired/injured/sick/sleepy.

it’s a cold morning and u just scootch the Links into a pile and use him as a pillow lol, and as long as no one, not even gods, perceives you two, he’ll let you stay

ok but you definitely caught him from falling into lava one time while on Death Mountain, and had to bridal carry him across half a lava lake back to shore, hehe,

Legend swore everyone there to secrecy on their own graves and favorite items

also refuses to let Ravio know of ur human advantages lol

he just wants the attention on himself as much as he can in between the other Links, no need for more competition

Time

silly man just doesn't think of his needs including affection/emotional comfort,

he only rlly initiates when the circumstances are dire, like gale force winds that he can barely walk thru/starting to slip, desert heat getting to him thru his armor and needs ur cooling touch, etc.

he keeps it as professional as he can, like wrapping an arm around ur shoulders, but you just snatch him by the waist and pick him up half the time, was surprised at first, chain giggled at him, then complained lightly, finally just accepted his fate anytime he touches you lol,

YES you have given him a piggyback ride, when a flood of water burst a dam during a battle/the other Links got out but Time didn't bc of his heavy armor,

so u yoink him up and just stood ur ground against the raging waves and climbed a rock until u weren't submerged anymore, poor guy was so worn out from the battle + the flood that he just let you carry him all the way until u camped for the night, and secretly took a nap 😭

like Legend he can be convinced to rely on u when he’s already vulnerable like sleepy/tired/injured/sick, but he does find himself secretly appreciative someone in the group can just lift his heavy ass in full armor/or someone else if it gets bad enough,

got converted and no longer has to be convinced usually, he just doesn't initiate much so u have to lol

Warriors

YET ANOTHER SILLY MAN!!

whats with all these idiots neglecting themselves, both physically and emotionally??

like boy u cant stand the heat of a desert or blizzard, just let in the cuddles 👹

similar to Time, just more vocal abt how appreciative/advantageous it is to have someone to be able to carry comrades out of harsh conditions or battles easily.

Did Not think abt this applying to himself until you literally swept him off his feet like a classic damsel in distress- mans let out a shriek after taking a second to process everything LMAO-

Loudly and Dramatically complains abt u coming to cuddle him, both just to love on him, and to heat him up in a rainstorm, but hugs you back and holds onto you anyway hehe.

Became the 2nd person to find out you’re immune to lightning.

See, everyone heard Legend talk abt u getting struck in a storm in Wild’s hyrule, but no one really came to full terms with it bc they didn't see it. Warrior is now a full believer. He actually got the closest to pissing his armor he ever has in all of his battles bc he forgot abt the metal in the storm = bad idea, until it was too late and u guys were trying to retreat to regroup, bc there were too many black-bloods, only to get full body tackled by you to avoid getting hit by lightning.

You had to bridal carry him for a minute after bc u just got back up after being hit, (it just felt like you rubbed ur body on the carpet and touched a metal wall, like a full body small static shock) bc he was in such a state of literal horror/shock,

Wars saw your life flash before his eyes 💀

Twilight

HA HA HA- HE NEEDS THE LEAST AMOUNT OF CONVINCING LMAOOO

goofy wolf man has wolf instincts that help ur case as to Why You Need to Pet Twilight’s Hair and Hold His Hand at All Times if Possible.

main reason Twi’s here is bc he thinks his height + weight = him not needing u to hold onto/cuddle as much, and he would be proven wrong HA

actually gets all blushy/shy anytime u pick him up, freezes like a puppy who’s gotten scruffed too lol

likes a lot more casual touch/cuddles, like arm around ur shoulder or his, sitting with legs touching, leaning against u when he’s cold, etc.

omfg funniest thing abt Wars/Time/Twi is that they’re the tallest out of the Links, so they make for extra fun when picking them up, cuddling etc.

but the best thing ever happened one time when Twi was still recovering from the Shadow’s wound, it got reopened/ached so bad he couldn’t run, but u all were trying to retreat at the moment bc Big Boss,

and u just snatched him up into a piggyback ride, his legs comically sticking out, but the best part was that Hylians are light.

so you were able to run full tilt adrenaline powered run, to the point you surpassed the other Links ahead, and had everyone laughing and simultaneously trying to conserve their breath to keep running LMAO

Twi grew up tall/bigger than kids his age, and is another victim of “no adult figures to pick him up when he was younger”, so he gets this little giddy smile when u pick him up lol <3

the first time u put him in a bridal carry for smth like river rushing waters, mans blushed, stuttered abt smth the whole time, and then didnt let go after you tried to put him down, u didnt have the heart to insist, so u just carried him around half of the day 😭

☆

sorry some have less than others, its nearly 2am I'm just riffing kicking my feet and shit, so I'm not being very thorough

i hope u liked my spiral into blonde twink insanity (well theyre kinda on a spectrum of twinkness)

anyway goodnight, and have a great weekend!!

to the 2 other ppl who sent asks, ill get to you soon and thank you sm for sending stuff :’)

Please feel free to send asks for requests or just to chat :)

Peace out,

🌙

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Let Me Take Care of You

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: you help Bucky relax after a long day 

Warnings: fluff!, Nudity kind of? I mean you give Bucky a bath but the fact he's naked isn't really brought up, Nonsexual massage, gratuitous use of pet names, mentions of anxiety

A/N: Bucky deserves all the gentle affection and soft touches and love and I plan to write him receiving them 😤😭💙💜

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

You heard the door slam, and knew that Bucky was home

Slowly, you sat up, poking your head over the couch to see your boyfriend kicking off his boots

“Hey, Sweet Boy,” you kissed his cheek when he sat down beside you, “how are you doing?”

He let out a grunt, crossing his arms over his chest and focusing on the TV with a little huff.

“Buck, talk to me,” you cupped his jaw, bringing his face to yours, “what's wrong, hm? Why are you so grumpy?”

“‘m always grumpy, according to Sam.” He mumbled.

“Not here, not with me.”

His blue eyes met yours, bright but bloodshot.

“Having a rough time right now, Doll. I'll be okay in a bit.” He took your hand and gently kissed the back of your palm, “jus’ some work stuff.”

You nodded sympathetically, wrapping your arms around him and all but forcing him to lay down with you.

Bucky needed some TLC and you were gonna give it to him, dammit.

He settled down on top of you, laying his head on your chest as your hand began to card through his hair.

Your free hand slipped under his shirt to rub his back, and that was when you felt it

His muscles were tense and taught, his entire back one big knot

That tore it for you

He needed more than some TLC

Bucky needed to be absolutely spoiled today, and you were going to make sure that he was

“Hey,” Bucky's eyes met yours, “I’m gonna go run you a bath."

“You don't have to do that, Doll,” he kissed your cheek, “don't go through all that trouble for me.”

“I wasn't giving you an option. I'm taking care of you today.”

“I'm sure you have more important things to do than fuss over me.”

“My Bucky needs some pampering, that's more important than anything.”

He smiled softly at you and kissed your lips, “thank you.”

“Of course, Baby.”

A bit later Bucky was settled in a warm bubble bath, relaxing as you massaged shampoo into his scalp.

You always took longer than you probably needed to when working the soap into his short hair, just so you could hear the content little hums he was making.

“Alright, Baby. Head back, I'm gonna rinse you,” he did as instructed and you gently ran the shower head over his hair, shielding his eyes

“I was thinking, one you're done with your bath I could work those knots out of your back for you,” you told him, kissing his forehead once you'd finished.

“You don't have to do that, Doll.”

