#is so different to how the rest of the system is used to me reacting to being ill that they all keep being like ''wtf is going on???''

[thethingything]

so we have the highest fever we've had in over a year (I've just taken some meds for it) and our skin is really sensitive and painful and we've been coughing so hard we keep nearly throwing up and our joints hurt so fucking badly, but our fatigue is still at like, the baseline level it's usually at when we're not ill which is fucking wild and very confusing.

I'm not really sure what the hell is going on with that because we also didn't start feeling feverish or get the skin and joint pain until maybe 2 hours ago and before that we didn't feel more ill than normal other than the really bad cough even though we've had the cough since yesterday afternoon.

I've been doing a lot better than usual at resting and taking meds when I need to and stuff like that though which is probably helping and we're planning on probably just laying down and not doing much for the rest of the night

[yinyuedijun]

ZERO-SUM GAME

It’s different with Aventurine. You like being his luxury hand watch. You like being his elegant knife, his liar’s dice, his pretty poker chip. You want to be his object—the object of his affections, something he can parade around just like his expensive suits and his beautiful jewellery and his ostentatious furs. Look at me, he uses them to say. Look at what I own. Look at what I own despite this code on my neck. Look at what I've won despite my eyes and my blood. (Or: Aventurine wins you in a game of poker. He decides to cash out his prize right then and there—to enjoy you on the card table, laid out among all the chips and cards.)

8.6k words of psychological issues, explicit smut, and deranged characterization. aventurine tops, reader bottoms. public sex, voyeurism from strangers, piv, oral (reader receiving), fingering with gloves on, creampie. mild dubcon but the reader is ultimately into it. afab gn reader, they are playing a fem-coded role for an espionage assignment (dress, heels, makeup). themes of objectification. discussion of slavery and sa during slavery (not explicit). dead dove do not eat, mdni.

You are in the grandest casino of Kinyoshi Moon Colony, and Aventurine is running your latest husband into life-ruining debt.

You aren’t cut up about it. If your marriage (or concubinage, rather) were genuine, you'd maybe be annoyed about the loss of capital. But as it is, this relationship is an assignment from the IPC—one of the longest and most excruciatingly boring yet. Fortunately for you, Aventurine’s presence tonight means that you've finally gathered enough intel for Diamond’s needs. It is time for the IPC to terminate your latest contract, and Aventurine is here to collect you.

Which is a little funny, given your relationship. It is strange sitting across from your boyfriend, draped over another man and thoroughly ignoring him. You’re entirely focused on fawning over your husband instead—laughing into his ear, lighting his pipe and filling his whiskey glass, and oh, Mister Li, you're so funny, you're so clever, I think you should go all in!—but Aventurine doesn't react. He only smiles at the two of you, like he isn't bothered by the sight.

This is, of course, an act: when you came home from your last marriage (assignment), he'd made sure to pleasure you so thoroughly that you forgot all about your ex-husband (mark). Aventurine did not openly admit to any kind of jealousy at the time, but you could tell he hadn't been keen on letting another man touch you. He usually isn't too keen about anyone touching any of his things, in fact. Despite appearances, he always abhors the thought of losing anything important.

But any fears he might have are concealed right now. They’re always concealed. Hidden by the expensive suit, the countless stacks of chips, the golden walls and high-vaulted ceilings of the Venetian Zhijin, Masked by his generous gifts, his easy laughter, his careless frivolity. You can see right through his gilded smile. The rest of the table cannot.

They are all intrigued when Aventurine asks, a playful lilt in his voice, “How about we make this game a little more interesting, gentleman?”

The other players at the table consider him. The other plus-ones—concubines, courtesans, gigolos, and so on—look at him with calculated expressions of cursory interest. You do so as well, but only for a moment. Your gaze quickly returns to Mister Li’s face—your husband is meant to be your true focus, after all, not the game. You are not a player at this table, but an accessory. Closer to an expensive watch than a human being.

Some business magnate from the Triangulum Galaxy leans back and raises a brow. “I'm listening,” he says. You watch a bead of sweat travel down your husband’s neck.

“How about we up the ante,” Aventurine says, his voice light, “but instead of betting more money this time, we bet our dates?”

You think, in other star systems, other worlds, such a suggestion would invite riot. But Kinyoshi Colony being what it is, and the Venetian being the establishment that it is, the other players at the table only laugh. Nearly half of them deal in the trade of human beings anyway—this is nothing novel for them.

“Well,” one of them says, “it’s not like winning more money’s gonna make a difference to any of us.” A round of chuckling. He turns to his date—some noblewoman from Jarilo-IV who seems greatly out of her depth—and says, “What do you think, love? How do you feel about being part of my wager?”

She doesn't like it. She clearly doesn't like it, and she also clearly doesn't know how to say it. Were you not on the clock, you might intervene. Maybe. As it is, though, all you can do is observe quietly. All the power in this gambit lies with Aventurine. Even when surrounded by men who manipulate the wealth of entire cities, planets, galaxies—he remains in full control.

“There’s never any shame in folding,” he says, magnanimous. Then he looks your husband in the eye, smiling conspiratorially. “But I know there are some of us who aren't afraid to take risks.”

Li laughs. “You’re right about that, Mister Aventurine.” He gives you a fond smile. And of course he does—you’re his last shot at winning back all his losses for the night. “I think you'd make a pretty little chip, don't you?”

Although Mister Li is clearly less distressed at the thought of betting you than he was at the thought of betting his company just last round, you notice, out of the corner of your eye, a muscle in Aventurine’s neck twitching. It’s very, very subtle, and he'd have never let himself do it if the table’s attention were on him, but he did it. Perhaps it was involuntary. Your mouth curls.

“Sure, darling.” You try not to sound too giddy. “I’ll be whatever you like.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn't be so happy about this farce. This is, put plainly, a stupid way to extract you from your mission. Were the cards in anyone else’s hands, your husband could win and you might be stuck with him for another several weeks, at least—assuming that you aren't discovered and killed first. Or you could go home with another man and be subjected to the kind of things that men do when they trade human beings, and you don't think the IPC would care too much if you were. You are an asset before you are a person, after all. At this table, you are closer to an expensive watch than a human being—and at the Company, you are an overpriced knife.

But to Aventurine, you're a chip in one of his games, and you don't mind that so much. Men who only know wealth will throw around their riches thoughtlessly, but men who have endured poverty will hold onto them tightly—desperately. Aventurine takes care of his luxury watches, his elegant knives, his liar’s dice. His capital. And he never loses anything. He always comes to collect. You trust him to collect you, even with this stupid plan, so you are calm as you watch the dealer shuffle the cards.

The table makes their bets. Most of the players go all-in. A couple fold, perhaps feeling some degree of concern for their partners, but it's more likely that they just have shit hands. A lot of the ones who continue playing have shit hands anyway. Your husband doesn't do too badly—a straight flush. He seems confident.

Then Aventurine lays out his cards. Ten. Joker. Queen. King. Ace.

All hearts.

You have to take a sip of your whiskey to stop yourself from laughing.

Aventurine, himself, has the grace not to look too smug about the outcome. Or maybe it's very unremarkable for him, all these winnings being pushed over to him—poker chips and human beings. Some of the other dates are clearly anxious as they move toward him (they are expected to be loyal to their husbands), and some are clearly excited (they are expected to be frivolous, hedonistic playthings). He humours them all, for a little while. Puts on the usual show as they crowd around him, charms them because it'll be good for business partnerships in case any of their husbands care even a little bit about them. You'd do the same in his shoes. But in your current ones (six-inch heels, black leather, red bottoms, luxury), all you can do is seat yourself on the card table and light up a cigarette. Waiting.

Aventurine eventually sends them all off. All I wanted was to get to know you, he says cheerfully, which is probably not a lie. After they leave, he asks the dealer to close the table and go on break. Turn a blind eye. You raise a brow when they obey him.

How interesting.

You're still enjoying your cigarette by the time he turns to you. You flash him a smile, one of the ones that you use for work. His expression doesn't change, but his thumb brushes against one of his many rings—switching off your synesthesia beacons for some privacy—and he leans back to study you. You know he's admiring you, but it could be mistaken for a leer.

“Well, well,” he says, “If it isn’t the esteemed concubine of Li Fengzhi.”

“The esteemed fifth concubine,” you correct. He hums, looking surprised.

“I thought you were the fourth. Did I misremember?”

“No, just misinformed. He took another concubine right before I arrived on Kinyoshi. He acquired a sixth just last week. Turns out he picks up paramours like they’re strays.”

“How inconvenient.”

“It made no difference to me,” you dismiss. “I’m his favourite anyway, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

“I’d have had to be blind not to notice it. You have the man wrapped around your finger.” Aventurine leans back, studying you as you smoke on your perch. “But before we continue—why don’t you come a little closer, esteemed Fifth Concubine?”

You make a face. “That title doesn’t sound as nearly as flattering in Avgin dialect as it does in Zhijinese,” you note, though you get off the table anyway. You don’t go very far, electing to seat yourself on his lap, your arms draping around his shoulders. The feathers of his jacket tickle at your bare shoulders; the satin of his gloves glide down the skin of your thighs before settling on your calves. “Since you’ve won my company for the night, though,” you sigh, “I suppose I can humour you, Mister Aventurine.”

“Lucky me.” He leans in, his breath sweeping the shell of your ear. His fragrance surrounds you, your body warming at the familiar scent of ambergris and vanilla. You realize, all of a sudden, how much you missed it. You have to stop yourself from pressing your face into his neck and melting—it would be a dead giveaway for your identity and also too revealing of your feelings. Aventurine might be endeared by it, but he might also find it disconcerting. He often needs to be tricked into intimacy.

He does enjoy being wanted though, and he can obviously tell that you want him. He pulls you closer, one of his hands giving your thigh a generous squeeze. It makes you throw your head back in a laugh, exposing the soft skin of your throat. You aren't surprised when he takes the opportunity to kiss it, his lips gentle against your pulse.

“You’re being very forward,” you tease him. “Did you miss me?”

“I’m just trying to be careful,” he defends himself between kisses, his breath warm on your skin. “We should try to conceal our mouths as much as possible. No one can intercept our synesthesia beacons, but someone could still read our lips.”

You give him a funny look. “We’re the only two speakers of Avgin in the known universe. Who could, other than ourselves, could read our—mmph…”

Aventurine has caught the rest of your sentence with his mouth. He’s hungry and wanting for you, the heat of his lips overwhelming. Your tongue is as practised as his, but you find yourself too distracted by your thrill to focus, your kiss wet and eager. Messy. Unprofessional.

You’ve never kissed any of your husbands like this. You’ve never kissed any of your other owners like this. You feel dazed when he pulls away.

You compose yourself. “So you did miss me.”

He smiles. “Guilty as charged.” A gloved hand rests on your face, satin tracing your lips. “How could I not? You’ve been away from the house for so long.”

Your eyes narrow. There’s no idiom for this in Avgin, so you flip briefly to Interastral Standard: “Pot, kettle, black. You leave home all the time.” You smack away the hand at your waist, petty. He looks amused. “And you almost always die.”

He switches out his smile for a pout. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last time.”

“You nearly got yourself blasted with atomics, so yes, I’m still mad at you.”

Now he’s frowning. “Am I going back to sleeping on the couch when you come back?”

“Yes,” you say. His deepening frown is meant to be read as a joke, but you know better. Deciding to throw him a bone, you lean in, whispering playfully into his ear: “You can still fuck me on it though.”

Aventurine hums, as if considering. His hands traverse your sides as he contemplates your suggestion. You move to straddle him, your thighs squeezed around his hips. When you grind against him, you can feel how much he wants you despite his composure, his control—his length straining in his pants, pressed against the silk covering your core.

“I don’t think I can wait long enough to fuck you on the couch,” he says, voice teasing.

“No?” You hum as his hands travel upward, feeling every inch of you. “The ship on the way home, then?”

“We don’t leave until tomorrow. Do you really think I can wait that long?”

You don't expect to feel the warmth of his hands on your chest. Your breath hitches when he starts palming your tits through your dress, neon eyes admiring the curve of them. One of his thumbs skims over the peak of your breast, and his mouth curls when your nipple hardens. “No bra? That's convenient.”

“I—” You squirm in his grip, whining. It just makes you grind against his lap more, your cunt moving against his slacks. A wave of heat runs through your lower half, and you clench around nothing. You can see people from a nearby table glancing at you, doing double takes. You can feel their lingering gazes on you, and you know Aventurine can too.

“I—are you going to”—your voice shakes as he pinches your nipple, as his other hand moves to squeeze your ass instead. Your dress is short—designed for easy access—and his fingertips easily skim the underside of its skirt. You wonder if he’s going to pull it up. You wonder if he's going to go even further than that.

But that would be an absurd thing to do in the middle of the busiest casino in the colony, which also happens to be the busiest trade hub in its star system. It would be absurd even for the two of you. Nevermind the reactions of the other players in the room—the staff here would immediately blacklist you, and so would every other gambling house in Kinyoshi.

You try to calm yourself. “Are you—ah—going to take me upstairs?”

He's fully kneading your breasts now. You can feel your clit throbbing, your body responding to his rough and unrepentant touch. “Hm… I don't think I want to.” Aventurine’s voice drops. His smile takes on a distinctly wicked quality. “I think I'll take you right here.”

“But we’ll get kicked out,” you whine. Even as you protest though, you're panting and moving your hips now. Grabbing at his arms, rutting against him like you're in heat. His fingers hook around the thin straps of your dress, pull them down your shoulders, already starting to indulge despite your reservations. You bend into his touch.

“Kicked out? By who? The staff?” He smiles, as always. “I own the place now. I don't think they'll be giving me trouble.”

“Y—you what?” For a moment, you're too shocked to keep up the wanton show. “You do? Since when?”

“Since last night.” He thumbs one of the straps that's fallen halfway down your arms. The rest of your dress threatens to come down with it. “Technically it's the IPC who acquired it—or, well, their shell company did—but I'm their designated representative here. I signed the contract.”

“The IPC isn’t going to be upset that you're fucking a concubine, who's not even your concubine, on their new property?”

Aventurine shrugs. “They know the kind of establishment the Venetian is. People gamble with humans here all the time, you know, so this has definitely happened before. The IPC definitely expects it to happen again. And besides”—he returns his attention to your dress, starting to slip the fabric down your shoulders—“I'm just cashing out my winnings. I'm sure they wouldn't deny a gambler his vices. That'd be bad business.”

You want to say more, but then he tugs, suddenly exposing you. You’re bare in front of him—in front of everyone. You can feel eyes on you. Heat curls in your gut as he grabs your tits again, his satin gloves smooth across your skin, and your nipples pebble beneath them. “Hm… much better.”

“But…” You bite your lip, glancing around. There are so many people watching now—so many voyeurs, who've forgotten about their games and their slots. Though there are a greater number of people who are continuing as usual, studying their hands, smoking their cigarettes, unperturbed. All regulars and VIPs, you know from your intelligence.

Aventurine pauses as you catalogue the room, raising a brow. Probably he's surprised at your sudden modesty; you usually have none when his touch is involved.

“Of course,” he adds, “if you'd rather enjoy the suite upstairs…”

“No—I don’t mind staying down here… it's just that I’ve never…”

Your voice trails off. Your eyes traverse the space again. There are people who’ve fully thrown their cards down, greedily drinking in the sight of you instead. Even some of the dealers are watching between hands, glancing at you instead of watching for cheaters. Like this is public entertainment, like you're a show.

Aventurine tilts his head.

“You've never had sex with an audience?” he guesses. He sounds surprised—perplexed. You don't know why. You know he knows it's a stupid question. You know he knows the answer.

You had sex in front of people all the time before you met him. You did it for the exact reasons that he’s almost certainly done the same. To this table of business magnates, you are closer to an expensive watch than a human being; to the IPC, you are more like an overpriced knife; to this gambling hall, you're an interesting sideshow.

To your captors who fucked you in public, you guess you were something like a toy.

The thought sitting in your mouth is this: you've never had sex with an audience and enjoyed it. It was painful—not painful for the heart or the mind or anything else sentimental, but painful like it felt you were a fish being gutted open by a knife. And even beyond that physical pain, you simply didn't enjoy being passed around. You didn't like being owned by those people. You didn't like being an object for their entertainment, a spectacle to be consumed.

But it's different with Aventurine. You like being his luxury hand watch. You like being his elegant knife, his liar’s dice, his pretty poker chip. You like being his plaything, spread for his viewing whenever he wants. You want to be his object—the object of his affections, something he can parade around just like his expensive suits and his beautiful jewellery and his ostentatious furs. Look at me, he uses them to say. Look at what I own. Look at what I own despite this commodity code on my neck. Look at what I've won despite my eyes and my blood.

