#we were robbed from them having a conversation

[yinyuedijun]

translation

Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you. (Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)

5k words. gender neutral reader, established relationship, angst, non-graphic sex (reader bottoms, anatomy neutral), themes of cultural loss, references to slavery, aventurine’s canonically implied desire to die. MDNI.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

Deception does not come easily to him in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak—and too kind. The universe was a different place in the days when his life was coloured by the warble of Avgin dialect. It felt simpler, partly because he was a child and partly because Sigonia was yet untouched by outsiders. There were no corporations, no casinos, no commodity codes. His entire world was sand, desert, mother, sister, father (or more often—ghost), goddess, tent, wagon, luck, sin, rain, blessing, Avgin.

Katican.

Aventurine is sure that he knew more than just those words. He was fluent as a child. He had conversations with his sister that were complex enough to make his heart hurt, though perhaps his heart was just constantly aching anyway. But the rest of his early words escapes him. He could maybe dredge them up if he thinks long enough, but he also isn't sure if his tongue and lips could form the shape of them anymore. Sometimes he still counts in Avgin, memorises phone numbers in it, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually strung together a full sentence in the language.

When Aventurine was first stolen into slavery (a word that he had not known as a child, and still doesn't know in Avgin), he wasn’t given a Synesthesia Beacon. He had to rely on his ears and his wits, deciphering the harsh edges of the Katican dialect and then the strange garble of Interastral Standard Language. By the time he had a Beacon installed, it was already translating all speech into Standard—his dominant language.

Sometimes he feels a little aggrieved by it, but at least it wasn't Katican. He'd have blown out his brains if it were.

But it is easy to console himself: Avgin is not a useful language anyway. Dead languages have no value, and the Avgin dialect was killed along with its people. You can’t perform commerce in a dead language, can't negotiate contracts, can't enter a gambling den and use your silver tongue to rob people blind. You can't use a dead language to fell governments and extract resources; you can't use a dead language to bring an entire planet to its knees. You can’t use a dead language to gamble your life; you can't use it to save yourself from the gallows.

You cannot deceive people in a language that is defined by sand, sister, goddess, ghost.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin. His command of it is too weak, and there is no one left to which he can lie, anyway.

When you ask Aventurine to teach you his first language, he gives you an amused look.

“Why Avgin?” he asks. “No one speaks it anymore. I can teach you Common Sigonian if you’d like. Or we could learn Xianzhounese together. Maybe Intellitron code? I know a little.”

“You speak Avgin,” you argue.

“Not often,” he says. “And badly when I do.”

“But it's still your language. And I want to understand you.”

Aventurine has to stop himself from laughing. Understand him? He hates being understood. When people understand him, it makes him predictable. And unlikeable. Hardly a position from which he can manipulate people in.

You understand him well enough to know that.

“You'll have to give me a better reason than that,” he says neatly. “Make it worth my while. Reward me.”

You look at him as you ponder, your eyes lingering on his. Perhaps trying to read him, though he prefers to think you're just enjoying the sight of them.

“I’ll teach you my language as well?”

“You mean—you'll reward my hard labour with more work?” he says, lighthearted.

You frown at him despite the joke. “You don't want to understand me better than what a Synesthesia Beacon would allow?” He blinks, pausing. “It’ll be convenient too. We can talk shit about other people in public and no one will understand us.”

Aventurine considers you. He doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.

He also likes the idea of talking shit in public.

“I'm listening,” he says, voice lilting. You lean in, smiling. Sweet. It makes his heart feel something he isn't used to. Something addictive. Something disgusting. He scrambles to cover it with one of the usual tools: humour or distraction or maybe just plain old lying—his most reliable weapon.

“I'll throw in a kiss?” you try.

He hums. “Just one?”

“One per day.”

“Three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Well, I am a businessman.”

You snort, but he knows you're endeared. You have very noticeable tells when you’re flustered.

“Okay,” you say. “Three kisses on days you teach me.”

“Deal.”

Aventurine remembers more Avgin than he thought he would.

It comes to him slowly, painstakingly. You aren't interested in structured lessons, and he wouldn't be able to provide them anyway. He has a nonexistent grasp of grammar aside from this sounds right and that sounds strange, and Avgin dialect is both so niche and so dead that no textbooks are available. The scholars have abandoned the language as much as the politicians abandoned its people. Aventurine only has you, his fragmented memory, and whatever questions come to mind as you live out your days with him.

Mostly, you ask him about basic vocabulary. Sometimes you ask him to repeat sentences from your conversations in Avgin, like he’s some kind of multilingual parrot. Each prompt forces him to wade through the fog in his mind, the one that’s been shrouding his childhood memories until now. He's startled at how naturally the old words roll off his tongue: One, two, three, four. Good morning. Good evening. Good night. Sweet dreams. Five, six, seven, eight. You're lying to me. Why do you always lie to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Welcome home. Have you eaten? Have some bread. I made you stew. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. That was dangerous. I thought you wouldn't make it back to me. Sometimes I think you want to die. One hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

When you say, How do I ask you to let me hold you, he answers easily. He'd heard the words so often as a child: Let me hold you, Kakavasha. Let Mama hold you. His mouth forms the sounds without conscious thought.

He regrets it almost immediately.

When Aventurine hears it from you—stilted, halting, but no less gentle—he stops breathing. Let me hold you. You say it all the time in Standard, but it feels different in Avgin. More painful. A strange sense of panic closes in on him when he's wrapped up in you, thinking in Avgin, thinking sand, sister, goddess, ghost. He holds you tightly, like the rags cut from his father’s shirt, or his mother’s locket won back from the shell-slashers, or a bag of poker chips beneath a card table, clutched within his trembling grip.

“Aventurine, is something wrong?” you ask in Avgin, and he replies in Standard with his usual smile.

“Hm? No. What could be wrong if I have you here?”

Lying is one of his greatest tools. Sex is another one. So he says, “I think I'd like my reward now,” and he runs his lips along your jaw, your pulse, the spot over your heart (there's a word for that in Avgin but not Standard, he tells you), until you're laughing. I thought you wanted three kisses, you tease, and he replies, Who said I wanted to kiss you on the mouth?

But he coaxes open your thighs, and once he's inside you, he collects his payment properly. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and you swallow his lies whole.

There are some things that Aventurine doesn't teach you. Mostly, they’re things that he can’t teach you.

There are countless gaps in his Avgin. His speech is painfully childish—probably more childish than it was when he actually stopped speaking it. He doesn't know how to swear (something that disappoints you) and he doesn't know how to flirt (something that devastates you). He doesn’t know any words that would be useful for work either: commercialization, governance, stakes, winnings, profit. When you ask him what his job title is in Avgin (“Was senior management even a thing in Avgin society?”), he laughs and gives you the word for gambler.

Then there are the words that he remembers—has remembered his whole life—but never says. Not to you, and not to himself. He doesn't teach you any prayers. He doesn't teach you any blessings. He doesn't teach you about Mama Fenge, or the Kakava Festival, or how the rain fell when he was born. When you ask him, What holidays did you celebrate when you were little? he shrugs and says, We didn't have any. Sigonia’s too bleak to do any partying.

Then you ask him one day, while your bodies are spent in the afterglow of sex, sticky with sweat and sweetness, how to say I love you. And he goes quiet.

Love is a cheap word in Interastral Standard. In the language of globalisation and trade, love has been commercialised, commodified, capitalised for power. You say it to him in many contexts: I love this, I love that, I love you. He hardly ever reacts, and he's never said it back. It would feel unnecessary and also cruel if he did: Aventurine has only ever said the words himself as either a joke or a manipulation.

But love feels different in Avgin than in Interastral Standard, doesn't sound like a thing that can be traded or bought. Kakavasha only ever said the word love to his mother, to his sister, to his father's grave. Love in his mother tongue feels priceless.

When Aventurine thinks about you saying it—I love you, Kakavasha, in clumsy, earnest Avgin—something so painful swells in his throat that he can hardly breathe.

“There is no word for love in my language,” he tells you.

You blink. “Okay, then what's an idiom for it?”

“There is none. There’s no word or phrase expressing love.”

You raise a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Is it?” He smiles. “There’s no Avgin in the known universe who cares about love. Only scheming, thieving, and treachery—and you can't do those things when love is involved.”

You look at him in alarm. “Why are you saying that?” You're practically squirming in your discomfort. “I don't know why you think I'd believe such a racist stereotype.”

“It’s not a stereotype,” he says. “I'm not talking about the Avgin culture. I'm talking about myself.”

After all, he is the only Avgin left.

It is an unfair thing to say. A cruel thing to say. After all the laughing and kissing and crying and fucking, after all the tender eyes and gentle words from you—it is probably the worst pain imaginable: I don't give a shit about you. He waits for you to cry.

But you only stare at him calmly, studying him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, seeing them clearly.

“If you lie to me all the time,” you say in Avgin, “eventually I'll stop believing anything you say.”

Aventurine is speechless. His heart does that addictive, disgusting thing again. He thinks about leaving, but then you say, Let me hold you, and he can't do anything other than obey.

Avgin dialect was once included in the Synesthesia Beacon list of functions. The Intelligentsia Guild added it before the Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event, when the IPC was trying to get a political foothold on Sigonia via the Avgin people. The language was alive then, with enough value to be included into the Synesthesia LLM by the linguists.

But since the Extinction Event—since Kakavasha ran away from home—the Synesthesia data on Avgin has been stagnant, a fossil. Aventurine knows because he's subscribed to software updates for certain languages (Avgin Sigonian, Common Sigonian, Interastral Standard, and now your mother tongue). He gets pinged every time there's a new addition for slang, for neologisms—but there hasn't been a ping for the Avgin dialect since he had the Beacon installed. The live translation function hasn't even been available since the previous Amber Era. When he checks its page on his Synesthesia app, it's very clear why—

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 0 STATUS: Extinct END OF SERVICE: 2156 AE

The complete death of the language has led to an irritating dilemma for you and Aventurine. You keep running into words that he doesn't know—this time not because of his childlike speech, but because they never existed in his language to begin with. Ocean, tropical, rainforest. Starskiff, accelerator, space fleet. Stock market, shortselling, mutual funds. Black hole, event horizon, spaghettification. All things that never came up for Kakavasha, but now come up for Aventurine, and the language has not evolved to include it.

He always wants to switch to Standard to discuss these things, but you're insistent on speaking in Avgin as much as possible. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't mind humouring you—partly because he likes to indulge you, and partly because he’s grown used to hearing the honeyed timbre of Avgin dialect in your household. The place would feel strange without it.

So you start filling the gaps with other languages, filtering them through the lyricism of Avgin. Loanwords, he thinks they’re called. You take ocean, tropical, rainforest from Amazian; starskiff, accelerator, space fleet from Xianzhounese; stock market, shortselling, mutual funds from Interastral Standard. For the astrophysics terms, you try directly translating them—with limited success.

“Can't I literally just say ‘black hole’?” you ask in Avgin, and he nearly spits out his coffee.

“Please don't. That's a dirty word.” He can't bring himself to say what it means, but from the way you’re laughing, you can clearly guess.

“I thought you said you didn't know how to swear.”

“You've just reminded me how.”

“You're welcome.” You look on the verge of cackling. Aventurine finishes his coffee and wonders when you're going to surprise him with your newfound vulgarity.

“Let's just do the space terms based on Standard,” he says. Begs.

“No, that's so boring.”

“Then let's do your language.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Give him a blank look.

“You don't know how to say those words in your mother tongue either, do you,” he intuits.

“Well, ‘spaghettification’ doesn't really come up in everyday conversation, does it?”

“Then maybe we don't need it.” He smiles, senses an opportunity. Smells blood. “How about ‘love’? I'd much rather know how you say that. I bet it sounds beautiful.”

You give him a long look. Your eyes are vulnerable when you share it: Love. I love you. He’s fascinated by the sound of it. Your voice is never that fragile when you say it in Standard. It's never so earnest. He repeats it, staring at you, and your gaze falls to the ground. His mouth curls.

“I like it,” he says. “Let's use that. It'll sound nice in Avgin.”

You try to recover. “Sure. That works. But back to ‘black hole’—”

And the two of you continue like that for days, weeks, months. It feels like a complete bastardization of his mother tongue on some days, in some conversations. Almost unrecognisable. But it doesn't feel bad. It’s all he has, it's all you have, and when he walks into your home, he starts speaking it without thinking: your bastard, patchwork language. The Avgin dialect that exists only in your house. A tongue that can only be understood by a liar.

And then, one lazy Sunday morning, he gets a familiar ping. He expects it to be Interastral Standard, as usual. The language balloons with each planet that the IPC colonises.

But instead, he opens his screen and freezes.

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 2 STATUS: Endangered. SERVICE RESUMED: 2157 AE NEW UPDATES: 103 loanwords and 5 neologisms added.

He can't stop looking at the status. Endangered. Endangered, which means dying, but alive. The Avgin dialect is alive again. The Intelligentsia Guild determined it, so it must be true. But Aventurine can't agree: there are no Avgin speakers in the known universe other than the two of you, and what you speak isn't real Avgin. The Avgin spoken by his mother and father and sister is dead; the Avgin spoken by Kakavasha is dead. The festivals are gone; the deserts have been terraformed. There are no wagons; there are no dances; there are no prayers. There are no blessings, and he has no home—

As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.

His throat locks up.

“Aventurine?” you ask. Your voice is drowsy, but concerned. “Is something wrong?”

He looks at you from his phone, a polished smile on his face.

“No.” His syllables are plain and efficient in the noise of Interastral Standard: “Just looking at details for a new assignment. It’ll be a long one.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Will you be away from home for a long time, then?”

He stops himself from swallowing. “Yes, I'll be away from the house. For several months, probably.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small. “Take care of yourself, okay? I'll miss you.”

Each word you speak resonates with heartbreak. It always does in these conversations, even in Standard—but the sorrow is amplified in Avgin. His mother tongue has an inherently sad quality to it, he's noticed. His people have lost so much over their history—their language is one of loss. It's his language of loss. Kakavasha did all his grieving in Avgin; Aventurine has never felt sorrow in Standard. When the language died, so did Kakavasha—and all his regrets with it.

“You'll come home to me, right?” you ask. It's a beautiful sentence in Avgin. A heartrending one. He feels something that he hasn't known since he was a child.

It's a feeling he has to kill.

“Yes,” he says in Standard. “Of course I'll come back.”

This is not the first time that Aventurine has been mistaken for dead, but this is the longest time.

The latest world to join the IPC network was a tough acquisition. It had been ruled by a despot who wreaked havoc on both the people and the planet, and who was too stupid and reckless to resolve conflicts with his trade partners. He probably would have blown up the whole star system had he been left to his own devices. Aventurine had no qualms about bringing him to ruin, nor did he have qualms about nearly dying in the process.

If things had gone his way, he'd either be dead or missing. This would have been the perfect opportunity to do the latter, actually—to be freed from the IPC. Free to drift alone, speaking with strangers in strange, unfamiliar tongues. No connection to his past, to the cruel history of his luck, to his commodity code. No tether to his inherently unjust destiny. But instead he's back in your house, pockets heavy with his borrowed wealth, speaking to you in his bastardised, childish Avgin. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Your Avgin is—shockingly fluent. He doesn't know how. He can't think about it right now. All he can process is the wounded animal noise of your speech as you yell at him, as you cry. Like an injured songbird, or a weeping child. Why did you leave, why did you lie, why do you always lie to me, why don't you give a shit about me, you spit. Why do you want to die, why do you want to die, why do you want to die, you keep saying. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost, he keeps hearing. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost. Don't leave me, big sister. People will die. Why do you have to go?

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, this time in your language. “I'm so sorry. Come here. Let me hold you.”

You collapse into your mother tongue. Aventurine is both relieved and horrified. Relieved that he doesn't need to hear the language of his grief—horrified that he needs to hear yours. He's never heard you cry like this. He's never heard you break like this. These must have been the words you used when the soldiers found you hiding in your closet, when they dragged you out of your home. You were just a child.

Aventurine doesn't know the words you are using—you've never taught them—but he still understands them.

You're very malleable when you’re sad; even more so when you're hysterical. Aventurine understands this about you, and he understands how to calm you—this time in your native tongue—and he understands how to kiss you. He understands that you need to feel close to him. He understands that there are ways to accomplish this other than sex. A normal person would talk it out, have an honest conversation, come to a mutual understanding, and maybe even stop trying to kill himself. They wouldn't fuck you into the mattress while your face is still wet with tears.

But Aventurine is not a normal person. He doesn't know how to have an honest conversation, and he doesn't want to be understood. Lying is his greatest weapon, and sex is a close second. So he kisses you until you’re too breathless to cry, fucks you until you can't think, and makes you come so hard that you’re in too much bliss to grieve. And maybe it's horrible of him, but he enjoys it. He enjoys the way your body takes him in so easily, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you tighten around him when you climax, so wet and needy for him. The way you beg for him in your language for liars as he spends himself inside you: I love you, Aventurine, I love you, I love you, I love you—

Only because it feels good. This is all only because he enjoys fucking you. This is all only because you enjoy fucking him. This is all it'll ever be, and it'll be this way until he gets to meet his end.

(Some months ago, Aventurine started dreaming in Avgin.

It surprised him when he first noticed it. The last time he remembers having a dream in his native tongue, he was twelve years old and still in chains. And even then, it had become a sporadic, strange thing. Awful to wake up from. One minute he was with his mother and sister on a cool, rainy day, speaking fluently in Avgin as he laughed and played—and the next minute, he was being shaken awake in his cage, hearing the cruel lash of Katican.