“I know I don't have to. But I want to,” you kissed his cheek, “your back has to be hurting all tied up like that, I want to make you feel better.”

Bucky smiled warmly.

“I love you,” he whispered as you helped him lean back against the porcelain, a relaxed sigh escaping him.

“I love you too, Baby.” You lovingly scratched his stubble, “I'm gonna go get out room ready, okay? You just stay here and relax, shout if you need me.”

He nodded and closed his eyes as you left him.

You turned down the bed and dimmed the lights, pulling up the 40s music playlist on your Spotify and letting it play softly in the background.

You put Bucky's favorite throw on the bed for him and set out a pillow before placing a bottle of lilac-scented lotion on the nightstand

You knew how much he loved the scent.

When you'd first started dating he had brought you a bouquet of them, and had come to associate them with you.

Once the room was fully optimized for some Bucky pampering, you went to the kitchen, filled his water bottle, and filled a bowl with pieces of chocolate

Bucky didn't eat or drink nearly as much as he probably should, so you were always quick to feed and water him when you were caring for him like this

When everything was set you returned to your boyfriend and found him fighting to stay awake.

You chuckled fondly as you shook him awake, “c'mon Sweet Boy, time to get out.”

You dried his body with the softest towel you could find before dressing him in a pair of shorts and leading him into the bedroom.

He gasped when he saw the cozy atmosphere you had created for him.

“Doll, you didn't have to go through all this trouble for me–” he turned bright red as you cupped his face.

“Would you stop that?” You asked, stroking his cheek, “I know I don't have to do anything. I do this because I want to. I like taking care of you, I like knowing that I can help you feel good. It's what you deserve.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but you place a finger on his lips, “you've been through so much, Baby Boy. You've had to be so brave and strong. You deserve to be loved and taken care of and treated like something precious. Because you are. So please Baby, just let me take care of you.”

He crushed you in a hug, hiding his face in your hair.

“Thank you Doll,” he murmured as you wrapped your arms around his waist in turn.

“Any time, Buck.” You pulled away, leading him to the bed, “alright Baby, lay down on your stomach okay?”

He did as instructed, settling his head on the pillow, supporting his head with his arm.

“Can I get started, Sweetheart?” You asked, leaning down and kissing his shoulder.

He nodded, and you set to work.

Bucky gasped as you started to rub his back, the floral scented lotion cool against his skin.

You carefully worked out each individual knot, stopping and peppering little kisses along his spine every now and then.

You smiled at the happy little noises he was making, enjoying your soft touch.

Bucky had been with you for some time now, and he still couldn't comprehend how you could be so gentle with him

There was a pleasant fuzzy feeling creeping into his mind as you worked, blocking out every negative thought and anxiety Bucky had been carrying all day and allowing him to only focus on the here and now.

The way you massaged each taut muscle, working out each knot without causing him pain, the tender kisses you pressed to his back, it was so much more than he was used to

More than he'd ever dreamed he'd get, and far more than he thought he deserved. 

You finished his massage and pressed a kiss to his temple, “how're you feeling, Baby?”

He let out a little hum, making you smile.

“Do you need anything else?” You asked, carding a hand through his hair, “I thought we could take a nap.”

“Skin-on-skin?” he asked, looking up at you with pleading blue eyes.

“Of course, Honey,” You smiled and slipped off your shirt before climbing into bed beside him.

Bucky laid down on top of you, resting his head on your chest.

As he nestled into you, you grabbed his water bottle, “can I get you to drink something for me, Baby Boy?”

Bucky nodded and allowed you to slip the soft silicone mouthpiece between his lips, taking long, slow sips off the bottle.

“Good, Bucky,” you smiled, “are you hungry?”

He nodded, and you began to hold pieces of chocolate up to his mouth, feeding him with one hand and stroking his hair with the other

You knew that Bucky was an adult, fully capable of taking care of himself

But he'd taken care of himself for long enough, he deserved a break

And if that break came in the form of getting the skin-on-skin contact he desperately needed while being hand fed like a prince, then god dammit you’re gonna give it to him.

You’d give him the universe if he asked

Once he finished his chocolate, you noticed he was fighting to stay awake, his blue-gray eyes fluttering against your skin.

You kissed his forehead

“Take a nap, Sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up,” you brushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed his cheek, “sleep tight, Baby. I love you.”

“Thank you for taking care of me, Doll,” he whispered as he drifted off.

You smiled softly and kissed his forehead.

“Always, Bucky.”

[deadlynavigation]

Hello again! how are you? I hope your well, I wanted to give you another request about Male Wednesday, if it's not too much to ask, can you make an NSFW alphabet and an scenario (nsfw too) for Male Wednesday? I hope my order doesn't bother you or be strange... I'll wait for you!

NSFW Alphabet: W.A.

Warnings: mentions of: smut, obviously. knives to the throat, choking, necks snapping, temp play, blindfolds, graves, limping, edging, basically Wednesday Addams.

Author’s Note: thank you for the request babe! and your patience 😭 this is my halloween treat for you guys, hope yall enjoy. i was also thinking of adding a taglist- would anyone be interested in that? lmk

Wednesday is once again aged up, same as previous fics if not a little older.

Navigation

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Wednesday would be pretty standoffish after sex. He’s new to the whole emotional intimacy thing, and it’s going to take a couple tries before he perfects it. After a few minutes of brooding, though, he’ll shower you in affection. Baths, massages, kisses, whatever you want from him. Princess treatment.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His neck is by far his favorite part of himself. He’s not a vain person - he has better things to focus on. But he is in shape and dammit if his neck doesn’t clearly display that. Wednesday loves how his neck could end his life at any moment, especially when you choke him.

On you, your legs are by far his favorite. They’re absolutely beautiful. He can drag his hands up your leg and feel the goosebumps form, your breath hitching.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside or on your stomach. There’s no in-between. He likes the feeling of marking his territory, even though he belongs to you more than you could ever belong to him. The feeling of total connection is nice too. And if he finishes on your stomach, he loves to look down at the reminder of what you do to him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hold a knife to his neck. Do it. This man will get so turned on. The fact that he’s with such a deadly woman? Who’s not afraid to handle a weapon? In the bedroom? Wednesday could cum with that knowledge alone.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Wednesday is kind of experienced. He was socially awkward as a teen and into young adulthood, so he missed out on a lot of opportunities. But as an adult, he built up his portfolio enough to know how to make you see stars.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

There are only a couple positions Wednesday isn’t okay with - if you bring a new one up, he’s mostly down to do it. He does have preferences, though. You riding him will never get old. He has the perfect view from below, taking in every expression and sigh. It also takes any expectations off of him, leaving the bulk of the work for someone else. Don’t worry, he’ll make it up to you later 😏

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Wednesday isn’t a fan of humor in daily life, and you can bet that translates into the bedroom. He doesn’t lack all sense of emotion, though. He transforms into a simp in every sense of the word once his back hits the bedsheets, making comments every so often simply to bring a smile to your face. Overall very serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not just rich, he’s hygenic. Wednesday definitely has a studio booked at least twice a month for simple care down there, just to keep everything in check. He knows you love his cleanliness too, so he keeps it up.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It depends on the day. If Wednesday had gotten off from a long day of work and is in a bad mood, it’s fast and aggressive and not intimate in the least. But if he’s content with the day and in a somewhat calm mood, you’d best believe his eyes will make you melt in the middle of getting eaten out.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Wednesday prefers not to. Why would he when there are so many other things to do? But if he’s feeling really desperate, or if you’ve been on a trip for the past couple days, he’ll bang out a quickie just to relieve the tension. It doesn’t mean anything if you aren’t there, in his opinion.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

We’ve already talked about the knives, but that’s just scraping the surface. He’d be into temperature play, especially with half-melted candles, enjoying the way you recoil ever so slightly before arching into the warmth. The blindfold would be a big hit too, a mockup of a silent grave.