You want him to own you too. You want him to show everyone that he won you, that he bought you, that you're his possession now. That he, and he alone, is free to treat you like a toy.

You're getting wetter just thinking about it.

“Nevermind,” you whisper. “Let's do it.”

His smile widens ever so slightly. Slyer than usual.

“Good,” he says. He guides you into standing. “Let’s get you settled then.”

You're seated back on the card table. The cigarette is forgotten in the ashtray next to you. Aventurine takes the time to straighten out your dress, lifting the straps back up and affording you some modesty—before he gently lays you out.

You look up at him as you're spread in front of him, laid out next to his royal flush and winnings. Like you're another chip in his stacks, the most expensive one. He puts a hand beneath your leg, drapes it over his shoulder. He takes the opportunity to kiss your calf, his lips delicate.

You glance at the tables around you. You watch the business owners and politicians as they watch Aventurine. You watch them as they watch your boyfriend pepper kisses up your leg, unless he's settling in between them. Your thighs spread easily for him, and you don't resist as he hikes up your skirt.

Then he frowns.

“I’ve never seen these panties before.”

“They’re new,” you relay.

“From your husband?”

“Yup.”

“I see.”

You can't see his face, but he sounds distinctly displeased. You expect him to complain, to say they're not expensive enough or not designer enough or just plain ugly.

You don't expect him to tear them right off.

“Aventurine?!”

You're so surprised you sit up, just in time to see him throw tatters of silk to the floor.

“What?” He looks up at you, expression unbothered, almost mild. “It wasn't your colour.”

Your mouth opens. “But it was still very nice!”

“I'll buy you nicer ones later. I’ll buy you a whole drawer of nicer ones later, when we’re done here.”

He looks down again, humming. Your cheeks flush as he spreads your legs again, baring your glistening sex to him—this time completely bare. Satin glides along the inside of your thighs, and your breath hitches when he reaches their apex. You feel the light touch of a finger along your opening, and you feel your body responding, tightening around nothing.

“Tell me,” he says, “What else did your husband do with you?”

His voice is casual, almost disinterested, but you know Aventurine is listening carefully.

“Not much,” you answer truthfully. “I haven't cum in months, you know.”

“Oh?” He sounds surprised. “You don't have sex with him?”

“No. He's fucked me a lot. It”—you whimper, pausing when you feel his fingers spreading you open, fluttering hole and swollen clit exposed to him—“it just wasn't very good.”

“Then”—you feel a thumb press against your clit, and you swallow—“he never touched you here?”

“N-no.”

“Stupid of him.” He’s drawing slow, lazy circles into the bud now, making you squirm on the table. You press yourself eagerly toward his familiar touch, having desperately missed it for months. Aventurine, perhaps sensing your neediness, asks, “And you didn't touch yourself?”

“He didn't let me,” you whine, and now he's frowning at you.

“I knew I should have gotten you out of there sooner,” he says, and you have to bite back a laugh. Aventurine’s mouth curls at the sound, and he leans in to place a kiss on your thigh. “But that’s fine. I'll make it up to you now.”

Aventurine kisses are soft and precise. They pepper a path up your thigh while his fingers continue to play lazily with your clit. You want—need—to feel something inside you, but he doesn't oblige. His fingers merely run along your entrance, teasing your dripping pussy with luxury satin, and that's all they do, even as your hips buck needily toward him.

He pauses for just a moment. When you look at him, you see him staring at you—at the brand on your inner thigh, the commodity code that your captors left on you, branding you as a product to be used and sold.

His voice is almost soft when he asks, “And what did your husband say when he saw this?”

“He never did,” you reply. “He always fucked me from behind. And he never went down on me.” You pause, thinking about the way he spoke of his business. Of his trade partners. Of what your captors had done to your home when you told him about it, feigning intimacy only to be matched in cruelty. You think about the way he fucked you, how it felt to be gutted open on his expensive, silk sheets.

None of it matters to you, really. This is behaviour that you’ve long accepted, that your body always anticipates. But you always like to offer Aventurine intimacy, whether real or feigned, whether he returns it equally or responds with undeserved cruelty: “I think it wouldn't have bothered him if he had noticed it.”

You can't see Aventurine’s eyes, but you can feel his reaction when he places a chaste kiss on your product code.

“I should have gotten you out of there sooner,” he repeats. Then he pauses. “Maybe I shouldn't have let you go at all.”

“I didn't mind,” you say. You aren't lying. “You gave me up for a reason.”

He stands. Cups your face with a palm, luxuriant fabric and gold rings pressed against your skin. Sometimes he's given up the aventurine stone temporarily for assignments, parting with it in elaborate gambles that he always manages to win. The way he’s touching you now reminds you of the way he holds the gem whenever it returns to his hand.

“Well,” he says, “I’m sorry it took so long to get you back.”

Aventurine tilts your chin up for a kiss. You meet it eagerly, and it's so tender in its familiarity that every memory of your husband fades. There's only Aventurine, and his gentle mouth, and the way his hands slide your dress down again, how he palms your breasts again. How he teases one nipple with his expensive rings until you're moaning into his mouth. How his other hand travels down until his gloved hand is cupping your heat. You drag your hips against his touch, desperately seeking some kind of friction, your wetness drenching the cloth. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your body aching to be filled by him, aching in a way that it does for no one else.

It’s one of the most addictive feelings you've ever known.

Aventurine only stops touching you so he can push away all the chips, clearing space on the table. He ignores the cacophony as countless stacks fall over, not sparing the plastic coins a single glance. Like you're the only prize that matters to him, even though the sum of his winnings come out to more than you ever were worth.

He lays you out on the table again, flat on your back, exposed, before kissing a path down your body—your neck, your breasts, your stomach, between your thighs. He deigns to give your product code one more kiss, his lips so gentle that it makes you tremble—and then he finally puts his mouth on you. He licks a hot stripe from your dripping pussy up to the crest of your sex, and your eyes close in bliss.

If you felt any uncertainty before this, it's completely gone now. Your hands ghost over your tits, playing with them as Aventurine’s tongue plays with you. He sucks on your neglected clit, fingers squeezing your thighs, keeping you spread open and still for him. He presses in, lets you drag your cunt over his greedy mouth and grind your clit against his face. Heat and pressure coil tight in your belly as he pleasures you, your body flushing with the kind of bliss only Aventurine can give you. You’re so lost in it that you almost don’t notice how quiet the rest of the hall has gotten, the cacophony of chatter and slot machines oddly subdued—almost missing. In their absence, the obscene noises that Aventurine is drawing from your mouth and body are louder than they should be.

The pleasure in your belly is just starting to swell when he pulls away. You give him a pleading look as he leans over you, but before you can start begging for more, you feel his fingers press against your heat. He watches you with keen eyes as he starts rubbing your pussy, maybe enjoying the desperate noises you make at his touch. You buck your hips, moaning as your clit and entrance grind against the fabric of his gloves, seeking friction. You’re empty, aching, desperate to be filled, but you think you can finish like this, just by rutting against his satin fingers—

Aventurine withdraws his hand, and you whine.

“No,” you beg, “please, please keep going, I was getting close—”

He raises a brow, feigning surprise. “Keep going?” He brings up his hand, shows you his gloves. The satin is soaked, shiny and stained with your slick. “I don't think I should. Look at what a mess you’ve made of my gloves.” Aventurine hums, frowning. “These are designer, you know. And limited—there are only 95 pairs of these in the whole universe. And you're ruining them.”

“I'm sorry,” you say, mind so fogged with lust that you can't even return his teasing. “I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, I'll do anything, just—just let me cum—”

“Anything?” His smile is sly.

“Anything.”

“Well. I suppose if you help me clean this up, I wouldn't mind rewarding you with more.”

You don't need to ask what he means by that. When he holds out his hand to you, runs a finger along your lips, you obediently open your mouth for him. Your tongue slides along the wet satin, only making his glove messier—but he seems not to mind. He merely watches intently as your tongue cleans his fingers, taking in the obscene image of you hungrily lapping your own slick off the expensive fabric.

He lets you ruin his glove thoroughly before finally drawing back, peeling it off.

“I'm not sure that did any good,” he says, frowning. “I’ll probably need to buy a new pair. But”—he pulls away, and you feel him settle between your legs again, his hands spreading them. “I'll still reward you for the effort.”

Aventurine is quick about getting his mouth back on you. His tongue is hot on your skin, expertly teasing your clit. You feel his fingers running along your entrance again, growing sticky with his need. He laughs when you press your hips toward his hand, desperate to be filled.

Then he's pressing his bare fingers into your heat, and your back is arching off the table.

The moan you let out is obscene. It only gets worse when his fingers curl, making the pressure in your belly even heavier. Utterly shameless, you beg for him as he fucks you with his fingers: Aventurine, please, please, I need more, please, I'm so close, I'm so close.

As if taking pity on you, his mouth finds your clit again, his fingers pressing into your sweet spot at the same time. And he doesn't let up, pushing into it even when you think you can't take anymore—tongue swirling against your overstimulated bud, fingers making you gush uncontrollably. You practically sob when you cum, a noise of desperation that echoes in the gambling hall.

His smile looks a little fonder than usual—or maybe just entertained—as he stands again and leans over you. You taste your own release in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, and he strokes your face when he pulls away.

“So good for me,” he praises. “Are you going to let me do more?”

You nod eagerly. “Whatever you like,” you say, all sense of shame gone from your body, “and however you want.”

Aventurine’s mouth curls. “Your husband fucked you from behind, right? Why don't you bend over for me, then? Let's show him how he should have been doing it.”

You see the diamond pupils of Aventurine’s eyes glance off to the side, where, sure enough, your husband is spectating with some of his business partners. You force yourself to turn away before you can smile, hiding your expression from the other men. You’re not meant to derive any real pleasure from any of this, let alone pleasure of the vindictive kind. Your relationship with Aventurine is supposedly nothing but a gambler and his newly won, human plaything. It would be suspicious if you appeared to be anything else.

You slink off the table in a distinctly performative way, and Aventurine plays equally into the show—probably an act as familiar to him as it is to you. He guides you into turning around, your eyes falling on the scattered cards on the tabletop, the casino’s eyes falling on you. His hands waste no time in pulling down your dress and reaching around to knead your breasts, in full view of the rest of the gambling hall. You're only vaguely aware of your audience now, registering the interested, hungry stares, but not really caring. You're too focused on the way that Aventurine is tugging and twisting at your nipples, at how he’s pressed up against your ass, his cock straining through his pants. You grind needily against him, whining.

Aventurine kisses your shoulder. “Poor thing. You've been neglected for so long, haven't you?” His hands retreat, and you hear the sound of a zipper being undone. Then your skirt’s being pushed up and you're being bent over, your dripping pussy fully presented to him. When you feel the press of his cockhead against your entrance, you desperately try to push yourself back onto him. But he doesn't allow you to—only running the tip along your wet folds, still sticky from your release, while he stills you with a gentle touch on your hip.

You make a pathetic, desperate noise. Aventurine chuckles, though there’s now a breathy quality to his voice.

“Be patient,” he chides. “I'll take care of you.”

You know he will. He always takes care of you, in a way that no one else ever has. Even when he gambles your life for some mission, even when he can barely afford you the barest hints of intimacy, even when he displays your body to an audience of slave traders and murderers—he always takes care of you. Even if you are only a knife or a wristwatch or a chip in one of his games, he still treats you like you're worth holding onto.

Aventurine finally moves. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his cock sliding into you. Usually he needs to be careful after your long missions away from him, knowing you'll be tense. He understands that your body always anticipates being in pain after being touched by other people. But he has you so worked up right now—still dripping from your release, still pliant from his fingers, still eager to please him before the crowd—that your cunt easily swallows his length. The stretch is pure bliss, pleasure unfurling in your body as you're filled up properly for the first time in months. He's just as affected as you, breath shaking as he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he breathes—laughs. “Nearly forgot how good this feels.” He pauses, his breathing slowing—almost stopping each time you squeeze around him. You turn back, throwing him a pleading glance, and he meets it with an endeared smile. “Eager today, aren't you?” He hums, a hand sliding along your waist. “You really do need to be properly fucked.”

He's stalling. Trying to give you a moment to adjust, but you don't need it. “Yes,” you encourage him. Aching for the press of his cock against your walls, you grind against him, and you hear a strangled groan as you force him to move inside you. “Please, Aventurine—please, please fuck me, I need it so badly—”

He hums, both hands grabbing your hips, his fingers sinking into you. “Well. Since you asked so nicely.”

The first thrust has your eyes going wide, your hands reaching for the card table as you’re forced to bend over. You spread our palms next to the mess of heart cards and shiny tokens, bracing yourself for the way your body’s about to be used. He doesn't give you time to breathe after, each stroke filling you deep and fast. The rest of the gambling hall grows very, very quiet as Aventurine fucks you, and suddenly all you can hear is the appreciative murmur of the crowd, clink of ice cubes in aged whiskey, the noisy flick of lighters as more patrons opt to pause their games and enjoy the show. You hear the shattering of all the stacks beside you, hundreds of thousands of dollars in chips fall over beside you, tokens clinking as they roll across the tabletop. But all of that is soon drowned out by the wet noise of your pussy being fucked open, the squelch of your slick around his cock. You moan each time he bottoms out, eager to be filled.

When you feel his cock press into your sweet spot, your moans quickly turn into cries.

You hear something like a breathy laugh from Aventurine. Your body always reveals itself so easily to him, and you know he enjoys it. He hits that spot again and again, builds an agonizing tension in your body with every thrust of his hips. It has your pussy gushing around him, your thighs growing wet and sticky with your need.

Just when it feels like you can't take anymore, he reaches down and presses his fingers against your throbbing clit. Your knees buckle as he toys with you, chest heaving against the table as he sets a brutal pace. You're—overwhelmed, mind going hazy as you're fucked mercilessly. So far gone, you can hardly register the disgruntled expression of your husband, the hungry gazes of his companions, the way that other players are starting to shift in their seats, palming themselves at the sight of your pussy being split open. There's only the tight coil in your gut, the chips between your fingers as you grab uselessly for something to ground you, the cock that's filling you over and over and over—and oh fuck, you’re going to cum, you're really going to cum after being won in a game, from having your pussy used like a sleeve, from being watched by men who will never own you no matter how many times they trade you, no matter how many times they fuck you, no matter how many times they pass you around, because you'll only ever belong to Aventurine—

Your orgasm crashes through your body, and you sob.

It's a broken, blissed out noise. Your pussy is equally shameless, gushing as you pulse around Aventurine’s cock. You go limp as he fucks you through your orgasm, uncaring about the mess you're making. He only groans as you squirt all over him, hips stuttering as he reaches his own peak—spilling himself inside you, pumping you full. Aventurine’s body slumps over yours as rides out his high, his face pressing into your shoulder. You find the wherewithal to shift yourself, just enough to your lips against the tattoo on his neck. He looks at you for a fleeting moment, the blue ring of his eyes electric on you, before capture your mouth in a desperate, messy kiss.

The two of you stay there for a long moment, panting into each other. Then Aventurine collects himself, remembers how to talk: “Fuck.”

You piece yourself together just as easily. Maybe even faster. Smiling into his mouth, you ask, “Enjoy yourself?”

“Clearly.” Aventurine presses his lips into your neck, lingering only briefly. “Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

Aventurine takes his time with moving, as if basking in the afterglow—or bragging in it. But he does rise, eventually. Pulls out slowly, making you shudder. He helps you to your feet, lets you hold onto him for support. His spend drips down your thighs as you right yourself, messy and hot on your skin. You can feel it sliding down your legs as you walk, braced against Aventurine as he guides you in the long walk toward the elevator. It slips all the way down to your calves, to your expensive heels, even onto the marble floor.

You're fairly certain that it's not an accident when Aventurine flips up your skirt as you pass your ex-husband. At the very least, it isn't a mistake when you stumble in that same moment, bending over and giving him a good look at your well-used pussy, now overfilled with your boyfriend’s cum. You don't stop to look at him, but you know he must be red-faced, displeased—aware that he’s been humiliated. Beaten by a Stoneheart, concubine stolen by Sigonian, one of his favourite possessions claimed by a former slave. You'd laugh if you could.

You can't help but kiss Aventurine while the two of you wait for the elevator, a smile glowing into his lips.

It's absurd, but a staff member approaches the two of you as you indulge in one another. Aventurine pulls away as you’re approached, looking mildly annoyed as he switches on his synesthesia beacon.