But ever since he's started speaking Avgin with you, he's been dreaming in it. Vividly. Sometimes he's a child in these dreams, and sometimes he's grown. He's always back in the Sigonian desert, among the tents and the campfires and his family wagons. His mother and sister are alive. Sometimes his father is too. The skies roar with thunder and the stellar winds are always harsh, but they always keep him cocooned up in their arms. He's always warm.

Sometimes Aventurine dreams of nicer days. Clear skies, warm sun, cool breeze—all blessings from the Mother Goddess. On these days, he tends to be an adult, and you tend to be there with him. Your Avgin is fluent but strange, filled with funny loanwords and peculiar slang. His father likes the neologisms and starts using them—but only in wrong ways. His sister finds it embarrassing and keeps apologising to you.

His mother loves you. She loves you so much it hurts. This is how I know you're blessed, Kakavasha, she says, glowing. You’re so lucky to have found such a kind person.

Kakavasha knows this. He knows he's lucky, and in his dreams, that isn't a bad thing. In his dreams, his luck means that his home is not violently excised from his heart: his father never dies; his mother never dies; his sister never dies. The tents are not burned; the wagons are not destroyed. He is never forced to forget his people's dishes, their songs, their language, their joy. And in his dreams, his luck means that he meets you anyway, without all the loss and the chains and the lying.

In his dreams, he is able to bring you to the desert. He is able to teach you the Avgin he spoke as a child, to cook all the meals his mother used to make, to share with you their coffee and their tea. He teaches you prayers. He teaches you blessings. He tells you about Mama Fenge, about how the rain fell when he was born. He takes you to the Kakava Festival, shows you how to dance, sings to you all the Avgin songs until you're singing back. He presses his palm to yours in prayer; he kisses you in devotion, not avoidance.

Sometimes the two of you still fight, the same fights that you have in real life, but he handles them with honesty. He listens to you. He apologises to you. He tells you that he’ll change, and he means it—because this world is a kind one, and he has no need to be so cruel to you.

In this kind world, when you lay in bed with his arms tight around you, you smile at him and say, I love you, Kakavasha. You say it in Avgin—real Avgin, not the dialect born from genocide and deceit—and when he responds, there's not even a little bit of insincerity in his voice. Because Kakavasha never became Aventurine in these dreams, so he has no Interastral Standard in which he can lie to you, no silver tongue with which he can manipulate you, no commodity code that inspires his fear of being controlled by you. Kakavasha only knows Avgin, and he only has his sand, his family, his goddess, his home.

And he has you. Finally, he has you.

He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and then he tells you the truth.)

.

.

.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

You noticed this very early on: whenever he lies to you, he always switches to Interastral Standard. Probably he wouldn't be able to do it in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak, and the words he knows are all too kind. He speaks with the innocence of a child, and children cannot deceive people in the way that adults can. Children cannot perform commerce or negotiate contracts. They cannot use a silver tongue to rob people blind. They cannot save themselves from the gallows.

So Aventurine’s Avgin is defenceless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable it hurts. You are not so vulnerable in your first language because your captors spoke it on occasion, and you learned to lie in it to gain their pity. You told Aventurine that knowing it would help him understand you, but this was a deception. Aventurine’s mother tongue was a language of trust, but yours is a dialect of abuse.

The Avgin language died before Aventurine could be gutted by it; this is why it disarms him so completely. This is why he’s so indulgent and so warm when you use it with him, why he yields to all your requests. Not requests for money or gifts—you’re certain those are meaningless to him—but for affection. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. He can never say no.

This is also why he loves hearing you speak his mother tongue, you think—it makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe. Maybe it even makes him feel loved. He never seems so at peace speaking any other language, so you try to use Avgin as much as possible. You like seeing him happy. You like it even if it means you need to teach him your own native language in exchange, even when it means you need to hear him say all the things your captors used to say. You don't mind it if it's him. You never mind the harm he inflicts on you, especially not when it brings you closer to him.

It is convenient that he cannot lie in Avgin. You only wanted to learn it in the first place because he talks in his sleep—mostly in Standard, but sometimes in his native tongue. And now that you know he cannot lie in Avgin, you also know he's always being honest in his dreams. Honest when he throws his arms around you in his sleep. Honest when he grabs you so tightly that you bruise. Honest when he buries his face into your neck and whispers prayers into your skin.

Most of the words he says are common ones, the earliest vocabulary that he taught you. But there are some things he's withheld from you—and to learn those things, you had to track down linguists from the Intelligentsia Guild, bribe them with your dirty money, have them give you all their deprecated, extinct data. It felt two-faced, and it was violating, but it was the only way. You already know that Aventurine would rather die than translate his feelings for you, would never want this part of himself understood.

I'm sorry for always leaving you.

I'm sorry for making you cry.

I can't bear the thought of losing you.

Freedom would be too lonely without you.

I don't want to hurt you anymore.

I don't want to lie to you anymore.

I missed you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

end

afterword

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Ok regarding that “can i make Yves do my homework if I give him my childhood pictures” ask, exactly how much access does Yves have to our lives? Does he have images or videos from when we were still a baby or would they be new information to him?

A bunch of my baby pictures and videos are lost because my dad lost the computer that had them but we recently found my aunt’s old camera filled with our childhood pictures, it was a pleasant surprise for us but would it be for Yves too?

It absolutely is. If Yves was there with you while your aunt showed you the photo gallery of her old camera, Yves would momentarily lose a bit of inhibition and let his pupils dilate to a maddening degree before instantly constricting it back to appear normal. It's a rare, super deluxe edition photos of you, there isn't anything else like it out there as they're most likely not uploaded to the internet or a cloud based service, where he could easily hack.

Him coming across media from your childhood or at least during those early days where people still go to and get their photos developed, is like winning the lottery for him. Because, although he tries to collect everything relating to your existence, there is only so much he can do in a day. He rather prioritizes the present and the future, as the past is the past; neither you nor him can change it, he can only understand or connect it to your current behaviours or thought patterns.

He does have some information about you as a baby or a child, but that is if they're "readily available" to him. (I.e., it can be found in predictable places like in your childhood home.), that is why, Yves would try to build a good relationship with people you grew up with, to extract information.

Despite being reclusive as he is, Yves would never fail to attend every and any family gathering he is invited to or expected to come. Encouraging that drunk uncle to drink more if he knew he has something to say about you, bribing your relatives with gifts and career opportunities, perhaps even drugging that really difficult and combative cousin to make them more bearable to interrogate.

As soon as he knew your aunt could be another goldmine of your data, he would get to work. Wasting no time building a rapport with her, it's a piece of cake given how obsessive and manipulative his nature is.

Inevitably, your aunt will come to love him and see Yves as family. By extension, her relationship with you will skyrocket too, she will invite you to her place much more often even though she might not be the most sociable person in the first place. Yves will find a way to make her bend to his whims.

The majority of their conversations would be about you, only sometimes Yves would talk about something else if it meant he could keep the drive to spill more about your lore going. His sharp ears and mind will pick up on clues as to where he might find more pictures or writings about you. He would then break into your aunt's home to give it a thorough shakedown and leave without a trace. Yves would repeat this process until he's positive that she has nothing left to offer. That camera is getting fucking stolen and replaced with a duplicate.

It didn't matter if your aunt was a minimalist or a severe hoarder, he would go through all her things just to try and find pieces of your puzzle. He would wade through cobwebs, dust piles, rat droppings and mould if he had to, Yves isn't scared to get dirty to obtain what he wants, "squeamish" isn't in his vocabulary.

When she is robbed of all your essence, Yves would become distant. Not hostile towards her, just cold and indifferent. He would still maintain some sort of relationship with her though, in case she becomes useful again later. As of now, he either puts his entire focus on your current peripheral and direct life, or start to hunt other members down- from his snooping, he had learned of other people who may have valuable input about your childhood.

All of this is happening in the background. You wouldn't suspect a thing, there wasn't a dip in his attention for you. In fact, he may have gotten a lot more smothering, as Yves would be shaking at the thought of testing out his new theories and hypothesis that were birthed from his new knowledge.

He just loves you so much that he couldn't help himself but to get greedy. Yves wants all of you; past, present and future. And any version of you that could have been.

[justarandomart]

I feel like they would have a lot to talk about 

[ddejavvu]

JAMES POTTER THE MAN THAT HE IS i wholeheartedly believe would spoil you so much and you’d make sugar daddy joke about him CONSTANTLY even if you were the same age

"Why has your aunt just told me I look too young to be your boyfriend?" James leans over to murmur against your ear, throwing a glance at your aunt who's currently indulging in another glass of wine that she doesn't need.

"I dunno," You shrug, "Older ladies are always saying things about the way people look for their ages."

"Your grandma frowned at me when I came in," James recalls with a groan, "Not necessarily angry, I don't think. Just confused."

"She's always confused," You scoff, "Don't worry James; no one else thinks I've robbed the cradle."

"Y/N," It's a cousin of yours this time, elbowing you hard in the shoulder and sitting down beside you like you're not huddled up privately with your boyfriend, "I thought the wallet you snagged was halfway to the grave already. 'This his son?"

"Wallet?" Your eyes narrow, nose crinkling at the accusation, "What are you talking about?"

"You said you had a sugar daddy," Your cousin scoffs, and realization hooks your stomach, dragging it down towards your feet through an ocean of blood, "We all thought you were gonna bring some war veteran tonight, this kid looks like he just graduated high school."

"I'm twenty-two," James rambles, scandalized, "Y/N, you told them I was your sugar daddy?"

"No! No, I told them ages ago - when we started dating, that I had a boyfriend but- I mean, I dunno, I've thrown around the term sugar daddy while showing off some of your more... extravagant purchases."

"Like the cruise," Your cousin helpfully supplies, "And the tennis bracelet, and the summer home."

"That was a rental," You hiss, "Jamie, I swear I've used boyfriend 90% of the time."

"We thought she was just being optimistic," Your cousin admits, a wrinkled grimace on their face as they rush to free themselves from the awkward conversation, "But- uh, good for you two, remember me in the will."

"Oh my god," James buries his face in his hands, "They thought I was ancient. They thought I was some pervert chasing after girls, throwing money at the ones who'd pity me enough to look my way."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Jamie," You croon, taking his face into your hands and shooing his own away. He leans in desperately to the soothing kisses that you stick to his face, looking for all the world like he might die of embarrassment right here right now. For all that he moans and groans, he's tucked himself into your hold like a helpless infant, and you're happy to oblige his neediness.

"No more using the word daddy." James instructs, though he's not in a position to make orders while nestled securely in your protective grip, "Not unless we decide to take a leap of faith in the bedroom. God, no wonder your grandma was so disappointed when she saw me- I don't have enough wrinkles for her."

[suashii]

— 𝒷𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 ౨ৎ

matsukawa issei x reader. 1.1k wc. ﾉ suggestive fluff ﾉ after sex pillow talk but no smut ﾉ friends with benefits

“wanna go to a wedding with me?”

as casual as the question is, something feels just a tad bit strange about your timing. you hadn’t planned on asking him now—mere minutes after sharing your bodies with each other, your limbs still tangled with his. it doesn’t make for great pillow talk but if you don’t ask him now, you aren’t sure when the next opportunity will make itself known.

matsukawa laughs but it’s something closer to a snort. dark curls stick to the tanned skin of his forehead, damp with sweat. he tries to push the hair away from his face as he rolls onto his back. the new position creates a bit of space between you and robs you of the man’s warmth. you should be thankful for the chance to cool down but being in his arms is just so comfortable. 

chocolatey eyes focus on the ceiling with matsukawa’s counter-question. “isn’t that an occasion reserved for boyfriends?”

“you’re basically my boyfriend.”

the words tumble from your lips before you can even comprehend what you’re saying. you aren’t sure what compelled you to say that—“boyfriend” isn’t a title you’ve ever referred to him as and despite saying so right now, you’ve never truly thought of mattsun as your boyfriend either. still, you don’t take the words back, curious to see how he’ll respond.

“eh…” he makes a sound of disagreement, one that’s matter-of-factly but nowhere near malicious. “we have sex.”

it’s true; if either of you were asked to slap a label on your relationship, it would probably be one that reads, “friends that fuck.” emphasis on the latter. but you’d be a liar if you said that the line between friends and something else wasn’t beginning to blur.

the conversation makes you consider all the little things that have changed since the two of you started sleeping with each other, things that have come about as a result of something other than your friendship. your brows furrow as you silently compile a list of all those things. you’ve lost count by the time matsukawa’s voice cuts through the quiet air.

“what are you thinking about?”

you don’t mince your words. “how you’re basically my boyfriend.”

it’s not that you’re trying to push it, rather, that you’re coming to the realization yourself. you may find it just as weird as mattsun does.

“fine,” he sighs, but it’s more playful than exasperated. “i’ll bite.”

he rolls over on his side so that he’s facing you and props his head up on his arm. there’s humor and curiosity twinkling in the dark pools that are his eyes. being the sole subject of his gaze makes your skin prickle and all of a sudden you’re warming up again. “what about me is screaming boyfriend in that pretty little head of yours?”

“well,” you start, “you’re literally flirting with me right now. pretty little head?”

he shakes his head. “simply stating a fact.”

“whatever you say.” you ponder over your next piece of evidence. “we know the passcodes to each other’s apartments.”

he’s quick with his rebuttal. “all the guys know my passcode.”

“you’ve known them since high school.” you point at him accusingly, finger almost bumping the tip of his nose. you can feel the laugh he exhales through his nostrils. “it’s barely been three months since we’ve met.”

a beat of silence passes and then he nods. “got me there. what else?”

a grin pulls at your lips with his choice to concede. it encourages you to go on. “ok, you keep a change of clothes and a pair of pajamas in my dresser—and a toothbrush in my bathroom. you’ve practically started moving in.”

matsukawa doesn’t remember the moment he decided to bring any of that stuff over here or what possessed him to. convenience, he would imagine, but it speaks to how often he’s over your place, how frequently he lingers throughout the night and into the next morning. he’s only noticing it now, but he’s never done any of this with the hookups of his past. 

maybe you’re more than a hookup, he thinks. how much more, mattsun isn’t sure, but there’s certainly something different about you. you’re no one-night fling, not someone he calls just when he needs to relieve some stress—there’s a deeper connection between the two of you, one that neither of you can seem to put your finger on. but you’re both beginning to acknowledge it, nevertheless.

“alright, can’t argue there,” the man confesses. he wonders if you can see the gears turning in his head, if you can tell his opinion is swaying with each piece of information you bring up. issei usually prides himself on his poker face but he’s reconsidered a lot these past few minutes. “any more proof to back up your claim?”

you hum in deep thought before meeting his eye once more. he never looked away. 

“have you been sleeping with anyone else?”

“no.” his reply comes quicker than either of you expect. and it makes you smile, not because you’re happy to hear it (although, you are happy to hear it), but because his tone and the look of mild offense painting his features makes it seem as though you accused him of cheating. 

which you can’t do unless you’re dating.

“so we’re exclusive, then.” you don’t miss the subtle relief that washes over his face at the implication that you also aren't seeing anyone else.

“you make a compelling case,” matsukawa tells you, a lazy grin playing at his lips.

“and your verdict?”

his lips stick out in a pout as he makes a show of thinking everything you’ve said over. with every second he doesn’t answer, you grow more and more sure that he’s looking for a way to let you down slowly. after what seems like forever, he finally speaks. “i’ll go to that wedding with you.”

your heart jumps upon hearing his acceptance of your invitation. you hide your excitement in a single word. “great.”

“when is it?”

“later next month.”

he hums and nods, mostly to himself. “that should be enough time.”

you can’t help but ask, “enough time to…?”

issei leans forward, closing the gap between you to steal a kiss. it’s short but sweet and for some reason, it leaves you wide-eyed like a doe caught in headlights. “to become your actual boyfriend, of course.”

thanks for giving this a read ! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :3

[veryberryjelly]

fidget

felix catton x fem!reader

cw : none, no mention of y/n.

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

saltburn was your favourite place to be.

you had been spending your summers there since you were 14 and you met felix at school.

at 16 felix decided to kiss you by the lake and you had been inseparable since then.

even at oxford, it was very rare that you'd spend a night alone, either sleeping in felix's dorm or having him over at yours.

your summers at the house were always enjoyable, unless god forbid you fell unwell over the time you stayed there.

and unfortunately, that had happened this year.

you were curled up in your bed, curtains drawn as the burning sun heated up the entire room.

even with the warmth from the sun, the hot water bottle on your stomach and the duvet over your body, you were still shivering.

of course your period had to come on the hottest day of the year, when you would be constantly taking off your covers and putting them back on moments later.

your eyes were clenched shut as you willed yourself to fall asleep so you could wake up and be rid of your devilish cramps.

but of course, that was not what god had in store for you as your boyfriend burst into your room.

" mornin' sweetheart " he said, making his way over to your bed where he sat down , his hand lifting to brush some hair from your face. " what're you doing sleeping in here? i was waiting for you last night "

while you would normally relish in the feeling of felix playing with your hair, right now everything was sensitive and you couldnt take it.

" you were asleep when i came in, didnt want to wake you " you muttered, clearly lying through your teeth as you lifted your hand to move his off of your face, instead choosing to loop your little finger through his.

that was about much touch as you could handle at the moment.

felix was not having that as the reason. you knew he didnt care if you woke him up, as long as he woke up to you in his arms. it was then that he noticed the furrow in your brow and the lick of sweat over your forehead.