L = Location (favorite places to do the dirty)

The bedroom is the preferred area for him, but he’s more than willing to change it up. Has done and will do it in the graveyard for some adventure, but a dark bathtub is an instant spark of intimacy for him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If you pick up any weapon whatsoever and show that you know your way around it, he’s bricked. Your body draped in lingerie is a turn on too - he appreciates fine craftsmanship.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any sort of sharing is a no. You are his, and he is yours, and to him, that is sacred.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Wednesday is a giver in every sense of the word. He loves looking up at you from between your thighs, letting out a slow moan and watching you squirm. He doesn’t really go for receiving, but if you’re offering, he won’t refuse.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, depends on your moods. A bad mood generally means a quick release of rage, and a good mood means slow, peaceful lovemaking. He’s down to switch it up depending on what you’re both looking for that day though.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves them - they serve their purpose well enough. Wednesday likes to take his time with you, but he’ll never say no to having you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sometimes he’s open to taking risks, but not often. He tends to stick to the classics, what he knows works. He wants to please and be pleased, and anything that comes in the way of that (like a failed risk) is merely a disposable burden.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Wednesday is the type of man to have so much control over his stamina that it makes you question his mental state. Seriously, if he has his way with you, you won’t be able to walk for days because of the sheer amount of rounds he carries you through. He likes having that control over himself, and isn’t afraid to use it to the fullest.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nope. Toys are something he avoids; they just aren’t appealing to him. You’re more than enough for him, and he makes that known every time you bring it up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing is popular with you guys. Especially if either one has provoked the other. You flirted with someone else, and checked to make sure he was watching? You playfully avoided him, only sparing light touches to his chest? He can and will drag one singular orgasm out for hours.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Wednesday isn’t afraid to express himself, and this shows in bed. Soft moans will fall from his lips, as well as slurred words of encouragement. He doesn’t see a reason to hide the enjoyment that you caused.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

“Proud of yourself?” You call over your shoulder as you limp towards the closet.

“Very,” Wednesday replies as he watches early morning light paint your body. He’s relaxed against the bed frame, a smirk slightly tilting his swollen lips.

“Wednesday.” You reply sternly. There’s no way you’re getting dressed for the day with what your lover did to you last night; at least, not without help.

“I’m coming, cara mia.” Wednesday chuckles as he lifts himself from the bed and towards where you have parked yourself. He leans down to you, his mouth positioned just over your ears. “Where do you need me?”

Your heart stutters, his voice echoing in your mind. God, how you want this man. “Too early for seduction. I need a shirt.” You mumble before you end up even more sore than you already are.

Wednesday laughs softly before grabbing your waist and guiding you back to the bed. “I beg to differ, dove.”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Wednesday is packing. Full-on, grazing your cervix, causing a little bump in your belly, rendering your legs useless. You almost fainted the first time you saw his cock, to be completely honest. He knows exactly how big he is and how that affects you, too, and that’s the infuriating part: he knows exactly what to say about it to get you worked up.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Normally, his drive is pretty average. But whenever you are around him, his drive peaks, and he is desperate for you whenever you want to have him. He can hold his ground though and pretend he has no interest in having sex if he wants to tease, though.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

Wednesday wouldn’t even think about sleeping before you’re taken care of and drifting off. But after that, he’s out like a light. The physical exertion and emotional intimacy exhausts him, but once he’s gotten a good amount of sleep and a wake-up call with your kisses, he’s ready to do it all over again.

[airborneice]

can we talk about how @the-hilda-librarians-wife is just out here writing poetry in the tags like it’s no big deal

@sketchbookweek Day 3 - Sun & Moon / Family

you know I had to bring up my sketchbook kid Mattie for this one. in my mind this is like…impromptu midnight storytime bc someone woke up the entire household and now she’s almost settled no one wants to get up or go back to bed

(Kaisa has become a little more comfortable with openly doing magic by this point, partly because of reconnecting with Tildy in season 2 and partly because no matter how shoddy her spells come out, they never fail to entertain her kids, especially her youngest. Kaisa does the best stories in this house. no child can resist magic floating pictures)

[nalyra-dreaming]

COMMENTS on 2x04 - SPOILERS ahead, obviously^^

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

God that play is really…. and to see the joy just leave Claudia

And the foreshadowing with her soul leaving her body!!!!!! Holy shit.

Louis’ face mirroring the disillusionment.

Lol, Santiago getting a BJ while getting ready and bitching about the play. 💀

Armand and Louis in Dubai saying different things about that time…

Armand’s notes threw😬 me - and to call her lack of enjoyment of this play after 500 performances sabotage? Definitely a choice.

Ah, I see that is where that Santiago outfit comes in^^ - I would not have expected it to be Claudia there. I so feel for her there, it is so bitter. And Santiago having her back there and challenging Armand (and his relationship with Louis) damn. Also, Louis being so… IDK. Happy to ignore the warning signs now??? Ouch.

The coven going at each other, lol

That discussion “after”. And Louis’ “inner Lestat” commenting on it all - bitter

“Do you notice how hot the room gets”!!!!! FUCK

“I try to find the vulnerability in the object.” DAMN

The laughter. And Louis calling himself out there lmao.

They didn’t like Daniel changing track that’s for sure^^.

Santiago and Claudia 😭 - god I wished. And his warning her… damn.

Oh…. so THAT is where the “tender” comes in. Ouch again.

Madeleine and Claudia

The mimicry at the banquet. Ohhhhh it’s going to go SO BAD

But it’s nice to see that when Louis snaps… he snaps^^. Canon, baby, canon.

I felt so bad for him at the photography evaluation…

The fragility comment re Armand.

The photographs mixed in!!!! Holy shit. What is going on there - has been going on there????

“This is a Stein”. LOL Armand… “Probably Rashid”. Yeah, sure.

The body in the plastic!!!! Oh we are going full horror next episode, aren’t we.

Louis letting his “inner Lestat” criticize him. Aw sweetie. “I end up eating them”…. yeah.

The laughter again. And ”Lestat” mocking Armand as being “barely Balthasar”. 💀 Oh Louis. (I do feel bad for Armand. He wants love so badly.)

Madeleine’s story. One of many I would think. I … liked how they did it.

The Louvre.

“Vintage Lioncourt” - and then his “inner Lestat”!!! That expression, lol. And also the “ha” later… that is interesting.

In sync. “Okay” Argh.

HOLY SHIT! I KNEW THEY WOULD GO FULL IN AND DARK. AND THEY ARE 😵‍💫 OHHHH DAMN.

The coven abandoned by Magnus(??). And “Lestat” shaking his head.” Interesting.

I ALMOST thought we would get a Memnoch-type event!!!!! Damn, I wanted them to go there :))))

Armand threatening Claudia -.- . And letting her know. Talk about making things clear.

The thing about Santiago’s maker again...

Practicing the fire gift I see. Ah yisssss. *rubs hands*

“manipulative gremlin” LOOOOOLLLL LOUIS HOLY SHIT

God that scene with Claudia. Me and you, indeed.