“Sir,” the staff says, “you’ve left your other winnings at the table.”

Even in his post-orgasm bliss, Aventurine responds promptly. “I’ll cash it all,” he says. “Send the money to my room. I'm not coming back tomorrow.”

“Very well. And the terms of the… human resource exchange that just happened?”

Aventurine’s jaw clicks. It's quiet, but surprising. You watch him carefully.

“We didn't bet contracts,” he says. “This is a concubine, not a slave. But tell Mister Li I'll buy them anyway. I'll pay whatever price he wants, which I’d wager is the company that he gambled and lost to me. Maybe suggest that to him.”

“Of course,” the staff member replies, bowing. Despite the first-rate service, Aventurine looks like he can't get out of there sooner enough as he guides you into the elevator. You give him a curious look as the door closes.

“You're going to give up a multiplanetary corporation just for this?” you ask.

“Not entirely. The IPC was planning to acquire it anyway. It'll be ours again in a few months.” He stares at your reflections in the mirror, his strange eyes lingering on your dishevelled form. “We’ll put your intel to good use,” he adds, and although Jade or Diamond or any of your real bosses would say this with a smile and reward you with a bonus, Aventurine’s expression is unreadable.

“What's on your mind?” you ask, fingers brushing against his hand. “You’re worried about something.”

Aventurine blinks, and it takes him a moment to recover.

“Nothing. Just hoping we didn't give our relationship away just now.” He cups your face with a hand, guides you into looking at his smile. A deflection. “I might have gotten carried away.”

You lean into his touch, eyes playful: a performance. As if he's some stranger that you're servicing, a captor being entertained; as if you're a plaything about to be used. As if you expect to be treated like the disposable commodity that your husband just gambled away.

“I wouldn't worry,” you reassure him. “I'm sure after the show we put on, it'll be clear to anyone that you're only keeping me around for sex.”

It's very, very subtle, but a muscle in Aventurine's neck twitches. He'd never allow it in a game of cards, never before the IPC, never before the prying eyes of slavers and killers—but he allows it in front of you. He always unwittingly bares himself to you, even as he swallows his discomfort before adopting his usual, vulpine expression. You don't think anyone else would notice what lies beneath the gilded surface of his smile, his liar’s eyes. You don't think anyone else would notice his tells, his vulnerabilities, his quiet fear of loss.

After all, there is no one else in this universe who knows how to trick him into intimacy.

Winning has always come with a certain emptiness for Aventurine. Gambling is, after all, a zero sum game. He plays a royal flush and people lose their homes. Winner takes all. He survives the fighting pits, his blade dripping red with the lives of other slaves. Winner takes all. He runs from the stench of blood and burning flesh, praying for thunder and rain loud enough to drown the screams of his dying kin. Winner takes all.

He alone survives. He alone enjoys his riches. Ever since the Avgin died, he has always been by himself. There is no amount of coin nor credit that will ever change this.

Here is another unyielding fact that hollows any win: that no matter how many credits he collects, he will always be a chip himself. He will always be a plastic token worth sixty coppers. Gambling is a zero-sum game, and ever since the day he was chained, Aventurine has been the pool of riches divided among winners. He has always been the commodity being traded between hands. He has always been the prize to be cashed out and used. Even now, with all this money and power, it will never be him who comes to collect: it will always be the IPC. Winner takes all.

Such is his fate. Luck is always on his side, but he has always had the losing hand against destiny. No matter how many times he wins, there is nothing that will ever truly belong to him.

But then he met you.

Then he met you, and now his luck does not always feel like such a cruel or empty thing. Now the zero-sum game has meaning. He hedges his bets in the market and buys out a planet, and acquires you along with the shares. Winner takes all. He gambles his life against a nuclear power and comes out on top, and the IPC allows him to keep you by his side. Winner takes all. He plays a royal flush and wins at a table of slave traders, and he gets to fuck you until you can't think of any cock but his own. Winner takes all.

Gambling is a zero-sum game, and when you're the reward, Aventurine wouldn't have it any other way. He’ll never share you with anyone. He'll never sell you to anyone.

He’ll never lose you to anyone.

Sometimes it surprises him, this attachment he feels to you. He doesn't quite understand it, but he thinks it mostly just has to do with how good it feels to fuck you. Much like gambling, Aventurine has never enjoyed sex until you came along. Sex for him has always felt like a humiliation, like being gutted open as a captive animal, like being won and passed around in the grand hall of some gaudy casino.

Which is, in fact, another thing he never thought he'd enjoy: having sex in the Venetian Zhijin before an audience of revolting men. He'd resented having to do it as a slave, but he’d enjoyed doing it with you as a Stoneheart. He'd even do it again if he could—take you over and over again on that card table, fill you up with his cum. Spread your cunt in front of everyone, so they could see for themselves that you were now his. Winner takes all.

Winning doesn't feel empty when you're his reward. Sex doesn't either. Because Aventurine isn't a chip or an animal or a commodity when he fucks you—he's a player. Someone with a seat at the table, as just as wealthy and powerful as the slave traders around him. Someone who’s allowed to own something—really own something.

Really allowed to own you.

Aventurine owns you. When he fucks you, he is a player at the table, and you are the prize he gets to keep. And no matter how you feel about him and how you act toward him—this is all the two of you will ever be. He knows this. He knows that you know it too.

So sometimes he can't fathom it, the way he treats you in bed. The way he always kisses your commodity code when he sees it, the way he allows you to kiss his own. The way he always thinks about pleasuring you until you're drunk on his cock, so addicted to him that you’ll never want to be touched by anyone else. The way he always likes how your body feels when it's being shaped by his hands. How different it feels from being forced to touch other people.

How badly you make him want something that he's always hated.

And this is what he understands least of all: how he doesn't like to hear you say aloud the true nature of your relationship. How he doesn't like it when you accept this reality and say, you're only keeping me around for sex.

It hollows him out when he hears it. A bitter feeling swells in his throat, and he forces himself to swallow.

Aventurine keeps his face neutral as he enters the suite with you. As soon as the door is shut, you pull him close—close enough for him to see the blurred lines of your lipstick, smudged from his mouth; close enough to see the white diamond necklace on your neck, a collar for a concubine; close enough to see the finger-shaped discolorations on your throat, poorly hidden by your foundation.

Close enough to see all the things done to your body by others—all the things you didn't choose for yourself.

“How do you want to have me next?” Your fingertip traces his lips. “On the bed? In the shower?” Your eyes are playful. “Maybe against the window?”

Aventurine’s hand cups your cheek, gold rings pressed against your skin. His hold is delicate, more careful than with anything else he's ever handled—any of his watches, his furs, his jewellery. Even more than with the aventurine stone.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You blink.

“Kiss me?” Your brow ticks up, but then your face lights up in supposed understanding. “Okay. You can kiss me. And then?”

“And then I'll keep kissing you.”

You tilt your head, not understanding. “Really?”

“What? Is that off-limits now?” He leans in, expression playful. “Don't tell me I've got to go back downstairs and win back permission to kiss you from your husband.”

Before you can say anything else—ask anything else, perceive anything else—he presses his mouth to yours. Your eyes widen for only a moment before falling shut, your arms wrapping around his neck. Your lips part for him, and he delights in the noise you make as he deepens the kiss.

He did lie, in a way. The two of you do end up fucking again—this time in bed, your mouth gasping into his as you fall apart for him, wet and needy around his cock. You're so warm around him, so pliable beneath him, so desperate when possessed by him. He knows that he could keep going, that he could do anything to you, that you'd be eager to let him use you however he wants.

But all he does afterward is kiss you.

This is yet another act that he never thought he'd enjoy. Kissing has always felt like a chore or a power play or a manipulation. It has always come with a certain emptiness—just like gambling, just like sex. And then he met you, and now it no longer feels so hollow. Because when he wins bets for the IPC, he feels like a poker chip in one of their games, but when he’s fucking you, he feels like a player at the table. And sometimes, when he kisses you—when he holds you close, when you come down from your high and press your face into the crook of his neck and in the vulnerable haze of your bliss, tell him, I missed you—

—he finally feels like a human being.

end notes: christ alive I have never written anything so horny glddjsksjs. I apologize for both my mid smut writing and deranged characterization 💔

initially this was supposed to be brainless pwp about aventurine eating you out on a poker table but I kept asking myself “why the hell did aventurine gamble for human beings and why are these two insane enough to be fucking in a casino tho lol”, and thus a coherent narrative was born from my shameless lust for this guy! but please also don't take the story too seriously because this is a dumb smut piece first and foremost and I mostly wrote it with my clit 😔✌️

that being said, if you are curious about the subject matter that I covered – here's an afterword expanding on my intentions with the themes.

[elitadream]

Hey, I love your art! Anyways, do you headcanon any time where Peach or Mario have been sick and what the other partner does to make them feel better?

Thanks! :)

Even though I've never drawn a Mareach piece directly related to it, I must say the "sick" concept is one that I've always been very fond of (in any fandom!), and I did gather a few notes about it for this pairing in particular.^^

What's especially interesting here is that Mario and Peach are from two very different worlds, with different foods and climates and medications, so to me it seems rather inevitable that either one of the two (or both) would eventually become slightly ill after being exposed to the other's homeland for a time; their immune system having not yet built proper resistence to its germs and bacteria.

In my AU, the bros never see Brooklyn again, so the most likely avenue would be for Mario to fall sick (developping a fever due to an infected injury, for example, or reacting badly to a certain substance however deemed benign for the Mushroom Kingdom citizens...) and Peach to be the one to look after him. 🤒❤️‍🩹

Depending on how severe the symptoms would be, the treatments would range from a simple spoon of health syrup to full medical assistance with lots of rest, and the Princess would scarcely leave his side until he's fully healed. She would use her magic to soothe the pain and help him relax, and Mario would later claim that it did more good for him than any medicine ever could have. 💗

I had also imagined a short scene where, while laying in bed in his groggiest state, Mario would smile at her tiredly and mumble half-coherently that she would have made a wonderful nurse, to which Peach would respond by reaching forward and boldly touching his face in a gentle caress. Though it wouldn't quite register, he would close his eyes with bliss regardless, sighing as sleep would finally overtake him. He wouldn't be sure whether he dreamed it or not upon waking up later, but he would feel incredibly invigorated regardless. 😊✨️

[hey-august]

Negotiating with pirates | NSFW (Cross Guild x afab!reader)

Description: After accidentally ending up as a bargaining chip during Cross Guild negotiations, you eagerly accept the chance to protect your captain and end up between Mihawk and Crocodile.

Word count: ~2.6k

A/N: One shot smut. Reader has an established relationship with Buggy. Let me know if you see any errors or typos. ♡

Warnings: Not beta read. NC-17. → MDNI ← sub!reader, cuck!buggy, dom!mihawk, dom!crocodile. Threesome, PIV, oral m receiving, vaginal fingering, creampie. afab!reader, no use of Y/N. All parties are consenting adults.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A Cross Guild meeting was getting heated, more so than usual. A contract that failed under Buggy’s involvement was construed as debt the figurehead clown owed. An increasingly panicked Buggy offered anything to assuage the anger of his furious “companions” and to reduce any debt that they imposed on him.

“What do you have that we can’t get ourselves?” Sir Crocodile asked disdainfully. Buggy floundered. His mouth was faster than his mind, but there must be something he could offer. Propose. Promise.

“I can think of something he has…or should I say someone,” Mihawk remarked. This was an uncomfortable observation. 

The trio rarely spoke about personal matters, and definitely never intentionally, however it wasn’t a secret that Buggy had a hook-up. A dedicated partner. This was a fact that the other two would say they didn’t care about. Truthfully, Mihawk had some thoughts. More like a passing interest in why - out of anyone else you could pick - were you with the clown. Maybe you didn’t know what else the world had to offer and this was his chance to show you.

The rest of the discussion, if you could call it that, happened in a blur. Buggy’s wavering voice was overpowered by the two former warlords negotiating on his behalf. When Buggy realized that he had become an accessory once again, he bounced in his seat, trying to alleviate the nervous energy flooding his body. The two commanding pirates set the place and time, which was not far from this moment. As the clown hurried out of the room, Crocodile called out a demand in a puff of smoke, telling Buggy to pick out your outfit. 

“When we undress her, I want to be pulling off clothes that you picked out for us.”

Buggy’s panic took on a different tone as he seeked you out. You both had spoken about his cuckold fantasies, but never did anything to make them reality. And now…well it was a classic Buggy mistake. When he finally told you what happened, he had tears in his eyes. Even he doesn’t know if they’re from worry about how you’ll react or fear of what Mihawk and Crocodile will do if you disagree. Or maybe the tears held hopeful anxiety that you might go along with the plan.

Relief washed over Buggy when you agreed. It wasn’t his tears or trembling grasp that convinced you, but your adoration for the pirate clown. For once, you had power that could help him. Not only could this garner favor for your captain, but the heat in his shaky hands told you that he had a personal interest in this idea. You could benefit your captain and fulfill your partner’s fantasy, all while getting intimately familiar with some of the most powerful pirates around.

When the appointed time arrived, Buggy walked you to Mihawk’s quarters. He didn’t guide the way so much as herd you. The clown’s jittery nerves had him flitting around, caught in your orbit. Buggy was a one-man surround sound system - apologizing for putting you in this position, professing his love,  telling you to not be nervous or scared, reminding you to say “lighthouse” if you needed to stop, calling you gorgeous, and whining about how hard he was already.

Buggy pulled open the door and let you step into the eagle’s nest first. Partly because you were the visitor they were waiting for, but also to watch how the skirt he chose flounced around your ass while you walked. Crocodile sat back on an ornate sofa, a hazy cloud of smoke circling his head. Mihawk stood nearby, closing whatever discussion they were having before you two arrived. The swordsman held out a hand, beckoning you to come closer. The atmosphere in the room was heavy. Intense. But the attention Mihawk sent your way felt lighter and inviting. When you placed your hand on his, it was the final piece of your confirmation to participate in this arrangement.

A pointed look from Mihawk and a dismissive wave from Crocodile sent Buggy slinking away to a seat on the far side of the room. You turned to watch your captain, but a slender finger on your chin stopped your movement. Mihawk turned your gaze back towards him as his golden eyes looked you up and down.

“Crocodile…” His companion grunted an acknowledgement, already aware of Mihawk’s thoughts.

“Clown, this is really the outfit you picked for us?” Crocodile said, clearly displeased with your attire. 

To be fair, it wasn’t particularly sexy or revealing. It was one of your normal outfits, maybe a little more composed than others. It fit well and flattered your figure. You chimed in before Buggy could speak, wanting to divert negative attention away from him.

“What’s wrong with it?” 

Following Mihawk’s hesitation, you grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand under your top, letting him graze your bare breast. He squeezed firmly, his touch cool against the heat you were radiating and sent chills through your body. Mihawk felt your nipple harden in response to his touch and gave it a gentle tweak, drinking in the sound of your feather-soft sigh and the intoxicating expression he extracted. Your eyes fluttered under your crinkled brows as you tried to maintain eye contact.

Your hand was still on his wrist and you wanted to show him the other positive benefit of this outfit. Mihawk tensed for a brief moment, reluctant to let you control his body before giving in. You moved his hand under your short skirt, slowly drifting it up the skin of your hip. Teasing both yourself and the pirate in front of you.

“I see,” he murmured while grabbing a handful of your ass, your skin soft and supple against his touch, “it’s not about what you’re wearing, but what you don’t have on. Is that right?”

“Hawkeye gets it! Now you’ll always wonder if there’s anything underneath,” Buggy called out proudly, pleased with his contribution. From this moment on, Mihawk and Crocodile will question what you are, or aren’t, wearing. And if this outfit survives, it will remind you and Buggy of how you were shared between the fierce pirates. It’s a win-win-win.

Ignoring Buggy’s remark, Mihawk kept his attention on you. He pulled away his hand and replaced it on the small of your back, guiding you closer to Crocodile.

“Tell us, did your captain adequately inform you about this agreement?” Mihawk questioned, wanting to be sure you were aware of your involvement here. You nodded and acknowledged that your role was to offset any debt Buggy owed the two men in front of you. Mihawk appeared satisfied with your run-down, giving you courage to share an additional thought floating in your head.

“I’d like to add an amendment.” You felt your small flame of courage flicker under the change in atmosphere as you finished this sentence. Crocodile, who seemed to have been looking through you, was now paying rapt attention. There was an uncomfortable stillness from the area of the room where Buggy was sitting - a bad sign, since he usually had trouble sitting still and containing his nerves. With one foot in the door, you pushed on.

“I don’t like seeing Bu- Captain Buggy get hurt. Whatever frustrations you were going to take out on him, I want you to use me instead.”