" what's up, sweetness? you dont look so good " he said, shifting a little closer to you, his leg lifting up onto the bed so you couldnt avoid this conversation.

you were hesitant, never having discussed this with felix before as there wasnt ever a need to, but the soft movement of him sliding his hand into your practically made you melt.

" i got my period last night, didnt want to stain your sheets or keep you up with my fidgeting " whenever you got cramps it was impossible to get comfortable. no position was good enough to ease the storm in your uterus.

" so you deprived me of your cuddles last night because you didnt want to ruin my sheets? " he asked, his brow raising incredulously.

" didn't think you'd want to deal with my fidgeting either. " you admitted, clutching your hot water bottle a little tighter.

" oh, baby, i don't care. i want to be there for you when you're not feeling good. " he explained, shifting on the bed again so he was sat up agains the headboard. " now because you robbed me of your company last night, you have no choice in letting me take care of you now. " he said with a soft smile.

" you don't have to do that, lex- "

you were swiftly cut off by felix " i dont have to, but i want to. i'm going to get you something to drink, then how would you feel about a bath ?"

you had to admit that sounded amazing, being engulfed in warm water for a little while.

" that sounds really nice " you agreed, lifting your head slightly to rest against his leg, still clad in his pyjama pants. " but dont leave yet "

your final word caused a soft laugh to come from his lips, his hand lifting to rest on your back, the other still clutched in yours.

" okay, we can stay here a while "

[loveinhawkins]

Barely ten minutes into the hike from Skull Rock to Lover’s Lake, Dustin heaves a sigh like he’s the most long suffering person in the world to ever exist. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson, what?”

“I’m bored.”

“God, you’re such a whiner. No, you—you’re like a little kid on a road trip, like, are we there yet?”

Behind them, Max and Lucas snort in almost perfect unison.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Eddie’s lips twitch into the faint semblance of a smile. It’s very quick, blink and you miss it, before he turns sombre again, looking down at the forest floor. Steve can’t blame the guy; he can’t imagine that he has all that much to smile about.

“I just meant,” Dustin says, “that we could use some entertainment.” He jerks his head meaningfully at Eddie—who thankfully still has his head down so he can’t witness this tremendous lack of subtlety—and mouths, You know, a distraction.

“And I’m the entertainment guy,” Steve says flatly.

“Well, we’ve gotta keep you around for some reason,” Lucas pipes up.

Steve turns around, walks backwards so he can point warningly at him. “Thin ice, Sinclair.”

But it’s all for show, and he keeps walking backwards, pretends to trip on a tree root and narrowly avoid a pratfall. Max actually giggles at that, which is a victory in and of itself, but Eddie’s looking down at his feet.

Hmm.

“If I wanted slapstick, I would’ve called Charlie Chaplin,” Dustin says.

“He’s dead,” Max points out.

Dustin quickly draws a hand over his neck, Cut it out. Which—yeah, that’s fair. Don’t want the conversation straying into stuff that’s too close to… everything.

“So you want education instead?” Steve says. “I think I can remember how to identify, like, some trees and shit from—”

“Forget Lover’s Lake,” Dustin says, “I’m walking you straight into a retirement home.”

Steve opens his mouth, ready to play up his outrage, and then he hears a very soft chuckle from the side. Eddie.

Steve catches Dustin’s eye, winks briefly in reassurance. Nice work.

“Oh, sorry, is that not entertaining enough for you?” Steve turns so he’s front facing again, kicking a few stray twigs as he thinks. “Uh… ooh, did I tell you about the affair? At work?”

“Someone’s having an affair at Family Video?” Lucas says, sounding disgusted.

Max cackles. “The scandal! At a family establishment, no less.”

Dustin points at her. “See, this is why you should play D&D!” he says, annoyingly sing-song. “You’ve got a flair for words.”

“How about I stick my flair right up your—”

“Uh, okay,” Eddie interrupts suddenly. “I need details.”

Aha, Steve thinks, smug. Got you.

“Fire away, Munson.”

“Did someone, like, confess to you while you were ringing them up?”

Steve scoffs. “No, it was—” He cups his mouth, calls, “Hey, Rob?”

Up ahead, Robin and Nancy turn.

“What?”

“The affair shift.”

“Oh!” Robin whacks Nancy on the arm in her enthusiasm. “This is such a good one. Okay, so am I gonna be her or—?”

“No!” Steve says. “You’ve gotta be me, you can’t do her voice right.”

“Ugh, fine, fine. Wait, I need to get into character.”

Robin makes a show of ruffling her hair, and Steve doesn’t even roll his eyes, can only grin as he hears Eddie cough a much stronger laugh into his elbow.

“Nance, count us in,” Robin says.

Nancy looks a mixture of surprised and amused. It only takes a moment of hesitance before she mimes holding a slate, mouths counting down. “Action!”

And they’re off.

It’s probably so stupid, Steve thinks, to be this loud right now, but he can’t bring himself to care—not when he can hear raucous laughter from all directions: Robin captures his flustered, wide-eyed look, while he dramatically re-enacts a woman storming into the store, demanding to see her husband’s account.

And he thinks Eddie actually laughs the loudest when he gets to the reveal: that said account was full of romantic movies the married couple had never seen together.

“Not one,” Steve echoes—and not to brag, but with this delivery? Juilliard, eat your heart out. “Not. One!”

The kids dissolve into more giggles; Robin fights to stay in character as Nancy jokingly calls, “And, scene!”

And Eddie throws back his head, and laughs and laughs.

Happiness is a good look on him, Steve thinks.

They all quieten eventually, but a lightness in mood still remains, as the kids huddle off together—“Hey, shitheads, not too far!” Steve says, far from the first time—and Eddie sidles up, fleetingly knocks their shoulders together.

“Steve Harrington. Who would’ve thought it, huh?”

“Thought what?”

Steve glances over at him, suddenly struck by the fact that the sun will go down soon; and he doesn’t really need to know what Mordor is to know that he’d rather not get there. That he’d rather freeze time, so they could all just walk in the woods forever.

Eddie shrugs. “You’re a good storyteller.” His eyes are soft, like that isn’t all that he’s saying. Like he’s saying Thank you.

Steve shrugs back. “I’m a man of many talents,” he says.

Eddie chuckles, and this time his smile doesn’t fade away.

Steve allows himself a moment or two to admire the scenery, and if that means looking less at the way the sun still shines through the gaps in the branches, and more the way that it illuminates Eddie’s lingering smile, well…

Well, so what?

Right now, we’re happy, Steve finds himself thinking.

They can stay in the Shire for a little while longer.

[dalliancekay]

The 'Aziraphale Still Believes in Heaven' Take

Is one that I see so often. Too often. The way many fans (still) say Aziraphale is so naïve, he's never learned anything, he never changes, Metatron just offered him a promotion and he happily jumped on it. Happy to go back to Heaven. Still in their clutches. Leaving Crowley behind. Cos nothing lasts forever. Amirite? Poor long-suffering Crowley. So patient. Goes through so much. Aww. Takes that say that because Crowley never told Aziraphale about the venom in Gabriel's "Shut your stupid mouth and die already", Aziraphale has no idea that Heaven is not the good guys, that he still believes they are on the side of truth and light.

Takes that claim Aziraphale wants Crowley to come to Heaven and be an angel again so they can be happy like in the good old times. Takes that basically say that Aziraphale is stupid. And blind. LISTEN Do you mean this Aziraphale:

Who knew before Crowley did that something is rotten in the state of Denmark, that things are wrong and one can get in a lot of trouble for a thing as minor as a suggestion to improve things. Is this the Aziraphale that would seriously suggest to Crowley, who he was immediately deeply anxious over, to go back to 'good old times'? What good old times? How is Heaven a place of light when:

A bunch of angels comes down to Earth to bully and PUNCH ONE OF THEIR OWN?

Why would he think they are the light when they shame him for being who he is?

Yes, I HC is that ultimately, Aziraphale still believes in God, in Her inherent goodness, even if Her tasks were often odd... and not lining up with what he thought was right. He thinks (remember my own HC) something somewhere went wrong with the what She wanted and the how it was understood and executed. And yes, Aziraphale wants to do good. But that's not tied to him being an angel. And it's not a bad thing ffs! Crowley does good as well. Aziraphale might be the only one who knows, but he knows. Maybe getting humans out of the Garden to seek knowledge was always a (certainty) possibility, and maybe not, but it was Aziraphale's decision to arm them.

And She didn't make him Fall for it. And do you remember when:

Aziraphale first openly questioned that Heaven was actually doing what God actually wanted? He had a think after the Flood, didn't he. He did what he thought was right. He trusted Crowley over his fellow angels, with his own sense of rightness. He and Crowley saved the kids that Aziraphale triple checked the Archangels saw no problem in letting die to make things easier. And She didn't make him Fall for it. In Edinburgh:

Az re-evaluated the thinking he was taught and did a full 180 degree turn, trying in few hours to save the grave-robbing girl AND the possible future lives of children that could be helped via more learning. And when we come to Metatron and his threats, we don't see the full conversation, but don't we see enough? Aziraphale says that he's not interested. Metatron keeps nagging at him. Pushing the symbolic coffee from Coffee or Death at him. Flattering him with obvious untruths. After all, Aziraphale knows what Heaven thinks of him. He tried to reason with Metatron before. Metatron tells him they know how deep his disobedience lies:

Aziraphale is not a fool. He knows this is an offer of come quietly or we will find a way to destroy you and your demon this time. Aziraphale didn't have to hear Metatron's quip of: "For one prince of Heaven to be cast into the outer darkness makes a good story. For it to happen twice, makes it look like there is some kind of institutional problem." He knows the system is rotten. He knows for a LONG time. Did you see his face when he met Muriel and realised what a lonely sad existence they lead.

AND Crowley doesn't love Aziraphale despite the fact that he's being used to get out of trouble, being made to listen about random things the angel enjoys from symphonies to food and plays, and who continues to believe in goodness and kindness. CROWLEY LOVES AZIRAPAHLE BECAUSE OF THOSE THINGS AND because he sees Aziraphale for what he is, an angel who thinks for himself, changes his mind, learns, angel who is brave, who stands for the right thing, who sacrifices his own happiness for the safety of others, especially the demon he loves. They are the same. They are lonely. They are one of a kind. And they love each other.

Aziraphale wants to stay at home. In the home he built for himself and Crowley. On Earth where he's found so much to love. But he knows it is impossible. As Crowley confesses his love, Aziraphale struggles to stay on his plan to push him away, to make him stay. He'll miss Crowley terribly. He wants them to be together. For him, they were an 'us' the whole S2. However tenuously. Fragile existence and all that.

But even this was ripped away from him. And whatever he's planning, he knows he needs to do the first steps on his own. He can't submit Crowley to the torture that being in Heaven is going to be for him, an unwanted, despised angel. And that would be even worse for an unwanted demon. He had to push him away.

So he leaves. Furious. And determined. Whether it is to burn the place down or find God and ask Her all the questions to Her face I don't know. But his love will push him through.

And if I see one more simplistic take of the snarky demon is really good isn't he, so that means the stuffy angel is bad (and needs to change to be worthy of the demon) I will curse their dreams with lines about shades of grey. AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY ALREADY LOVE EACH OTHER

[hijinxinprogress]

Everyone in YJ is multilingual (mostly bc they’re nosy)

Everyone on YJ speaks at least 14 languages which is a skill they all use to fuck with the jl and their villains like oh??? We’re having secret conversations??? I would like to be included and everyone’s like wtf why do you speak this fucking random dialect of Russian?? This is Arizona??

They all speak binary for some fucking reason (they’re nerds) Also Kon tells people binary is Tim’s native language which starts a debate on whether it counts as Kons native language)

Diana is swearing in ancient greek under her breathe and Anita laughs before responding in ancient greek so Diana’s time monitoring yj is spent trying to make sure the public knows she did not teach those little miscreants to swear in her native language however she did teach them some technically lethal combat moves which is not better but she thinks it is

Anytime aliens come to metropolis or anywhere else on earth, occasionally Kon shows up and starts speaking to them in their native language so Clark’s like 🤨 …did Cadmus teach you that?? I don’t even know that language and kons so offended bc no?? Bart crashed our fucking spaceship and we were stranded in space for like 8 months…you didn’t notice??? I know their language bc we fucking hitchhiked back to earth (yj also pissed off multiple entire planets of people but 🤷🏾‍♀️) and Batman’s so pissed when Clark complains to him about this bc Tim told him they were doing undercover recon in Eritrea

the jl is trying to translate a threat from the league of assassins while batman is off planet but cissie showed up bc damian was insulting the jl in the leagues dialect and being purposefully unhelpful (he sabotaged the leagues plan like three hours ago and he enjoys making adults feel stupid esp if they’ve tried to baby him) so everyone else is confused when cissie laughs at damians remarks and casually corrects green arrows translation (she also invites damian to blow stuff up with yj which is immediately rejected but he changes his mind when olivers lets them know he can hear them and tries to lecture them)

clark is talking to Diana in kryptonian and he hears a collective gasp of offense from yj and he’s like ?? (Tim followed all the supers around for like a month to teach himself kryptonian and then taught Kon and the rest of yj)

J’onn walked in on Greta and Cassie discussing how to ditch their green lantern in the watchtower break room and snitched immediately bc they finished his secret stash of cookies but he also has inside jokes in martian with them (despite this yj does not listen to him in any capacity)

They all know Interlac (Bart kept cussing in interlac and decided it would be great if yj also did this) but really the rest of the jl is under the impression it’s some fucking code yj made except the speedsters are like Bart ☹️ no spoilers you promised!! and he’s like it’s not even a real language 🤨 didn’t you hear?? Rob made this fucked up cipher and I hate it 😞 it took me like six minutes to learn (they have to let it go when Bart goes oh so you don’t think tims smart enough to create a language on his own?? within earshot of the bats)

Or Anita starts muttering in patois while they’re being lectured by the jl and bart laughs and she’s like 🤨 someone cooked here and I don’t know if I like that 

[reallyromealone]

Title: oh hey a mate(s)

Chapter: one

Fandom: obey me

Pairing: demon brother's x male reader

Warnings: suggestive themes, readers got truama, internalized gender hatred, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of being a breeding tool, self hate, reader doesn't really understand sex, sexual themes, omegaverse, male reader, mentions of mpreg

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

"HE STOLE THEM FROM ME!" (sisters name) Screeched out in a rage as she threw things around "they were supposed to be MY mates! And he stole them! That whore stole them!" She was hyperventilating at this point as her body shook, feeling robbed of her alphas.

Of her life, the thing she wanted more than anything.

"I know sweety but maybe we can set you up wit--"" I don't want someone else! I want the princes!"

And she was going to get them.

She swore it.

'fuck you (name)'

Holy shit this place was big.

God he felt under dressed, especially beside these alphas who were dressed so fancy and perfect.

The floors were marble and two grand staircases winded on each side and paintings that had to be centuries old hung on the walls "we will have one commissioned for you soon enough... Maybe one with us all" Belphegor yawned as he wandered the halls "for now, let's get you settled in" he said and looked to a nervous looking Leviathan who nodded.

(Name) Was nervous as he walked beside the demon who seemed to want to be anywhere but here "I-im sorry if I wasn't who you were expecting... I'll try and not step on your toes" (name) whispered, anxiously fiddling with his fingers and looked down "i-i dont-- fuck... I'm really nervous and anxious and just I don't really talk to omegas often so I'm just--" the demon seemed panicked and (name) felt relief flood through his veins as he pumped out calming pharamones for the Alpha "hey... I get it, if it's any consolation... I'm not great with people either-- hell I think this is the first time I ever left my families property!" He laughed a bit but Leviathan was shocked at his words "you never been into the capital or even your home town?" He asked genuinely and (name) shook his head "nah, my parents didn't trust me going out there-- you know how troublesome an Omega can be"

What the fuck? That's all Leviathan could think as he looked at the Omega worried "I- you're not troublesome?" He whispered and (name) just smiled "I try not to be" (name) giggled a bit as they continued to (name)s apartment, the Omega expecting a quaint bedroom but...

"I think we went to the wrong room.... This is awfully big" (name) said softly to the envy demon who looked confused "you like your apartment?" Asmodeus popped out from nowhere and pulled (name) close with a flirty grin "we had the butlers being your things in, don't worry we didn't let them unpack... Pharamones and all that ~" he pulled (name) into the apartment and (name) felt overwhelmed by all this "there's a nesting room there~ if you need help don't hesitate to ask"

"A-are you sure?"

"Sure of what?"

"That this is for me?"

"You are to be our mate, I personally wanted you with me but Luci wanted you to have your own space... Something about acclimating" his words teasing and (name) chuckled but cut short when his stomach growled and the two demons looked curious "oh yeah! Humans need to eat for survival!"

(Name) Felt embarrassed as he silently cursed his stomach for exposing him like this as the demons looked at one another in a silent conversation.

They were definitely having a sibling meeting later.

(Name) Dissociated during the rest of the evening, eventually ending back in the rooms he was given, the size of his old house if not a bit bigger...

Everything was pristine as he took out his belongings, his prized possessions and small hobbies to occupy him.

A few heirlooms and books and his childhood stuffed toy 'this will go in my nest' he thought as he looked at the nesting room doors, two ornate doors in a rose gold shade, the apartment all light colors unlike the rest of the palace.