“Bad decisions”. “Love makes you stupid”. “The wilderness that is our daughter”. 😭😭😭😭

Louis trying to say goodbye to Lestat there… heartbreaking. “An elicit couple out for the cheat”. Yeah. No double meaning at all. NONE. Their theme.The initials stitched in. Letting the rain pour down. Summoning Armand. “Mutiny brewing”. 😭 God Louis, why didn’t you just leave. “I used to be real good at running things”. Louis geeeeeeeeezzzzzz you are playing with FIRE. (Yes, I know, foreshadowing.)

And Santiago and the others using that moment to get the evidence they “need”. 💀

“You sure about that, Arun?” “Yes, Maitre.” Ohhhhh fuck. So fucking dangerous. “He is Louis’ creature indeed.” DAMN. Louis dammit you beeeeep Sorry, but honestly, that was… STUPID. You make your only protection look WEAK.

And them arguing in the bedroom. Louis probably having done that himself??!?!!!

Daniel using the time to go through the material - and remember. Oh the FORESHADOWING

And cut.

So in total:

Loved it, lots of very bitter foreshadowing once more. Loved all the little flashback hints. Knowing where the “tender” as a description for them comes from is… 😬. Louis trying to let Lestat go - I KNEW that would be a breakup scene, but I had guessed it would be another one that came later in the book^^, loved this change though. Unfortunately we already know it won’t quite work… Louis deciding to (try to) let Lestat go (which we know won’t work), and trying to take the “bull by its horns”… god. I mean. I get him. But that made my teeth hurt I clenched them so hard because that is literally… like, I said it above, but ARMAND calling HIM “maitre”? When the coven is already plotting? Oh boy. Not good in the long run. Not good.

So yeah. Loved it. So much in it!!!

And... my heart breaks for Armand.

__

And the EPISODE INSIDER. Spelling it out once more: (A gag order definitely dropped away^^)

“Lestat is just ruining Armand’s and Louis’ romantic evenings together.”

“He almost takes on the Lestat role in his relationship with Armand.” 😬

“Louis’ relationship is a response to his relationship with Lestat.” “Armand is a rebound. A rebound that lasts for 70 to 80 years.” 💀

“I think Louis knows he can get away with more.” “Like Armand is maybe a bit of a pushover. He realizes he can manipulate that relationship a little bit more.” (LOOOOOOL JACOB)

“Ghost Lestat [] is also like Louis’ doubts about Armand.” “He tries to accept Armand the way he is.”

“Armand will always see a little bit of Lestat in Louis.” “His paranoia is all encompassing.”(!!!!)

“It’s this really sad aspect of his life.” (indeed.)

And last, but not least:

“But it’s also seeing Louis slip faster with Armand than she had planned.”(!!)

HOLY SHIT. 💀

[wonuwrites]

ok so you know how in korea friend outings & dates usually consist of rounds, like dinner, then drinks, then taking a walk, then coffee, or whatever else? what do you think svt would do on dates early in the relationship? how many rounds (😏) would they go?

Why did i blush at the innuendo and want to do a MTL for it 😭😭😭 LMAO i got you you.

Warnings: Fluffy, humor(?), tbh idk. Not really read over.

p.s I haven't done this in a while so I'm giving song recomendations that I was listening to in case you wanted new music to listen to while working on the parts <3

x song is playing rn if you were curious lol

ღ S Coups: (Song Note: Biebs will always hit, argue with the wall LOL.)

# of rounds: 3-4 rounds

Seungcheol would want to get to know you pretty well when you first started dating.

Having said that, the best way to get to know someone would be through quality time.

I could see him planning on a "pregame" date at a cafe then going on a walk then getting something to eat, then maybe another walk?

I can see him giving you his full attention and would genuinely like your company.

He wouldn't want to leave your side but he's a gentleman and wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable especially so soon.

He would def play the date by ear.

ღ Jeonghan: (Song Note: yeah idk but I love this song LMAO.)

# of rounds: 2-3 rounds

Jeonghan is a very go with the flow type of guy so I think similar to Seungcheol he would play it by ear as well.

I think he could also be very shy at beginning of the relationship so he doesn't want to mess anything up with you.

I feel like the rounds would be longer though. I feel like others would have "short" rounds which is why they have more but Jeonghan would take his time with you. (get your mind out of the gutters guys. this is a safe for work, work lmaoooo. yes im blushing too.)

He would have a smile on his face throughout the date though and would really enjoy the date.

ღ Joshua: (Song Note: god dammit I fucking love this song. Say what you want about Ravi but this is literally one of the best songs to exist.)

# of rounds: 2-3 rounds

So, since Jisoo is a LA boy aka American *bald eagle screeches in background* I feel like he would do lower rounds because we don't do that really in the states.

However, I also feel like he could do more rounds as well because he's such a gentleman and if you wanted to go for multiple rounds I feel like he's a yes ma'am thank you ma'am kinda dude.

Plus he's extroverted so he'd be so down to be social longer than other members would be.

Honestly, would just be so whipped the whole time. Probably similar to Jeonghan, his rounds would be longer.

Just expect soft eyes staring at you while you are on your date bc <3333

ღ Jun: (Song Note: this song makes me wanna shake my ass.)

# of rounds: 4-5 rounds

Jun would be similar to Jisoo where he would be like "yes ma'am" and would just be along for the ride.

If you wanted to do drinks, dinner, a walk, a drive, etc he would be down to clown

Would want to be with you no matter what you were doing.

He would be super shy super shy tho. hgahaha.

At first I feel like you would be the one to call the shot for first little bit.

He just likes you a lot and would want to be around you a bit longer than other members.

ღ Hoshi: (Song Note: If you hate this song or don't appreciate this song I don't trust you. This song is just so special.)

# of rounds: forever if he could || 5 rounds max

Look, Soonyoung is peak down bad behavior.

Like throughout the relationship but at the beginning, he would want to be with you constantly.

Not necessarily in a clingy or red flag kind of way ofc.

I could see him being like, "oh (Y/N), the night doesn't have to end just yet."

Shoot, he could turn errands into a date.

Like round 2 would be a convenience store run to get snacks to pregame your dinner date.

He just wanted to get to know you better and loved being around you.

He really felt he could be 'Soonyoung' around you and that was great for him.

ღ Wonwoo: (Song Note: this album was peak and this song is so cunty. I absolutely love it.)

# of rounds: 3-4 rounds

Wonu seems to be a very 'go with flow' kinda guy from what I've gathered.

However I feel like he would be one of the more 'cautious yet curious' members.

I feel like he would be overthinking everything at first regardless if he wanted to or not.

However, I feel like spending time with people is how he learns more about his feelings which is why I ended up saying "3-4 rounds" instead of what I originally thought with "1-2 rounds."

I feel like he would try to make each of the rounds super memorable though.

ღ Woozi: (Song Note: Psy x Taeyang will always be my roman empire omg.)

# of rounds: 1-2 rounds

idk about yall but I know the Jihoon being a workaholic narrative is everywhere in the svt fanfiction world and it seems pretty predictable at this point.

Which... yes, I'm putting that narrative out again, I'm sorry LMFAO

This is just to say that due to him being a busy bee makes me see him not having many rounds.

Not because he doesn't want to do a lot but just because it's hard to juggle multiple things.

Also prior to nana tour, he is such a homebody. I think he might miss home.

I think the longer you were together, the more rounds there would be ya know?

ღ DK: (Song Note: Woodie GoChild's "pussy hoe" lives in my mind rent free and I love it LMFAOOO.)