If you thought the quiet in the room a moment ago was oppressive, this was a new level. If it wasn’t from the smoke still drifting from Croc, you wouldn’t be sure if anyone was breathing. Despite having Mihawk’s hand resting on your back and Crocodile close enough to touch, you felt as though you isolated yourself. Alone and adrift in a dangerous sea, surrounded by danger.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking,” Sir Crocodile’s deep voice finally broke the spell in the room. In the corner of your eye, Mihawk nodded in agreement. “I don’t think you can take it.” The Desert King spoke his piece as if it was the end of your bargaining. You were not ready to give up, even with his dominating aura threatening to snuff the remainder of bravery in your body.

“I’d like to try.” Four simple words brought a smile to Crocodile’s face. A dangerous look.

“You’re going to regret this,” Mihawk said quietly, with a sliver of hungry anticipation. For the first time since stepping into the room, you felt small. Fragile under the intensity required to become a former warlord of the sea. 

Sir Crocodile extended his large hand. Before you could consider changing your mind - not that they would allow that - you shook, sealing the deal. Before you could release his hand, Crocodile pulled you closer. The way his hand enveloped yours and the rough pull had heat pooling in your core.

“Mihawk’s right. You’re going to regret this deal. Unlike the others, I don’t care about you one way or another. I’m only here for my own pleasure.”

Spurred by false-confidence from your successful bartering, you firmly met Crocodile’s stare.

“If that’s the case, then why are you still talking to me instead of fucking me?”

Your boldness wavered as Crocodile leaned forward and grabbed your chin. Mihawk’s hands on your shoulders sent chills down your spine and made your knees weak. However, it was Crocodile’s cold hook pressing against your slick heat that broke you. A docile lamb at the mercy of two hungry predators.

Time passed in a blur. Hands, mouths, cocks, countless orgasms, kisses, bites, bruises, all of which left your mind spinning. Dirty commands and sweet praises went in one ear and out the other. Heavy moans, groans and whimpers, even periodic commentary from your kind captain filled the room.

“Don’t hold back, she likes it that way.” “Pretty girl, you look so good riding my cock.” “Squeeze your tits for me, dear.” “Cumming on my hand like that makes you look desperate.” “Tell me, does your captain fuck you like this?” “She loves the taste of cum, make her swallow it all.”

Only flashes stuck in your hazy memory. You recall one particular moment stuck between the pirates. Despite being on your hands and knees, you were barely able to keep yourself steady. Instead, you chose to lean into Mihawk’s hold on your hips as his eager cock bullied your dripping cunt. Your mouth ached as Crocodile languidly slid in and out, caressing your jaw and enjoying the vibrations from your endless moaning.

One poorly positioned thrust from Mihawk had him slam into you uncomfortably - nearly painfully. Your body rocked forwards, almost instinctively, trying to move away from the discomfort. Unfortunately, this pushed Crocodile further down your throat, which constricted around him as your gag reflex kicked in.

“Aw poor thing, you’d rather choke on my cock?” Crocodile rumbled as he wiped the tears from the corner of your eyes. “You know I won’t hurt you accidentally, hm? Unlike Mihawk, I know what I’m doing.”

His comments only served to spur on the swordsman, who directed all his attention to making you feel good. An accomplishment he felt satisfied with when you cried his name the loudest during your orgasms.

Eventually, you could tell that Crocodile and Mihawk were becoming worn out. Their movements were sloppy, far less intentional or calculated. They had trouble keeping their strength restrained as they grabbed you and maneuvered your weary body, leaving bruises that formed quickly. Each load they left in or on you felt less heavy than the last. The click of Crocodile’s lighter and the scent of tobacco filling the room were the white flags that signaled the end. Your body relaxed, sinking into the sticky sheets underneath you.

“You should tell your captain thank you,” Mihawk murmured against your ear in between soft kisses. 

He pulled his body away from yours as you tilted your head to face Buggy, who was already standing at the edge of the bed. Mihawk hooked a hand around your knee and tugged, easing your sore legs apart. The gesture pulled Buggy’s attention to your beautiful cunt. Cum trickled from your overused hole with each breath and heartbeat, a pool collecting under your body.

Buggy’s hand was furiously pumping his own deprived cock, which was weeping for you. His attention snapped between the glistening treasure between your legs and your face, which was flushed with lust and pride. Words poured from Buggy’s mouth as he poised himself to decorate your heaving chest.

“You did s-so good, you’re such a good little slut.” “I watched the whole time, my little star.” “Just lay there, beautiful, m’so c-close…”

His cum felt hot against your cooling skin, carrying the warmth of his passion and care for you. Buggy leaned in and captured your mouth in a kiss full of emotion. Adoration, appreciation, and a slightly bittersweet hint of an apology for spurring on these events, even though you both clearly enjoyed things.

Buggy expected Mihawk to be upset about the state of his personal belongings. His obviously expensive sheets were beyond saving and it’s very likely that some fluids leaked through to the mattress below. But there was a softness in Mihawk’s eyes as he surveyed your exposed body draped across his bed - a sensual, albeit lewd, work of art. Buggy let Mihawk commit this vision to memory before mentioning that you’d need help cleaning up.

Before Mihawk could tend to you, Crocodile’s hook stopped him. You could barely make out the enigmatic look on his face through your half-lidded eyes. He placed his hand on your thigh, which quivered under the weight. His attention traveled upwards until his fingers brushed against your swollen, sensitive folds. A careful swipe of two fingers scooped up some of the cum that trickled out, which he then eased back into you. You gasped at the intrusion as your body fluttered helplessly around Crocodile’s large fingers. Weakly, you grabbed Crocodile’s wrist as he curled his fingers, already knowing your body inside and out. It only took a few choice movements and a swipe of his thick thumb against your clit to have you shaking under his touch, succumbing to yet another orgasm. 

Satisfied with your encore, Crocodile took a towel from Mihawk and wiped his sticky fingers before moving onto your body. The pirates made quick work of caring for your worn out body, cautious of your aching muscles and tender skin. Finally, Buggy wrapped you in his embrace to carry you back to his quarters for a bath and additional tender care.

---

It seemed that everyone’s expectations were fulfilled. The two former warlords upheld the end of the bargain they struck with you, as Buggy rarely returned with injuries. For a time.

About a week later and even you could feel emotions rising. Agitation and tension carried through the air behind each of the three pirates, with a breaking point close behind. Once again, a meeting behind closed doors was escalating. Threads of an argument trickled through the closed door, a warning for others to stay away. A warning you chose to ignore.

A knock on the door interrupted the meeting and before Sir Crocodile could dismiss the unwelcome visitor, you stepped in with a tray of refreshments. You ignored the blush dusting your cheeks as Mihawk’s eyes swept your body, clothed in an outfit he was intimately familiar with, and placed the tray on the table.

“Perhaps we are due for a break. Why don’t you join us?” Mihawk disguised his command as a question. Choosing to take the statement at face value, you turned towards your captain and feigned innocence.

“May I?” Your request was quickly answered with a nervous but expectant nod, Buggy's hat nearly tumbling off his head from the movement. Following Buggy’s agreement, you chose to settle down on his lap before turning your attention to his companions. The bemused looks on their faces told you that they knew you were toying with them.

“Get the fuck over here.”

[tinydefector]

TFP Shockwave with a pet human who he's come to be rather affectionate with absent mindedly and has become more interactive with them outside of experiments even. One day human goes missing / isn't in usual spot and Shockwave is trying to figure out wtf is going on but then a con makes a cruel joke (anyone of choosing I thought arachnid or starscream) that they fell out of their cage and got caught underfoot whoopsies . how does Shockwave react before the human comes out from their hiding spot where they were resting??? O_O

Out of Reach

Shockwave x human

Warning: none

Word count: 1k

Shockwave masterlist

_________________________

Shockwave grew increasingly troubled as his thorough search of the lab turned up no sign of his human companion. They were always precisely where he expected upon his arrival, yet this cycle they were nowhere to be found. A nagging unease arose within the Decepticon scientist, though he remained outwardly calm as he searched.

Shockwave diligently swept across the laboratory once more, searching for any trace or clue that could indicate the human's whereabouts or condition. This simply made no logical sense. They had never hidden from him, something must have happened. Had something interfered with the lab's systems without triggering alerts? No breaches were indicated. Shockwave did not appreciate unexplained variables in his work.The sooner this small mystery was solved, the better.

Arachnid watches with a smirk on her lips as Shockwave walks through the halls checking different areas and in hopes that his little companion was just hiding. "Missing something Shockwave?" She inquires with a raised optic brow, not looking rather interested.

Shockwave paused in his meticulous vent searches to regard the inquisitive Arachnid. She took far too much pleasure in others' losses, however minor.

"My human subject is absent from their Enclosure without explanation," he stated flatly. No sense indulging her obvious gloating. "Their whereabouts remain unknown." Her smirk only widened. "And you thought you had everything so neatly ordered. Surprises happen, even to our beloved scientist." Her tone held thinly veiled mockery. "Perhaps a fleshling has more spirit than you gave it credit for."

Shockwave disregarded her taunting for now. "If you possess any data that could aid my investigation, speak. Else your presence here serves no purpose." His patience for games was nonexistent. She lets out a huff as she turns away. "Last I saw them Starscream was rambling about discarding the little pest, I would much rather have added them to my collection, but no use once they are squished" she replies amusement flicking in her optics. It makes Shockwave's spark go cold at the thought.

Starscream, interfering in his work yet again... but to harm the human? It made no sense. "Elaborate. What precisely did Starscream say?" Starscream's actions often lacked reason, but there had to be a thread of logic here. The thought of harm coming to his research subject was. displeasing.

His optic narrowed on Arachnid, another smile graced her lips. "If my memory serves correctly, starscream stepped on them when he was in your laboratory last, and decided it was easier to discard them before they made a mess with all their bloo " she teases. She was going to see just how far Shockwave was willing to go for the little flesh bag.

Something akin to anger flashed through Shockwave's circuits at Arachnid's vague 'memory' and obvious game. Starscream would pay dearly for damaging laboratory property and disrupting critical research. His optic burned into hers. "Show me. Now."

Starscream looks up from his data pad when the sound of Shockwave's shadow forms over him. Arachnid gives him a little wave before stalking off, leaving Shockwave with him. "What can I do for you, Shockwave, as you can see I am rather busy" he states, wings flickering in annoyance at being interrupted.

"You will explain the human's current status and your role in their disappearance, Starscream," he stated calmly. Too calmly, given the swirling calculations within his processor. "Arachnid insinuated you were involved with deactivating them."

Starscream shifted uneasily under that baleful optical lens. “How dare you accuse me!” he snarls as his optics glare at the scientist. Shockwave cut him off. "The human. Where is it? I will have answers, one way or another. Do not test me further, Starscream."

"You babbling Moron I haven't been anywhere near your Lab nor near that disgusting little creature you adore!I'm Sure Arachnid would just love to add them to her collection of prizes and is using this time to hunt them" Starscream snarls out wings flickering even more as Shockwave threatens him.

The moment those words leave Starscream, Shockwave turned on a heel strut and departed, optic aglow with sheer anger. When Shockwave stalks back into his laboratory Arachnid isn't paying attention as she looks through the vents eager to try and find the human before Shockwave's return.A faint whirring was Shockwave's only warning before his blaster cannon trained directly on Arachnid's backstrut. "Cease your prowling immediately, My companion is off limits as is instructed by Lord Megatron" he commanded, weapon charged and ready.

She froze at the sound of his calm yet irrefutable voice. “Such a shame, yet you still have found your precious little pet, perhaps they have finally abandoned you” she sneers back at him. His optic narrowed to a slit. He took a measured step forward. "The human. Where have you hidden or disposed of them, Arachnid?" A hiss escaped her in mingled frustration and wary respect. Lying to Shockwave was never wise. Slowly, delicately, she extracted herself away from the vent. "I have no idea."

Movement catches Shockwave optics from over on his bench, it makes both Decepticons helms snap to the moment. "What time is it?" the little human asked while rubbing their eyes as they pulled the large cloth around their body. walking out of the unoccupied crate that originally held Shockwave's energon cube rations. Arachnid snarls as she pushes Shockwave off before stalking out of the lab. "What was that about?" They mumble tiredly.

Shockwave's cannon whirred down as he took in the dishevelled yet apparently unharmed human, "It is roughly mid-cycle," he replied calmly, his servo moving across their frame taking in their appearance making sure they are not injured. all traces of anger leave his processes.

"You appear undamaged. How did you get to be within the energon container? Arachnid led me to believe you'd been.harmed." he questioned, Relief pulsed through his lines, though he showed no outward emotion.

"I fell asleep in there last night while you were working, sorry I didn't mean to cause any issues" they state as he lifts them up. Shockwave processed this new information and he cursed himself for not checking the crate. "You have nothing for which to apologise for " he replied calmly, holding the human against his chassis. “I ask that you alert me as to your wear about before recharge for your own safety” he states before setting down with them in his servos.

______________

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[wandasaura]

Hello love! How would all 3 react if R were to call her safeword? I bet it'd be all fluffy aftercare, I'm in the mood for that

˚⋆｡°౨ৎ both wanda and natasha take r’s safeword very seriously, it’s one of the only things that was discussed in detail in regards to your sexual relationship. everything else came up in a more natural way, but keeping r safe and comfortable was their main priority and absolutely non negotiable, so when things started to get kinky and had the means to push r’s boundaries, they implemented the traffic light system. r was good with checking in with them, and they were equally as mindful of never going too far, but there was one time that she needed to call her safeword and as soon as she did, both of them stopped what they were doing and made sure that everything was okay. ౨ৎ °｡⋆˚

That night hadn’t been out of the ordinary, you’d fallen into a scene with your girlfriends naturally, and had been enjoying it for the most part, that was undeniable as Wanda teased you about the wetness between your thighs. Your witchy lover had you bent over the edge of the bed, a new strap secured around her naked hips and buried in your core, while your softhearted assassin watched from the corner of the room, a teasing smirk on her lips and a mischievous glint in her green eyes as she fiddled with the tassels on the edge of dark red whip.

“Sound so pretty for me.” Wanda nipped at your earlobe, her front pressed up against your back, pebbled nipples dragging up and against your skin. You arched up into her touch, eyes pinched shut as you fished the bedsheets. She’d been working you over for hours, no inch of your body left untouched. Her mouth had done wonders on your nipples, her fingers had searched the deepest parts of your core, and her strap had been coated with your saliva before it even touched your desperate folds. “Gonna cum for me? Yeah, are you gonna let go?”

“Cat got your tongue?” Natasha teased when all you managed to do was whine, grabbing fistfulls of the bedsheets as you scrounged for the words to beg. “Answer Mommy, detka.” Her footsteps were drowned out by the sounds of your moans and Wanda’s heavy breathing, the redheads bottom lip caught between her teeth as she threw her head back.

By this point of the night, your body was exhausted, your brain was mush, and every touch to your skin felt like needle pricks. What sent you over the edge was Natasha cracking the whip against your thighs. She’d done it a handful of times throughout the night, but this time was different, and the second you felt that lick of pain on your already worked over and sensitive skin, you sobbed out your safeword, dissolving into tears on the bedsheets.

“Red!” Wanda will never forget how her heart sank into her stomach hearing you so defeated. She pulled out quickly, not even bothering to detach the strap from the harness before she was crawling up onto the bed beside your body, grabbing your face in her careful hands and forcing your eyes on hers.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. We’re all done, all done.” She kissed you softly, not even minding whatever Natasha was doing as she left the bedroom in a hurry, her footsteps echoing through the hallway just outside of your bedroom. “What do you need? Hmm?” She brushed her fingers through your knotted hair, peppering kissing into your hairline.

“Too much.” You strained out, your voice hoarse and weak as you rested against her.

“Too much?” Wanda cooed, “Alright, good job telling us. Such a good girl.” Wanda helped you up into the center of the bed, easing you out of the silky scarlet lingerie you’d been haphazardly dressed in. Your clothes ended up in a pile on the floor to be dealt with later, and all of Wanda’s attention was on you as she stroked your back and kissed your face wherever she could reach. “You did so good for us. So so good.”

When Natasha returned, she was holding a glass of water and an unscented lotion, wearing the same worried frown as Wanda.

“Have some water, baby.” Natasha leaned over the bed, careful not to jostle your body more than necessary. Wanda helped you take a couple of sips before you batted her hand away, too tired to hold your head up to continue taking small drinks, though your throat felt better from the little you did consume. “Turn over for me.” Natasha instructed carefully, voice still laced with dominance, wanting to ease you down gently. You were still heavy in subspace, still clinging onto their instructions and praise, and you obeyed without complaint, burying your face in Wanda’s neck, letting your body go slack against her front.