It was a strange contrast, almost like they didn't know what to expect so they just made what they thought humans liked. It was funny really, demons trying to understand what humans wanted or needed as he was doing the same, wondering what these demons wanted or liked.

Getting up he went to the nesting room and was overwhelmed by the nesting supplies he was given, piles and piles of blankets and pillows and soft things, his purring could probably be heard from outside the apartment as he snuggled into them, a sense of safety he wasn't quite used to washing over him.

He was excited to make a large nest, spending half the night making it perfect for him to rest in and just not think about the fact he was to be mated on his next heat to seven strangers that were also fucking royalty! Well there goes not thinking about it because here he was!

Also his sister! Holy shit she was mad! And like at his wedding she will be there! Fuuck!

(Name) Was just sitting there head in hands as he processed the fact that within 24 hours he was now engaged and now in the public eye!

(Name) Curled up closer into his blankets and let out a shutter of a sigh, he wondered if he would be able to do the things he enjoyed before... Would he be allowed to garden? Would he have to dress more Omegan? Or would he be able to wear clothes that were comfortable?!

He needed to walk, movement to process this.

Getting up he walked out of his apartment and into the hall, dark and grand, ceilings at least 15 feet tall and paintings lined, some he recognized as the siblings and some unfamiliar as he walked around curiously.

Somehow he made it to the kitchen "I hope they don't mind..." (Name) Whispered as he sliced an apple, careful and gentle as his stomach growled a bit.

"Can I have some?" A voice startled him out of his thoughts causing him to slice his finger "shit!" The voice said and (name) looked to see Beelzebub who in turn looked a bit startled as he took (name)s bleeding finger and put it in his mouth, the Omega looking thoroughly concerned as Beelzebub sucked on the blood "I feel like this is incredibly unsanitary" (name) whispered worried and beez released his finger "demons saliva can heal amongst other things, depends on the demon really"

"Oh " (name) said dumbly as he looked at his wet but healed finger "what else does your saliva do?" He asked curiously and Beelzebub smiled at the others cute and curious expression "ah, well besides healing my saliva can work as an aphrodisiac if ingested!" (Name) Looked concerned and Beelzebub laughed "don't worry, it only works if I were to like make out with you or eat your ass!"

And now (name) was flustered as the gluttony demon kept laughing at his embarrassment "so why are you up so late?" Beelzebub asked after calming down and sealing some apple slices and cutting up some more, handing (name) an orange "just... It's stupid"

"Oh please!" Beelzebub pushed and (name) sighed "I'm just... I'm having trouble processing this stuff, it's stressful and like-- I never left my property let alone this! My sister wanted to be with you guys and she's already insufferable, this is just worse! I'm just paranoid that you guys are going to realize that like this was a mistake and reject me and like the fear of being an Omega in general! Will I be able to do the things i enjoyed before? Will I be a breeding tool?!" He was hyperventilating now as Beelzebub panicked "hey hey, calm down! It will be alright and-- no we aren't making you a breeding Omega.... shhh" beez tried to calm him as footsteps quickly made their way to the kitchen.

"What is happening?" Lucifer and the others seemed startled as the smell of distress was heavy in the kitchen "he's worried we will strip him of his rights and make him carry our young" Beelzebub explained as he lifted (name) into his arms and set him on the counter "were demons but we aren't monsters" Satan said disgusted and Asmodeus smiled "we would never do that unless it's what you're into~" he teased the Omega as they crowded him "I know it's an incredibly hard adjustment but know we mean well, it's literally impossible for us to not fall for each other" it's true soulmates would eventually fall for one another due to the bond "and we are sharing one mate so that means you have seven people to love you" mammon said in a rare moment of genuine care "what do you mean?"

"Oh yeah, he knows basically nothing about secondary gender or soulmates" Levi said softly and the demons looked horrified "well I know what we are doing tomorrow" Satan said simply and (name) looked ashamed and couldn't meet their eyes, feeling stupid for his lack of knowledge.

"Well his town is backwards" Belphegor yawned and wandered off back to bed now that the problem was solved "goodnight...."

(Name) Was led back to his room by Beelzebub and Asmodeus and looked confused when they put sweaters in his arms "the smell of your alphas will calm you~" Asmodeus said simply and the two wished him a good night.

And for once?

He sleped peacefully.

(Name) Spent the next few days learning about soulmates and secondary genders, the two interlocking "when your heat comes, it will be dangerous for you to not mate with your soulmate" (name) read the book in his off time, the book explaining how the bonding is key to not cause rejection symptoms or a drop, he definitely didn't want that. Fuck how does he have sex? Fuck.

Time to go figure that out, he really felt behind on this shit.

(Name) Made home in the library as he looked for any books that would aid him "Hmm? Looking for sex books ~ didn't know our omega was like that" Asmodeus seemed to love just appearing out of thin air and scaring (name) who dropped the book "i-i it's not like that!"

"Hmmm? And what is it about? Oh you're so cute when your flustered!" He cooed and (name) huffed "I am trying to figure out like, how sex works and stuff... I wasn't exactly taught... Just put on suppressants so my family could avoid it" he just constantly felt ashamed with them, their faces of realization and pity as (name) tried not to cry "well, if you like I could teach you~ don't worry I won't touch you where you don't like" Asmodeus could get used to his omega so flustered as he got closer, his alpha giddy at his mate being untouched "the first thing one should know is their body after all~"

"I- uh... I'm not sure..."

Asmodeus let his lips barely touch (name)s as he caged him against a bookshelf and smiled, his tail flickering and (name) seemed a bit startled by it All as the demon gently kissed him "that was... Uh.." "your first kiss?"

"Yeah..."

"Did you like it?"

(Name) Could only nod as the lust avatar giggled sweetly at his adorable Omega "oh, you're going to fit in nicely here~!" He doted on (name) a bit "don't worry darling, we won't do anything your not ready for but if you're willing... To experiment a bit, I'm always a summon away" and with that he was gone, (name) left with nothing more than the smell of his pharamones, sweet Jasmine and warm vanilla.

It wasn't till after lunch that Lucifer brought him to the gardens, a small greenhouse and a garden plot stood "we had it cleaned up, you said you liked gardening" he said simply and looked down at (name) who looked like he was given the potion of youth "really? Thank you so much..." (Name) Was releasing the happiest pharamones and Lucifer kept composure but god damn did that boost his ego as an alpha, making his mate happy.

"Just clean yourself off after you finish" Lucifer said calmly and (name) beamed at this "of course!"

(Name) Puttered in the greenhouse and began planting things, thankfully it was early in the season so he had time to make a nursery for plants "oh, sor--" (name) immediately shut up as he saw Belphegor sleeping in a sun beam, cozy and calm. Looking around (name) found his cape that Satan had made for him and covered the demon with it "it's still chilly" he whispered and went back to work, unaware the demon was awake and watching intently at the Omega who was carrying heavy pots and sacks of soil around.

(Name) Kept quiet for the Alpha, he must be so exhausted to fall asleep in a greenhouse of places so it would be best to let him rest! Eventually (name) moved outside, it was less chilly but a slight chill but movement will keep him warm! Using twine he found in the greenhouse he sectioned spots of the garden plots for various things like carrots and garlic amongst others, they were still in the nursery but it's good to get things ready now, he reasoned with himself.

"Your Highness! It's quite cold!" A servant panicked as she saw (name) in nothing more than a shirt and pants and apron, dirt on his cheek "don't worry! I'm alright!" He reasoned but she was not having it and removed her cape "it's not good for an Omega to be cold like this!"

Before she could drape the cape on (name), he felt fur on his shoulders as Mammon smiled with a warning "don't worry, he's warm" his eyes telling the servant to leave and (name) looked confused "oh hello!" (Name) Smiled at the demon who felt annoyed at how sweet the other was, his bond making his heart beat fast "Luci wanted me to take you into town so get ready" he grumbled and (name) nodded, a simple smile on his face as he wandered to the palace "where's your cape anyways?! It's freezing for mortals!" He chastised and (name) chirped "Belphegor was sleeping and I wanted him to be cozy!" (Name) Couldn't explain why he felt so calm and comfortable with the princes but they made him feel safe, even if they were sometimes like angry chihuahuas.

"You're weird" mammon said with no bite as they walked to (name)s area.

The tailors and seamstresses worked tirelessly to put together some clothes for (name) and his new class, the maids commenting about how the seamstress always kept embroidered sleeves on hand as the brothers always tore clothes during training--- well save for Asmodeus and Belphegor who couldn't be fucked to do stuff like that.

(Name) Felt regal, a beautiful vest made of silk and embroidered with birds and roses and a linen powers shirt and nice pants and expensive boots "you look wonderful your Highness!" A maid commented, (name) growing fond of his personal maids who cheered him in, them all being mated and married betas.

(Name) Was curious as he looked around the city, never really interacting with so many people who looked at he two in awe, the guards keeping a fair distance as he looked at stalls "you seriously never been in a city?" Mammon said incredulously and (name) looked confused "no? It's not right for an Omega to be by himself around alphas, I would be a temptation" reiterating his parents words and Mammon was horrified at the omegas genuine belief that HE was the problem and not alphas who couldn't keep their hands to themselves "well we are unpacking that later"

He didn't even want to get into the family thing, remembering the chat he had with his brothers when (name) had his meltdown and the acceptance that their Omega came from a very problematic living situation but he seemed to be acclimating well.

Or at least he hoped.

Mammon was confused as (name) handed him a stuffed bunny "what is this?" He raised an eyebrow from behind his circular sunglasses "well we didn't get to actually court because of being soulmates so I got you all courting gifts" he chirped out innocently, remembering what he was taught by Lucifer and deciding to put it in action though he seemed to have gotten it backwards as it was supposed to be the Alpha who gave the courting gifts.

"I- uh... Thank you?"

(Name) Seemed pleased as they continued their walk through the cities market, a giant hub of the equally giant city as Mammon stared at the bunny that was made of fabric the same color as his eyes, a small detail that made him flustered.

He noticed (name) budgeting, a soft smile on his face "you know we have basically endless money, right?" Well mammon didn't, he was cut off and put on a strict budget but (name)? He still had his money privileges "that's your money, this is so much!" To (name) it was a lot of money as he did the budgeting of the house back with his family, this was ten times of what they made in a year! "I am fine with this"

Hell, how did they get the exact opposite of them?!

A nervous Omega who was innocent and naive and sweet as honey!

"Oh you are absolutely precious!" Asmodeus cooed at the stuffed rabbit that fit in his hands "I hadn't even thought of courting!" He said with exaggerated sadness and (name) watched the others alphas reactions, though it wasn't the fanciest courting gift, it was a genuinely thoughtful one.

"He was worried about spending the money, he literally budgeted it" mammon groaned and Lucifer snorted "you could do well to learn that" he said as (name) seemed reminded and handed him back the coin bag, the Omega barely dented it "I got a few things for my hobbies but I brought back the change!" He said sweety and Lucifer had cute aggression at that moment as (name) looked at him with so much pride "you know you could have spent all of this right?" He said a little slow, (name) nodding "but that would be rude, I'm spending all your money without care... I don't like that"

Seriously, how did they manage to be fated with the sweetest Omega?!

"He didn't even but himself actual things for himself! He bought things to make us things!" Mammon groaned out but they all knew he equally swooned at the fact their Omega was so sweet.

But also he didn't buy himself anything, Asmodeus has had to bring him to eat and Beelzebub would put food on it.

"Rural Omega culture is different than cities, they're treated more as a commodity" a maid explained to Asmodeus one night as she helped him get ready for bed, she herself being an alpha from the boonies "an inconvenience would be a better word though, everything your saying shows he was treated like how my love got treated, need to make them feel genuinely valued" she went to explain how omegas need regular scenting and assurance to keep mentally regulated and (name) probably never had that.

Which would explain why he seemed like he was constantly waiting for the next shoe to drop despite growing used to them.

Like it was all going to go away.

His dreams were often that, every night he dreamt of waking up in his old room as his sister lived the life she wanted and he was stuck in that musty bedroom where he would rot.

"Your dreams are noisy" Belphegor mumbled as he crawled into bed with (name) and held him close, pumping out pharamones as he thought smugly about the fact he's technically been in bed with (name) before the others. (Name) Snuggled in his chest and physically relaxed, chirping in his sleep as he clung helplessly to him and he was hooked.

He wanted this more and was already annoyed he would have to share with his brothers.

(Name) Let his mates to be plan the wedding though he and Beelzebub thought of food together, the demon horrified at how little foods he got to experience and made him try everything for the wedding and smiled at his happy face with good food "these are mirangue cookies! Like eating plaster that loves you!" He exolained and (name) basically melted at now delicious it was.

Beelzebub was more than happy to share food with him, his alpha wanting the Omega to be well fed to carry his pups after all.

They were all anxious for mating, their bond slowly making them VERY intense about (name) who after weeks, finally sat close to Satan as he read with him though (name) did struggle a bit "omegas being taught to read is laughable, I taught myself as much as I could" he explained and that's when Satan decided he would read for (name), the two spending an hour or two in the library reading together like how Lucifer spent his time teaching (name) new things when he wasn't busy or just dragging him along with things.

(Name) Was always well behaved, he thought of (name)s family and how they were... How did this come out of THAT.

But now, (name) had one worry...

Would he invite his family to his wedding?

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Summer in the 305 || LS2

Pairing: Logan Sergeant x fem!reader Summary: Logan comes home to Miami (305) for the summer break and you surprise him by meeting him at the airport. Warnings: fluff, doggo parents, hints of sexual tension. WC: 1.7k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three

No one noticed you as you sat half asleep in an oversized hoodie on a bench, assuming you were just another weary traveler in Miami International Airport. The arrival lounge had been busy when you arrived hours earlier but it had grown quieter and quieter as the night grew so late it could have been considered morning. Logan was meant to have landed at 11pm and he would have expected you to be at home fast asleep but you had wanted to surprise him.

The surprise came fittingly at 3:05 when the frosted glass doors opened with the next disembarkation of passengers, led by Logan as he desperately tried to get home to you sooner. Your eyes were burning from forcing them to remain open for the extra four hours that his flight was delayed and you rubbed them as you rose from the bench. 

Caps and shirts were thrust in his path but he was too polite to decline a fan so he paused to sign his autograph and nearly jumped out of his skin when your fingers wrapped around the handle of his suitcase. The shout to call for security almost passed his lips, thinking he was being robbed, before his sleepy brain recognised you.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” he asked as a grin chased away the exhaustion on his face and he bundled you into his arms.

You kept one hand on his luggage since there was a crowd starting to gather but the other curled around his back and your head tucked into the crook of his neck. “I wanted to surprise you. I missed you.”

Logan pressed his lips to your forehead until you tipped your head back and he captured your lips as cameras flashed. “I missed you too.”

Thankfully it wasn’t always like this and most of the time when he came home to Miami you were left in relative peace. It was a different story when you went with him to the races, those were full-on mobs of Williams fans that demanded almost all his attention. “Go on, babe, finish up signing those so we can go home.”

The pen flew across whatever passed in front of him before he caught you struggling to hide your yawn and made an apology as he handed a boarding pass back with his autograph before waving. “Thanks for the support everyone.”

There was a collective groan from those who had missed out but Logan was focusing on taking back his luggage with one hand and draping the other over your shoulders as you fell into step.

“Looks like the 305 missed you too,” you commented as his hand lifted every now and again to wave at the younger fans until you reached his Range Rover you borrowed for the night. “There’s a treat waiting for you at home.”

His hand found your thigh as he started the engine and sent you a smirk as it drifted higher. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Not that,” you giggled, turning down the music that had played loudly while you drove. Logan enjoyed a quieter atmosphere when he was at the wheel, one where he could hold a conversation. “I wasn’t sure if you had eaten so I picked up some Carbone’s. I will admit I had to name drop, but they wouldn’t make a takeaway order otherwise.”

His warm laugh filled the SUV. “Did they even know who I was?”

“Of course! Everyone knows the hometown hero.” You leaned across the console and kissed his cheek, feeling the short prickles of his blond beard on your lips. “Are you planning on giving me beard burn, Lo?”

“This is all the rage in Europe. You don’t like it?” he asked as he ran his fingers over the three day growth. You weren’t sure if he was playing with you or not before a grin split his face and you sighed with relief. “Don’t worry, honey, I just haven’t had a minute spare to shave it this week.”

By the time 4:00 am arrived you should have been dead on your feet, but having Logan home energised you almost as much as Sooty. The black labrador scarpered all over the polished wooden floor when he saw his daddy walk in the door, his paws struggling to find traction in his excitement.

“There’s my good boy, come to daddy,” Logan cooed as he dropped his suitcase and caught the bounding dog as he jumped up. “Have you been protecting, mommy? Yeah? Of course, you have, you’re such a good boy.”

“He never gives me that kind of welcome home,” you joked as you locked the door and wheeled the suitcase down the hall to the bedroom.

A pair of hands came to rest on your waist as you emptied the entire case into the laundry hamper, knowing he wouldn’t have had the time to do it himself. His lips brushed over your nape before finding their way to your jaw as he turned you in his arms. “But you don’t go missing for weeks at a time.”

Hooking your arms around his neck you nodded in agreement as Sooty padded into the room with his favourite toy, dropping it at Logan’s feet.

“Someone has to be the stay-at-home parent in this relationship,” you chuckled, releasing him so he could pick up the squeaky toy.

“Not tonight, Soot, we’ll play in the morning,” he said, giving you a quick kiss with the promise of more. “Let me put him to bed, leave everything else until morning, sweetheart.”