# of rounds: 4-5 rounds

Seokmin is similar to Soonyoung because if he could go forever he would because to him you were good company.

Wouldn't matter what you were doing, he would be laughing with you and smiling wide the WHOLE time.

Expect Karaoke to be a round because this man eats CDs and I'm sure he'd vibe with someone who also eats CDs.

If you are trash at singing, he would still think you were like the Bob Ross of singing LMFAO.

He would be your biggest hype man. <3

He just is so head over heels for you maaaaaaaaaan.

ღ Mingyu: (Song Note: B.A.P deserved better. Literally one of their best b-sides <3333.)

# of rounds: 3-4 rounds || sometimes all night lol

I feel like Mingyu would be a mix of Joshua, Soonyoung, and Seokmin? (What a combo)

I feel like even a splash of Seungcheol as well because I can see him playing it by ear as well.

I feel like he would only do 3-4 rounds in general but if neither of you would NOT want the night to end you would add rounds that didn't make sense to others but it made sense to you both.

The date would be so carefree and would be an escape from reality for both of you.

Never an awkward moment tbh.

Once you said goodbye when rounds and date were over, I can see him yapping to either Wonwoo or Seokmin ALL about the date.

He'd be giddy af for like 4 business days.

Oh to be able to go on a date with Kim Mingyu...

ღ Minghao: (Song Note: Sik-K's verse is one of the best verses I've ever heard.)

# of rounds: 2-3 rounds

So when I talked about Minghao here, I said he would be flustered by you.

I stand by that still.

I feel like at beginning he would be so shy but so heart eyes during the rounds.

I feel like at first he would want you to call shots because he wanted you to be comfortable. So if you wanted a few rounds, that would be fine with him.

If you wanted more time, that would be even better because it was with you.

ღ Seungkwan: (Song Note: I just love this song.)

# of rounds: 1-2 rounds

Seungkwan is a busy bee similarly to Jihoon.

I feel like he would want to do more rounds but at the beginning he would be in his head a lot and either prioritize his career or you more

I think his overthinking might be why there are less rounds at the beginning

However as time goes on, there would be more rounds.

Especially when he get more comfortable with you <3

(sorry his is so short. I will come back to it later because idk how else to explain it.)

ღ Vernon: (Song Note: this song is mother idc)

# of rounds: 1-2 rounds

I feel like Hansol would have less rounds but the frequency of 'dates' would be more often if that makes sense.

Every night could be date night if you were brave enough.

He would be all smiles while you were on your dates.

He would want to get to know you more hence the frequency of dates but also he wouldn't want to scare you away by having you for multiple rounds. At least not yet

He would gain energy back from these dates and he just loved the fact that you agreed to go on dates with him.

ღ Dino: (Song Note: I don't need to explain myself to anyone.)

# of rounds: 5 rounds

Lee Chan is down bad. (not crying at the gym tho. the girls that get it get it.)

He would want to be with you as long as he could so the more rounds the better.

I can see our precious maknae being similar to Mingyu, Seokmin, Soonyoung, and Joshua. again what a combo.

He would be laughing and smiling throughout the date and would do everything to make sure you are also having a good time.

He would look forward to these dates. He'd yap to his members about it too and they would tease him for it hahaha.

It would be cute as shit. <3

[irishmammonagenda]

Hello! I hope your requests are open 🧚‍♀️

Can i ask, what brothers' reaction would be on MC who sings something like MSI (you know smth like "son of a bitch! God's like me!") or just alternative rock/punk in general?

Answer only if you're okay with that❤️

Have a great day🏃‍♂️

hihi‼️(i love the amount of emojis u use i can feel ur personality through the screen teehee)

i absoluetley can‼️‼️ also tysm for the new music to listen to (im kind of new to alt rock and punk i only really used to listen to MCR lmao😭)

anyway this was fun to write

grma for the ask <3

Obey Me Brothers React to MC Being a Wee Emo.

DISCLAIMER: emo is used as a word because where im from emo is used to describe nearly any type of alternative fashion bc we're all dumb over here app, also im 2% sure pop punk/poprock is emo music bc i think thats what mcr is, so we're going w/ it ig, the only thing ik abt music is that bars 13-20 in the dambusters themetune has fanfare so if i get any terms wrong lmk 😔✊

WARNINGS: There's a slight slight hint of drinks being spiked in Beel's one. nothing ever happens its just him keeping an eye on your drink at a concert just in case.

LUCIFER

He hears music blasting in the music room in the House of Lamentation.

At first he just sighs, it sounds like the type of music Belphie would listen to when trying to plan out another Anti-Lucifer League. The teenage angst probably helped fuel the seventh born’s desire and motivation to prank him.

He sneaks into the Music room. Technically he just walked in quietly, but you still jumped when you saw him.

"L-Lucifer!! Hiya!!" You say awkwardly, not looking the first born in they eyes. "What's up?" He blinks slowly at you, fighting the urge to place a gloved hand on the bridge of his nose and pinch it in disappointment (and/or second hand embarrassment) "I'm not going to say anything. Just keep it down, MC." He sighs, normally he'd have lectured you. But it reminded him too much of a wolf-cut, guyliner filled past that for the sake of his pride, he did not want to remember.

He wasn't a stranger to musical genres, the man collects records for fuck's sake.

The drums and guitars he can normally get behind. Especially with catchy rhythms.

The lyrics?....they're normally a hit or miss. It really depends on the song.

'God likes me' (MSI) 'Hail Mary, Forgive Me' (PTV) Religious references just kind of ruin some songs for him.

Lucifer spends his time collecting cursed records, but your music taste is a special kind of cursed MC.

Although, he is strangely supportive in his own way.

"MC, Lord Diavolo has gifted me some tickets to concert [small devildom band] is putting on, I thought you would enjoy it."

(Lucifer bought the tickets himself.)

MAMMON

Haha, Emo!

"Yer a wee emo so ye are, MC"

It's not exactly his style of music (the man listens to Kneecap ffs)

BUT!!! He wants to share things with you dammit! Let him listen to your stupid emo music with you!!! He's your first man!!!

He does, however learn how to play guitar so he can play some simple chords while you sing horrible improvised lyrics with horrible improvised chords.

You don't have the heart to tell him that acoustic guitars aren't normally used in Punk/Rock music.

The sound of horribly improvised chord progressions ring out in your bedroom as you and your first man stand back to back, horrible matching messy eyeliner on both of yours and Mammon's eyes as you hold a hairbrush to your mouth and improvise lyrics. That is, if you can even get them out of your mouth before laughing. "Blood in my body! Because I'm aliveeee!!!" You sing off key while Mammon strums the guitar. "Love in my Bugatti! Because The Great Mammon can drive!" You laugh. Mammon whistles while missing out on the fingering of a chord and then pretending it didn't happen.

LEVIATHAN

The first thought in this man's mind is karaoke.

He sends you a playlist of Rocky kinda anime openings that you should totally listen to.

He's the least shocked and weirded out, (not that the others are weirded out)

He really likes your singing voice. It doesn't matter if you're a horrible singer, its you so it makes him happy.

You guys could do a duet? If it wasn't too much for you to sing with a stinky smelly otaku like him :(

"Levi-" You sigh, looking at the Levi shaped lump of seaweed in his aquiriam, the demon's tail twitches through the pile of aquatic plant, showing that he's listening. "Levi... Of course I'd love to do Karaoke with you...You didn't give me a chance to answer before jumping into the tank! C'mon!" It takes Levi a few more minutes before he feels ready to leave his seaweed pile, his face is completely red, but there's a small smile on his face as you set up the karaoke machine.