Natasha was gentle as she rubbed the lotion over your bottom and the back of your thighs, the cold sensation shocking your overheated body, but a welcomed sensation despite the temperature. You hummed against Wanda’s neck, disappointed when Natasha backed away and set the lotion down on your dresser when she was satisfied with her application.

She joined you in bed afterward, settling in next to Wanda, laying her hand on your waist and rubbing gentle circles with thumb that cause goosebumps to rise on your skin. You grumbled quietly when Natasha laid her head down on Wanda’s shoulder, her red hair tickling your cheek as it fell. Wanda laughed softly, brushing Natasha’s hair away from your face before she went back to combing her fingers through your hair. “Just relax baby, let us take care of you.”

˚⋆｡°౨ৎ they’re always soft with you, but god they’d be so gentle and attentive, and i’m sure they’d run you a warm bath the next morning when you had the energy to get up from bed and clean yourself off. and i’m sure throughout the rest of the day they’d be sure to check in and give you all the cuddles you wanted ౨ৎ °｡⋆˚

[lady-of-endless]

Hello! I saw that requests are still open sooo can we please get something with the reader (neutral) who tries to seduce Ramattra? Lol. What would he do about it? 👀 Thank you!!

Author's Note: Ohhh. I've been waiting for something like this to distract us from how much angst we're getting now in the game. My apologies for the wait but I got carried away with this one and added a little twist to it, I hope you won't mind and you'll enjoy it! Thank you for your request! As usual, please excuse any grammar mistakes.

Seducing Ramattra

Most of the time, when Ramattra is caught up with a plan, he is working too hard for too long. Every time you notice that he's getting burned out, you find a way to lure him, to get some rest.

This time, your intentions were different and he could tell that by the way you slid your hands over his rigid ribcage as you stood behind him. The slight pressure was enough to stop his hand from writing. Ramattra did not stand getting interrupted, but not by you. Something similar to a shiver fired through his circuits at the meaning of your affectionate but sly gesture.

"Maybe you should unwind a little." You suggested calmly, looking at the scribbled plan from his desk. "We can lay down, meditate, read something, or tell me about your next plan…or maybe try some other ways to relax if you'd let me help." You whispered in a suggestive voice next to his sound sensor which was conveniently placed where ears are on humans. He exhaled deeply, already thinking how all of his tension would leave his system with all those possibilities you offered, especially the last options…

Wait. This wasn't right.

What a fool I have become for you, he thinks and straightens his back. Suddenly, it bothered him that you had this much influence over him. The power to subdue him into sweet surrender, to be precise. Was his usual collected demeanor blurred by the love he devoted to you? Ramattra could not accept it tonight.

"I know what your actions and tone imply." His demeanour changed into a serious one in the blink of an eye making you take your hands off him. "Tell me, do you think you will always succeed in enticing me like so?" His tone was daring. "Because I will put it to an end."

Before you could say anything, he stood up, pushing the chair aside with a leg kick. The movement made the desk at which he worked shake. The lamp that illuminated the workplace and the room fell on the ground, turning off.

As Ramattra turned around, you looked up to his face for clarification. Chills ran down your spine. Half of his faceplate was illuminated by the faint purple glow of his void accelerator that rested in the corner of the room.

Ramattra unexpectedly grabbed your jaw and pulled you closer. He noticed how the same purple light was altering the true color of your irises. He thought it was a mesmerizing sight.

"There's tension in you now, beloved." He made sure to emphasize the nickname he used for you only in private. Ramattra took some moments to admire the shock on your face. He hummed in contentment as he let go of your jaw.

Before you could even recover and figure out what has gotten into him, you suddenly felt a grip on your hips. Without having time to react, Ramattra picked you up and placed you on his desk. He leaned closer to the side of your face, still holding you in place.

"Do not assume that I lack knowledge about what your rapid heartbeats mean, or what parts of you are the most vulnerable to touch." He explained in a sardonic voice next to your ear as a cold fingertip slid from your hip down your tight and back up intimately.

You were stunned, this was nothing like how it usually went when you tried to seduce him. Right now, he was the one tempting you. He was still careful with you but his touches were hinting at his wish to break you in a bittersweet way.

Seeing how speechless he got you only made him more ambitious. Ramattra understood why you tried to seduce him so many times, feeling a rush of power.

"Are you willing to give yourself to me? Are you certain of leaving your body in the hands of a Ravager?" He could remember how long it has been since he used the name that once woke something dangerous in him (but saddened him deeply as time passed). You parted your lips to say something but changed your mind and nodded with your eyes closed. That was it for him. The look of surrender on your face and your surprised reactions made him demand more. "Say it to me, without even daring to stutter. I do not think that I have reduced you to silence yet, beloved."

In other words, Ramattra will make sure that you'll remember this lesson the next time you decide to try to tempt him.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hi hi can i ask for some GFL girls with a S/O that repairs them after missions thanks anyway

(GFL) M4A1, M16A1, AN-94, AK-12, AK-15, and G36's S/O repairing them

This'll be kinda short, but I hope you still enjoy their characterization!

M4 moved her arms around, hearing the servos work as they should.

She turned to S/O with a grateful smile.

(M4A1) "Thank you, I hope I wasn't too much trouble today."

(S/O) "As long as you come back at all to apologize, I'll take it."

They put away their wrench as they handed back her equipment.

(S/O) "Besides, you do a good job on not getting all banged up. Not like SOPMOD, anyway-"

(SOPMOD's Voice) "You sure don't complain when M4 is! I bet you'd like to see all her internal systems, you-"

Both S/O and M4's faces contorted at the crude statement, turning them both into blushing messes.

ST AR-15 walked by and hit SOPMOD on the head, rolling her eyes.

(M16A1) "Ow, ow ow! Hey, take it easy, you're pulling a bullet outta me!"

(S/O) "M1, your pain sensors are disabled. You shouldn't be feeling anything."

Her fake hurt expression vanished quickly.

(M16A1) "Yeah I know, I just wanted to see how you'd react."

They simply sighed, failing to resist a smile from forming.

(S/O) "Then quit squirming. Sooner I get this done, the sooner you can go to rest."

(M16A1) "Yeah, we gotta hit the bar after thi-"

(S/O) "And no drinking. I don't want anything getting all messed up before I get to run diagnostics tomorrow morning."

She pouted, crossing her arms.

(M16A1) "Psh, buzzkill. Sounding like a doctor."

(S/O) "Technically, I am your doctor."

(M16A1) "You're a friggin' engineer!"

(S/O) "Same difference."

M16A1 continued to pout, making S/O's smile grow even more.

(AN-94) "Thank you as always, S/O."

94 always remained completely still during her repairs, which S/O was grateful for.

The other T-dolls on base were not always cooperative, but then again they weren't as advanced as DEFY.

S/O nodded and had 94 stand up, which she quickly gave them a salute.

(S/O) "It is just us right now, 94. No need to be so formal."

94 opened her mouth, realizing what she was doing and quickly averted her gaze.

(AN-94) "Ah. I apologize, it's a force of habit."

(S/O) "I know, I know. Now, how about we relax for a bit? You must be tired after the mission."

(AN-94) "I do not become exh-...Er, yes. I'd like that."

12 simply hums as S/O tunes her legs back into working order. Given how advanced she was, they didn't need to perform too much maintenance.

She never got that damaged during a mission anyway.

(S/O) "There we go. Give your legs a shake.

12 put her legs over S/O's shoulders, smiling even more once she heard them yelp.

(S/O) "H-HEY!"

(AK-12) "Seems like they're working to me.~"

Gently putting her legs back, S/O makes an exacerbated sigh.

(S/O) "So they are."

(AK-12) "Hm, I think there's one more spot not seeming right on my che-"

(S/O) "It's working just fine."

(AK-12) "My, are you staring at them?"

(S/O) "Good lord, woman..."

(AK-15) "...I'm detecting heat rising to your face. Are you alright?"

S/O was making sure 15's arms were looking right with their hands.

But the more they thought about it, it just seemed like they were feeling her muscles up.

Even though she was just a T-Doll, boy did she have muscles.

(S/O) "N-Nothing. Just...your arms are nice."

(AK-15) "..."

(S/O) "I-I mean they're working nice!"

(AK-15) "You do not need to be so flustered. This is not the first time you have felt them."

(S/O) "Well no, but still. I don't want to seem like I'm just a perve-"

15 grabbed their hands to make them stop talking before holding it more gently.

(AK-15) "I do not trust many people to work on me, S/O. Remember that I ask you because I trust you."

(S/O) "...Right."

(AK-15) "...You do seem to like touching the biceps however-"

(S/O) "Oh, come on!"

G36 nodded in satisfaction once S/O was complete.

Before they could even give her the thumbs up, she immediately walked off, but not before thanking S/O.

(G36) "My thanks as usual, S/O. I will make you dinner before I attend to my other duties."

(S/O) "H-Hang on, I haven't even finished diagnostics!"

(G36) "By the time I will have completed my chores, you will have finished your meal and it will be time for me to enter the repair bay again. Rest assured you are in good hands. As I am in yours."

Bowing, and giving a light peck to S/O's cheek, she vanishes.

(S/O) "Psh, I'm supposed to be the one helping you out...Good hands, huh?"

[justcallmecj]

Seeing Your Dragon Form: The Rest of Them

Well, here's the last of the students. This will be a short chapter with only Cater, Ortho and Silver since they're the only ones that didn't fit into a previous category. After this, I think I'm gonna write a staff chapter and finally end this series. Enjoy~

Cater

Someone needs to take this mans phone away. Before he runs out of storage.

He literally screamed when he finally saw you.

Not from fear. Not from panic. No. From pure cuteness overload.

He rushed over to you, honestly stunning you for a short while, and pulled out his phone.

When you finally processed what just happened, he easily had around twenty pictures taken of you and a folder specifically for those pictures already made.

It's not like you particularity minded. After being friends with Cater for so long, you got used to the picture taking.

He's honestly really astonished.

Cater's always seen you as this amazing being that he admires. He doesn't quite understand it himself, but something about you just makes him want to be near you.

So, that's what he does. He sticks close around.

After Cater gets through the initial photo high, he chills out.

He's usually a pretty high energy person, but he doesn't know how you'd react to that in dragon form. He doesn't want to accidentally cross a line.

So, he sits down next to you and pats the forest floor next to him, signaling for you to come join him.

He couldn't resist snapping a picture when he saw how cute you looked with your head peacefully resting next to him.

He almost audibly gasped when he saw your ear twitch form the sound of the camera click.

"I'll make sure you get to see the pictures later!! But, for now, let''s just sit here." He whipped around to face you while his face lit up. "OMG!! You won't believe the funny videos I found today. Let's watch them!!!"

Ortho

This kid is the epitome of excited little brother.

The mist does nothing against him, so he's immediately on top of you.

You're pretty sure you can hear him activate like six different scanning and data collecting systems.

You expected that.

Within only a minute, Ortho had collected tons of data about how the transformation happens, how your body systems physically change, and quite a bit about how you change mentally (which isn't a lot).

After that, he just became extremely giddy and excited.

He asked dozens of questions, speaking too quick to realize you couldn't and wouldn't answer him.

He poked and prodded a few scales until he realized that was rude and apologizing.

Eventually, when he was sure he gathered everything, he settled down.

He just sat and watched. When he noticed you looking at him with confusion, he gave and answer.

"Oh, I expended a lot of energy today and my battery is in the 40s. Plus, my brothers unfortunately not at the dorm right now, so I'll have to wait for him to properly hook me up to my charger. For now, I'll save energy by shutting off a few systems."

Excepting that answer, you resting your head near Ortho, getting close enough that he could pet your head, which he did once he understood your intentions.

 "You kind of remind me of the cats in the videos my brother watches late at night." Ortho was recording that whole time and showed the video to Idia later that night when he was charging.

Silver

You couldn't tell if he was chill or just didn't have the energy to show what he was feeling in the moment.

Regardless, he stood in place until he felt you were relaxed and comfortable.

When that time came, he calmly approached you until he was at the end of your snout.

He reached out a hand and gently placed it on the bridge of your nose.

He didn't move his hand, just left it there. It was actually a really nice feeling.

Unlike Sebek, who had never seen Malleus's dragon form which left him in shock after seeing yours, Silver has actually seen Malleus in that state. Of course, it was when he was a young child, but that doesn't mean much.

Considering that Lilia had raised both Silver and practically Malleus, Malleus was one of the first people Lilia had introduced Silver to.

As a child, he was weary of Malleus. So, Malleus had revealed his dragon form to the young child in hopes of him getting more comfortable around him. And it worked.

Because of these childhood experiences, Silver wasn't frightened, wasn't weary, wasn't out of his element. He knew exactly what to do.

Which is why he didn't move when he placed his hand on your snout, finding it best to stay calm and still, knowing how heightened your senses may be.

And it was appreciated. Silver was the last of your friends to do this. You found it easier to take it one by one for stress reasons. The others all had so different and versatile reactions, all fitting of their personalities.

Those that were more silent were quick and analytical. Those that were loud were all over, a lot to handle at once. Others were stiff and weary, which took more thought and patience from you.

Silver, however, was pure calm and still indifference. He wasn't excited or studying you. He wasn't asking questions or keeping a distance nor coming unnecessarily close.

He was just there. His eyes were tired and slow, his muscles loose and drowsy. He was tired, but made sure you knew he was there.

Silver said nothing. Eventually, his feet got tired and he sat, soon falling asleep. When he woke up, you were there, human again, and watching him with an appreciative smile. A smile he returned.

[13as07]

Spitting Image #2

(Ino Yamanaka)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to shiino_9]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,738

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Okay I want your thoughts. I’m thinking part three is all Gaara being zaddy and trying to reconnect with his baby mama. Then part four is moving to the Sand Village. Yay? Nay? Idk :)

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     "Just breathe, it's all going to be okay," Ino whispers in my ear, gently squeezing my shoulders as she leads me down the road.

     I repeat her words in my head, eyes set on Yoshiki who's curled up in my arms. His chubby hands are raised, trying to get a grip on one of the strands of my hair. He giggles to himself, the ends of my hair tickling his chubby cheeks. Lord, he's so chubby and round and adorable.

     "You are adorable, my love," I coo, peppering his cheeks in kisses.

     "You're hogging him," Inojin complains, his hands wrapping around my arm to tug on it.

     "Inojin," Sai says, his tone calm as he smiles softly at his son. "Maybe let Ne-San carry Yoshiki for a while."

     "She has been carrying Yoshiki though. I want to hold him!"

     "Inojin!" Ino snaps, gripping her son's ear as she lectures him.

     "Ino," I call, shifting Yoshiki to my hip before I tap her shoulder. "It's okay, if he wants to hold him it’s fine. It'll probably be good, give me a chance to wiggle my nerves out of my system." I bend down, handing my son over to Inojin. He's quite responsible for his age, and always careful while holding Yoshiki.

     My son's eyes light up when he realizes who's holding him. I swear, he's just as attached to Inojin as Inojin is to him. Yoshiki takes hold of his hair, gripping it and using it to move the older boy's head around. Ino's son gushes over my baby, cooing at him as he takes slow careful steps down the road.

     The sight is nice, even if we are heading to my doom. It's been about a week since I ran into Shikamaru's brother-in-law. Gaara's older brother. Yoshiki's Uncle.

     After Ino managed to talk me out of the bathroom, she showed me pictures of Temari's and Shikamaru's wedding; more specifically pictures of Gaara, who turns out was the man from the one-night stand. It took about a week, but Sai and her managed to talk me into letting Gaara meet Yoshiki and me. Meet me again, in a sober mindset, with the lights on, and my legs closed this time.

     "You look pale, Ne-San. Are you nervous Gaara is going to want rights to Yoshiki?" Sai asks, getting a smack upside his head from his wife.

     "What the hell, Sai? You can't say stuff like that!" Ino hisses, gripping his ear like she was doing to her son a minute ago. My eyes stay trailed on the boys as Ino rips into her husband, the noise of their fighting filling the background.

     My mind spins with a million different possibilities and 'what if's about this meeting, about things going forward, about how Gaara is going to react.

     "Okay, I want Yoshiki back," I mutter when the restaurant we're meeting at falls into view.

     "Ne-San!" He whines, clinging to my son more.

     "Please don't fight with me about this Inojin. I'll let you feed him at lunch," I try to bribe him, sliding my hands between his arms to wrap Yoshiki in my hold.

     "Really?! You mean it?"