He disappeared down the hall to the living room where Sooty’s bed was set up, but whenever Logan was away you would let him sneak into bed with you. You always slept better when you could cuddle something warm, but you definitely preferred waking up to Logan’s morning kisses than Sooty’s slobbery ones when he wants to be fed.

“Lay down, buddy,” you heard Logan’s quiet words in the still of the night. “You can take a break from looking after mommy, you did such a good job for me, yes you did.” You heard a smooch followed by a soft whine as Logan turned off the lights, then the pitter patter of paws. “Back to bed, Soot. Good boy.”

You heard the bedroom door close before Logan stepped into the ensuite, leaning against the doorway while you filled the sink with warm water. You returned the smile you found in the mirror and patted the marble vanity top before searching the drawers for his cut throat razor.

“It doesn’t look that bad, does it?” he half joked as he jumped up onto the bench, parting his legs so you could step between them.

“You could have a 70’s porn ‘stache and I would still think you are handsome,” you promised, making him laugh.

He tipped his head back as you soaked a face cloth in the warm water and squeezed the excess out before placing it over his face. “This is my favourite part of coming home.”

“Out of everything we do when you’re home, this is your favourite?”

His laugh made the face cloth fall away but it had probably been there long enough to open his pores so you lathered up the shaving cream next and massaged it over his cheeks and down his neck, feeling the thick cords of muscles beneath your palms.

“Okay, third favourite,” he corrected as his hands shifted from where he leaned back down on them to curl around your waist and rest comfortably on the swell of your ass. “But it’s still up there.”

“You are a strange man, Lo. I don’t think most people enjoy having a blade to their throat,” you murmured as you opened the razor and tilted his head to the side. 

“I trust you.”

“Thank you. Now no more talking.”

He didn’t dare make a sound or even swallow as you angled the blade against his cheekbone and started to glide it carefully down to his jaw before rinsing it off in the sink. He kept perfectly still for you but you were hyper aware of his eyes scanning your face for any little changes he might have missed while he was away, re-committing it all to his memory for the next time he left. 

You closed the blade up after finishing his throat last and placed it on the side before grabbing the face cloth and wiping away the excess shaving cream. Running a palm over his jawline you nodded at the silky smooth skin and took a kiss as payment before handing him the bottle of aftershave. “All done, handsome.”

By the time you had turned down the bed, and changed into one of his shirts, the light leaking in around the edges of the curtains started to turn pink as dawn approached. Your eyelids were heavy but your heart was light as Logan climbed in his side and wrapped his body around your back, the weight of his arm reassuring on your waist and his leg wedged between yours. 

“Come with me,” he murmured sleepily. 

You could hardly coordinate a reply as your lips quivered with a suppressed yawn until it finally passed. “Where?”

“Everywhere: Zandvoort, Monza, Singapore, all of them.” You felt his small shrug before his arm tightened around you and he kissed your shoulder. “I hate being away from you.”

Your immediate reply was to admit how much you hated the distance too but that would only make him feel worse if you couldn’t join him. “What about Sooty?”

“Hamilton brings Roscoe to some races, or maybe Mom can look after him…you don’t have to give me an answer now, sweetheart. We have three weeks to think about it.”

“I want to,” you said as you laced your fingers with his and drew his hand up your body so it was tucked into the valley of your breasts where your heart beat steadily in your relaxed state, “but we can talk about more in the morning.”

He nodded and pressed another kiss to your skin, the touch smooth and soothing thanks to the close shave. “Sweet dreams, honey.”

“Hmm, you too,” you said as your muscles relaxed even further and your tongue barely moved. “Love you, Lo.”

His voice followed you into your dreams and you smiled as it took hold in a future you couldn’t wait to see come to life, “I love you too.”

Click here for part two.

Taglist {1}: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19  @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3  @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery @eviethetheatrefreak @kimi240302 @andydrysdalerogers @formula1mount @storyteller-le @dakotali @daddyslittlevillain @elijahslover @darleneslane @alex0808 @dhhdhsiavdhaj @glow-ish @hollie911 @lazybot @blueflorals @styles-sunflower @charlesswife

[nouearth]

a business trip.

john wick x male reader.

warnings: smut, alcohol, blowjob (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), dirty talk, rough!sex, breeding, unprotected!sex, top!johnwick, bottom!reader.

request.

the soft tune of jazz—a sonata that you were never particularly fond of—became comforting in your solitude. though a piano was absent, hidden stereos were more than adequate as you gathered the ambiance would’ve been more or less the same if a pianist had performed. 

in the sleepy hours of the continental hotel, patrons of the lounge kept their conversations low, indescribable murmurs to your ears as you sipped on your drink—warm and smooth down your throat. 

the time on your phone flicked to midnight, and day two commenced. you came on a business trip. if you could, you would’ve rejected the offer to come to new york, especially when it took away time from your dog. but the rascal was spoiled, and that unfortunately meant you had to step out of your home office once in a while—all to keep her spoiled. 

but who ever said you couldn’t have a little fun during your trip?

the seats at the bar were unoccupied except for yours. clients preferred sitting in something that supported their back, you presumed, but that didn’t stop a gentleman from taking a seat next to you.

oh, wow. maybe the lady was right… this cologne is a dick magnet.

unbeknownst to you, his favorite seat was occupied and he was petty—though only slight, because a strong drink to incinerate his stress was his main priority. 

“bourbon whiskey,” the gentleman glanced at you, dried blood and cuts lanterned under the muted lights, but his black hair succeeded in shadowing. “please.”

the man didn’t seem phased by the injuries—a nonchalant attitude he maintained—but you were nonetheless surprised. speechless as no one, not even the bartender, seemed to have minded his wounds, the blood stained on his dress shirt, and the purple bruise beating on his cheekbone.

it was… strange.

“uh...” you cleared your throat, directing the sound towards the man to get his attention. he looked, clearly want to be left alone as he kept his gaze front. “sorry, i just… uh… should i be worried about that?”

though he didn’t seem to recognize you, the stranger was hesitant to answer, taking more than a few beats before speaking, low and gritty. “no, just… got robbed.”

“oh, shit, seriously?” you reached for you phone and turned the screen on. ”then, I think we should call-“ before you could take the process to another step, a gentle grasp latched around your wrist, stopping you.

“that’s very kind of you, but i’m fine.” he finally turned to you, a reassuring gaze pierced to your worry before letting go and looking front again.

handsome, even when he’s all beat up. focus, that was not the priority right now.

“dude, you’re bleeding.” remnants of warmth escaped your wrist, but his calloused fingers remained in memory. “you could have a concussion or something.”

“maybe,” the man took a sip of his drink, a simper to his face when it was concluded that you were evidently not from his world. “seemed fine as i walked the way here though.”

“jesus,” you couldn’t pick apart between fact or fiction, especially from a stranger, but he had no reason to lie. you took another sip, watching him and accepting his truth. “did you manage to get a hit on them, at least?”

you missed it, but the man glanced down at the red stain on his dress shirt, small and ruby-ed against the white fabric before taking a sip again. “something like that.”

“hm... i guess i know who to call for a bodyguard when i’m in the city again, then.” the ice between the two of you was slowly melting, puddles of it spreading when you two shared a chuckle. “(m/n), by the way.”

“john.” you can put a name to his face now, and it was fitting. mysterious and aloof, but never intimidating because there was a warmth inside of him that just needed a reason to come out. “never seen you here before, first time?”

“kind of?” by now, the drink has caught up to you and you felt a little more confident, turning your body towards him. “i mean, i’ve been to new york before—just not this hotel. i’m here for work.”

“i see,” when you faced towards him, john never meant to do a double-take. several glances were hidden in between the constant motion of drinking, the heat relieving john’s body whenever he took a sip—he likened it to medicine. “enjoying your stay then?”

but the more john looked at you, warmth began to rise instead. it eventually settled on his chest, neck, and cheeks to his dismay and it does not intent to wear off, no matter how many sips he took in greatest efforts to push it down—in a void somewhere, where he believed his feelings deserved to be buried.

“it could be better.” alcohol was a powerful drug, because you were one-hundred percent sure that the chance of you flirting without a drink would’ve been close to zero.

it came out of nowhere—this feeling. fleeting or not, your pants tightened and you needed a release. if it wasn’t him, then it was going to be someone else. and if you really couldn’t get laid, you’d be content with dry-humping a pillow.

you’ve seen it in the movies before—well, usually from a women—but it should be universally accepted, right? confidence was sexy: show some skin, make your intentions clear, and handle rejection like a real class act. 

worst he could do is say no…

“I don’t mean to be crass, but,” you tugged on your necktie, loosening it around the collar, and unbuttoned only the top two buttons. a slight breeze ghosted your neck as it radiated and yearned for lust—kindled further when you downed another drink, a last stop for encouragement, but also a device to handle rejection all at once. “do you want to fuck?”

john watched you stone-faced, but there was clear interest in his eyes—you watched it spread across his dark orbs. 

it was telling that you both needed something—a release: you with work and him with being mugged, apparently. your fingers tapped on the counter, impatient for an answer. 

after a smooth swig of his drink, john got up and beckoned to you with a small smile. “come on.”

as soon as the door shut, you were backed into it with considerable force—not a single second to spare. you held onto john in blind support, groping at his broad back and hips while john’s needy palms worked at your ass, squeezing tight to aid the erection in his pants.

“fuck.” pressure applied to your clothed bulge as john pressed his hips against you, rutting in irregular rhythms conducted by pure lust, and you desperately returned them, needier as you rubbed into his thigh. your moans caught between his lips when the pair found themselves on you, kissing you with the utmost passion—poisonous, because it stole your breath away. 

“i could come just like this.” you spared enough oxygen to breathe out, but later found it swallowed when john kissed you again, eagerly licking the inside of your mouth. his tongue was sloppy, mixing the sweetness of your drink with the burn of his to form an entirely new recipe that only the two of you would share. 

complete darkness filled your sight while your neck was then bombarded with rough kisses, only broken when john unwillingly tore himself from your skin to strip himself. it was a tedious process because he was greedy, returning back to your neck and lips whenever a piece of clothing was thrown to the corner of the room.

but you were impatient, as was he, and knew things would never progress if he was submitted under the smell and soft touch of your skin. so you playfully pushed him, squeezing his chest in midst, and constantly knocking him back to his amusement while the glow of the moon became your guide to the bed.

“keep that up,” john held you by the waist again, applying his bare body to your clothed figure, half-undressed with your trousers and shirt left, as you felt his beard against your skin. a gentle brush tickled you, but his darkened, low voice sent goosebumps. “and we won’t make it to the bed.”

“hm.” a hum vibrated in your throat while he kissed your neck again, suckled at his favorite area because he could feel your cock throb against him, desperate to be freed from the fabric. 

you watched him in the moonlight as john began undoing your clothes, leaving a wake of hot kisses down your body the more you unveiled before him—cold, but john’s mouth made up for it as it wrapped around you like a warm glove. no warning whatsoever, but you preferred that, shuddering when he worshipped your body like a knight to a prince; calmed caresses to your calves while he polished your cock with godly licks. 

john’s fingers spidered up your legs and his palm found its way to your ass again, spanking one cheek hard enough for you to suddenly thrust your cock into his mouth and down his warm throat. “oh, fuck-“ 

he moaned around you, vibrations riding your thick veins as it would take a electrifying trip up north until you moaned, pleaded with him to be fucked—to no avail, simply because he was stubborn. 

briefly, john let you go with a slimy pop to stroke you, standing back up to kiss you in midst. you tasted yourself, the saltiness of your pre-cum lining your taste-buds as his tongue ran over yours in a wet and sloppy affair. “god, you taste so good…”

simultaneously, your hand worked at his cock, under-handing the weight of it with slow strokes—to the intimate arousal of your sluggish tongues moving with one another. it wouldn’t be long until you found yourself pressing into him again, gliding your wet cock against his, spreading and sharing john’s thick saliva between the two muscles.

your lips never his, neither did your hand on his cock—both of your cocks now, clumsily stroking—even when john began to prod at your hole with his finger, lubed up seconds before, teasing. only then, you pulled away when his finger slid into you with careful ease, and you flushed forward.

he embraced you with one arm around your body, holding you still while he worked you open, curling inside of you deeper with quickening intervals. you could practically come undone from this, but you refrained from doing so, distracting yourself with kisses to john’s chest, then his nipples, sucking hard to counter the overwhelming pleasure.

but he had the upper hand on you, only realizing when you immediately flexed around him when he pushed into you with another finger—slight difficulty, and so he worked you open once again. though, it doesn’t last long because he wanted to feel the tight stretch you’d provide for him—a heavenly need you’d happily supply. 

without any guidance, you bent over the bed and pushed your hips out, and he held you close. you laid there bare before him, looking back completely vulnerable while john toyed with you, taunting your arousal as he slid his cock in between your ass cheeks, wet and sticky from the lube. 

“come on…” you almost whined out into the sheets, refraining yourself from wiggling your hips. 

his silhouette didn’t budge and he only agitated your impatience even further by tracing your pucker with the plump tip of his cock, slow and teasing with a smirk you could hear. “you want me that bad?”

“fuck,” you were never one to admit things easily, and this wasn’t going to be the start of it. equally as stubborn as john was, you groaned into bed again and used your core to push back at his taunts. you began reaching back amid his continuing tease to grab ahold of his length. “if you’re not going to fuck me, then i’m going to-“

john’s reflexes were fast. as soon as you wrapped your hand around him, he pinned you further into the bed with a firm shove to your back. your chest stung when it rubbed harsh against the sheets and you immediately let go, lying pliant under his force. “you’re going to what?”

you struggled to move—to escape from his hold—but he was stronger in every way possible. every struggle was met with an ache to your body as he barely used a fourth of his strength to hold you down.

and your cock couldn’t have gotten harder.

“I’m going to-“ before you could respond, your throat dried up as john pushed himself inside of you with one slow yet rugged thrust, pushing heat back in, and filling your hole up with more. “f-fuck!” every muscle in your body tensed and you shouted out, almost a whimper.

his cock was thick inside of you. you can feel every pulse, every vein as he worked himself into you, back and forth with deep and slow thrusts, painfully stretching you out. it knocked the breath out of you and your legs wobbled, feeling your current stance weakening as your toes curled into the floor, desperately clinging onto the arrival of your soreness.

but you loved it. you loved how barely prepped you were because you can feel every inch of him reaching deep inside and violating your hole with the uttermost disrespect. he held your wrists together, your arms back and your chest pushed forward while your cock rubbed against the bed, and fucked into you—faster, harder. “look at you, fuck. you take cock like it’s nothing, hm?“

“m-mmm!” you whimpered out in response, your breath hitching as he repeatedly slammed his hips into you, continuously knocking any thought out of you. the painful pleasure was dizzying, finding solace in muffling your moans into the covers. your breath warmed your cheeks as you rocked into the bed from impact, gliding your cock in between the bed and your pelvis along. 

there was an ache in your shoulders, in your arms, in your wrists, but john’s cock overpowered every feeling to the point where they became numb. all there was left was john’s rapture and you basked in it. the heaviness of the sex-filled air, the humidity of your bodies when john decided to push his all of his weight onto you and fuck you like you were nothing but a void, the warmth of his breath when he kissed your shoulder and neck, and the sting when he bit.

overwhelming was an understatement of your current state of euphoria. you took him in and overloaded yourself into his pleasure. every thrust, every breath was submerged into you, compelled to mirror even a fraction of the pleasure john felt, and it was only when his cock drove into your prostate with unbeatable force that you did—tenfold.

“oh, fuck! don’t stop,” you cried out, desperate in pushing back against him because you never knew if john would pull away anytime soon. “fuck me just like that, fuck!”

and he doesn’t. john was a man of promise and he delivered your pleas with force and speed, letting go your wrists to spread your cheeks apart and watch you be fucked open with his thick cock, growing more swollen with every passing second. you can feel his balls following his thrusts, swinging against your sweaty skin and creating the most delectable sounds. “like that, yeah? you like my cock, just like that?”

“f-fuck, yes!”

in this moment, you were his, under his control, and selfishly captured when john devastated your prostate with one more powerful thrust to your demands, and you found the stars. they resided in the back of your eyelids as you came—thick and heavy—in between the sheets and your twitching body. 

it wouldn’t be long until john joined you in your trip to heaven, his grasp on your hips hard and bruising as he yanked you back and met your ass to his cock one last time in uniting your body with his. 

warmth began to fill you as john came undone, shooting deep inside of you. his hips slowed, but never came to a stop as you clenched around him, tight and yearning for his seed, and with that, he milked himself inside of you, giving you all of him and what was left of him—creamy and thick. 

his breath was heavy in your ear as he pressed his chest to your back, and you groaned, coming down from the high that you just experienced. sleep approached for the both of you, but he maintained the steadiness of his hips, spreading his load in you as if he was marking his territory.

“so... how long until you’re leaving?”

“mmmph, four more days….”

"good."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[tink27]

Steddie ficlet (might do a follow up to show Eddie's reaction)

"He likes a boy"

after years of friendship, and being joined at the proverbial hip, Robin liked to think she could read Steve pretty well, however, his love of being just vague enough to confuse her made this difficult.

"who likes a what now?" still trying to get a read on Steve's feelings, but as of right now he just seemed, disconnected. Since showing up unexpectedly at her house, he had maintained that far-away sort of look that showed that even Steve didn't know what he was feeling.