SATAN

Satan enjoys your music taste.

He likes most if not all human world music because music is so important to culture and he loves learning about human world culture.

What he doesn't like however, is people dropping his name in lyrics for edginess smh.

No MC, no one in Je T'aime is his bitch. Please stop asking.

He also takes you to gigs! Because why not!

The blond haired demon sat in the bar, earning a few looks from the people surrounding them. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his jumper and jeans and the book in his hands in comparision to black denim and leather, chains and sub-cultural clothes that everyone else was wearing. Satan payed it no mind as you came back with the drinks, all decked out in clothing matching the rest of the people in the venue in style. "Hope you weren't waiting long....the lines were long!" Satan takes a drink from your hand and sips it, giving a soft smile, "Not at all."

ASMODEUS

The music is a hit and miss tbh, he prefers the more pop punk kind of thing, leaning more into pop than anything else.

He likes paramore though!

Loves the clothes associated with the genres and subcultures of the music! Adopts some of it into his own style!

(He alters it heavily, but some designs are inspired by the subcultures)

He could be your adorable gorgeous boyfriend and you could be the wee emo gremlin partner!

The opposites attract will look so cute on his Devilgram.

But he geniunely supports you and your interests, he designs and makes clothes for you in the style associated with your music taste.

He even makes you merch of your favourite bands and albums inspired into clothes.

He also does your makeup before you go out to concerts or gigs

Your his emo after all.

You squirm as Asmo runs his fingers along your flushed skin, he laughs as you jerk away. "It's just a brush, it wont hurt you darling!" He laughs, putting more black eyeshadow onto the makeup brush and applying it---or atleast trying to---to your eyelids, biting back teasing comments as you jerk away. You were ticklish god dammit! It wasn't like you were meaning to! It was a natural reflex!

BEELZEBUB

He likes it.

but not because he enjoys the music persay. Don't get him wrong he can listen to it and enjoy it but he wouldn't normally seek it out.

He likes it because you and Belphie like it, and the style reminds him of the both of you.

In terms of rock music he likes the more slow ballady types. Belphie normally listens to them when he has trouble falling asleep.

Very supportive.

If you're ever in the Mosh Pit in a concert, Beel will go with you, you're just so tiny and people can push you about! (You're tiny to him. So yes MC, his point still stands.)

Taking that back, if you're at a concert, Beel's probably with you. Unless you're with another brother, Even then, Beel's probably going to come.

Bro is like your own bodyguard.

Reports to Lucifer when at concerts and makes sure you're not taking any illegal substances, you don't know what's in them MC!

He makes sure nothing is put in your drink either.

He just wants to keep you safe :(

Beel had been staring at the cup in your hands back and forth for a while now, you smile and offer it up to him. "Want a sip, Beelie? You've been staring at my drink a lot" You practically shout over the music. You weren't in the mosh pit, and though you stood a good distance away, the music was still loud. Beel shakes his head, pointing to his pint and smiling his closed eye smile, "No thanks, MC. I'm just making sure you're staying hydrated and don't need refills." He says truthfully, though that truth isn't whole. You grin, "Aww...that's so sweet!" Turning your attention away from him and back to the stage, Beel wraps an arm around your waist. Eyes alert and wary when someone so much as walked past, or a crowd member got a little too close while dancing. He was overprotective and cautious. But you deserved to be safe.

BELPHEGOR

Give him back his albums what the actual fuck.

Look just because he takes your life it doesn't mean you get to take his music taste.

Wowwww. Petty.

Fine, you can borrow his limited edition special cut vinyls.

What? Lucifer's not the only one with a record collection.

He did not get this idea from Lucifer, No you Liar.

He did.

Belphie listens to rock ballads to get to sleep when he has trouble sleeping and when he wants to.

Sometimes when you nap together he puts some on.

It's kind of like a white noise machine.

Will go to concerts with you and Beel, but has to have slept for atleast 2 whole days leading up to it so people don't think he's passed out in the crowd.

Mention any similarites about his little music vinyl collections to Lucifer's cursed record selections he will not let you borrow any for atleast 3 days.

Long before Eve bit the apple and the brother's wings turnt black, a small boy with indigo hair wakes up from a nap, pouty lips wobbling when he realises his twin is nowhere to be found. Belphie sniffles, but doesn't break into tears. He's a big boy now! Big boys don't cry when they miss their twins! Beel was probably out on a walk with Michael and Lilith in her stroller! He'd come back! But still, Belphie's bottom lip trembled, eyes watering, the little boy didn't like being seperated from his twin! He was about to cry when he heard loud music coming from a room down the hall. More curious than anything, Belphie gets off of his bed, and (taking his teddy bear with him) walks down the hall following the sound. Though his walk was more of a waddle with his tiny legs. He'd never heard anything like it before! When Beel got back he could tell him about his discovery! Soon enough he reaches a slightly cracked open door and the music is super loud here. This must be it! Waddling into the room, Belphie could see a figure laying spread eagle on one of the beds. Half of the room decorated in colour with one bed and the half of the room with the person laying on the bed was almost completely in black with a bunch of posters on the walls. Most importantly, on the floor lay a box with a spinny thing spinning that seemed to be playing the sounds! Belphie held his teddy in one hand and lifted up the thing that was running across the big black circle. Immediately the sound stopped and the figure sat up, with layered dark shoulder length hair, layered dark black white and red clothes, and enough eyeliner to paint the colourful bright half of the room pitch black. A teen Lucifer looks down at Belphie with a sour expression, upset his mope session had been interrupted. "What are you doing here?" He asks the small indigo-haired angel. Belphie looks up at him with wide, sparkling eyes before pointing to the record player. "Why's it makin' sound? There's no choir in there...." Lucifer's eyes soften. His mope session about meeting the demon prince, not hating him, and finding him pretty like the human he met down in the human world could wait. "It's a record player, Belphs." The teenager's too emo, the end is nigh, everything sucks, too cool for love and affection persona drops and reveals his softie interior. Lucifer picks up his younger brother and places him on his bed as he takes out the record that was playing in the record player and putting on one that would be much less intimidating for someone as young as Belphie. He sits back onto the bed and the small boy cuddles up to his big brother, ever the affectionate child. As the record plays on Belphie grins up at Lucifer, revealling one missing front tooth. He had lost them early, shortly after Beel's tooth had fallen out. Lucifer grinned too, suppressing a chuckle at how Beel hadn't even realised his tooth was wobbly until he bit into his breakfast and found his tooth lodged into the food. "Luci! I likes this music!" "Do you?" "Mhm!" Lucifer grins, petting his youngest brother's head. "I'll tell you what. For your birthday I'll get you your very own record player and lend you some vinyls, we can even go to the human world and pick some new ones out. I'll show you how to play them when you have them, okay?" "Okay! Thank you Luci!" After a while, the songs change from high energy into ballads, Belphie's eyes grow heavier, as do his big brother's. Belphie curled up into the elder's side, abandoning his teddy bear for grabbing at the fabric of Lucifer's shirt with tiny grubby hands as he nodded off. Lucifer made sure to try not to move, in result of the slow rock ballad music and staying completely still so not to jostle and wake up his youngest brother who would 100% get cranky if woken. Slowly, Lucifer's eyes start to close, and he falls into a soft slumber as well.