     "I mean it," I echo, resting my son on my hip. Inojin tucks himself into my side, the one my kid is resting on as he continues to coo at him. My grip tightens as Yoshiki tries to throw himself at Inojin, calming my nervousness a bit again. The sight clams me a bit. It's adorable how much the boys love each other.

     "Shoo, go run ahead and say hi to Shinki or something," Ino complains, trying to wave her son ahead. Reluctantly he does as he's told, racing ahead and disappearing into the restaurant. "Alright Mamas, how are we feeling?" She asks me, gripping my shoulder again.

     "She's probably not doing too well. We're about two steps away from her life changing forever, hopefully for the better," Sai mumbles, doing his weird 'I'm trying to be comforting but I actually look creepy as hell' smile.

     "Sai!" Ino screeches again, ramping up her lecture.

     After a couple of minutes filled with their heated back and forth, I decided waiting in the restaurant would be better than listening to the Yamanaka screaming match. The restaurant atmosphere is quite calming, with dark soft reds, and gentle music playing in the background.

     Yoshiki's head swerves around, taking in all the soft lights and the colorful coverings of the lights. "You like the colors?" I ask him, shifting him up further so I can whisper in his ear. Giggles erupt from him, his small hands squishing my cheeks as he enjoys the lights.

     "Oh, you like that one, don't you?" I ask another unanswered question, walking towards the soft red-colored covering that has caught his eyes. I settle us underneath it. Watching Yosh watching the coloring. "Do you know what color that is? It's red, just like your hair," I tell him, twirling one of his strands around my fingertip. "Your hair is red, chief Akimich has red hair, and... and..."

     "And his dad's hair is red," a voice from behind me butts in. My nerves are on edge as I turn around. My grip tightens on my son as the man from the flower shop - Yoshiki's Uncle stands a couple of paces behind me. "Gaara has red hair," he reiterates as if it's something I don't know.

     "Ya, I know. It's why I was attracted to him," I mutter, scanning the entrance for Ino and then the restaurant for Inojin.

     Ino might not fall into my view but her son does. He's sat at one of the large tables in the restaurant, a group of about six people or so with him, making my heart flutter faster with anxiety. My eyes stay locked on the boy, hoping he'll notice me and bring some familiarity to this uncomfortable moment.

     "You got a thing for redheads, little lady?"

     "Don't call me that," I mutter, anger bubbled in my words. My nerves are rubbing off on Yoshiki who's starting to stir, his pre-cry whines falling from him.

     "Oh hush, love," I coddle him, covering his forehead in kisses. "You don't need to go and get upset just because mommy is. You're fine," I continue to coo, moving him around like a bird as I walk us around the restaurant, leaving his Uncle and some of my anxiety behind.

     Yosh giggles because of it, 'flying' like a bird being pretty high up in his list of favorite things. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," I hum to him, continuing our laps around the room as I wait for Ino to join us. "You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear how much I love you," I continue to sing to him, resting him against me again. "Please don't take my sunshine away," I finish off, littering his chubby cheeks in kisses.

     "Ne-San!" Inojin calls, leaning over the table he's at as he waves at me. "Come here! It's almost six o'clock, Yoshiki needs his bottle."

     I sigh softly at the boy's knowledge of my son's schedule. It's useful when I'm busy, but not useful at this moment. "You might not know how much I love you but you sure as heck will know how much big brother Inojin loves you," I tell my son, holding him in front of me so he can dangle. He doesn't do his newborn scrunch anymore, which makes me a bit sad.

     "What do you say we go over to Inojin? You want to see Inojin?" I ask him, getting happy babbles as a response.

     I cuddle him against me again, my heart slamming against my chest as I head towards the table. Yoshiki's Uncle has rejoined the table, his wife - presumably - is sitting next to him, in similar purple makeup as her husband. Shikamaru and Shikadai are sitting next to them, looking more like twins the longer I look at them. There's a blonde lady next to them, Yoshiki's opal-colored eyes staring at me from the lady's face. That must be Temari.

     The spitting image of my son is sitting next to the blonde girl, repeatedly blinking as he stares at me and my son, our son. A boy about Inojin's and Shikadai's age sitting silently next to him.

     Yoshiki is unfazed, his attention on trying to grip my hair again. Soon his hands fall from my hair to my mouth, trying to shove his hands into it. This is his new thing, like two days ago new thing. "Yosh," I coo, moving his hands away from my mouth. "We don't do that. No, we don't," I tell him, pressing kisses to his small hands.

     "You're hogging him! Ne-San! You promised I could feed him. Give me, give me, give me," Inojin whines, turning around in his seat and trying to take grip of my son.

     "Ya, ya, ya," I mumble, carefully placing Yoshiki into his arms. My eyes stay locked on my son, worried about this Gaara guy or anyone else at the table jumping at him while I dig for his bottle.

     "There you are, mamas!" Ino calls, jumping on me as she wraps her arms around my shoulders. "And look at that, Yosh is already back in Inojin's arms. I swear at this rate Ino is going to have a permanent imprint of Yoshiki on his arms," she teases, sending me a soft smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Ino's eyes are soft, a silent 'are you okay?' being sent by them.

     "Yoshiki? As in fortunate?" Gaara asks, his face scrunched up as he looks between me and my - our son. 

     "No, Yoshiki as in blessed. Like a blessing, since he's my blessing," I mutter the last half, tugging his bottle out of the diaper bag. Despite the fears and anxieties I've felt today, I managed to hold it together enough to prep for dinner. Pre-measured formula in his bottle so all I need is warm water.

     "Aw, that's cute!" Temari beams, sending a not-so-secret glare towards her brothers.

     "Oh, ya. Adorable," Purple-man echoes, getting kicked by his wife under the table.

     "Yes and no. It was my father's name," I mutter, setting Yosh's bottle on the table as I scan for a waitress.

     "Don't worry Ne-San! I already ordered some warm water for you, it should be out soon," Ino's son says, focusing still on making faces to entertain Yosh.

     "Thank you, Inojin," I praise, resting my hands on his shoulders before pecking his forehead. I lean down a bit further, kissing my son's head too before I slide into the seat next to the boys.

     Ino quickly sits down on the other side of the boys. Sai goes to sit next to me in the only spare chair, getting a pointed look from his wife.

     "How about we play musical chairs!" Temari cheers, locking eyes with Ino. Shikadai sends his mom a weird look, his father mimicking it as they stare at her together. "You stay right there... um... ma'am? You boys stay there too," Temari struggles out, ordering Inojin to stay still.

     "Temari - " The oldest brother starts, quickly getting cut off by his sister.

     "Get up Kankuro," she hisses, quickly standing to her feet, husband and son in tow.

     Everyone shuffles around, raising my anxiety even more. When everyone settles back down, seats have been changed completely. Inojin is still holding Yoshiki, then me, followed by Gaara, the kid who sat next to him earlier, Shikadai, his parents, the Kankuro man and his wife, with Ino, and Sai sat by their son to start the circle again.

     "So..." Shikamaru mumbles, breaking the silence and getting a warning glare from his wife. It's almost funny how much Temari and Ino seem to be. "Gaara and you have two kids, that's cool."

     "Two?" I ask, snapping my head towards the Nara chief.

     "Shikamaru!" Temari and Ino both yell, startling Yoshiki enough for wails and tears to spill from him. "Shut up," Temari hissed at her husband, pairing it with a smack to the back of his head. Well, that solved the mystery on the silent kid with red face paint. I assumed it was Kankuro's kid, I guess not.

     "We're going to step out for a moment," I murmur, snatching Yoshiki from Inojin's arms. "Do you mind making his bottle?" I ask the older boy, patting his head before quickly heading back out of the restaurant, crying baby in tow. By the time I get out the door, into the chilled air, tears are spilling from me too, mine being from stress instead of fear.

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     The door to the restaurant creaks open, upsetting Yoshiki more. The more upset he gets, the more upset I get, continuing the cycle of unchecked emotions. "Please calm down, love," I coo, rocking him in my arms again.

     "Would you like some help?" Ino asks, her tone gentle as an attempt to help calm me down.

     "No, I have it under control," I hiss out, causing Yosh to shriek again.

     "You've been out here for twenty minutes. That isn't 'having it under control'," Ino points out, shifting to stand in front of me.

     I have to turn my head up to look at her, courtesy of being sat on the ground, back to the wall. "Okay, maybe I don't have it under control. I'm freaking out. Gaara has a kid. A different kid! And our dinner went from the six of us to a party of twelve of us. What... what the hell? What the hell, Ino? I'm actually meeting Gaara, like for real, and his brother, and his sister-in-law, and his sister, and her family, and I can't calm down long enough to get Yoshiki to calm down, and what the hell?"

     "I know, I know. It's a lot to handle right now. There's a lot of people and it's a lot of new and a lot of stress, but this will be good, right?" She asks, falling to kneel on the ground in front of me. "Yoshiki will get to have a relationship with his dad, with his older brother, with his family. He'll get more family to love him, you'll get more family to love you."

     I lean forward, resting my head on Ino's shoulder. "I don't know. What if it doesn't work out? What if Gaara wants to take Yoshiki? What if he wants nothing to do with Yosh? Then what? 'Sorry kid, your dad was too established in the sand village to give a shit about us, but hey your mom tried her best'? What kind of life is that for my son?"

     Ino lets out a sigh, rubbing my shoulders to soothe me. "I don't think that's going to happen, and even if it does then fuck Gaara. If worst comes to worst, you two will still have us. You'll still have Sai, and Inojin, and me. We can be our own little family of five."

     I let out a sigh of my own, my stress still high and only climbing higher the more Yoshiki cries. "Alright mamas, you need to calm down. The more you freak out, the more he's going to freak out."

     "I know, I know. It doesn't help that he's hungry either," I mutter into her shoulder, my angry tears soaking into her shirt. "I just... I can't go back in yet."

"Okay, okay. I have an idea - that you can totally say no to. Remember, you're the mamas, your baby, your rules," Ino starts, rubbing my shoulders faster as she rests her cheek against my head. "I'll take Yoshiki inside and get him calmed down and fed. You can hang out here and get yourself put together before you join the table again, okay? Worse case you decide this isn't the right time or space to do this and we replan, okay mamas?"

"Ya... ya that's... probably for the better," I mutter, reluctantly letting her take Yoshiki from my arms. I don't like the thought of him being around Gaara without me, but I know if I don't take some space to calm down, I'm just going to keep winding Yosh up. Besides, my poor love is probably starving since his feeding time was about twenty-five minutes ago.

Ino takes him from me, pressing a kiss to my head before she leaves me alone outside the restaurant, giving me the time I need to calm myself down.

                        ———————————

     I brush my hands over my pants, dusting off the dust from the sidewalk. As I'm cleaning myself, the restaurant door creaks open. "I'm sorry," I mutter, shifting out of the way.

     "You are not in the way... -San," the young voice struggles with the last word, not sure what to call me.

     My eyes settle on the boy, the same one that I left sitting next to Gaara at the table. His eyes are a green color, not the same as his father’s or Yoshiki’s, a darker green. It reminds me of the forest. His face paint is red unlike his Uncle, and cups his eyes in a way that makes them stand out. It's weird how much my - our - son looks like Gaara and how little his older son looks like him.

     "Your kid screams a lot," the boy mutters, shifting around. His black cloak moves with him weirdly, like it's not made of cloth. "He's okay now though. Inojin is feeding him and that seemed to quiet him down."

     "Yoshiki is a little stressed and he's too young to be able to understand what he's feeling."

     "He can't even talk, what could he be stressed about?"

     "He's stressed because I'm stressed."

     The kid looks at me for a moment, head tilted and face scrunched as he sizes me up. "He looks a lot like my Papa."

     "Yes, he does."

     Silence falls between us, the boy slowly blinking as he stares at me. My eyes jump around the road, looking for something other than the child to look at. "Papa doesn't cry."

     "No?" I ask, internally screaming. What have I gotten myself into? What kind of man did I accidentally choose as the father of my child? What the hell is up with his kid?

     "No... he cried when Aunt Temari told him you agreed to meet him again, to let him meet..."

     "Yoshiki."

     "When you agreed to let us meet Yoshiki."

     "I'm sorry I made your dad cry," I murmur, glancing around the empty street again.

     "Uncle Kankuro calls you 'The Leaf Village Margarita Lady'."

"Ya?" I ask, shifting my weight around. The conversation is very uncomfortable and the need to check on Yoshiki is building with every passing second. I see my out when the restaurant door creams open again.

"Shinki?" The soothing voice that whispered sweet nothings into my ear sixteen months ago calls, making the kid's head turn. Shinki and Yoshiki, it has a nice ring to it. So much for my out though. "Hello," Gaara says, tone a bit panicked when his eyes settle on me.

His panic only grows as his eyes flicker between his son and myself. "My greatest apologies for anything Shinki might have said," Gaara rushes out, leaning forward and grabbing his son by the collar of his shirt tucked under the not normal cloak. "His social skills are a bit - "

"- like his father's?" I ask, cutting Gaara's sentence off.

"Yes," he mumbles, just a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. The sight makes my mind flicker to... the creation of Yoshiki. Gaara was all kinds of pink that night, it was a sight I enjoyed quite a bit. It was hot, a big shot Shinobi stumbling over his words and blushing because I was flirting with him, because I was doing a hell of a lot more than flirting. "I hope he didn't say anything insensitive."

"No, your kid has a good set of manners. Though, he did tell me your older brother calls me the margarita lady."

Gaara's flusteredness deeps, the color of his cheeks proving that and tugging a small smile to my face. "I am sorry for Kankuro too. I know your first meeting with him wasn't... up to par. I am sorry for the nickname as well."

"It's fine," I mutter, my eyes switching between Shinki and Gaara. Whoever his child's mother is must have some pretty strong genes to outweigh Gaara's. Stronger than mine, that's for sure.

     "Mamas!" Ino's voice rings out, the door slamming open as she pushes her way out. "Gosh at this rate we're all going to be out here."

     Ino and I both nervously laugh, only making Gaara pinker and his son even more unamused. "Might as well tell everyone we're eating out here now," I murmur, focus set on my friend. Her attention is set on me, eyes asking if I'm okay again. The answer is a big fat no but I don't voice it. "I should go check on Yoshiki," I announce, skirting past Gaara and squeezing through the door.

     I can sense Ino behind me even before she wraps her arms around my shoulders for the millionth time tonight. "Dear Lord, Mamas. Gaara looked like he wanted to eat you whole."

     "He did not!"

     "He did too," she giggles, using her hold on me to shake me around. "Look at you, having the Sand Hokage all flustered and blushing. Not to mention your kid is the spitting image of him. Not to put it out in the world and ruin it or anything, but I think Gaara is going to take care of you two."

     I know she means it in good light, but the thought terrifies me. All the 'what if's circling my head, the main one being 'what if Yoshiki and me end up trapped'? I don't know anything about this man, about his family, about his expectations, about his wants for himself, for Yoshiki, for me. He was supposed to be a one-night stand, a high and fly, not the father of my son.

     "Stop worrying, mamas. Everything will be alright," Ino whispers in my ear, gently squeezing my shoulders. When the sight of Yoshiki giggling in joy because his uncle is blowing raspberries into his cheeks falls into view, a small piece of me wants to believe her.

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[quitealotofsodapop]

Unless somebody's asked this before, what's would the swk's (minus 2023/netflix) react to Lin?

They probably think she's a really cool kid! Netflix/Cherry brings Lin around to a Wukongverse meeting (somehow), and the others SWK's are like "Oh thank Buddha, it's his one braincell besides the Stick."

Lin is rather confused, but figures that she should be used to it by now. Her monkey has dragged her along to different Realms before, whats a different dimrnsion compared to Hell?

She ends up hanging out with the other kids like MK, Mei, and HiB!Liuer, with the younger SWKs and LEMs chilling with her too.

Revelations occur when the other monkeys have questions...

Peach: "How do you know Lin exactly? Is she your tudi, or are you guys just good friends?" Cherry: "We're friends but its... complicated." Other SWKs: *sounds of interest/encouragement* Cherry: "So like... she's the first person to show me geniune empathy and kindness, buuuut she also sentenced me under the mountain. Soooo bummer." *cricket noises* Smokey: "What." Cherry: "Yeah it was kinda weird. I think I was power-drunk or something cus all I remember is that she became the voice of Buddha and did the Leap from my Palm trick. Then cue the mountain. She said bye though, so that was cool." *more shocked silence* Dasheng: "...thats not normal." Starfruit: "YEAH. Mortals don't just do that." Peach: "Wait... is Lin your monk?" Cherry: "No, I have a Tripitaka. He showed up like 500 years later." All the SWK who understand reincarnation: *deep inhales* Ace: "Your friend is a Golden Cicada. " Cherry: "A what now?" Smokey: "Seriously!? Don't you know any Buddhist lore?!" Cherry: "No. I was never taught it." Sugar: "Didn't your Master Subodhi ever teach you inbetween lessons on the Dao?" Cherry: "...my who teaching me what now?"