"Eddie... he... we were hanging out and he" finally he fully met Robin's gaze, and the heartbroken edge to his vacant stare became evident "he was implying, heavily, that he likes me"

"... likes likes you?"

Steve's expression briefly switched to mocking disbelief at her childish choice of words, but he didn't have the energy for any kind of clever retort

"Yes Robin! like likes me!" throwing up his hands before allowing them to smack down against their Jeans ("their" because they fit them both and had been making the rotation between both Steve and Robin's wardrobe for months, she wasn't entirely sure who they belonged to to begin with, not that it mattered)

"And you're... upset?" This was baffling because in the months since Eddie returned for the upside-down, the two had never been closer. Far too many shifts consisted of Steve waxing poetic about Eddie while Robin vaguely tried to relate and be supportive. Although why Steve seemed so utterly smitten as he talked about Eddie's hair or musical elitism would never really make sense to Robin. But still, she saw how they were together.

Steve had a bad track record for love, pouring every part of himself into another person in a way that was truly heartbreaking to watch. However, it became significantly less heartbreaking when it was accompanied by Eddie's eyes following Steve around every room, and always looking to him in conversations no matter who was there because it was Steve's opinion and thoughts that mattered to him most. They truly were obsessed with each other, and honestly, Robin had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So Steve's stricken expression made no sense, nor did his frustration that Robin - despite being his platonic soulmate - didn't magically understand the issue he was having.

"I dont know Robs, its just he likes... Steve Harrington" his voice was defeated as he said it, but it still explained nothing

"....you're Steve Harrington" The confusion in her voice was evident "Am I missing something here, this isn't a 'King Steve' thing is it, because Eddie has made it pretty clear that he thought you were a jerk back then"

the noise of frustration from Steve showed she clearly had missed the point and never had she wished so badly to read her best friend's mind as when the tears began to well up in his eyes. She wanted to hug him, but knew from experience that Steve needed to get the thoughts out first.

There was a minute of silence that Robin had to try desperately to not break, every instinct wanting to spit out an awkward and unhelpful comment to lighten the mood, but she knew she just had to wait.

"I'm not..." the words seemed to get lodged in his throat, even those two words came out scratchy and uncomfortable

He squeezed his eyes shut "I'm not a boy"

Steve opened their eyes, with a desperate expression "I'm not a boy"

It was a statement but also a plea. Begging for Robin to know exactly what to say. She didnt.

"you're not a boy." Robin made sure to sound confident, at least she could pretend to know what she was doing. It seemed okay because they gave an awkward nod, head moving slightly too much for it to seem natural

"you're.... a girl?"

the tears seemed to spill the second she said it, and a choked noise lodged itself in their (her?) throat, but after a moment of panicked pause their eyes screwed shut and they nodded but also shrugged. Clearly just as confused by their discomfort as Robin is.

"Okay, thats okay Ste-" shit, stupid "that's okay babe, you're still you, and hey I might be... severely romantically challenged but even I know Eddie is obsessed with you"

there's a brief watery smile before the corners of her lips are pulled down "He likes Steve, he wouldn't like me"

"Horse shit" Robin wasn't as confident as she was trying to sound, but she knew that her best friend was still her best friend and that anyone who didn't adore her was an idiot (as all best friends know)

she moved to sit next to her friend who had ended up on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest, and once again the silence was allowed to stretch out before them, only broken up by heartbroken sniffles and shakey breaths

"so..." Robin wished more than any other moment that she wasn't so awkward "Not Steve?"

"I-" the thought gets broken off " It doesn't feel right, doesn't feel like it's me"

"whats you?" two words encapsulating a question that was near impossible to answer, but it still felt right to ask, to show that Robin wanted to know the answer.

the expression on her face showed that her friend also thought the question unanswerable, and a frustrated shrug fell from her

Robin hated that defeated expression, so she tried "Michelle?"

Clearly, the scrunched-up expression implied it wasn't a fit

"Hannah?" no not that

"Sarah?" seemed less disgusted but still no

"Becky?" okay back to disgust, moving on

"OH! Punch me if this sucks, but... Stevie?" Robin felt the need to justify her choice, showing that she wasn't just trying to make her keep her old name "Like Stevie Nicks! I could see that, dye your hair blonde, get some bangs"

the comment about changing her hair was obviously met with a scowl, but after a soft smile found its way onto her face "Stevie feels better"

Robin had never felt so smart, she was a fucking genius "Stevie is it babe"

Stevie spent moments looking at her, seemingly deep in thought before softly speaking "Thank you Robin"

it seemed too formal for them, to say it so directly with her name like that, but she could tell that Stevie was really grateful so Robin held back the tears (one of them had to be the butch one in this relationship)

"no problem babe" it was spoken just as softly as the thanks, and for now it seemed enough

"Now, tell me what happened with Eddie"

[galedekarios]

gale's early access dialogue transcripts - part 3: dialogues regarding various decisions & quest progression

in early access, companions used to react much more to the decisions you made in dialogue as well as the overall quest progression pertaining to the main quest as well as side quests, and the events happening around them.

these conversations would be shorter in nature and were usually marked with an exclamation mark ( ! ) over their head.

some of these conversations survived the transition from early access to the full release, but they are very few and far between. the only ones that did survive are 1) gale's reaction to nettie poisoning the protag, 2) gale's reaction to saving mirkon, and 3) gale's reaction to saving arabella.

gale was much, much more responsive in early access and had conversations with the protag about a variety of topics.

following are all cut conversations / dialogues with gale (excluding the deer stew scene and loss scene, which i have covered here and here, but have decided to exclude because they are much longer conversations):

overview:

jergal's temple

reaching the druid's grove / emerald enclave

arabella the tiefling child dies / protag stood by and did nothing

protag killed lae'zel after lae'zel tried to prevent them from turning into a mind flayer

karlach vs anders, the paladin of tyr / agent of zariel

after edowin / the siblings brynna and andrick

killing the druids

arriving at the goblin camp

finding out that the absolute's brand is magic

about true souls

dror ragzlin & the dead mindflayer

ogre + bugbear couple in moonhaven

giving the necromancy of thay tome to gale (dialogue option in player-initiated dialogue / gale asks for tome)

on ethel

on ethel's deal

after finishing mayrina's quest

the zhentarim chest / rugan

the myconid colony in the underdark

defending astarion to gandrel the gur monster hunter

handing astarion over to gandrel the gur monster hunter

arka the tiefling (kanon's sister) kills sazza the goblin / protag stood by and watched it happen

letting sazza escape

finding out about priestess gut from sazza

below the read more, you'll find the transcripts of these 23 cut conversations.

where i can and still have them, i will include screenshots and, when i can find them online, i will include links to watch those conversation in video format.

jergal's temple [link to gifset]

Gale: Bad form, isn't it? Grave robbing? Judging by those undead guardians, the architects of this crypt certainly thought so. - Protag Option 1: I'm desperate, not proud. Best to take what I can get.  Gale: Then again, to be alive is to be curious.  - Protag Option 2: Dressing up the dead is pointless. They have no need for trinkets.  Gale: Never lost a loved one, have you? Then again, those who loved these loved ones are dust and bones themselves. - Protag Option 3: A good fight and fine treasure. What's not to like? Gale: I suppose that's one way to spin it. - Protag Option 4: Why care about decorum in a long-abandoned tomb? Gale: Because my mother raised a gentleman. Then again, to be alive is to be curious.  - Protag Option 5 [Cleric]: True. My god might not be particularly happy about it. Gale: You can pray for your sins later. I’m told that does the trick. Gale: Let's have a look at the loot. It isn't for your pockets only.

2. reaching the druid's grove / emerald enclave

Gale: So much for finding a safe haven. - Protag Option 1: This is a druid grove. With a bit of luck we'll find help here.  Gale: Druids master the ancient magic that is part of nature's fabric itself. They can make bloom, and they can make wither. Let's hope the latter applies to tadpoles.  - Protag Option 2: We won't linger long.  Gale: And we shouldn't – but we'd be remiss not to give the place a once-over. Druids master the ancient magic that is part of nature's fabric itself. They can make bloom, and they can make wither. Let's hope the latter applies to tadpoles. 

3. arabella the tiefling child dies / protag stood by and did nothing [link to gifset]

Gale: This place is a snake pit in more ways than one. That poor girl... Such sudden madness.... And what did we do? We stood by and watched. Her parents – we'll have to tell them that we failed.  - Protag Option 1: Our priority remains to find a healer. The most dangerous snake is in our heads, remember? Gale: Distinctly. But it hasn't poisoned my sense of right and wrong just yet. How about yours? - Protag Option 2: We're here on Zevlor's behalf. Let's not lose sight of that.  Gale: Yes, nothing like serving up a dead child as the appetiser to successful negotiations. - Protag Option 3: Her parents deserve to know what happened. And that we are not to blame.  Gale: So inaction equals innocence? There's a small corpse on the floor over there that might just beg to differ. - Protag Option 4: This is none of our concern. Where there's strife, there will be blood. Gale: And where there's blood, there will be vengeance. This troubled grove is about to become far more troubled still. - [Arabella died because protag failed the DC twice] Protag Option 5: The girl really should have left the druid's idol alone. Look where it got her.  Gale: If the errors of youth deserve an early grave, none of us would live to see a dozen summers. There is no justification for this tragedy.

4. protag killed lae'zel after lae'zel tried to prevent them from turning into a mind flayer

Gale: Lae'zel... that was brutal. Are you all right? I'm here if you want to talk about it. - Protag Option 1: Is there anything left to say? Gale: She was alive. Now she is dead. Might be worth a few words. Then again, maybe not. What a night... - Protag Option 2: She was danger to us all. She didn't leave me with a choice.  Gale: I was not judging, merely offering my sympathy.  One moment we are travelling together, then the next... - Protag Option 3: Don't bother. It's over and done with.  Gale: Words as final as your acts. One moment we are travelling together, then the next...

5. karlach vs anders, the paladin of tyr / agent of zariel

Gale: I have to say I don't know if agreeing to this hunt was such a wise idea. Who's to say who's the real villain in this tale of devils and masquerades? - Protag Option 1: Cheer up! It'll be fun.  Gale: Yes, I used to sign up for a round of Kill-The-Stranger every tenday back home [sarcastic]. When we track Karlach down, let's chat before we chop. - Protag Option 2: You're saying I shouldn't trust a bunch of devil-sworn pretending to be paladins of Tyr? Gale: I'm saying I really shouldn't have to point that out. When we track Karlach down, let's chat before we chop. - Protag Option 3: It's easy: I say who the villain is. Gale: My, so it's you who is Tyr then, the mighty judge of justice?  Go ahead, tell them. I'm sure they'd love to fawn all over their erstwhile patron.

6. after edowin / the siblings brynna and andrick

Gale: I have to say, it's one thing to have a parasite in your head, quite another not to know it's there. What's more, these people weren't on the nautiloid with us. Just how many mind flayers are at work in these parts? - Protag Option 1: The real question is: how does this all link to their belief in this “Absolute”? Gale: Mind flayers excel -> See Option 3 - Protag Option 2: Do you really think there may be more mind flayers around? Gale: This True Soul and his acolytes are ample proof of that...  They 're ample proof of a dread suspicion as well.  - Protag Option 3: Let's move. I don't mean to lose daylight pondering idle questions.  Gale: You really do dismiss these events too casually. - Gale: Mind flayers excel at mind games. To enthral completely is their bread and butter. What if they perfected their craft by convincing their subjects they're not thralls at all, but that they have free will? That the commandments they experience are the will of a benevolent god. How terrifying a level of perfection that would be.

7. killing the druids

Gale: If Silvanus is the mighty oak, his druids were but the weakest of his leaves, tossed by the winds of fury. I can't shake the image of what happened to the grove: the winds have blown and the harvest has come. The oak stands lone and barren.  - Protag [Druid] Option 1: A grove destroyed... I dont think I can forgive myself. Gale: After winter, spring will come, but I'm not sure we left behind much fertile ground. - Protag [Druid] Option 2: The druids caused the harvest. It was only just we did the reaping. Gale: Yes, well, I prefer to pluck apples and pick strawberries. They don't tend to weigh on one's conscience. - Protag Option 3: They were in need of a lesson – and we taught it well. Gale: One usually needs to be alive to reap the benefits of education. If anything, we taught them too well.  - Protag Option 4: They felt threatened and lashed out. A tragedy I wish we could have avoided.  Gale: Their action are on them, that much is true, but the consequences are ours to carry - Protag Option 5: Come, let's move on. What's done is done. Gale: Look around you. What's done is done, but what's wrong is also wrong.

8. arriving at the goblin camp [link to gifset]

Gale: Amid all this grandeur sunk into squalor, I wonder what dismal corner we'll find Halsin in.  - Protag Option 1: Any suggestions? Gale: Prisoners are treated the same by everyone: they serve as serfs, or they waste away in a dungeon. Stands to reason we'll find Halsin in either one of these less-than-appealing conditions.  - Protag Option 2: What grandeur is that? Gale: This must have been a splendid complex once, a temple of impressive proportions. Worshippers lived here. Pilgrims visited. They required food, shelter, ceremony, entertainment. Now that it's nothing but a goblin-ridden death-trap? Plenty of places to hide away a druid, I imagine. - Protag Option 3: With our luck? Marinating in a cooking pot most likely. Gale: A hearty serving of druid stew wouldn't do us any good. No, let's hope the best and keep this in mind: Prisoners are treated the same by everyone: they serve as serfs, or they waste away in a dungeon. If he's still alive, it stands to reason we'll find Halsin in either one of these less-than-appealing conditions. Well -more-than-appealing conditions come to think of it, when one considers the stew alternative.

9. finding out that the absolute's brand is magic

Gut: Hold out your arm so I can mark your flesh. It's charged with magic. Ordinary slobs can't see it; only us that follow the Absolute.  Gale: Charged with magic? Perhaps that explains the ease with which these goblins submit to True Souls.

10. about true souls

Gale: I can hardly wrap my head around what we've just heard. Let's list up the facts, shall we? There are other people here with tadpoles in their heads. They can hear the tadpoles speak to them, and they think it's a new god. I don't know about you, but to me, none of this makes any logical sense.  - Protag Option 1: I concur. There doesn't seem to be a logical explanation. Gale: And yet I suspect something... intelligent behind it all. Some carefully nurtured scheme. - Protag Option 2: I'm seeing too many coincidences – which tend to add up to conspiracies.  Gale: Evil cults and grand designs, is it? Mind you, I'll not even dispute the possibility. - Protag Option 3: I don't care about logic, I care about solutions. Gale: I'm not sure those are mutually exclusive. If we seek to solve we must seek to comprehend.  - Gale: But let's not lose sight of what we've learned here – what joins us and what separates us from these True Souls: They heard a voice we do not hear, a voice that binds them in servitude. As long as we're possessed of our own free will, I venture to say there's hope for us yet.

11. dror ragzlin & the dead mindflayer

Gale: A grand necromantic spectacle staged at the behest of a newfangled god to track down... us. Can't quite say which of these two wins out: to be honoured or to be horrified. - Protag Option 1: The real question is: why are they looking for us? Gale: Several guesses spring to mind, all equally plausible and implausible at once. - Protag Option 2: Not to worry: we easily tricked that hobgoblin – and his god. Gale: We tricked the minion, yes, but its master? I doubt it. - Protag Option 3: Can't say I'm thrilled to be a god's pet project. Gale: Horrified it is then. - Gale: Fact is we're being hunted, but at least we have the hunters at a disadvantage: even here, in the lion's den, they don't recognise us as their prey.

12. ogre + bugbear couple in moonhaven

Gale: One moment they were embracing each other in intimacy, the next they're embracing only death. Can't say I'm proud of our actions here.  - Protag Option 1: Me either. We should have left well enough alone Gale: Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.  - Protag Option 2: Playing it a bit fast and loose with the word 'intimacy' there, Gale. Gale: I'm not contemplating definitions, I'm contemplating our deeds. Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.  - Protag Option 3: Don't dwell on it. Ogres and bugbears are nothing but vermin. Gale: And yet they speak and bond and revel. Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.

13. giving the necromancy of thay tome to gale (dialogue option in player-initiated dialogue / gale asks for tome)

Gale: Much obliged. Narrator: you watch Gale perusing the book with a true wizard's fascination. A few pages in, something startles him.  Gale: A rough read indeed... I'll give it my undivided attention at a more appropriate time.

14. on ethel

Gale: You know, I think there's a little something more to Ethel than meets the eye. 'Hag' is the word they used.  If that's what she really is, she's beyond dangerous.  - Protag Option 1: If that's what she is, that means we killed two innocent men. Gale: But theit sister still lives. And I doubt Auntie has her over for tea and conversation. - Protag Option 2: Hags are powerful creatures. She might actually be able to help us with the parasite.  Gale: See Option 3 - Protag Option 3: She hinted at a reward. That's all I really care about. Gale: Beware of a hag bearing gifts. They're never gifts to begin with.