And hey, if Michael returned from his walk, and after leaving Beel and Lilith into a play room went to check in on Lucifer and saw that sight; and then proceeded to grin and take multiple photos of said sight from multiple angles to use as blackmail on his little emo twin brother Lucikins on a later occassion, then that was Michael’s business and Michael’s business alone. And Lucifer's business when Michael didn't want to do the dishes when it was his night to do them, of course.

But if you ask, Belphie'll tell you that visiting the human world is what got him interested in that type of music.

Because he's a stinky smelly little liar and should be locked up in an attic.

On a side note he bullies you for being 'emo' :(

Bro is such a hypocrite.

But to be geniune, Belphie loves that he can share his music with you. He's happy you can bond over this with him.

Not that he'd ever outright tell you.

But you can tell in the way he gives you albums and vinyls as gifts, and makes you little playlists of ballads to sleep to. (He's gotten you into the habit smh.)

[chuuyascumsock]

(Can I be ⭐️ anon?)

I love Chuuya’s hands so much hshfjsjdikd

I want to feel them running through my hair and holding me, have him slip his dirty fingers in my mouth after he’s just finished fingering me, have him show me just how much of a wet mess I am

I want him to pinch my nipples and slap my ass and wipe my tears for me after he’s done (sorry if u get this ask twice, my tumblr is lagging out for some reason)

You know, I opened this on accident at dinner with my family the other night.

Embarrassing— BUT N E WAYS— hi, hello, yes you can be ⭐️ anon 🥰 AND UGH— I WANT CHUUYA’S HANDS SO BAD. LIKE THAT ONE SCENE WHERE CHUUYA IS HOLDING ANGO UP BY THE THROAT??

THAT SHOULD BE ME, DAMMIT 😭

Would let him use this pussy as a finger jacuzzi, don’t play w me 💀

[scremogirl]

HII i love ur nonchalant reader sm since i lowkey relate to them too much💀💀 I'm wondering if nonchalant reader w yandere nerd would cause the same reaction or worse?.. :'DD

Omg stop cause why did you open a whole Pandora’s box in my mind!? I also headcanon Nonchalant! Reader as a foodie idek. Original fic here! Nonchalant reader here! Enjoyyyy!!! -Love, Sosa❤️

Nonchalant! Reader with Yandere! Nerd would be sickininggggggg. He would take full advantage of their behavior and use it to get away with things that a normal person would have slapped him for. He is delulu and your attitude is not making it any better 😭. He knows you really don’t care about anyone or anything so that just makes it easier for him.

Before he became popular he would defo try and finesse his way around you.

“Hey… (Y/n)?”

“Yea?”

“Uhmmm.. I-I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go get something to eat after we finish this project? It’ll be on me!”

“Sure,”

As you two pull up to wherever you decided to eat you see kids from your school through the buildings windows. Everyone has had suspicions that you two were together; you really didn’t care. You knew Yandere! Nerd was just a friend, so why argue? Unbeknownst to you, Yandere! thought you didn’t deny anything because you were already together; playing further into his delusion. You expected people you know to be there and so did he, it’s the reason why he picked this spot.

“Hey, (Y/n)! What’re you doin here? Especially with this freak?” Jeez, this knucklehead again? How many times is he gonna pester you?! Yandere squeezes the drink in his hand, it is only till he here’s the popping of the lid that he stops.

“He isn’t a freak,”

“Really? Because all the freaks I know don’t spend their time working on building fucking Lego sculptures,” he and his goons laugh thinking their funny. You just sigh and give him the classical Kubrick Stare.

“I’m gonna give you the count of three to apologize and get out of my face,” he’s about to say something when he sees you, you have a reputation and he’s not gonna be added to your naughty list. With a quick murmur of an apology, he and his friends leave. You turn back to Yandere! Nerd with a quick head nod once you notice him staring and continue to munch on your food.

That’s ranch on his pants…don’t worry about it.

After he becomes popular, his confidence boosts. He’s too bold for his own good.

“Hey, honey! Did’ya miss me?” you ignore the nickname and continue scribbling on your notepad.

“No,”

“Oh how you wound me, darling,” with a dramatic sigh he flings his hand to his forehead and flops on you. He stays like that for a while before wrapping his arms around you, face buried in your neck. You continue your scribbling.

“Say, Darling,” he shifts his face around so he can see you. He pauses for a while breathing in your scent. Cucumber Melon; his second favorite to the Peach-Cherryblossom. How he knows that; well, let’s leave that up for interpretation. He sprays it on his pillows before he goes to bed at night, acting like you're there with him.

“There’s this festival after school, Townson Amour? I was wondering if you’d like to come with me,”

“Isn’t that for couples?”

“They’ll be food,”

“Okay,”

Another example would be:

Hmmm… I swear you just had that chapstick; it was literally right there. Ah hah! There it is! As you bend down you see the door open behind and the chapstick just so happens to roll away from you to that very same door. Dammit! You’re stuck!

“My, my, my. What a lovely surprise!” You look up amused. You don’t struggle, accepting your fate.

“Hey, you mind getting that chapstick for me?” He looks down and to no surprise there it is at his feet. He bends down to pick it up and smirks.

“You mean, this one?” He waves it around in his hands before popping the cap open and applying it to his lips.

“I don’t know, this flavors pretty good,” you just continue to stare blankly.

“What are you doing here anyways? Don’t you have a club meeting or something?”

“I finished early! I was looking all over for you; if I didn’t know any better,” he walks closer to you, bending his body over yours and whispering in your ear. You can smell the chapstick on his lips, that’s literally how close he is.

“I’d say you were waiting for me,” his hands come up to your waist as he gentley pulls you back to him, successfully pulling you out from where you were stuck.

“Thanks,” you say curlty; reaching for the chapstick in his hand.

“Uh uh uh, not so fast, darling. Don’t you think I deserve a reward?” He invades your space once again.

“Maybe… a kiss?” So you do.

“Keep the chapstick,” you say, gathering your things and walking out of the abandoned classroom.

Hey! How’d that ranch get here?!

[aaliyg]

Liyah and KK Sister Dynamics HC's

Warning: cursing

Dialogue Color Code: KK, Liyah, Ice

Kinda short but ayee

(basically little sister KK, big sister Liyah 😊)

She's stealing Liyah's food most definitely

"Aye KK have you seen my chipotle?"

"...No."

"...Why is there rice on your cheeks? Nobody cooked rice today- Kamorea."

"I THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T WANT IT!"

"WHY THE FUCK- bitch you're paying me back."

"I don't have the moneyyyy!!"

"Figure it out then."

Liyah is a decently early sleeper (like 10:30 the earliest) so uh... KK has ALOT of candid pics that she uses as memes in the gc

Aubrey: When I say I slept like a BABY last night....

Liyah: You and Aliyah was having fun huh 🤭

Aubrey: stfu

KK: Aubrey rn: *insert pic of Liyah sleeping*

Liyah: ...if u don't delete that rn istg

KK: hmmmmmmm no💙

Liyah: i hate you.

KK: oop not the punctuationnnn...love you too bookie 🤭

Liyah: 😒 Aubrey how bad would it be if i committed murder

Aubrey: honestly i support it

KK: AUBREY

KK is THEE biggest Liyah+Azzi truther Lizzi™ for short (yes KK did trademark it. deadass.)

"Soooo how are you and Azzi doing? Yall kiss yet??"

"Girl wtf- no..."

"Are you gonna?"

"Please leave me alone man."

"Aww trouble in paradise?"