This is how the rest of the monkeys indirectly find out that Netflix!SWK/Cherry; 1: Was never trained for his power, 2: Has no idea about the chinese pantheon, and 3: Was never in the furnance?? Like??? Those are big details in a lot of their stories!

The SWKs who went through these trials feel really frustrated that Cherry hasn't felt the same pain they have, but also recognise his tale as being an equally tragic story of hubris/innocent ambition. Also this monkey had zero friends - no stalwarts, no brotherhood, no LEM likely, so he had no support system/something to fight for beyond himself.

Lin, meanwhile is hanging out with the LMK gang (canon and/or au) like;

MK, telling his origin story: "...So I lifted the Staff and boom! I have the Monkey King's powers!" *poses dramatically on table with his staff* Lin, clapping: "Thats pretty cool! Does your staff talk like Stick does, or it that an oddity just of my world?" Tang: "Your world, sadly. Imagine the tales those Staffs could tell..." Pigsy: "You have the monkeys, Tang." Tang: "The monkeys like to exaggerate and bend details." Lin: "Stick is not really that much better..." MK: *staff falls out of hand onto floor* "Dang it." Lin: "Don't worry! I'll get it!" MK: "Uh yeah, thats not possible-" Lin: *lifts the staff with some effort* The LMK Crew: (ʘᗩʘ’) Hib!Liuer: (◕▿◕) Lin: "...what?"

Lin has her own freak-out moment when the gang tell her that the Ruyi Jingu Bang/Staff is supposed to be over 17,550 lbs/7,960 kg(!!). Aka "girl how are you lifting a whole ass flat-bed truck with your hands"-heavy.

Cus I need to remind yall that Lin *can lift the Staff*, so either Stick deliberately makes itself lighter so she can move it, OR Lin has a major divine Strength buff.

Tang declares Lin his 2nd favorite Monk (first place taken by Liuer). Lin starts freaking out cus Netflix!Tripitaka basically tells her that she's dead in his time/one of his previous lifes as well.

[haunted-glassesgurl]

Lance is a handy man

Keith is tired, he just wants to sleep, but there is a freaking rumbling noise coming from his bathroom, if this was an earth bathroom he could easily just cut the water until the morning and forget about it, but of course it isn't, and of course Altean pipe system its completely different and he has no idea how to fix nor make the noise stop. And he tries, oh gosh does he try to remain calm, but he can't, he's tried everything, covering his face with the pillow, listening to music, headphones, COUNTING SHEEP. Nothing, and he's sick of it, for once he wants to actually get some rest and the castle won't let him, so the only logical thing that his sleep deprived mind can think of right now is go in there, find whatever it is that's making the noise and MAKE IT STOP.

That was... a bad idea. He found the source of the rumbling noise, he made it stop... but he broke the pipe somehow, and now there is water flooding his bathroom and going into his room at a dangerously rapid pace.

He hears a knock at his door, and in the middle of panicking he just opens it, and finds Lance standing there, with slippers on and his bathrobe in hand.

Keith is standing there, soaking wet from head to toes. There is water coming from the bathroom and he still has the piece that he broke in hand. Lance simply looks at him, looks at the room and makes his way to the bathroom, leaving Keith confused behind him, he watches him disappear into the flooded bathroom and before he can react and stop him, Lance comes out, sleeves rolled up, shaking the water off his hands.

"... just closed your water supply. I'll help you fix that tomorrow, I needed a shower and your little problem was using up all the water from our rooms"

Lance leaves just as quickly as he came, and leaves Keith stomped there in the middle of his room. "... what the hell just happened?"

Just as promised, Lance does help Keith fix his bathroom, but it does take them a few days to do it, and it ends up becoming their little project. That's how Keith finds out that Lance knows the basics of plumbing thanks to his brother. And he doesn't know if it's because of the way Lance looks so serious explaining everything to Keith, or the fact that he actually understands how the altean water supply works, but he is mightily impressed and a bit more attracted to Lance than he was before.

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Hey... so yeah I wrote this right after I broke my bathroom... in my defense it made me really mad and i couldn't control myself.

I just love the idea of Lance impressing Keith with something so simple, my boy it's just good at everything.

Btw, I've been gone for a couple of days because I got my phone stolen last week :/ so yeah...

[doyou000me]

Part II: Historical Context and Hyung's Background

So… this is not what I was going to write for Part II. I was going to write about shame and the way we perceive/react to how society sees us. I was going to loop it back to Part I; “An excess of self-awareness was a disease in itself.” I was going to compare how the narrator, his mother and his boyfriend are all affected by it in similar and/or different ways. 

And then I got to thinking about the boyfriend, mainly referred to as Hyung. 

About two thirds into part II, we get Hyung's backstory and, without spoiling anything, it’s basically a chunk where the narrator name-drops a bunch of movements and incidents that are part of recent history in Korea. Most of it meant next to nothing to me, and I felt like I was missing out on a whole lot of context. So I did some preliminary google searching, realised I needed more historical context, and went to the library to borrow a book on Korean history. Then I started making a timeline. Then I went online and started googling specific movements and incidents. Then I got a headache. 

[This is long, so I’m putting the rest of it under the cut. Also, this is about Hyung's backstory so, you know, spoilers about that.] 

The chunk of a paragraph that started all this is this one:

“He had been part of the leftover student activist generation of the mid-nineties and after graduation had dipped his toes in the labor movement. The Misun-Hyosun incident demonstrations had also been during his time, as well as protests against the abolishment of the National Security Act and the anti-Chosun Daily movement…” 

Student Activism in the mid nineties

Labour Movement

Misun-Hyosun Incident

The National Security Act

Anti-Chosun Daily Movement

That’s 5 historical events, all named in one paragraph without further explanation - likely because a Korean reader is expected to know what this all means. I am not a Korean reader and I have no idea what most of it means. It’s a lot. When I started reading about it, I realised it’s even more. As is often the case with history, a whole lot of things are connected, and many of these things connect all the way back to the Japanese occupation. 

There are academic papers written on these things. There are books. I am a pyjama-clad person curled up on my couch with a book and an internet connection. Of course I decided to attempt to summarise and explain it all. What could possibly go wrong? 

Disclaimer time: I am not a historian or, in any way, an expert on the subject. I’ve spent about a day and a half on this, and it’s not nearly enough. Also, I am paraphrasing to the extreme to make sure I don’t end up writing half a book. I hope it’ll serve as context for anyone reading part II who feels as context-less as I did, but if you actually want to know about any of these topics, I’d recommend doing some reading of your own. I’ll leave references at the bottom. 

Also: content warning. This is really dark and really heavy history. Be warned, and take care of yourselves. Now:

Some massively paraphrased Korean history 

Japanese Protectorate and Occupation (1907-1945)

Starting out as a protectorate treaty to challenge China’s power on the Korean peninsula and give Japan access to Korean ports, Japan took control of Korea in 1910. What followed was 35 years of repression and Koreans living under systemic racism as second class citizens in their own country. This included institutionalised erasure of the Korean identity. 85% of the Korean population lost their Korean names and were forced to take Japanese names. Many never learnt to write in Korean, only Japanese. Hundreds of thousands of Koreans were killed for protesting against the occupation. All higher positions within the country were given to the Japanese, and the Korean workers were paid half of what Japanese workers got. Towards the end (1931-1945) when Japan went to war with China and needed resources, 3,5 million Koreans were displaced, both within Korea and abroad to Japan and China. Many were forced into slave labour in mines where unsafe working conditions and 17-hour work days killed many. Women, many just teenagers, were made “comfort women” and forced into filthy, violent brothels to serve the Japanese soldiers. 

Then WWII ended. Japan surrendered to the allied forces in 1945, packed up and left Korea. Korea was suddenly free. 

Just as suddenly, there was no government and no regime. There was no leadership, and not just on the government level. Industries ground to a halt. Production stood still. Displaced Koreans moved back, leading to sudden overpopulation of urban areas. Nationwide unemployment was at 50% and criminal activity, homelessness and alcoholism rose. 

American Occupation (1945-1949)

The US stepped in. Due to global tensions after WWII, they did not want Korea to fall into the wrong hands, and made a deal with the Soviet Union: they split Korea in two along the 38th parallel, and the US would get the south part while the Soviet would get the north part. The plan was for Korea to eventually regain independence. The split along the 38th parallel was not grounded in any social or geographical conditions. Farmland and manufacturing in the south was divided from fertiliser production, natural resources and energy production in the north. Families living on different sides of the border were divided. 

The American leadership that was put in place had next to no time to prepare, barely any prior knowledge of the Korean history, culture or people and very limited interest in learning. The US leader, General Hodge, had little political or administrative experience, and initially tried to cooperate with the Japanese to help with the occupation (this, as you can imagine, did not go over well). Labour demonstrations born from the terrible conditions Korean workers had lived with were brutally repressed and seen as pro-communist. Racism led to the assumptions that the Koreans were incapable of organising and governing themselves. The National Security Law was established in 1948 with the purpose of arresting North Korean sympathisers and infiltrators. 

In 1949, the US withdrew from South Korea, and South Korea was declared the independent nation of the Republic of Korea. The Soviet Union (officially) withdrew from the North - while also helping North Korea, along with China, to build up their military. In June, 1950, the North Korean army marched over the border on the 38th parallel and invaded South Korea. 

The Korean War (1950-1953) 

On one level, the Korean war was about North Korea invading and trying to take over South Korea, turning all of the Korean peninsula into one Korea. On another, global level, it was a cold war power play between the US and the Soviet Union with South Korea, the US and the UN on one side and North Korea, the Soviet Union and China on the other. Both sides tried to take all of the Korean peninsula. Both sides failed. After three years of war, where foreign soldiers fought in a foreign land and Koreans fought Koreans, nothing was gained. In 1953, the border on the 38th parallel was reestablished. The entirety of the Korean peninsula had been bombarded and razed to the ground. Everything needed to be rebuilt. North and South Korea were among the poorest countries in the world and millions were still separated from their families by the border. 

34 000 American soldiers were killed. 140 000 South Korean soldiers were killed. More than 640 000 North Korean soldiers were killed.  Over one million Chinese soldiers were killed.  Some 3 million Korean civilians were killed.  And nothing was gained. 

South Korea Under Military Dictatorship (1953-1960, 1961-1987)

So, with hunger, spreading disease and homelessness, with cities in ruin, orphaned children on the streets and widows left to fend for themselves in a country where women were not seen as independent citizens at the time, President Rhee and the Liberal Party won the elections in May 1954, making Rhee the first Korean president. They worked to turn the economy around through the use of five year plans as well as grants and loans from the US and secured national safety with an agreement with the US to place troops in Korea indefinitely - troops that are still present today. 

They also turned the democracy into a dictatorship when Rhee risked being voted out of office. Elections were rigged and political opponents silenced. The National Security Law (according to which anti-state groups and those who disturb the national order can be imprisoned) was used to silence and root out opponents. Student protests were regularly held against the violations on democracy and corruption in the Rhee administration. After Rhee’s fourth presidential reelection in 1960, the opposing party rejected the results and student-led protests erupted in Masan, quickly spreading to the rest of the country. This became the April 19 Revolution, which led to Rhee going into exile. 

An election was held and a new president was chosen. 

The next year, in 1961, General Park led a military coup and took power, claiming that South Korea - amidst strikes, protests and student and left-wing groups discussing immediate reunification with North Korea - was not yet ready for democracy. They focused on economic growth, successfully turning South Korea’s economy around and, on the way, making the chaebol into some of the wealthy conglomerates we know from kdramas. They also focused on improving the relationship with Japan, leading to major protests. 

They also cracked down on all opposition. Less than a month after the coup, the KCIA was established - for decades, the KCIA investigated, arrested, tortured and assassinated South Koreans who were accused of being North Korean sympathisers, suspected of supporting communism or seen as a threat to the regime. Gradually, the dictatorship became more and more repressive, with crackdowns on freedom of speech, increased power for the KCIA and martial law being imposed. Student activist protested, demanding a return to democracy, and workers protested with them, demanding better wages and working conditions. 

In 1979, Park was assassinated. 

General Chun took over, appointing himself director of the KCIA and continuing the military dictatorship, but by this point the people had had enough. Starting with university students in Gwangju, thousands of people in the city gathered to demand a return to democracy. The protest lasted from May 18 to May 27 of 1980, and became known as the Gwangju Uprising. It ended in violence, when the Chun regime isolated the city and went in with tanks and paratroopers. 150 were killed, over 4 000 wounded, thousands arrested - both protesters and citizens simply living their lives in the city. After that the relationship between the regime and the people was strained, to say the least, and anti-American sentiment sky-rocketed as people associated the US forces with the violent crackdown in Gwangju. 

It was during this time that “Hyung” was born, in 1979, because yes, this post is still about LitBC Part II, and this all started because I wanted to understand his background better.  Hyung lived his first years under a military dictatorship, where the people were under constant threat from the KCIA, student activist groups continuously struggled to regain democracy and anti-American sentiment was on the rise. 

In 1987, as the next presidential election approached and with the Gwangju Uprising still fresh in memory, people doubled down on their protests. Led by students and workers, the June Democratic Struggle broke out on June 10 with people demonstrating across the country. It lasted until June 29 - in success, as the new president pledged that South Korea would have free, direct presidential elections. Democracy, for the first time in about 20 years. 

Many changes were still needed in the country, but now the population could take to the streets and protest without fear of violent repercussions - and the regime listened. Wages doubled over a span of five years. 

In 1997, the Asian Financial Crisis hit South Korea. Several Chaebols went bankrupt and 1988 became the worst year in the history of South Korean economy since the Korean War. (Go watch Reborn Ritch if you’re interested) Today, this is spoken of as the IMF crisis. Fortunately,  South Korea recovered relatively quickly. To balance the country’s over-reliance on manufacturing, the government launched a campaign to support the entertainment industry, thus laying the ground for the Hallyu wave that would spread globally in the 2000s.  

The 2000s

“Hyung” entered university in 1995, and would have graduated somewhere around the shift of the millennia, right as South Korea was recovering from the IMF crisis. Shortly after his graduation, the Misun-Hyosun Incident, Anti-Chosun Daily Movement and Protests against the abolishment of the National Security Act all happened within quick succession. 

The Misun-Hyosun Incident, also known as the Yangju Highway Incident, occurred on June 13, 2002, in Yangju. Two South Korean schoolgirls, 14 year old Shim Misun and Shin Hyosun, were struck and killed by a US army vehicle on the way to a training exercise. Apologies were issued, but the drivers of the army vehicle were ultimately found not guilty by the US MIlitary court, sparking demonstrations across the country and fuelling the anti-American sentiment in South Korea. 

The Anti-Chosun Daily Movement can be traced back to the early 1990s. The Chosun Daily, or Chosun Ilbo, is one of the main newspapers in Korea. It is a conservative newspaper and has historically had a very close relationship with the ruling regime, military dictatorships included, which brings into question its role in a democratic country of free speech. With the rise of more progressive online journalism, the criticism against the Chosun Ilbo has increased and people have gathered online to raise their voices, leading to boycotts and an anti-Chosun manifesto being written. In 2002 the movement became an important part in Korea’s development as a progressive country and was a contributing factor to the media reform that followed. 

Protests against the abolishment of the National Security Act broke out in 2004, when the then leading political party called for its repeal. This National Security Act/Law is the same one that was established in 1948 to catch communists and North Korean sympathisers, and was then used by the Rhee regime to silence political opponents (are you still with me?). When the law was about to be repealed, a newspaper poll found that 66% wanted the law revised but not repealed, while a majority would rather keep the law as was than have it abolished on grounds that it helps keep the country’s economic stability. The constant threat of North Korea is a very real factor to why people see the law as necessary. Amnesty International has called for the law to be fundamentally reformed or abolished, as it challenges freedom of speech. 

Ok. Deep breath.

If you’re still reading, I applaud you. If I lost you somewhere along the way, you won’t see this but I do understand you. As I hope you understand, this is all very condensed. The history of Korea is very complex and much of what I have written about are still sensitive issues today. I’ve tried to keep close to my sources to avoid getting anything wrong, but I am sure there are many, many more movements and issues that would need to be covered to present anything close to the full picture. Still, I hope this has given some insight into the background of “Hyung” and the past that has shaped him into the character that he is. 