15. on ethel's deal

Gale: Netherese. A portentous word. Combine it with mind flayers, and it's... unspeakable. - Protag Option 1: What do you make of it all? Gale: What we can do is combine what we know and make our deductions. At the heart of it all, the problem is clear: we've been infected by a mind flayer parasite. So far, however, we've been spared the dread fate that is ceremorphosis. How have we been spared? It would seem the answer is that the parasite is somehow infused with Netherese magic – more powerful, more sinister than it has any right to be. The question remains, however: why? Infected, but unchanging. Blind cogs in an all-seeing machine. - Protag Option 2: If even a hag can't help us, who can? Gale: I... I actually don't know. All we can do is combine what we know and make our deductions- See Option 1 - Protag Option 3: It's all gibberish as far as I'm concerned. Gale: No, there's meaning to it. There has to be.  All we can do is combine- See Option 1 - Protag Option 4: None of this actually solves our problems. Gale: I know, but let's consider this: at the heart of it all, not only is our problem clear, but so is the motive of our enemy: power. All power has a nexus. Find it, and we may just find both the answers and the remedy we seek. - Protag Option 5: Get to the point if you have one. Gale: I was merely thinking out loud, but if you desire a point, consider this: See Option 4 - Protag Option 6: Enough talk. Let's go. Gale: Fine, but while we walk, consider this: See Option 4

16. after finishing mayrina's quest [link to gifset]

Gale: Hags really do redefine depravity, don't they? A promise kept in the cruellest of ways: a loved one returned, undead.  - Protag Option 1: This entire affair sickens me. I wish we'd had no part in it. Gale: We don't always choose the roles we play. All we can do is perform them to the best of our ability.  [Connor killed] At least the curtain's fallen on this tragedy. The lovers' tale is quite over.  [Connor alive] Can't say I'm very enthusiastic though, about the extra you just cast. - Protag Option 1: Hags thrive on corruption. It is simply their nature Gale: A nature that, as far as I'm concerned, deserves to go extinct.  [Connor killed] As extinct as the happiness Ethel cut out of Mayrina. [Connor alive] So does that abhorrent thing-once-man. For god's sake let his eternal sleep be free of this undead nightmare. - Protag Option 3: You have to admit Auntie Ethel knows how to have some fun. Gale: [disapproves] You can't possibly mean that.  [Connor killed] In any case, the man's dead for good. The spectacle has come to a close. Fun's over.  [Connor alive] Although, judging by the newest company you've decided to keep, you may just be depraved enough yourself to mean that after all.

17. the zhentarim chest / rugan

Gale: So you threatened your way into ownership of that chest. Now that it's yours, what will you do with it? - Protag Option 1: I say we hold on to it until we find the rightful owner. Gale: So that means you're not curious as to what's inside? Very well, suit yourself... - Protag Option 2: Let's seell it. We're bound to make a tidy profit.  Gale: See Option 1 - Protag Option 3: I will do what is meant to be done with a sealed chest: open it. Gale: Music to my curious ears!

18. the myconid colony in the underdark [link to gifset]

Gale: Spores that can raise the dead... These myconids certainly are fascinating creatures.  Protag Option 1: They make for good allies.  Gale: Agreed. And there are precious few of those in the Underdark. - Protag Option 2: They're more dangerous than I thought. We should be on our guard.  Gale: They will remain welcome hosts unless we turn hostile. Should be easy enough to avoid. - Protag Option 3: Sorry, but I don't share your fascination for fungi.  Gale: Nobody's perfect. 

19. defending astarion to gandrel the gur monster hunter [link to youtube video]

[Protag defends Astarion] Gale: How thoroughly invigorating it is to stand by one's friend in the face of danger. Even if that friend is an egomaniacal vampire with moral longevity of a mayfly. - Protag Option 1: We did the right thing and that's all there is to it. Gale: It's charming that you think that. - Protag Option 2: Are you saying that you would have thrown Astarion to the wolves? Gale: Never. What harm did the wolves ever do? - Protag Option 3: I'll remember you skepticism if anyone ever comes looking for you. Gale: ?

20. handing astarion over to gandrel the gur monster hunter

[Protag hands Astarion over to Gandrel the Gur Monster Hunter] Gale: I had a friend who had a dog once. Beautiful animal, but it got mean in its old days. Gale: It would growl and bark at everyone. Even bit him at the end. Gale: Yet still it was the saddest of occasions when he took the dog away for good. - Protag Option 1: It was for the best, I'm sure. Gale: I'm not sure the dog would agree. Gale: Astarion wouldn't. I'm absolutely sure of that. - Protag Option 2: Parting is never easy. Gale: ? - Protag Option 3: Put the mongrel down, did he? Gale: ?

21. arka the tiefling (kanon's sister) kills sazza the goblin / protag stood by and watched it happen [link to gifset]

Gale: Arka's thirst for revenge has been sated... and the goblin welcomed death with open arms. All's well with the world one might argue. And yet there's something unsettling about witnessing an execution. - Protag Option 1: I take no pleasure in it, but justice has been done. Gale: No one will mourn this goblin I suppose. Let's leave it at that. - Protag Option 2: Somehow that sounds a condemnation. Gale: I condemn nothing - but a question can be a mirror: Gale: If it's guilt you see reflected, the condemnation is your own. - Protag Option 3: I have no patience for the squeamish. Gale: You imply a weakness. I say a critical mind is one of our greatest strengths.

22. letting sazza the goblin escape

Gale: I know I said it's not inconceivable a goblin priestess could help us. And yet... was it really wise to set another goblin free so she can arrange introductions? - Protag Option 1: Passing up the promise of a healer would be far more unwise. Gale: A perfectly reasonable train of thoughts. But what if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? - Protag Option 2: What's done is done. Doubt doesn't help us.  Gale: I'm not quite done yet. What if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? - Protag Option 3: Keep your misgivings to yourself. Gale: But consider the consequences. What if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? -> Protag Option 1: I'll make sure that doesn't happen Gale: I'm not sure you can. - Protag Option 2: Getting rid of the tadpole comes first. Otherwise we might be the monsters that destroy this place. Gale: Harsh. But fair. If not given too much further thought. - Protag Option 3: I don't care, I owe this grove no allegiance. Gale: No allegiance, no. Though we don't need to sign its death warrant.

23. finding out about priestess gut from sazza

Gale: Booyahg – the goblin word for magic. Primitive to a fault, but not entirely without merit. To seek some goblin priestess' help would be unconventional to say the least. Then again, I'm not one to advocate conventionality.  - Protag Option 2: A goblin healer sounds absurd to me. Gale: I wouldn't dismiss the idea out of hand. Goblins come from a warrior culture: to heal wounds is a highly prized skill. - Protag Option 1: I don't care if a cure comes from a goblin, an ogre, or an orc: as long as it works, I'm happy.  Gale: My sentiments exactly.  - Gale: If this priestess is indeed a master in the arts of booyahg, it's not inconceivable she could be of help to us. And if she isn't, we might find items of interest among her shamanic paraphernalia. If her tribe doesn't kill us on sight, that is.

thank you for reading! please consider liking and reblogging this post to support my work. thank you.

coming up next:

-part 1: the three tadpole dreams -> completed -part 2: major cut scenes: the deer stew scene & the loss scene -> completed -part 3: minor cut scenes: abandoned temple of jergal, failed to save arabella, talking to the paladins of tyr and agreeing to go after karlach, edowin and the tadpole reveal, mayrina giving ethel's wand to her or breaking it, handing astarion over to the gur or defending him, reaching the druid grove, killing lae'zel, reaching the goblin camp & looking for halsin, killing the druids, priestess gut & the brand & the cult of the absolute, dror ragzlin and talking to the dead mind flayer, ogre couple, necromancy of thay, ethel, zhentarim chest, myconid colony -> completed with this post -part 4: gale's condition & the way it was treated in early access

taglist: @chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @khajiit-necromancer, @gwinharper, @galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein, @gale-enjoyer, @xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever, @a-psychopathic-dream, @toboldlydammitjim, @mishtress, @vcxahlia, @fitzmagus,

i thought i'd tag the people i'd seen taking an interest in my original post! if you want to be taken off the taglist, or added, please let me know!

[erinkeifer]

Forbidden Fruit

[Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Fem Reader]

Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

Summary: Anakin returns early from a mission and accidentally overhears your conversations with your friends who showed up for a girls' night at your place. Well... Your rather dirty conversations.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI | smut | v unprotected sex | hair pulling | kissing | cursing | dom!Anakin | sub!Reader Word Count: 3,8k

Anakin knew you deserved a break - a week ago, it was your birthday, and you really wanted to meet up with your friends from the 'good old times' to have a bit of fun. Unfortunately, it seemed out of the question - at least until today - as you both were constantly being assigned on missions that required the presence of both of you. But, for once, luck smiled upon you. Yes, Skywalker took it upon himself and headed to Geonosis with his crew, so that you could, at least once, invite anyone over and break away from the wartime reality. You and the other three girls completely lost track of time once you settled into your snug but cozy room. By this time, the only things around you were empty pizza boxes and champagne glasses, which seemed to loosen you up even more. Some bland romantic comedy played on your Holo TV, serving as a quiet backdrop to your ongoing conversations, although some of you occasionally glanced at it. "Do any of you even know what's going on in this?" you asked, sprawled on the couch, reaching for the popcorn bowl surrounded by a definite mess. "Honestly? No idea." replied the Togruta on your right, causing you to snort because apparently, each of you was equally absorbed in the movie. After a while, each of you jumped at the sound of the communicator from one of your friends. "Damn, sorry, forgot to mute…" apologized your childhood friend, engrossed in the conversation. "Who's calling so persistently?" you asked, reaching for another handful of popcorn. "Rob, probably afraid I won't make it straight home." she replied, this time disabling notifications. "It's kind of sweet that he's so worried." said the Twi'lek girl sitting farthest from you. "Sure, but lately, there's been a bit going on in our area, so he's unusually sensitive." your friend replied. "Wait, you two live together?" you asked with wide eyes. "Yes, for about three months now." she replied, and you grabbed your head. "Damn, being with you feels like I'm regressing." you said, slumping onto the sofa's back. In the meantime, the end credits of the movie were already rolling on your Holo TV, and none of you were paying attention. You decided to turn off the flickering screen to focus on the conversation with your friends. A conversation that unfolded in blissful unawareness of the fact that your Master had just returned to your place - or rather, to the very short corridor that separated your two rooms. Anakin closed the door behind him, and with nowhere else to hurry, he leisurely hung his coat on the rack. With deliberate steps, he made his way to his room, hearing through the wall that your Girls' Night was still in full swing. "I can't believe that sometimes you don't want to break free and have some fun... All this 'Code' of yours... Damn, you used to be a different girl..."

"And how do you know I don't want to? I mean, sometimes, it feels like we could wither away here... But, you know, on the other hand, we've all changed in a way."

"Sure, sure... When we talk about guys, you react like a bull to a red flag... Come on, admit it - but honestly - when was the last time you touched a guy? Any guy?"

The girls' conversations were loud enough and clearly audible through the thin walls of your room that Anakin could stand at any point in the corridor and hear them perfectly. He wasn't particularly concerned with your discussions - he happened to be tinkering with his lightsaber when you carelessly continued your conversation.

"Two years? So, exactly since they dragged you into this Order."

"No shit."

"Don't you miss it? Seriously?"

"Do you really want to hear it, huh?"

"Perhaps...?" "Honestly? Yes - I'm pissed that you're allowed this, and I'm not. And yes - I dream of getting fucked hard. Just like that, plain and simple."

Well, Anakin stood frozen in the frame of his room door when your words resonated in his ears, so he decided not to close the door behind him just yet.

"That sounds better. If you wanted it, you would've gotten it a long time ago, right?"

"I don't know…"

"So why don't you want to break free from here?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"We know a few cool places in the city that would let you unwind, and a few cool guys who… You know."

"Girls, but you know it's not that simple…"

"What's not simple? Sex? You said yourself you're needy, aren't you?"

"Hell yeah."

"So, what are we waiting for? Tomorrow then? Same time?"

"Hey, slow down… And maybe you know if Billy… You know… Is still around?"

"You want to mess around with your ex? What if feelings rekindle? After all, you're not allowed to have a boyfriend."

"Well, but he was…"

"Many times you said how well he fucked you senseless, but we're not considering that option. By the way, maybe you know someone in the Order who…"

"What? No…"

"And I think you're just setting yourself up like that… I don't believe everyone here is so saintly."

"Just believe me."

"[…]"

"Why are you making that face? What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing, nothing… Just thinking about who you share these quarters with…"

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"He's my Master, for heaven's sake…"

"And we saw him."

"So?"

"And the way you look at him."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'll kick you out of here in a moment."

"Do you like him?"

"He's my Master."

"But I'm asking if you like him."

"I like him, so what?"

"Nothing, I'm just testing the ground."

"Oh, shut up."

"Okay - short and to the point - either we meet tomorrow at the same time and head to the city, or you dry up in the Order."

"I don't know."

"Alright, then we're going on our own, right, girls?"

"Fine, damn it. If I make sure I have nothing to do, maybe we'll meet…"

"Great, girl…"

Anakin still stood frozen in his doorway, but as soon as he heard sounds indicating that the girls were getting ready to leave, he gently closed the door. Still slightly stunned by the amount and type of information he gained, he sat down at his desk.

"So, it seems like until tomorrow?" replied the Twi'lek, standing with the rest of the girls in front of you, on the straight path to the exit.

"Let it be." you responded with a slightly tired voice, waving to the girls who left the room with mischievous smiles on their faces.

As you bid farewell to your friends, you noticed Anakin's coat already hanging on the rack, realizing that you completely missed encoding the moment he returned. Honestly, you were too exhausted to think about it. Soon after, as if on cue, the door to his room opened, and you saw Skywalker, now dressed in his standard night attire. "Master." you nodded slightly in greeting because you hadn't seen each other today.

"H-hey… Is it over already?" Anakin replied, his gaze wandering somewhere on the floor.

"Yes, sorry it took so long." you answered, sensing that Skywalker was somehow brushing you off.

"Once doesn't always make a pattern. And you… Shouldn't you be sleeping already?" he added after a moment, scratching his head.

"I'm actually heading that way now." you replied, smiling nervously, and headed back to your room.

"Goodnight then." Anakin replied, walking in the opposite direction toward the small balcony at the end of the corridor, as he usually did at this time to smoke the last cigarette before sleep.

"Goodnight, Master." you said before closing your door. Then, throwing on a light nightgown, you collapsed onto your pillow-filled sofa. .................................................................................................................

Another day drained you of energy, yet you knew that there was still an unfulfilled promise from yesterday ahead of you – to 'chill out' with your friends. It was hard to think about it during the day, as you didn't even have time, having been on a mission with Anakin since morning… And precisely, you were on a mission with Anakin. While you weren't bothered by whether you were doing your tasks well or poorly today, something else bothered you – the strange behavior of your Master. He seemed absent the entire day. Sure, you cooperated with each other, but for some reason, you constantly felt like maybe you messed up, maybe at some point, you unintentionally let him down – and even though it was absurd because you were always considered a perfectionist in what you did – he gave off that impression to such an extent that even Obi-Wan, in a free moment, asked if you had some tension between you. Of course, you didn't. Anyway, you landed in Coruscant practically moments before your planned meeting with the girls – in the end, you agreed to meet in the city, so you didn't have to stress about whether they might knock on your door any minute. But ultimately, you forgot about one thing – mentioning to Anakin that you also planned to disappear for the evening today. However, since his arrival, he seemed so exhausted from the entire day that you assumed he would immediately fall asleep, allowing you to slip out of the Temple without any possible reproaches. It's just a pity that he remembered your plan all too well himself. "Why the hurry? Are you planning to race me or something?" Anakin asked, watching as you briskly walked down the corridor toward your quarters.

"Uhm, no." you replied sarcastically, already at the door. "I thought so." Anakin muttered, opening the entrance to your quarters. Knowing how little time you had left, you instantly stepped into your room, closing the door behind you to avoid arousing any suspicions, while Anakin left his completely open. He lingered in the corridor for a while, as if sniffing around, glanced out the window for a moment, but soon finally entered his room - that's when you allowed yourself to choose an outfit for the evening. However, it stressed you immensely that Skywalker hadn't gone to sleep yet - always after a mission, he used to close the door behind him and shortly afterward fell asleep, tired from the mission. But this time, something was holding him, and whether you wanted it or not, you could feel it. You freshened up your makeup from the entire day, dressed up, and it seemed like everything was ready - only to sense the right moment and leave… But how? You slightly opened the door to your room to better hear if Anakin was still aimlessly wandering around, and if there was silence outside indeed. Leaning out, you could catch a glimpse of his silhouette, turning slightly in the desk chair. Damn.

You could chat by the door for a little longer, but on the other hand, would prolonging it and leaving even later seem even more suspicious? Exactly. So, you took a deep breath, adjusted your dress to give the illusion that it reached a bit further than just halfway down your thighs. With one hand, you grabbed your coat to cover yourself a bit before leaving your room. You quickly checked yourself in the mirror and, satisfied that your appearance wouldn't raise any suspicions, decided to quietly, soundlessly step out of the quarters.

Slowly and quietly, you closed the door to your room, confident that everything was going according to plan, except for that one final damn slam of those steel doors. You cursed under your breath when you felt Anakin's gaze coming from his room.

"Oh? Where are you going?" he asked in a calm tone, and you turned towards him, nervously clutching your coat.

"Just… getting some fresh air… for a while... A walk." you uttered these absurd words, turning towards Anakin, only to see that he had turned in his chair completely towards you, with a highly doubtful but slightly amused look. It didn't seem like he was doing anything – his desk, usually cluttered with documents and writing tools, was now completely empty. It appeared he was just sitting there idly, as if waiting for some signal.

"My Padawan is going for a walk… Tsk, tsk, tsk…" he murmured as if to himself, and your face turned red with embarrassment, realizing how clumsily you had just lied.