*Liyah side eyes her*

"My bad girlie my bad."

EVERY SINGLE TIME Uconn mics KK up there are two people on the top of her hitlist: Ice and Liyah (free them)

"We back with another videoooo!!"

*in the background* "Oh God.."

*side eye* "ANYWHO let's go ask the people some questions. SO Icey Baby. Ice Cube if you will-"

*Ice side eyes tf outta her*

"....sassy much. Anyways what song are you listening to right now?" *leans the mic*

"Um Snooze by SZA."

"Ouuuuu I CAN'T LOSE WHEN IM WITH YOUUUU!! I like it I like it." *bolts over to Liyah*

"Heyyyy big sister!!" *purposefully looks down* "Or little sister..."

"Aight now what do you want?"

*looks at the camera* "You see how she treats me yall? Anyways...why did you eat the last of my pringles?"

"You literally told me to?"

"..."

"..."

"ANYWHO-"

KK will always drag Liyah into a tiktok dance. Liyah doesn't mind, but KK starts regretting it when Liyah starts making the dance even more complex

"Ouuu we could do it like this..."

"Liiiiiiiii PLEASE it's just a simple dance."

"But it could be SO much better. Let me cook dammit."

"Oh my fucking God." *throws hands up in surrender*

KK almost busted her ass once 😭

If Liyah is driving KK is GLUED to that passenger seat. She loves it there

"Hehe yeahhh I get aux." *shuffles music and plays God's Plan by Drake*

"Playing Drake during these trying times huh?"

*busts out laughing* "Don't blame me blame Apple!"

"Mhm.."

KK will always brag that she has scary big sister privileges and she's not wrong at ALL

*Aubrey and KK play fighting a bit TOO hard*

"Aye cut that shit out."

*Aubrey and KK IN SYNC* "Yes ma'am."

*cue Ice cracking up in the background*

[fanaticsnail]

Yandere Doffy anon here with more stuff!

First, ouch to that dialogue you wrote when Doflamingo tells Reader he killed Rosinante without really telling her. That wine drinking while sobbing GIF is accurate. My heart broke when Reader called Corazon her brother-in-law. 🥹🥹😭😭 Gosh, Corazon would be the best brother-in-law.

Regarding the three ways it could go for Reader's behaviour, I mean... All of them are great. All of them can be their own fics. I think since Reader is a princess she may be a bit naive as in the 1st possibility you wrote down, I really like that one. 🥹 I think it can then become Reader slowly becoming aware of all the shit he does but hell... you're stuck with him, it's till death do you part. Anyway 1st option is nice and 3rd is great and 2nd is great, you know what, just write fics for them all, I'll read them all! 😂

All of them are great.

I think for the Yandere Doffy fic, Reader & Rosi as besties, he loves her and she loves him but not with any budding romantic feelings. They have this deep bond of "we are taking care of the most chaotic crazy man alive" type of thing if it makes sense? Rosi & Reader love each other on a deep non-romantic level, they take care of each other etc etc.

You always have a water bottle somewhere to pour on Corazon when he sets his coat on fire. You remind him to let his tea cool off so he doesn't burn his tongue. When you get ill, Corazon is by your bedside when Doflamingo isn't.

Honestly, you and Rosi act more like siblings than Rosi & Doffy 😂

Okay, now back to Lami meeting Cora, bcs I can't get it out of my head. Law saving Lami, them both making it out, and Law trying to find work at Spider Miles and giving all his food to his little sister (reminds you of someone? It's Little Doffy) and eating bread (which he hates) just so his sister can be healthy. Of course, the work doesn't pay well, and Law gets desparate. We can change his meeting with Donquixote Pirates that he tries to sneak into the base to steal treasure & food (it's go big or go home for Law, he will stop at nothing for his little sister) and Doflamingo catches him and is about to torture him (yikes) but both you and Lami arrive and cue the reunion and you recognising them both and THAT'S how they join the Donquixote Pirates. We can just make it so Lami's disease is, since she is no longer exposed to Flevance's air, not advancing so quickly and she makes it for the next 3 years. And then Cora takes them away. And just... Lami and Cora are the enthusiastic, positive ones, they're playing around, Cora dances with Lami on a festival he takes Lami and Law to, Lami always sits on his coat on his shoulder, she loves Cora-san's coat so much. She thinks Cora-san's power is the coolest thing, too. Law is smiling a bit more with Lami around, hoping at least his sister makes it. If not him, at least his sister. Now imagine both Law & Lami in that treasure chest, gosh, no, nooo 😭😭

Also, Lami would totally braid Doflamingo's hair while he dozes in an armchair. He wonders why everyone is snickering at him and why you're giggling and it takes a while before he goes to the mirror and sees he has multiple ponytails in his hair. Extra cuteness if Baby 5 helped Lami, too. Anyway, I also think Lami would join Cora in shoving the Op-Op Fruit into Law's mouth. Law would want Lami to take it but Lami goes girlboss and holds her brother down so Cora can feed him the Op-Op Fruit while Law struggles and kicks. Just normal sibling thing to do. Also, she'd bite Vergo. Or kick him where the sun doesn't shine.

Aaand now I want to write a full fic of Cora's journey with Law & Lami. Dammit. 😭 I do think Doffy will be softer with Lami than with Law? Who knows. I like to think Doffy is a girl dad deep down in his heart (points to Baby 5). Good thing Law & Lami left cus no way would she have a boyfriend. Questionable if Law scares away a lot of her suitors when they're adults, too 😂 Lami, my baby, she deserved better 😭

And to break your heart...

"Hey, Law, Lami!"

The two children turned to Cora-san, and gawked at the man's big, goofy smile.

"I love you!"

Brb, gonna go cry. 😭

Sending love to you, Snail. Sorry for the angst. I just love Lami ❤️

I have no idea how long this has been in my ask box, but this is just the best angst to go to sleep with. I am crying, you're crying, we're all crying.

Yandere Doffy Anon, you spoil me.

[nanathott]

Ooooomfggggg nana those two anons got my imagination runnin WILD with the toji public toy play like 🫠😵‍💫😭 just imagine its your birthday or yalls anniversary or something and he agrees to let you do WHATEVER you want and you tell him that you want him to have some toys on/in while he takes you shopping or something. He’s reluctant of course (bc of fucking course he is) but you convince him (bc of fucking course you do…or he just caves bc hes not actually all that reluctant just likes to be a stubborn ass)

And every couple shops or stops you up the intensity, whisper or sneak him a text to go to the nearest restroom to switch to a different toy (pics/vid for proof and fap material later 😏), hes got the cage on so he cant cum, its locked and youve got the key so he cant do fuck all about it. And the whole time you got the remote/app controlling these different toys, tormenting and pleasing him while you get spoiled more during the shopping 🥰🥰

Then yall get home and you take care of him~ finally take that cage off, finally touch him, hes too tense and tired to manhandle you, too overstimulated from the vibrators or moving toys or whatever devices you used, so he lies there and lets your hands do the work. And boyyyy do they work, caressing and massaging, thanking him for letting you do so much to him (maybe slipping some fingers in and giving him a prostate massage too who knows 😏😏😏😏) And hes still got that filthy mouth working of course, telling you this shit aint happening again, telling you your turn is next when his legs work again, and dammit will you let him fucking come already!!!

Im gonna go now i need to..shower..or something…

BLESS YOUUUU FOR THIS HELLO??????? him still trying to be cocky and dominant throughout that is making me fucking weak holy shit

i can’t put into words how much i loved this