When I read part II, I did not understand his character. I dismissed him as some conspiracy-reading guy living in a basement keeping a tinfoil hat somewhere, and when our narrator dismisses and downplays his story, I was fully onboard. Now, after a full day of reading up on the historical context and political climate that “Hyung” must have grown up in, I understand his paranoia and reluctance to interact with anything American far more. It leaves marks, having lived in a time when the KCIA could drag you off the street for speaking up against the government, never to be seen again.

Times have changed in South Korea and they’ve come a long way, but the recent past is still very recent and they still have a long way to go before old wounds can be healed and damage done can be cleared up. All it takes is watching a few kdramas, and it’s clear that general distrust in politicians and the legal system is still around. Apart from a better understanding of a character in a book, it’s shed some light on my own naive ignorance and lack of understanding when it comes to some Korean attitudes and reactions I’ve encountered in the past. Some things I frowned at then, I now understand. 

Apart from Reborn Rich, which plays out between 1987 and today with its main focus on the financial crisis, I have not watched dramas depicting this part of Korean history (I have avoided them, because the subject matter was very heavy simply to read about. I do not think I could handle watching it dramatised). Neither have I found any good documentaries covering it. If you have recommendations that you’d like to share, please do. 

Now, as promised: sources!

Historical background and context: Korea; A New History of South and North by Victor D. Cha and Ramon Pacheco Pardo (2023)

Most of this post is based on this book, and if you’re interested in 20th century Korean history, I’d really recommend it. It’s a surprisingly easy read. 

Misun-Hyosun Incident/Yangju Highway Incident: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yangju_highway_incident

National Security Act: https://wilj.law.wisc.edu/wp-content/uploads/sites/1270/2012/02/kraft.pdf 

Anti-American Sentiment: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anti-American_sentiment_in_Korea 

Anti-Chosun Movement: https://www.academia.edu/86931794/The_Anti_Chosun_Movement_Journalism_Activism_Politics_and_Historical_Memory_in_Post_Authoritarian_South_Korea_1998_2002 

Student movements in Korea: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Student_movements_in_Korea 

Internet activism in South Korea: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Internet_activism_in_South_Korea 

National Intelligence Service: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Intelligence_Service_(South_Korea) 

@lurkingshan I'm not sure if this counts as meta or goes as a context-post, so I hope it's okay I'm tagging you

[locke-esque-monster]

There are many things I love about SPN's 4x18 "The Monster at the end of this Book".

But the Chuck of it all is fascinating in retrospect. Now to be fair, I haven't finished the show yet, but I know about the God reveal. And I know that there's some debate over if Chuck was ever Chuck, or if he was always God.

I would love for Chuck to be goofy, anxious human Chuck. But I've doubted it before, and re-watching it today just reinforced that.

Here's what this episode looks like if you consider Chuck might already be god:

Because if Chuck's himself, how does he not recognize Sam & Dean from his visions? From the choppy bits we see, I know his publisher is there, so he can see people.

The case at the start of the episode with the comic book store is dropped with no explanation or reference to again. That says to me someone with questionable writing skills used that as a lazy plot device to get our characters here to meet Chuck. Who would do that but Chuck?

He has no recollection of the story he was writing until the characters ask what he's working on. Weird when he was just writing it before they arrived. Maybe understandable with the drinking/headaches. But the way he remembers only when asked, seems more like he's only giving out information when the story calls for it (think a questionable mentor type, like Dumbledore).

He says to Dean when he shows up at the end to kidnap him that he didn't write this. But if that's the case, how was the tryst with Lilith and Sam supposed to end? Bad writing for the show? Or is Chuck surprised Dean broke out of his plot and isn't expanding on details because he thinks he can steer Dean back on course? (Sidebar - I think Lilith's deal was legit, at least from her end. It'd end the apocalypse if Sam & Dean were dead, especially with no confirmed descendants. I just don't think God would allow that to play out.)

If Chuck is god, he takes a chance to throw it out to them that he is powerful so they dismiss it (hoping they won't call his bluff). And then when they do, he's confident enough they bought it to take the chance apologize to them for what he put them through. Sam's trying to make it something he's seen, like psychic abilities, and Dean's playing down the trauma/injuries are probably exactly how Chuck knew they'd react.

The wording of Sam's "wish to god I could stop" conversation with god, and Chuck saying he's still doing it is too uncanny. He's literally wishing in front of god for help, and god is putting it back on him that he's not really stopping, nor does he want to.

Then Chuck in that whole conversation with Sam. He's different in this scene than any other this episode. He doesn't play up his fears or anxiety like he does with Dean, he acts like a writer who not only knows the story, he KNOWS where it's going and is trying to steer Sam a certain way without looking like it or saying too much. His responses are very deliberately worded. It reminds me of Ben Linus manipulating people in Lost.

He says to Sam "I know it's a terrible burden - feeling that it all rests upon your shoulders." How would Chuck know that without the responsibility of God?

He has an answer for Dean and a loophole to get out of going with him - the archangel. But Dean calls his bluff. Basically, if Dean shoots him, either Dean will get killed by an archangel as a threat, ruining his story. Or he gets the shot off and Chuck survives, revealing he's not just Chuck. Chuck had to let his story be ruined tonight to allow the rest to play out (lose the battle to win the war).

To jump off that last point, this episode also acts as a thesis statement for how each character looks at destiny and how Chuck reacts to them.

Sam's the "smart one" - but he's liable to think he knows better and fall into exactly the trap Chuck sets for him. Sam is out to break the system in a big way - Chuck can see it, and stop it.

Cas's rebellious streak always wins out. If his friendship with Dean is on the line, he'll find a way to fall out of line with Chuck's plan in ways Chuck could have never imagined.

Dean's stubbornness with authority, including destiny, knows no bounds. He'll fight and get creative. Dean knows better than anyone how to find a loophole with a strict father. These little rebellions are harder for Chuck to see and correct. And with Dean's persistence and creativity, those little rebellions add up to messing up the plan. This is both how this episode goes, and the apocalypse arch as a whole. Chuck thinks he can outsmart Dean, but in a way, Dean's less predictable than Sam even if it doesn't outright seem like it. So Chuck fails to do stop every time. And a couple of times is all Dean needs.

I want to be wrong. I want Chuck to be like Anna maybe, unaware of of his abilities and knowledge and it's leaking through as maybe a vessel of god. Or even that god is writing Chuck this way for the purposes of the story, as his stand-in.

Unfortunately, I'm not so sure. And let's consider a comment I've heard made on the episode before. The episode title arguably isn't just a funny reference, it's a guide to the show - much like Chuck's writing. The "book", or episode, ends with Chuck, much like the last big villain in season 15 is Chuck. So he's the "monster at the end of this book" all along. It's a better fit if Chuck is god.

[theheraldsrest]

I have this hc where, after spending their life at least mostly isolated in the circle, Mage Trevelyan probably has a not-so-great immune system. So, if you want: how do the companions/advisors react (Cullen in particular if you prefer?) when the Mage Inquisitor gets sick? Panic? Dote on them? Something in between? Neither? (Also, I have to say, you guys are doing great work here. I didn't know I needed this blog until I found it, but I LOVE it!)

“Companions reacting to sick Mage!Trevelyan!Inquisitor”

Another joke!

Healer: Sir Cullen, you’re suffering from delirium.

Cullen: No shit I’m suffering from the lyrium. I’m asking what are the symptoms?

-Lord Lex

Cullen

-Honestly? Think he’d be one of the more level-headed people about it. He’s been inside a magi circle, he knows how most are when it comes to adventuring out for the first time. He’s quick to contact any healers who can help and checks on your status every now and then, but mainly leaves it to the professionals. He’ll take on any responsibilities to make it easier for you when you get better. He’ll go out of his way to make sure you get the proper care and herbs/potions that you need.

Josephine

-Very doting. She’s an older sister so she’s always looking out for others. Mainly goes by the way of getting you some soup while you rest and seeing if any of the healers are able to help. She’ll stay by your bedside in case you need anything and, in a situation that calls for her attention, will have someone stay with you until she gets back. Don’t worry, she won’t forget about her duties, nor yours. Josey will make sure most are done.

Leliana

-Walk it off. The only way you’ll grow immune to most diseases is through travel. Or being poisoned. She’s pretty sure you don’t want to do the latter. She’ll make sure a scout or a healer stays near you so no one gets the drop on you while still attending to her duties. You might even find some very delicious soup sent up from the kitchen, a special request put in by “a friend”. No, she will not admit it was her. 

Vivienne

-Bet your ass this woman is tsking you while healing you. Goes over exercises to help you better your body so that a simple cold won’t take you out as well as different types of magic to help heal or protect you. It’s better for everyone if you’re not constantly falling to your death, metaphorically and physically.

Varric

-Goes the whole 8 ½ yards. Get’s you some broth, a bowl of water and a towel, maybe some more blankets. One of the main ones who just lets you chill. You’re already under enough pressure, it won’t make you feel any better if people rush the process. Just take your time getting better. And when you do eventually get out of bed, tries to take note of areas that might be a little too harsh for you. One step at a time.

Cole

-Cole is trying, ok? He brings you the ingredients for soup but forgot that you have to make the soup. Will then bring you hot water but not the ingredients. Even get you blankets…a humorous amount of blankets. Cole even brings you…a chicken? Says it’s supposed to help. Who knows. You never see him, but you can sometimes hear him talking. It’s gotten to a point where the maids think the stairs to your quarters are haunted.

Solas

-Oh, that’s simple. Magic. Except after one too many that he realizes it’s your immune system. He’s worried, don’t get me wrong. But for once, he agrees with Vivienne. Magic can only take you so far. You need to start developing better habits and strengthen your will. Solas will personally go with you to certain areas and sit or walk around to make sure it’s getting better. Magic will only be used if necessary.

Cassandra

-Cass is worried the whole time. She tries to (s)mother you with care which is something she’s not used to nor you. She’s so freaking worried, always nervous when you fall ill and thinking the worst. Let’s the healers do their job and maids bring you things but she’s always there, asking if you need anything else, even after you’ve said no. She just wants to make sure the Inquisitor (and her friend) are alright.

The Iron Bull

-Doesn’t really stop him from doing his thing. Sure, he’ll come up and check on you, make sure you’re doing alright, but he’s going to keep things up and running the same as if you weren’t even at Skyhold. Of course, he’ll try to figure out how or why you got sick and help try to prevent it. Another one to join in on Solas’s trips to make sure you’re taking it at a nice pace to get better. Might even suggest pushing yourself further each time,

Dorian

-No magic, heal properly. He’s going to give you so much sass while taking care of you. Yes, him. He’s doing it, going down to the kitchen and fetching you broth and water, helping you move in case you're in pain and getting any herbs to make it better. But he will, under no circumstances, use his magic. Mainly because he doesn’t want to fuck up and reset your progress at getting better. He’s grouchy but that’s just his way of saying he cares for you.

Sera

-Ok and? Get your hind tail up and get outside with her. She knows how to fix it. And that’s by pelting you with snow. Which she finds out does not, in fact, help. After that she’ll just hang out in your room, keeping you company while also asking for stuff to be brought up for you and her. Makes sure you’re still laughing even if you feel like death. 

Blackwall

-He’s a farm boy at heart. Tries to take care of you as simple as possible. Some soup with some meat, enough bedding that you’re comfortable but not too hot or too cold, some water to keep you from overheating, and enough time to sleep. You shouldn’t try to rush the process, it’s what helps make your body start to get used to it. Blackwall will stay by your side in case you need anything, even just chatting or talking so that you have some sort of calming presence.

[mothytheghost]

Away From Home

Chapter 2: Let's call it all a Dream

"Are you doing okay?"

Sun looked up at shock. Nodding as he falsely smiled. "Yeah... It's just... So different..."

Moon rolled his eyes. "Well thank god because I have other things to deal with..."

Sun looked at him. He reminded him of his Moon. He couldn't help but feel a sense of not feeling alright with him. But he's trying his best to not grow that fear in him. He never gave this dimension a chance. And he wants to make sure it's a safe new home.

"What are you doing?" Sun questioned. Hoping this doesn't annoy him.

"I'm just trying to build some stuff. Nothing much" Moon looked at the computer as Sun was trying to get up and walk on his own. But he felt a bit hazy. Not use to the new body.

"Oh I forgot to do something too. Just let me look into your head at the moment..." Moon walked to Sun as he felt anxious. Fidgeting with his fingers as he heard a snap and it made him jump.

"What did you do?" Sun felt scared. Not liking how his systems are reacting to this.

"Oh, I added a bit of star power. you're a weapon now."

"You Added What!?" Sun cried. Trying to control himself as Moon laughed.

"Calm down it's only for defense. Don't get so dramatic of it...."

Sun dropped the 'oh' under his breath. But he didn't like what he did to him. Feeling anxious and hoping this kind of power doesn't do anything ridiculous to him.

"Oh yeah. You have a new name now too.. It's stupid but my brother chosed it" Moon walked back to the computer as he laughed thinking about it.

"What is it?." Sun was curious. He's gonna have a new name. It sounds nice but hoping it isn't kinda boring.

Moon tried holding his laugh. "Sunflower. God such a wonderful name..." He said sarcastically. Leaving Sun to smile in awe.

"I'll take it..."

"Okay 'Sunflower'" Moon wheezed. Typing on the computer as Sun was looking at his hands. Smiling as he took the new name Sunflower.

°°°°°°°°°

It was night. He was sleeping on the couch as he was trying to get use to his new body. He couldn't without thinking about Solar. And it scared him.

He thought that going to sleep would help him. So when he wakes up he doesn't have to worry much about it since he wouldn't notice it in the morning anyway. Staring at the ceiling as he rested his eyes for a bit.

Sun drifted to sleep. Hoping he would have some peace after a rough day. It was just him and the darkness. His body felt heavy as he powered off. Only to wake up once again. But he wasn't on the couch anymore. He was in a calm breeze wind. Resting on the cold grass as he heard birds chirping.

It all felt so strange to him. He was dreaming. But it felt so real. Trying to get up as he looked around his surroundings. Feeling a bit scared as he noticed flowers around him. He wasn't sure if was dead or just dreaming at this point. He was more focused on where he is at the moment.

His breathing felt cold. And his arms felt heavy. "Hello?" Sun spoke softly. Noticing a drip of water fell on his hand. Looking at it made him realize he was.... Crying?. He didn't felt any emotions. But his tears kept dripping non stop. Letting out a small sob as it became hard to breathe.

"Sun?"

Looking up as he tries to find where the voice came from. Noticing a red figure.it was blurred because of his tears. Unable to control them. Wiping them away as he had a better look at them. Feeling frightened as it was a familiar person. "S-Solar..... "

Sun crawled back in fear as his heart raced. He looked at his hands again and noticed they're like Solars. He couldn't let him see him like this. But he's not real right? It's all a dream.

Just before Sun cried. Solar kneeled down as his boot crushed the grass beneath him. "Sun...i wanted to see you again.... I wanted to say I'm sorry for what's happening...you don't deserve to go through this...."

Sun felt strange. Unsure if he was going crazy or not. But it was him. Looking away as Solar reaches his hand to his cheek and wiped his tear away. "Why are you here?... Y-Your Dimension."

"I know..."

Sun took a moment to process what he was seeing. He was gone for so long seeing him made his heart wrench. Everything hurted.

Shutting his eyes tightly as he sobbed. He didn't understand these emotions. Sun was never that close to Solar. Only Moon did. It became hard to breathe and his eyes hurted.

Solar carefully hugged him and soothed his back. It all felt so real even as a dream. He didn't understand it all.

"I'm here for you...Don't forget that. Please be careful..."

"I will" sun cried. Shutting his eyes as he sobbed onto his chest.

"SUNFLOWER! "

Sun was woken up my scream as he was shaked back awake. Seeing the Sun animatronic in front of him as he became a nervous wreck. His yellow and grey hands shivered on his red shoulders. Woken up as his entire face was covered in tears. The entire room was dark and all he could see was the other Sun in a panic.

"Are you okay!?. I heard you crying!" Sun tried to speak up. But he was breathing heavily. Tying to calm his nerves.

"I'm fine... I just..." Sunflower spoke as he tried to forget the dream he had about Solar. Feeling as Sun held his hands and checked his fever. Taking a deep breath as he wiped his tears.

"Hey... You can sleep in my room if you want?. I just want to make sure you're going okay."

Sunflower smiled. Nodding and getting up holding Sun's hands. "Yeah... I think sleeping on the floor near you would be nice..."