"We've known each other for a while now, you don't have to lie to me like that." Anakin raised an eyebrow and smirked, realizing that you, yourself, know you're not very good at pulling the wool over his eyes. "I know." you leaned against the wall, crossing your arms, wondering how to get out of this.

"So, what's the truth?" Anakin asked again, also crossing his arms in a slightly assessing manner. "Ehh, yesterday I told the girls that I would go out with them." you finally gave in but still hesitated to reveal all the details.

"You told the girls, but you didn't tell me. So what?" In fact, you didn't know how to answer that – you realized you made a mistake and wouldn't easily undo it.

"How did you know I wouldn't need you for something?" he added after a while, not hearing a response from you.

"But in the end, I have the evening off, so I thought…" "No, you don't have the evening off." Anakin interrupted you, and then the smile on his face faded. The tension in you increased when you noticed his freezing expression – it seemed like he might actually be a bit upset.

"Come." Anakin commanded, rising from his office chair and leaning against the desk. Initially, you thought he was going to ask you to sit in that spot, so you nervously grabbed the seat handle.

"No, not here. In front of me." you were slightly embarrassed, but you did as he instructed – stood in front of him.

"Show me what you've got there." he said after scrutinizing you from top to bottom.

"What do you mean?" you squinted, having no idea what he was referring to.

"Don't try to play games with me. I can see how tightly you're holding onto that coat of yours." and again, he was right – probably if you were more relaxed, you wouldn't need to explain yourself so much now. You loosened your grip, but you weren't entirely sure what to do with what you had.

"Just take it off." he added after a while, seeing your hesitation to answer his questions. You sighed, realizing that your plans had gone down the drain, so you did as he said – it seemed like you had nothing more to lose at this point. At worst, you would leave this room with a reprimand, change, and go to bed. And that's the optimistic version. When the coat landed rolled up on the floor, it was time for Anakin to sigh. You stood before him in a black, brocade dress, which, despite all your efforts, managed to scrunch back up to mid-thigh height.

"Girls' night out…" Anakin muttered under his breath, once again assessing you from head to toe. "You're very careless, aren't you? Today, yesterday…"

"Wait, what do you mean yesterday? What are you talking about?" you interrupted Anakin, and he looked at you as if you were a bit foolish. "Oh, please… Do you think I'm unaware of your plan? What would you have done if you received a summons while being fucked by some random guy?" Anakin replied, and you paled, quickly trying to recall what else you discussed with the girls yesterday. Your voice stuck in your throat, and truth be told, you had never felt so embarrassed in front of your Master.

"How you… When did you…" "I returned early enough to hear about many interesting facts. Among other things, about how my Padawan wants to be fucked hard, and also… Oh, didn't you mention having a boyfriend - Billy… Supposedly, very skilled." Anakin said with a mocking tone, and you felt like sinking into the ground.

"But, but… I…" "Oh, don't worry, I won't throw you out for that. It was just about one simple thing - informing me." Anakin finally moved slowly from his place, and temporarily unable to look him in the eyes due to shame, you turned away. At first glance, it might have seemed that Anakin had tidied up around him - it was quite unnatural because usually, his workspace was messy - but when you approached and looked around better, you noticed that all the items from his desk were lying next to it, thrown on the floor. "Why is everything sca...?" you abruptly interrupted your statement when you heard the door slam behind you. "Still want to go out? I know, they're probably waiting for you…" "N-no… I don't want to." you answered, for some reason not wanting to turn towards Anakin.

"Oh…" you heard behind you, along with steps approaching in your direction. "Well, you know, not everything can be found just in the city." you stayed silent as you listened to his words, feeling that he was getting closer. "Your friends were right - sometimes it's better to look closer to home… After all, as they say, it's darkest under the lamppost. Isn't it?" You wanted to interrupt him, but in the end, everything you could say now would be pointless.

"And the desk… I prepared it for you." You froze when you first felt the handle on your hips, and then how you pressed against the edge of the desk. "Master…" you murmured, completely paralyzed by his touch. "What? Changed your mind?" he whispered into your ear, not releasing his grip on your hips. "No… I-I haven't changed my mind." you continued, as one of your hands landed on top of his.

"Make sure I'm not mistaken." he continued to whisper, and you stood still for a moment before deciding what to do next. You grabbed the lower edges of your dress and, with trembling hands, pulled it up, exposing your black, scanty lingerie that you chose for the evening. "My sweet, innocent Padawan…" he whispered with an artificially tender voice as his hands traveled downward, this time embracing your exposed thighs. "To think that it took so little, and someone random could have gotten this..." he continued as his left hand balanced on the edge of your panties. "Am I supposed to understand that you bought them for this 'special occasion'?" he muttered, his gaze sinking onto your lace lingerie. "Uhm, well, actually, I got them from…" you winced and clenched your teeth as you felt a strong pull and the tearing of the fabric, which partially clung to your most sensitive areas. "That's what I thought." Skywalker replied, tossing aside your torn panties. "Lean on the desk and arch your back… Nice and wide for me." Your heart pounded as a hammer hearing his hunger-laden instructions, but you didn't hesitate for a moment to comply with them. "Let's see…" you heard behind you before feeling the touch of hands on your folds, sending shivers down your spine. "So fuckin' wet…" he muttered, and you could practically feel his devilish grin. You turned your head enough to see him—your cheeks reddening even more at the sight of him licking his two fingers and his other hand reaching for the zipper. "Want to watch?" Anakin asked, noticing your intrigued, hungry eyes. "Then watch." He caught you off guard, pressing you even harder against the desk, and without any warning, he entered you.

You let out a short, loud moan as you felt him slide into you practically the entire length without any warm-up. You didn't get to see him in full glory, but you felt that his size was above average, perhaps even a bit beyond your capabilities, but you were resilient. Anakin grabbed your thigh with his mechanical, gloved hand to give himself more room to position you as he pleased, bringing his face closer to yours. The deeper he delved into his movements within you, the more you felt him breathing heavily through clenched teeth. Your eyes were closed, and you felt him all over your body – he was charged like never before, and the more you realized it, the more beastly his movements became.

"Is this h-how you wanted to be filled?" he whispered into your ear, interrupting with each thrust. You couldn't answer – your voice was stuck in your throat, and all you could emit were your desperate moans. "Fuck… My little, slutty Padawan." he growled, increasing his pace, and with each deep thrust, your eyes rolled into back of your head. You thought that was a lot, but you were quickly surprised when one of his hands detached from your body and, without warning, grabbed a handful of your hair tightly. You moaned loudly as your neck tilted backward, and Anakin's pupils dilated, keenly observing your every reaction. The dose of pain excited both of you – the harder his hips pounded into you, the tighter his strong hand gripped at the base of your hair.

You felt yourself approaching the edge, your subdued moans transforming into screams, and sensing your impending climax, Anakin yanked you by the hair enough to bring your face close to his, starting to leave wet, messy kisses on your lips and cheeks. He tasted your tears of arousal, biting you without rhythm, and you drifted further, teetering on the edge of a begged climax. You screamed his name as he fucked you through your orgasm, and as it turned out, you weren't even halfway when his breath also became uneven and heavy. He growled and panted heavily into your ear as he came inside you, and your trembling bodies simultaneously tried to find balance, holding onto each other tightly. He didn't pull out for some time, first allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, still not letting go of your heated body. "Fuck…" he muttered under his breath as he finally pulled out of you slowly, and you immediately felt hopelessly empty. Your knees buckled beneath you as you lost the support you had on Anakin so far, but he was there to catch you and stabilize you. "Slowly…" he whispered, smiling at you with the corners of his mouth – his face was tired and sweaty, yet incredibly content. When he lifted you into the air, you were sure he would handle you gently, but in the end, you miscalculated because he threw you onto his bed with quite some force. You swallowed saliva and looked up at him when you were already sprawled on his soft sheets. Anakin had a cocky smirk on his face, and his eyes scanned every inch of your exhausted body. "Now you know where to come when you want to get fucked, huh?"

[slayfics]

A girls night at Mitsuri’s house. Don’t worry your secrets are safe here.

Warnings: NSFW themes hinted at~

You arrived at Mitsuri’s doorstep feeling excited for what the night might bring. You couldn’t believe the Hashira found some downtime to plan a girl's night. You wondered what other girls she might have invited to come over. But overall you were excited to take a break from the serious work of hunting demons. 

You knocked on the door and Mitsuri threw it open almost immediately. 

“Yay! I’m so glad you made it!” She exclaimed and pulled you into a hug. “Let me show you who else came!” She said as she grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room. You saw Aoi and Kanao sitting around a table piled with deserts and tea. 

“Hi girls!” You waved.  

“Hello.” Aoi said seriously and Kanao just smiled sweetly at you. 

“Feel free to have as many desserts and tea as you want! I can always make more!” Mitsuri said as she pulled you down to sit on the floor. 

“What is our first task Miss Knaroji?” Kanon asked. 

“Hm?” Mitsuri looked confused.  

“Miss Kocho said this night was so we could all get special training from you.” Kanao explained 

“Oh right!” Mitsuri laughed. “Well actually we're just here to have a girl's night. That can be extremely refreshing for the soul you know! And Miss Kocho thought it would be a great exercise for you to express some of your feelings.”  

Kanao’s face turned white, but she kept a straight face and did not speak again. Training was something she could handle any time of day but expressing her wants and feelings was extremely challenging for her.  

“Sounds ridiculous to me. What are we supposed to be doing here anyway.” Aoi spoke. 

“Oh you know gossiping, talking about boys, the fun stuff! I’ve never had a girl's night before because I've been so busy as a Hashira. It would be nice to just be normal girls for one night. I really wanted Miss Kocho to come too but she said she had to go on a mission.” Mitsuri said. 

“Boys... you want us to sit here and talk about boys?? That seems like a waste of time. I’ve got injured demon slayers to check up on.” Aoi replied.  

“HEY! You mind your manners when talking to a Hashira! Miss Kanroji risks her life every day to keep us safe! So if on her day off she wants to talk about boys you better believe I’m going to sit here and do it, and I suggest you do too!” You spoke. Aoi seemed to be humbled by this and placed her head down. 

“Oh, it’s ok Aoi I understand. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” Mitsuri said, looking hurt. 

“No I want to be here, I apologize.” Aoi said grabbing some tea off the table. “Please continue.” 

“Well tell me what’s been going on with you girls?” Mitsuri said and sipped some of her tea. 

Everyone was silent. No one knew how to begin or what to talk about. Being in the demon slayer corps robbed the girls of having any real childhood or adolescents, it was daunting to think what normal girls would sit and talk about. 

“Umm... I really want to play with Master Tokito’s hair.” You started bravely hoping to get some conversation started and fulfill Misturi’s dream of having a normal girls night.  

Kanao’s face got even whiter, and she started to sweat. 

“Yes! Me too! He has such beautiful hair I would love to braid it like mine one day!” Mitsuri smiled.  

“Wow that would be so cute, do you think he would let us??” You asked. 

“Hmm I don't know, maybe if we asked nicely or tricked him into thinking it was a training exercise of some sort.” Mitsuri giggled. 

Aoi and Kanao exchanged bewildered glances at each other. 

“Oh come on what boys do you two want to talk about?” You asked, turning to look at them both.

Kanao started to sweat more. 

“Miss Kocho told me a secret about you two, but I won’t share if you don't want me too.” Mitsuri teased. 

“A secret???” What secret could she have said about me?” Aoi exclaimed.  

“Well, we are all girls here and this is a safe place, so I’ll tell everyone. She said you cried SUPER hard when Inosuke got really hurt. Do you like him?” Mitsuri asked.  

 “Ooooooooo!” You said teasing Aoi. 

"WHAT?! Of course I cried I thought he was going to die!” 

“And that would have made you very sad, huh?” You nudged Aoi.  

“Why wouldn't it???” She said defensively.

“Ugh..” You exclaimed giving up. Aoi clearly wasn’t ready to admit any feelings she had for the swordsman, or maybe she hadn’t realized it herself yet.  

“Hmm I have an idea. I think we need help from some more ladies.” Mitsuri said and brought out a pen and paper. She wrote quickly then gave the letter to her crow. “Don’t worry they are trained shinobis so they will be here shortly.” 

“You invited Uzui’s wives??” You exclaimed. 

“Yeah! I think they would enjoy this too! Plus they are experienced ladies so maybe we can get some advice.” 

Before you knew it there was a knock on the door. And the three girls entered. 

“I want to know all the secrets!! What is going on?!” Suma explained bursting through the door and sitting down eagerly.  

"Well, Aoi here likes Inosuke but doesn't want to admit it.” You winked and stuck your tongue out at her. 

“WHATTTTTT? NO THAT IS NOT E-” Aoi started to protest but was cut off.  

“Aweeeeee that’s sooo sweet!” Suma said clasping her hands in front of her. "What do you like about him?” 

“Umm uh I don’t ..” She started to stutter and get flustered. Then attempted to change the subject “What do you three like about Mr. Uzui??” 

“Yeah! What is it like sharing?? No judgment but tell us please.” You asked eagerly letting Aoi off the hook for now.  

“We don’t share! He loves us equally. He always makes sure to take care of each one of us.” Makio said. 

“Awe, how does he take care of you?” Mitsuri asked innocently 

“Well he spends time with all of us, brings us gifts and he-... How old are you girls again?” Makio asked, blushing and smiling, placing her hand on her neck. 

“OOOOO! Say no more.” You laughed. “Well what about you Mitsuri. You gathered us here. What boy do you want to talk about?”  

“Oh, I don’t know.” She said instantly turning bright red. 

“What about Iguro? From what you said in our previous letters it sounds like he comes over a lot.” 

“Oh no no!” She waved her hand. “He only comes over to help me brush and feed my cats.” 

“You think a boy like that is actually coming over because he is interested in your kitties?” Hinatsuru asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.  

“Oh he’s interested in another kind of kitty alright.” Suma laughed as Makio hit her. Mitsuri turned even brighter red. 

“What do you mean?” Mitsuri asked.

“Oh it's obvious he’s totally simping for you. He’d do anything you’d say! He even gave her these socks everyone.” You spoke while pulling on Mitsuri’s green socks.  

“You really think he likes me??" She asked. 

“I know so. Bring him over right now let's play with him.” You suggested. 

“Oh no I couldn't do that!” 

“Sure you could! He’s a Hashira he can get here fast.” You protested. 

“Is he fast?” Suma asked and laughed. 

“Cut that out, they aren’t ready for that yet!” Makio said, hitting Suma again. 

“I think that poor snake boy would pass out around this many girls.” Hinatsura laughed.  

"That sounds fun I want to see!” Suma said.  

“Oh, another time another time! I really wanted this to just be a girls day!” Mitsuri explained. 

“If you brought us here for advice though, all these demon slayer boys are extremely unnerved by you girls.” Makio said.

“What do you mean?” Aoi asked. 

“Well, most only know the demon slayer corps having joined so young. Girls elude them. So, if you want our advice just walk around knowing you have quite a lot power over them and could probably get most of them to do whatever you say.”  

“I don’t get it. What would we want them to do?” Aoi asked innocently. 

“Come and find me in a few years.” Hinatsuru laughed and blushed. “But if you like one of them just go for it ok. Give them a kiss or something and watch them pass out and get a nose bleed, it'll be funny. We never know how much time we have left in our business anyway.”  

“Wow thank you Hinatsuru!” Mitsuri said still blushing a bit.  

“Hm makes sense. Alight that’s settled I'll go give Tokito a surprise kiss tomorrow. If he slashes my head off, I'll come back and haunt you though.” You said to Hinatsuru laughing.   

“Ok your turn.” Suma said turning to Kanao who was so white and sweaty that it looked like she was on the brink of passing out. 

“You don't have to share if you don’t want to.” Mitsuri said. 

“Miss Kocho thought it would be good for you to speak your mind though. Think of it like a training exercise.” You encouraged her. 

“And this is a safe space we will keep your secrets. Are there any boys you like?” Mitsuri asked.  

Kanao did not speak a word but shook her head no profusely. 

“What a liar.” Aoi said and tilted her head away. 

“WOW! Betrayed by your own sister!” Makio laughed. 

“Tell us! Tell us!” You and Suma chanted. 

Kanao opened her mouth and with the tiniest amount of breath muttered “Tanjiro...” 

“OOOOOOO!” Everyone exclaimed, even Aoi, who had finally lightened up.  

“That is soooo cute you two would make such a cute couple!” Mitsuri said clapping her hands together. 

Kanao went back to her white face and not speaking another word. 

“Aoi you and Inosuke would be super cute too!” Mitsuri said.  

“Wait, Insouke! That’s the other boy that helped Lord Tengen! He is super valiant and has some great qualities... In the tummy area.” Suma said pointing around her stomach area and laughing. Aoi’s face turned red. 

"I suppose I haven’t noticed.” She said turning away. 

“What!” Kanao exclaimed, turning to Aoi.

Everyone froze at Kanao speaking up so loudly for the first time.

“You checked on him every single day multiple times when he was already healed, and I see you eye him while he trains!” 

“WOOOOOAHHAHAHA” The other girls laughed at the feuding sisters. 

“Ok fine!” Aoi gave in. “He is an above average looking swordsman... and I am fond of him. He makes me smile. HAPPY EVERYONE??”  

“Oh I’m so proud of you!!!! That was so brave admitting your feelings!! Thank you girls, this has already been the best girl's night I could have ever hoped for!” Mitsuri said cheerfully.